Open Carry

Warning!  I believe in "Open Carry" laws.  I was a little hesitant about it, until a personal experience showed me without a doubt…. I believe.  I ran by Stage the other day (different Stage than the jean debacle), hoping a pair of slacks would jump off the racks making me look 15 lbs slimmer and 10 years younger.  Yeah, I walked out with notta, but as I walked out, I spotted a friend who used to live across the street from us when the kids were small.  Our kids ran through the neighborhood, terrorizing…. Well, the neighbors.  One winter day when the kids were out of school, I got a phone call from my her…. "Uh Jackie, Did you know your son was out playing in the snow barefooted?"  Hey, don't judge me!!!  Anyway, she waved and I waved and then it hit me…. Suddenly I morphed into "that woman"…. "Hi, guess what, I have a Grandbaby!"  I reached in my purse and came out with a loaded Blackberry…. "Look, he is perfect…."  I held out the Blackberry and began to scroll through cuter than a bug little Levi Atlas Patterson's pictures as I rattled off the whole, 36 hours of labor, 3 hours of pushing, mom's the size of a 6^th grader, they had it natural in their apartment in a kiddie pool with a midwife, he is a huge baby, 8 ½ lbs, 19 inches long, I'm Lolli, Mike is Pops, making us none other than Lollipops, with hand motions and the facial expressions of a Broadway star.  She graciously looked and listened, because really, what else was she going to do considering a maniac Lolli accosted her in public with a loaded Blackberry?  When I got into my car I thought to myself….. "Oh my gosh!!!  You just accosted her. You accosted her in public with your Lolli story and pictures.  Bad Jackie. Bad, bad Jackie. Get a hold of yourself woman, get a grip, you are better then this."  But, I'm not, I'm not better than that.  He is just perfect, simply perfect. I've been freakin humble all my life, terribly sensitive to not  wanting to brag, boast, or to be arrogant about anything (I hate arrogance) until sometimes I wonder if I even have any self esteem and then this beautiful creature arrives so completely perfect in every way and by gosh, it's totally socially acceptable to be completely obnoxious about your grandchildren,  everyone says that's what grandparents do… So I am just being normal really.  Still, I need to get a grip. No more accosting people with my Blackberry.  I'll work on being more subtle… The new will wear off.   We stopped by and introduce Levi to his Great Grand pops yesterday.  I was, of course , armed with my Blackberry.  My son smiled at me as I posted a picture and said…. "You know mom, you don't have to post all of the pictures to Facebook.  It's okay to keep some just for you."  I just looked at him with a smile and said…. "Yeah, I know." 

The Circle of Life

9 months ago today, my mother made the journey to her heavenly home.  With broken hearts we both mourned and celebrated her homecoming in relation to our loss. Today I sit at my desk and stare at a picture of our newest family member. He arrived safe and sound Sunday afternoon.  He has captured our hearts with unfathomed love.  I stand amazed at the tread that weaves in, out, and between each breath we take to become the tapestry of the circle of life.  

Breakfast for The Bossy Britches

Yesterday was National Bosses Day... Aka Bossy Britches Day (say that really fast ten times and see how it comes out).  Today we're celebrating The Bossy Britches by fixing breakfast for them.   It is so sexist but we came up with the idea and they seem to like it so there. For the record.... We have the best Bossy Britches ever!!!!  Here's why our Bossy Britches are the best.

    A. They don't take their bad moods out on us.... Well, if they even have bad moods, who knows because they are the same every single day.  Not everyone can say that about their Bossy Britches (speaking from personal experience).
    B.  They tolerate my shenanigans quite well.  If only my teachers had tolerated my shenanigans as well as The Bossy Britches do, I wouldn't have been so familiar with the corner of the classroom.
    C. They are great at breaking things down for me like I'm a 3rd grader without making me feel dumb...  Because not everyone speaks engineereze (sigh of relief).
    D. Even though things have been really crummy lately at the office, and even though we feel like we are working in the dark, we know they would change things if they could. Just knowing that they know it sucks helps the suckiness not be as sucky.  I don't know why, it just does.
    E. They have oodles of compassion.  We KNOW they actually care about us and our families.  This is HUGE and should probably be moved up to A, but I don't want to have to re-letter everything so it's staying here.  If everyone had the compassion they have, things wouldn't be so sucky right now... Just sayin
     F . On National Administrative Assistant Day, they give us flowers, take us to eat at the super-duper, fancy-smancy golf club, and give us a card.  Don't think that goes un-noticed by the unfortunate souls who don't have the pleasure of working for our Bossy Britches. It's been mentioned how well our Bossy Britches treat us.  We know we are blessed.
     G . They trust us to do our job and stay the heck out of our way so we can do it.  Sounds simple, it's not.

So there you have it.  Like I told one of The Bossy Britches yesterday, I hope like heck we're celebrating Bossy Britches Day together next year, but in case we're not..... YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST BOSSY BRITCHES EVER!!

