SINK OR SWIM

Summer activities always leave me wanting ... wanting for more.

More time off, more money and more energy to do all those things you want to do.

But we were making the best of it with granddaughter Chloe in her inflatable whale pool.

It's inflatable because the township (jerks) won't allow Nana to put in an in-ground pool.

And why not, you ask?

Our house is on a corner lot, and the setbacks are the same on the side (even though it faces a paper street) as the front. The back yard lacks enough footage, too.

So, here we are wanting ... but having a whale of a time.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU

Oh, what a glorious day.

Whatever the weather conditions may be wherever you are, it's a glorious day to remember all who have served this wonderful country and have sacrificed their lives for us.

Let us give thanks for their heroism.

Let us pray for them and hold their memory close to our hearts.

For they ultimately have given all that anyone could so that we might have such a glorious day to celebrate in the land of the free ... the home of the brave.

LET THE FUN BEGIN

I'm not here.

OK, I am here but not really.

It's almost Memorial Day, and I'm on vacation from work until June 7th.

So far, I've been having a great time.

My first day off I vacuumed, mopped and shined all the wood floors. But first, I dusted so the dirt wouldn't fall onto my freshly vacuumed, mopped and shined floors.

Then granddaughter Chloe came over and dropped cheese, pretzels and watermelon pieces on them.

Today, I am cleaning up after Chloe.

Ah! I love a good vacation.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

A colleague retired yesterday.

At his going-away party I asked him what his plans were for retirement.

He said he was going to paint his house for his son who planned to live there.

I realized how much I'm looking forward to the time when I'll be able to visit
exotic, unknown places like the junk room.

Ol' Daddy, shown here with his Mexican girlfriend, has been able to realized his
passion for traveling.

He's pretty happy that he can travel and still work at the same time to make enough money to live without tapping welfare or Medicaid.

He's proud and says he's one of the lucky ones.

Too bad retirement's not like it used to be when the government really took care of its aging population.

Who knows where that big rig would take Ol' Daddy.

ON A NEW COURSE

He read my column ... in jail.

I often receive letters from inmates, pleading their innocence and wanting me to tell their stories.

This guy was different, though, because his penmanship was wonderful, and he actually could spell.

Also, he didn't ask me to help him with his case. Instead, he only wanted me to call his estranged girlfriend and tell her he was sorry for stealing a front-end loader and trying to knock her house down. And, he said he thought I had kind eyes.

That was a couple of years ago. Since then, life got in the way, and he stopped
writing.

I got an e-mail from him today.

He's out and back with his girlfriend. He's sober, working and taking one day at a time rebuilding his relationship with God and his girlfriend.

And I marvel at how, in mysterious ways, God shows us he cares.

OVER THE LINE

My brain is mush.

With early deadlines because of the Memorial Day holiday, our workload has increased.

So, when I pulled into the parking lot, I was a bit distracted thinking about what to blog.

I didn't have any particular subject in mind until I got out of the car.

And there it was ... a crooked park job.

Is it just me or are they painting the lines for parking spaces closer together?

Could explain why one tire is always on or over the line. For some reason, I never
seem to be able to maneuver my car into the space directly between them.

And those are the big handicapped spaces!

Forget negotiating curbs. Don't tell Spud because I'll deny any knowledge of how those scrapes got on the wheel rims.

Good thing I don't have an SUV!

SAVE THE WHALES

I saw a Mylar balloon stuck on an electrical wire.

It was blowing around and around the wire in the strong wind but never untangled itself.

I thought it was good that it was attached to the wire where it could be retrieved even though it conducts electricity and poses a potential hazard for those trying to dispose of it properly.

Still, it was better there (because it's not biodegradable), than in the ocean where sea life might ingest it.

So, all you celebrators, wouldn't you say it's not a good idea to release Mylar
balloons into the air?

The ironic part?

The balloon was in the shape of a dolphin.

FRIENDLY ADVICE

It's good to have friends.

I'm very thankful for mine ... all two of them.

I may not have many, but at least I know the ones I have like me anyway, even if I just happen to walk through their screen door.

Hey, it was dusk and everything was gray!

It almost was as embarrassing as when I tripped over my flip-flops walking down the aisle at my wedding. Hippy days, what can I say?

Like good friends should be, though, my hosts were very gracious and declined my offer to pay for the bent door.

At least I gave everyone a good laugh.

Isn't that what friends are for?

SINGING HIS PRAISES

Seems I'm getting a little grief about Ex-Hubby comments.

Reminder: This is a slice-of-life blog, hopefully with a humorous tone.

Where would Phyllis Diller be without Fang or Rosanne Barr without Tom Arnold?

If you can't trash your ex, who can you trash?

And guess what? Ex-Hubby's perfectly fine with it because he knows it's not meant to be malicious.

BTW, he has the same public forum right here that everyone else has to blog about me or anything he wants. Imagine that!

So why is he so silent?

He says his fingers are too fat to type.

ALONG FOR THE RIDE

OK, so I'm a big-mouthed woman.

