October 04, 2011

October Days

The adage of "The difference between a bad haircut and a good haircut is two weeks" is false. Sometimes it's six weeks. Or more.

I'm not sure what she did, but it's not looking so sassy to me as it's looking pixie. I look 9 years old. With a 46 year old body. Yeesh.

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We are getting city water through the neighborhood. I refuse to hook up. We're sticking with our well. They can make us pay for it to run it through the neighborhood, but they can't make us drink it.

The other day we drove by a neighbor's house. They have three boys, the oldest being Bones' age. There was a BIG mound of dirt in front of their home. The workers had left and the boys were jumping their bikes over the dirt onto the street.

No helmets.

It was crazy.

Ringo and I drove by. My eyes got big and I said, 'Is it me, or does it appear an ER visit is imminent?" He replied, "It's not just you... " and shook his head.

These kids end up in the ER more than any other group of kids I know. Over Spring Break one of them nearly blew himself up with gasoline. Good grief.

Don't ask where their Mom is. I don't know.

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I drove by another house yesterday with a big mound. There was a boy around 8 years old standing on the top, holding a big shovel. I started to laugh because every boy in the neighborhood is crazy about the dirt.

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My boys are not crazy at the prospect of having a fire hydrant in our yard. Whereas I look at it as an insurance savings, they look at it as an impediment when mowing the yard.

They're growing up...

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Big Face Bones

Life size. Larger than Life. No kidding.

Life Sized picture of Bones.jpg

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Joe was supposed to be tossed out on the street tomorrow, not completely healed. It's a long story that is crazy and awful and has made me feel even more certain about my end of life plan. My gf, PFB who comments here, left me a message last month on my cell phone, realizing my end of life plan and said, 'Hey, just don't do it before we can talk one last time..."

It was kind of funny.

I always talk about my funeral or my exit strategy and some people laugh and some people talk about it factually, which does make me grin. Like the time about 17 years ago when I said to my mother in law, "I hate ABC Funeral Home. It just seems so... grungy. It's dank, and cheap, and is decorated more like a 1920s whore house than a funeral home. I hate it..." She listened as I went through various funeral homes I didn't like and finally she said, "You know they just built a new funeral home in Jupiter. You should go check it out and see if you like it better..."

I laughed because she was helping me plan my funeral.

Anyway, so Joe was supposed to be tossed out. A throw away human being he had become, except to the actual staff. The nurses love him. The admin and some of the incompetent doctors and the insurance... not so much.

Tonight at 6PM we got some sort of reprieve and it looks like he's safe for another month... and at that point he should be good enough to get home.

What a mess. I'm starting to obsess again about the Exit Plan.

I remember when my grandfather was sick with heart disease. My Dad would get off the phone with him, clutch his chest and say, "Makes me want to go run five miles."

I get involved with Joe and the mess that is his caregiving and I think, "Makes me want to fine tune my Exit Plan..."

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I have said often, that if I were ever to write a book about my kids and life, it would be called, "Something is fermenting in my car..."

My kids don't snack in my car anymore. Mainly it's because they aren't in snack mode anymore, they want full on meals.

So imagine my horror when I got in my car this morning and it smelled HORRIBLE. I was looking around thinking, "Dear Lord, what is that smell?"

I looked and looked... nada.

The two older boys got in the car and said, "What IS that smell?"

I'm quietly freaking, saying, 'I don't know... maybe a container of yogurt rolled under something after I left Publix?"

T said, "It definitely smells... like bad dairy..."

Something was fermenting in my car. It was a milkshake Bones got at the mall on Sunday when we went to fit his uber large feet for new shoes. He left it unfinished in his cup holder.

No more shakes for him...

Once you smell that smell, you don't forget it.

Like you don't forget the smell of hot August road kill exploded on the under carriage of your car. But that's another story...

Posted by Boudicca at October 4, 2011 09:57 PM
Comments

The very worst smell I have ever, EVER smelled in my life is that of tofu gone bad. Psychologically scarring. It was so bad. Worse than spoiled dairy, skunk, rotten meat, and doodie combined.

Posted by: Erica at October 4, 2011 11:14 PM

1. You look fine. 2. We refused city as well... long story. Fire hydrant is sweet. Dirt, miss the dirt. Boys loved it. 3. Bones is too funny! What a picture. Keep it for when he turns 20 and pull it out again. ;-) 4. Dairy and cars are not a good thing when it is still 94F outside. Ugh.

Posted by: vwbug at October 5, 2011 04:48 AM

Can I just say I'm horrified at the number of times my dad has told me how a hospital has released an elderly woman to the care of her elderly husband. "There's nothing more we can do. Here you go!"

These guys have never had to boil water much less make a meal and care for anyone sick. Their children have long since moved states away.
"Here you go! Good luck! Not our problem!"

Are you kidding me?
What happened to people slowly dying in hospitals? Why can't they keep a dying woman comfortable and a grieving man from feelings of inadequacy and guilt?
What has happened?

(Don't answer that. I'm somewhere totally different today.)

Posted by: Roses at October 5, 2011 06:39 AM

Chicken stock. After three months. I found some cleaning the fridge once and poured it down the sink. Guess I don't fully understand what's in it or how it can go so bad, but the stench was so bad I swore something had crawled into the box and died. Had to chase it with nearly a full bottle of lemon Ajax to cut the smell that threatened to overtake the kitchen.

Posted by: diamond dave at October 5, 2011 02:25 PM

A story I hope you'll share with us. Heh.

Posted by: Elisson at October 6, 2011 08:44 AM

Another way to look at the lack of helmets is children learning their limits and what can and can't hurt them. One could make the argument that over the past forty years we have become so "safety" conscious that children are no longer able to learn limits. How high can you jump without hurting yourself, etc?

I'm not arguing against some common sense precautions, but is it really necessary to be bundled in "safety" gear every time we turn around?

Posted by: Heresolong at October 7, 2011 10:53 AM

Five foot pile of dirt being jumped with no helmet, onto a pavement street is irresponsible, not teaching a child limits. Although, I do venture to say that the kid and his brothers will no longer be playing with gasoline. They got the science lesson... fumes burn too.

Posted by: Bou at October 8, 2011 10:51 PM