You've Completely Ripped Up the Woods

My Favorite Scene

I am the queen of demolition.  If you don't believe me, ask Fred our IT guy.  I can crash a system quicker than you can say Jack Sprat. Put a reciprocating saw in my hands and it's instant replay of Aliens when Sigourney Weaver blasted the queen mother alien and all her alien eggs with a flame thrower.  Sometimes I just want to get my hands on something and tear it up.  I've had a lot of those times lately.  Did I mention that everyone is stressed at work?  We were joking last week that by the time everything is said and done, we would all look like we had done a round of chemo because everyone's hair is falling out in clumps.  It's really not funny... Some of the guys are completely bald :-) Since the ticks have moved from the woods to where ever ticks go, I'm back in the woods walking my stress away.  The other night I rounded a corner and found that someone had completely ripped up the woods.  Remember that scene on Money Pit where Tom Hanks comes home to his house the contractors had demolished???  "You've completely ripped up my house!" he said as he stood on a pile of rubble.  The contractor replies.... "They sure as hell did. Those guys are work animals I tell ya."  I love that scene... I've actually lived that scene (I digress).  So blocking the path of the trail lay giant red cedars.  I told my companion (Hooch).... "they've completely ripped up the woods."  He just looked up at me so I had to finish the dialoge myself.  All along the way huge cedars were toppled.  It was just so sad.  I heard a loud chugging sound and saw a bulldozer thingamagig coming toward me.  It was the lumberjack man ripping down the trees.  Hey!!! I hollered at him.  He opened his windshield so he could hear me.... "You're making a mess." I told him.  It was a pretty cool thingamagig he was driving. It had a blade that cut the trees down.  He asked me if I wanted to try it..... "I sure as heck do!"  Tearing stuff up and knocking stuff down was just what I needed after a gruling day of waiting for the axe to drop.  So I hopped in the cab and started pushing buttons and moving levers, which he stopped me from doing.... That's what I do when I want do something really bad.... Who needs instructions, just start pushing buttons and see what happens.  He made me sit still until he explained all the buttons and levers (so boring, just get to the good stuff).  Then we lined the machine up and I flicked on the blade and in nothing flat a big ole cedar tumpled over.... "I want to do it again!" So I lined it up on another tree, one that was very dead, and tore that one up too.  It was so cool.  I felt powerful and dangerous.  It was getting dark so I had to give the machine back.  I was so zipped up from toppling trees, I couldn't wait to tell my husband... He knows exactly how dangerous I am.  I finished my walk and went home to try to quiet my soul with a little yoga.  Operating a big machine wasn't on my bucket list, so I put it on there and then checked it off.

Welcome October, I Thought You Would Never Get Here

I turned the page on my calendar today and saw the beautiful word….

                                              OCTOBER

In February, not long after mom died, I found out I was going to be a Lolli and Mike was going to be a Pops making the two of us none other than LolliPops.  I thought the time would drag by and certainly the next three weeks will, but soon and very soon my beautiful baby boy PitterPatter will be here for me to hold in my arms and to wrap my heart around (like I haven’t already).  This has been a particularly difficult year with the illness and death of my mom in such an up close and personal kind of way.  Losing your mom is difficult under any circumstances, but caring for her during the most excruciating part of the illness was bittersweet, yet harsh.  I can picture her holding her first grandchild during the last 9 months and getting to know him.  I’m sure she handed out much wisdom and advice while they waited for his passage into this world.  I’m so excited for his arrival, but I know he is in good company until the time arrives.  Welcome, welcome, welcome October!  I thought you would never get here.

A Gross Understatement

My son returns home every weekend to hang with friends, thereby invading my girl cave.  When he moved out, I transformed his room into my dressing room.  He kept his room nice and tidy at all times.  Everything had a place and everything was in its place.  Now, it looks like an outlet mall/cosmetic store exploded after Christmas rush frenzy.  If I cared, it would be embarrassing, but since I don’t, it isn’t.  Saturday I went to Ada to help my cousin move my aunt.  I grabbed the only pair of jeans I had in our bedroom.  They were my favorite jeans but I hadn’t worn them in a long time.  I zipped them up and wiggled my butt to see if they fit or it they were too snug.  With the stress of the last 9 months, I haven’t been diligent about my workouts and I’ve been stress eating.  Surprisingly they fit in a not too tight, but just right kind of way. 

It is amazing how much stuff one can cram in a tiny assisted living apartment.  We were moving my aunt into a smaller apartment.  I thought to myself the day would be a breeze.  We were only moving a few doors down and the rooms are small, so how bad could it be… Oh how wrong I was.  We had eight people moving and it still took ALL-DAY-LONG.  In spite of the air conditioning, all the women were having hot flashes (an important part of the story) and I was thanking God I had put my hair up in a ponytail.  When we finally finished, her room was cute as a button with her walls decorated, family pictures up, and TV in place.  We went to my cousins to clean up and planned to meet the other worker bees for a celebratory dinner.

Disclaimer: this is where the story takes a comical turn that will seem exaggerated, but I have multiple witness who will testify that it is embarrassingly accurate, if not drastically understated, because even I am at a loss as to how to accurately describe it in a way that will bring it to life so you  feel like you were there to also be a witness. Yes, my grammar check had a conniption about the previous sentence telling me it was too long. Well, too bad!