My man says so. And if he says so, it must be so ... or so he says.

These days he's walking around saying I'm bossy.

Which isn't true! I'm never bossy 'cause when I am, he gets meaner than those alligators that swallowed up the three women in Florida.

So now, I'm walking on eggshells.

Between you and me, there is this big-mouthed Shelley Walker woman who rants and raves and tries to get in the last word.

She stole my identity. She only rears her ugly head when provoked by an alligator.

But don't most Shelley Walkers?

You'd think ole gator would be used to it by now and let it ride.

Oh bloggisphere, take me away!

SMOKE AND MIRRORS

Sometimes things aren't what they appear to be.

I was told by a supervisor years ago to always wait 24 hours before responding in writing to something that evokes an emotional response.

I should have taken her advice.

Such was the case when an anonymous blogger criticized the ripped jean picture I put on the blog site.

I assumed it was Ex-hubby who wanted to push my buttons, so I shot off a blog I thought would get him back.

Turns out it was a very nice Christian lady.

Now, don't I feel like a donkey's behind!

EYES WIDE OPEN

It never fails.

Days off at 6:30 a.m. ... Boink! Eyes wide open.

Weekdays at 6:30 a.m. ... Can't pry 'em open with a crowbar.

No rest for the weary.

When work is calling, I'm in a deeper sleep than the one that overtook Rip van Winkle. On my days off ... I feel like an insomniac on amphetamines.

Go figure.

There are people who actually train themselves to sleep 30 to 40 minutes every four hours so they can stay awake longer. Why is what I'd like to know.

Is their life so interesting that they don't want to miss a thing by sleeping? Do they really believe the research that claims adults who sleep less live longer?

Sounds like an excuse for insomniacs on amphetamines.

Sleep is holy in my book.

AND ALLIGATORS, OH MY!

Jersey bears or Florida alligators?

As a Florida cracker living in the Garden State, I'm scared to stay here and scared to go home (and scared of the mechanical beasts on the highways in between).

After three Florida women died when they were attacked in separate incidents by some very large reptiles this week, I'm shaking in my alligator boots!

The black bears tearing down backyard fences to get to us here in New Jersey aren't much better.

Makes you wonder who's a little too cocksure of their superiority in the Man vs.
Beast war.

Staying out of their habitats makes sense to me.

Must be God zapping us with a wakeup call.

And the way it's been raining lately, I'm wondering who's going to make the boat?

THREAD BARE OR BARELY THERE

They always shrink.

No matter what piece of clothing I buy, it either shrinks or disintegrates when I
wash it (except for underwear, which inevitably stretches out, of course).

My jeans are tight, full-length sleeves on my shirts have recessed to
three-quarters, and the cuffs no longer button.

I know I haven't gained weight because my watch still fits.

Then there are those little balls of lint that wad up on some material. I love those. They complement the dog hair.

Dry cleaning may be in my future. After all, I spare no expense when it comes to
clothing.

I must remember, though, to call my tailor at Wal-Mart and complain.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

I love you and miss you, Mom!

You will always be in my heart.

Thinking of you today and every day, and especially on your first Mother's Day in heaven.

Give Patch a kiss, and say hi to Gram for me.

AN APPLE A DAY

I've been thinking.

Am I seeing things?

The red apples in the grocery store are always shiny.

Do the produce clerks buff every apple to make them more attractive before putting them out for sale?

If so, why don't they buff the yellow ones. It scares me to think what they are wiping off.

And what's with the greased-up cucumbers? What do grocery store employees think we're going to do with greasy cucumbers?

Don't answer that.

I've been wondering what to expect next.

Glazed Brussels sprouts? Painted carrots? Mr. Potato Head parts on our spuds?

DIRE STRAITS

Some people have all the luck.

Me, for example.

Before going shopping at a local discount store, I put my debit card in my back
pocket but neglected to use the bathroom.

At the store, I used the bathroom. After doing so, I found the card had fallen out of my pocket and into the toilet.

Dilemma: Do you reach past the toilet paper floating on top to retrieve your card at the bottom?

Do you just flush it? Do you call the manager (and embarrass yourself) and have the janitor get the card?

Just my luck, the manager was on vacation.

Everyone else said, "Not my job."

Hey, did anyone ever hear of rubber gloves? Aisle 9!

IN THE MONEY

Social Security?

Financial retirement plan? What plan?

I should have started it years ago, but at 25 I was thinking about braces for two little kids, not saving for retirement?

My nest egg looks like a hummingbird's. I might as well forget it and learn to like living in a modest ranch house in the hills of Georgia.

There are ways to catch up, but who can afford those? Another 10 percent here to max out 401K deductions and another $100 a week there for a catch-up plan.

What's a couple hundred dollars a week more taken out of your paycheck anyway ...

I'll never miss it. Right?

I guess counting on the lottery is out of the question, too.

REST IN PEACE?

You would have thought it was the Hope diamond.

It's nothing more than a piece of old furniture causing all the fuss.

Such is the scene after the passing of a loved one who didn't leave a you-get-this, you-get-that will.

