Fun Without Sun

Wow! What a day. Went garage sailing (saling just doesn't look right) and while we were inside, it just whooped hail like crazy, then it stopped, we went outside, and it rained. Several people moved their stuff from the driveway and crammed in their garages and each place was like a friendly little picnic - people so glad that anyone showed up, and we were so glad to have cover. I got lots and lots of stuff! A children's tea set, a miniature Depression Glass cup and saucer, two really nice Victorian tea cup's and saucers, two salt & pepper sets for my son (vintage!), cards of antique buttons for my friend, Jeanne. Fun! Fun! Fun! Who needs sun??


POW! Blue One!

POW! Blue One! and then some perfect stranger will haul off and slug you in the shoulder because they saw a Volkswagen (not even Bug) and popped you one. I don't think there is a commercial that irritates me more.

When did this silly game start? Surely not during my childhood. My mother would have had a blue fit if we four siblings started hitting each other in fun. Bad enough that we hit each other NOT in fun.

And any mother of more than one child would turn the television off before inciting a riot amongst her children. Siblings don't need an invitation to open season on their little brothers because a certain car drove by.

When I was a child, the game while road tripping was to yell out the states if they weren't Washington or Idaho. Much nicer than beating each other up.

I bring all this up because on a recent road trip, Mechanic Man turned into a little brat, punching me every time a VW went by.

Pow! Black one!


Pieces, Parts, and Oddities

ok, back from my parts is parts free-for-all (car parts that is), bringing many more car parts in my trunk and none of them MY car's parts. And car parts have particular, specific, exacting pieces of parts to make up the whole. But, Oh! I found two old OLD radios that Mechanic Man is trying to make work. With a little z-z-z-z-ptz here and a little z-z-z-z-ptz there. If he were bald, he'd look ok. Just sayin'

And, it's official. I am Officially Decrepit. This is a good news, bad news deal. I received my notice that I will be receiving disability. That's the good news. The bad news - I am forever locked into $400 less a month than the pitiful amount I was getting on unemployment. OMG. I think I am officially poverty stricken.

I want a recall on my census report.


9-1-1 Girlfriend

9-1-1 Girlfriend

I have the best support group of my entire life.

My “Girls' Diner Club” (nicknamed by Becky Nappi when she did an article on us for the Spokesman-Review in 1993) has a phone tree that is efficient, speedy, and totally there for you at any given moment.

. . . . Like, during the Dishman Hills fire, when Jill watched the fires slowly but determinedly, climb Park Road toward her house, taking out million dollar homes below her. She was lucky – just the weekend before, she and her husband had slaved on the brush and undergrowth below her house. Her house was saved – the one just below hers was not. And the phone calls began – first one friend, then another, all reaching out to her to make sure she was safe, out of harm's way.

. . . . Like, when Kathy, who has Parkinson's, suddenly realized she was blind in one eye – a piece of plaque had broke off from an artery in her neck, and landed at the back of her eye. Jackie started the phone tree, letting all of us know she was in surgery, she was fine, but now blind in one eye. She's adjusting as valiantly as she always does – but first and foremost – she is rallying because of her four Best Friends Forever standing at her side. And also, her hubby paid for a gift of a permanent eyeliner tatoo – which she proudly displayed at our last dinner.

. . . . Like, when I let them all know I would go on dialysis the next day, a mere two weeks before we were planning on going to Disney World – plane fare, hotel fees, and park tickets all prepaid. The calls started coming in from each friend, supporting me, going all the way for me, preparing to cancel our trip – until my doctor, now my fifth best friend, making arrangements for me to have dialysis in Orlando.

Have an emergency? Just dial 9-1-1 Girlfriend.