Oh I get it...like humor...but different.

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Alert II

If you need me, I'll be in Tahiti.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tuesday, December 28, 2004


If the SBC Home Entertainment repairman doesn't get CrankyMom's Weather Channel fixed before 6 p.m. today (as promised), you will never hear from me again, as I will have entered the witness protection program, moved to Tahiti under an assumed name (I am thinking about Ann Richardson) and left no forwarding address.

Apparently six days without TWC is a sufficient cause for multiple psychoses, gout, hangnails, swollen glands, fire ants, black mold, poltergeist, and who knows what.

UPDATE: 3:00 p.m. The repairman is there. God help us all. Maybe he can get it fixed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Monday, December 27, 2004


A belated Merry Christmas to all! I didn't post over the holiday weekend....I was too busy painting and practicing my carving arts on my left ring finger with a craft knife. And then painting some more wearing a latex glove to protect the stitches. Mind memo: Craft knife=sharp. Nancy=stupid. But PU2's room is THIS CLOSE to being done, and the carpet comes Thursday.

Hubcap ordered a hoity-toity Wolfgang Puck cookware set with some Christmas cash, and we bought a pot rack for it yesterday. Last night was a challenge as PU2 and I stood on the island and tried to find studs (joists) in the ceiling to hang this hungarian torture device from. Mind memo: my studfinder=POS. But the rack is up, and the cookware looks GOOD. Did I mention that Hubcap is a good cook and enjoys doing it? Yeah, I don't get it either, but he does. Thanks, Hubcap.

I spent my Christmas cash on new cushions for the patio furniture. Of course, I didn't actually PUT them on the furniture, as it is supposed to rain. For days. Inches of it. Stupid weather.

CrankyMom and BestDadintheWorld came over for Christmas Eve and then we took Christmas dinner to them. It was all pretty good. No good CrankyMom stories to tell. Oh, well, one. She was (and is) terribly upset that The Weather Channel has quit working on her tv. It is a matter of national emergency. We are at DefCon 4.

Love you all!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Monday, December 20, 2004


Well, the remodel is mostly done. We had burlydudes come demo a wall and move it out 4 feet to give PU2 a bigger room (she seemed to think the current postage-stamp-sized death coccoon was too small for some reason). It was a hoot eavesdropping on the burlydudes as they worked. The burlyboss, Mark, came in two or three times a day to bust chops and yell, then left (seagull manager). Sample burlyboss diatribe:

"What is this? What the HELL? This was right when I LEFT this morning! What the hell did you DO? Pedro, what did you DO? Izzy, what is the MATTER with you. You are killing me here. I am dying here. Do you want me to draw you a picture? Where the hell is a pencil. I am dying here."

At any rate, the wall is moved.

PU2 and I took over yesterday and did the painting in her room. She chose a terrific dark federal blue that looks simply gorgeous on someone's foot after that someone has stepped, barefoot, into the paint pan. Pictures below. I am delighted to report that the carpet was going to be replaced anyway. Did I mention that PU2's toenails now look at bit...cyanotic? But only on one foot.

Did I mention that I HATE to paint? I mean, even when it DOESN'T involve cleaning paint from between my daughter's toes. That's a lie. I didn't touch her foot. I gave her an Ace Hardware bag to stick her foot in and told her to hobble off to the shower.

So now we have to paint the ceiling and baseboards and see how much damage we can do while doing so. Oh, and then paint the room on the other side of the new wall that is now four feet smaller. And, of course, new paint upstairs makes the rest of the house look dingy, and you can see where this is going.

But on the plus side, the room is looking great.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, December 09, 2004

Childhood memories

Sergei got me started thinking about the memories that our kids take away from their childhoods.

When PU1 and PU2 were small, I was always mindful of the memories I was creating. I would work on a special Halloween costume (PU1 was a teenage mutant ninja turtle in a unique, hand-made, really-you-had-to-see-it-it-was-great costume) or a special birthday party (eight eight-year-old girls making puff-paint tee shirts in the living room). I once planned a field trip a day for a week (during summer vacation) to places like the fire station (Sparky did tricks for my two kids alone) and the newspaper (what kid doesn't want to see a huge printing press?). Are these the things that my kids remember? Hell no. Not even. If you ask them about their fondest childhood memories, these things wouldn't even come up.

I can't speak for PU1 (he isn't answering his cell right now, so I will ask him later)....but I know that one of PU2's favorite memories was this one. She was recovering from the chicken pox, so I was home with her. She was about three or four, I guess. Our house was next to a creek (actually a drainage ditch, but we called it a creek), and a very heavy rain had resulted in the flooding of part of our yard. I put PU2 on my shoulders and went out in the drizzle to see the flood, walking in ankle-deep water to watch the debris flowing by in the flood water.

My point? You can't possibly control what your kids are going to think of as memory-worthy. But I would bet you good money that Sergei's kids will remember forever more the fun they had dancing to their parents' CDs in the living room after dinner. And years from now, they will tell THEIR kids about it...and try to recreate that experience for them (probably failing miserably, because it just doesn't work like that :-)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Friday, December 03, 2004

The Return of CrankyMom

Reasons why the latest caregiver, Susan, didn't work out well for CrankyMom.

1. She dusted the furniture with a wet paper towel (antique wood furniture, not sealed. A BIG no-no) and wouldn't stop when mom told her to.
2. She picked up trinkets to dust under them and put them back on other pieces of furniture (did I mention my mom is OCD?)
3. Mom told her to back out to the left and she backed out to the right.
4. Mom told her to get in the left lane and she got in the right lane.
5. She piled all her belongings on mom's kitchen cabinet (see no. 2, parenthetical).
6. She stood in the kitchen and talked on her cell phone most of the afternoon.
7. She wouldn't leave when mom told her to leave.
8. She couldn't figure out how to use the call-in box on the gate to get in the gated community (maybe that should have been number one. Hmmmmm...)
9. She couldn't figure out how to use the vacuum cleaner.
10. She lectured Mom and Dad about smoking. Oh, yeah. She did. She's lucky she left alive.
11. My poor dad took refuge from her by sitting on the patio until icicles began to form on his extremities.

Actually, you know....I would be cranky too. It's tough when you have a caregiver only two afternoons a week. You can't get any continuity. You just get who they have to send you. Sometimes they are great, sometimes they are Susan.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~