I lay on the couch candy crushing (with no success) while my cousin took a shower and cleaned up.  I was a sweaty, yucky mess. I didn’t think to bring a change of clothes with me so the best I could do is tuck the hair that had escaped my ponytail, back in place. When we started to leave for the restaurant, I sat in the car and heard a barely audible rip.  I sucked in a large breath and muttered CRAP!!  My cousin looked over at me with confusion on her face and said… “What?”  Slowly I got out of the car.  As soon as I stood, she gasped (GASPED!) then ERUPTED in a fit of laughter.  I mean like she was having to hold onto the steering wheel so she didn’t fall out of the car kind of laughing.  Her husband stood at his truck looking back at us trying to figure out what was so funny (to her, not me…. I wasn’t laughing).  Her daughter-in-law came out of the house and we called her over to the car.  She took one look at my hiney and total shock took over her face.  Meanwhile, my cousin is STILL laughing hysterically and finally says…. “Oh my gosh Jac…. What are you going to do?”  I looked at her and said…. “You are going to go into a store and buy me a pair of jeans and try, just try to show a little compassion here!”  We got in the car and as she continues to laugh, I try to come up with a reasonable plan and a plausible explanation as to why the ENTIRE seat of my jeans ripped and not in a "shabby chic" kind of way.  “What detergent are you using?”  she asked me.  “It’s not the detergent!” I spat…. “Obviously, it’s all of the sweat and hard work I did helping you today!  It caused the denim to just…. Just disintegrate!  That’s what happened, that’s got to be what happened.”  On the way to the store she suggested I take my shirt off (I had a tank top under it), and wrap it around my waist which she thought would cover the entire. Well, mess… (for lack of a better word that doesn’t start with A).  So, I took my shirt off, wrapped it around my waist and instructed her to stick to my back like glue!!!  We chose to go into Stage since it’s small store and usually not crowed. We went straight to the jeans section and I snapped up a couple of pair and we headed to the dressing room.  The second pair I tried on fit fine… I wasn’t crazy about them, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood to shop either.  “I’m not taking these off” I told her… “They’ll just have to scan them with me in them.” She held up my old pair and I told her just to leave them in the floor…. “I’m not taking them.  Just leave them here.”  She wadded them up what was left of them and threw them in the corner.  She didn’t even have the decency to stifle the snickering.  We went to the sales counter where a sweet girl stood to check us out.  I approached the counter and said…. “Here’s the deal…. There are a pair of jeans in the dressing room that has no seat in them…. They are my pants and the ones that I’m wearing belong to the store. I’m going to buy them but I’m not taking them off so you’ll just have to scan them with me wearing them.” Her eyes flitted from me to my cousin and back again. I could almost see the gears in her head thinking maybe this was a secret shopper prank or a reality show trying to punk her. “I just have one question” she said… “Why don’t they have a seat in them?” This caused my cousin who was trying to get a grip, to lose what little she had…. “Well, that is a good question and I would like to answer it by saying apparently they don’t make jeans like they used to.”  She held her hands up in a stop motion and took a step away like I had Ebola….. “You’re going to have to do it… You’ll have to lay on the counter, unzip the pants, turn the waist inside out and press the alarm tag onto this metal thing right here to get the alarm to come off.”  Again, my cousin took enough of a breath to give her laughter more momentum and mentioned something about filming this.  Without hesitation I hopped my big butt upon the counter, unzipped the jeans, turned the waist inside out and leaned over attempting to match the alarm with the metal button on the counter.  The button was situated precariously close to the cash register causing me to have to lift my arm over my head in a pin-up model kind of pose (without the beauty of such), in order to scooch close enough to match the alarm to the button, which also caused me to bang my head on the register.  As I was doing this as quickly as possible I heard the clerk say…. “I’m just looking for my manager.”  Quick as lightening I shot up saying…. “Oh, no, no, no… Please don’t do that…. I’ll go take the pants off and have her come pay for them.”  About that time the clerk looked down and noticed that I had been successful in removing the alarm, all that was left was the needle part poking me in the hip.  She scanned the pants as my cousin stood behind me taking the stickers and tags off.  As we left to get me aunt (with my cousin STILL laughing hysterically), I remembered something about my old jeans.  They had bling around the hips and on the pockets.  The brads would sometimes poke me so I had taken hot pink zebra duct tape and taped around the inside to cushion the brads…. “When they find those jeans, they’re going to think I duct taped them together!” I shouted.  The car swerved as another fit hit my cousin. “Jac, do you realize that EVERY time we’re together, something like this always happen and I laugh harder than I ever have???  I haven’t laughed this hard since you came down for Mom’s 90^th birthday… What is it with you?”  What can I say?? I live to entertain, things just happen.  There is a very good reason why my husband calls me Lucille Ball.

Multi-hues of Fall

I’m Baa-ack, but not in a creepy Poltergeist kind of way.  Ticks took over the outdoors this summer driving me into the gym where I wanted to stab my eyes out after 15 minutes on the treadmill.  I ventured out last night and returned home tick free!!!  This makes me a happy little walker.  There is nothing I love better than watching the green of summer change to the multi-hues of fall.