Relatives, armed with threats of breaking and entering, are driving a big wedge in the family tree that's already splitting apart. And over what? Stuff?

Before my aunt died, she made a list (signed and dated) as to what she wanted to
leave her loved ones. I was to get a pair of cherub lamps that once belonged to my great aunt.

Four years later, I haven't seen hide nor hair of the lamps. The point? I never
threatened my cousins that I was going to break into my aunt's home if they didn't give them to me! The right thing will be done eventually.

But now, it's time to grieve ... and not over stuff.

AGE-OLD DILEMMA

Why bother making your bed ever morning if you're just going to jump in it later and mess it up again?

Caveman to cavewoman (as she's being dragged by her hair into the cave): "Jeezz,
look at that messy pelt! What do you do all day besides put bones in your hair?"

And because you-know-what trickles downhill, cavewoman to cavechild: "Hurry, here comes Man back from a kill, go fluff up your pile of leaves!"

Every morning I look at the messed up sheets, blankets and pillows, and wonder why I do the same things over and over.

Is it just habit? Do I really want to climb into a brushed out bed with straightened sheets? Or could I just leave it and "sort of" make it later before I hit the sack?

Then I think about what may have come off the bottom of our feet and worse ... sloughed off skin cells.

And, I hurriedly make the bed.

RECYCLING AT ITS BEST

It was hidden in the crawlspace.

Then it appeared, plus a little bit of mold that was easily wiped off.

The almost half-a-century-old hobbyhorse now has a permanent place in the open to entertain yet another generation of toddlers and curtain climbers.

And no one could have been more thrilled than granddaughter Chloe to take the reins.


At least for now.

It won't be long before her brother Parker will join in on the fun, a year or so after he's born.

And it won't be long before they grow up and their children will be eyeballing a hobbyhorse named King Harry.

I'd best go buy cowboy and cowgirl hats for everyone.

I don't remember growing older.

A SPOON FULL OF SUGAR

All I wanted were the drugs I paid for!

Damn those insurance plans that won't let you fill everyday prescriptions at the
drugstore without charging more.

Damn those plans that make you order by snail mail, over the phone or on the Internet and then make you wait for weeks for your meds.

I know I should be thankful to have a prescription plan, but buying from the
in-plan drug company left me 60 pills shy (for the second time) of the three-month
supply I should have received.

And they charged me the same!

They claim the doctor ordered it that way. I claim he reordered after the FIRST
deficit.

At $2 a pill for something that doesn't even get me high, I say "Shame on you" damn drug companies for being so greedy.

How about serving the people instead of lining your pockets.

A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down.

IN THE PINK

Ah, spring.

The beautiful flowers are all in bloom and temperatures rise.

Then it hits. The green mist. It's not here yet, but just wait, it's coming.

Soon it will blanket your life like nuclear fallout and (if you leave your windows open) infiltrate all your electronic equipment like a secret agent in the act espionage.

And, it will ambush your sinuses. Which is why green and pink are the colors of
spring.

Green mist = watery pink noses and itchy pink eyes.

Enjoy the season. Ah-choo!

BRING ON THE BORDER PATROL!

No one, and I mean no one, gets into my country!

All I have to do is say, "Sic 'em."

Those squirrelly illegal immigrants who steal from the birdies' coffers to take the cache back to their families are wasting their time.

You see, in my country we all speak the same language, so we can fix the problem. Even the Mexican border patrolers. Imagine that!

Yap, yap, yap means ... someone's coming, about 200 feet away.

And yap, yap, yappidi-yap means ... Ohmigod, they're here! Do something!

We're secure in my country.

And guess what? No one protests or says they deserve more kibbles when they really don't.

It's comforting knowing that my legal and licensed border patrol is out there watching and protecting my little country.

CALLING ALL CAR WASH FAIRIES

I called him my car wash fairy.

I used to know a guy who would secretly wash my car and fill it with gas while I was at work.

Today, with the price of gas, I'd call him a sugar daddy.

Nonetheless, my car wash fairy has long since flown the coop and left me with
bird droppings ... on the hood, door, trunk and side doors.

Once upon another time, my man actually pulled the tires off my car and polished the rims AND shined the rubber.

Now, my dirt-laden vehicle sits ever-so lonely amongst his clean, shiny trucks.

Have able-bodied, liberated women driven car wash fairies out of existence?

Do they only visit those women they want to impress?

My new car wash fairy is called rain.

WHERE'S THE BIRD FLU WHEN YOU NEED IT?

We need a plague ... or maybe just the threat of a plague.

There are too many cars with too many drivers on the roads in this crowded little state of New Jersey.

Today was the third time in a week I've sat in traffic up to my eyeballs coming to work. The 25-minute commute ... 90 minutes.

Now a plague scare, on the other hand, might just do the trick. Not that I want any of my family members, friends or anyone I know to actually get the plague. OH NO!

I just want all those other people who clog up the Parkway and build houses in the little bit of open space we have left to move to Kansas.

There's no place like home, Dorothy.