Rain, rain and glorious rain

Finally, a really good, soaking rain here in drought stricken Texas.  For old farmers that means a great deal.  For example, it means I have had to watch more weather than I want to since I am married to an ole farmer.  It also means I have been relegated to checking the rain gauge several times a day. (Often while it is still raining!) (The Man just can’t do that walk to the rain gauge anymore.) Being raised in the city, I never did either of those things.  I just couldn’t go outside and play when it rained; all outside activities were suspended.  Of course today during one of the information gathering conversations with The Man I asked him why rain gauges were such a funny shape – meaning tapered down to the bottom.  The answer, built in with a bit of smuggery (Is that really my made up word?) was to measure small amounts of rain, such as a tenth or two tenths.  Older rain gauges, back in the “ole farmer days” were flat bottomed.  Then, someone got smarter or someone gave a flip and fixed that. 

Once upon a time, a man we affectionately know as Red (who aggravated the hound dog out of The Man for more than a few years) was complaining about not having a rain gauge.  The Man found one of those old ones and went to Red’s house armed with hammer and PLENTY of nails.  He proceeded to place that rain gauge right up next to Red’s front door as far under the porch as he could get it and attach it with all PLENTY of nails.  Red is long passed away.  Now, The Man and I are wondering if that rain gauge is still on that porch. 

I’ll ask the people that bought his place at church this Sunday.  Story ending to come after I find out the answer.

Whoops! A red light

Dear People, (City of Fort Worth, Automated Red Light Enforcement)

It is plain to see that I ran that red light.  The worst part of the whole ordeal is that my granddaughter was in the car.  We had spent the day shopping for material to make doll clothes and she had said, “Oh Grannie, that light was red.”  Of course, it was too late.  I had desperately tried to get over, but being unfamiliar with the new roads, waited too long.  (No one was being too friendly.)

I do want to say this, ” I was sure the intersection was clear, but could not get even one more look up to check the light.”

So, to sum it all up – I am really sorry for breaking the red light rule.  Here is my punishment along with sending you the knowledge that my granddaughter (who was in a very tragic accident when a drunk driver hit her mother) will probably only remember that her Grannie Pam ran a red light and that, my friends, is a far worse punishment than the fine!

Love to All

THE DOG

Of course, it was my idea.  Aren’t all those brainchildren mine??  She’s a beauty and so smart.  O.K. that’s the problem – too smart.  Skipper (Yes, that’s her name.) can be sooooo sneaky.  I mean, maybe just stubborn; but I had children that were stubborn and eventually it served them well.  I guess that means I shouldn’t give up hope yet.  She brings the paper in, but doesn’t always want to give it up.  She comes, sits,  and stays, but runs off when she gets the opportunity.  She follows me everywhere, but acts like a blithering idiot around other people.  I mean flippin out crazy.  We call her the Beast when anyone comes around.  Her manners are so bad around other people that she is not even allowed to be around anyone else.  I have learned to make her jump on the couch if anyone comes, so I can quickly snap the leash on her and tie her to the refrigerator door!  So far she hasn‘t pulled the fridge out the door!

Today was so bad I threatened her with the pound.  I don’t think she believed me.  Ah I love my dog.

The Words are impossible to hold back

Dear prior and future siblings in education.  Just a “touch base with you” sort of letter.  I felt very strongly about speaking to you about some strange happenings in the land of the “normal.” (Although I know that my quotations and period are correct, I still wish we could just step out there and move the quotes to the inside.) Stay on course you lazy retired teacher person that is up at 1:45 after an hour with “George and Gracie”.  (Oh I can see you correcting me if I was wrong this time.)  If you can’t tell by now, my style of writing is nothing short of the familiar stream of consciousness.  ANYWAY, I have found the perfect second life for all of us.  Teaching, (don’t run away) the once-a-week Sunday School class.  Churches are in need of teachers.  It’s only one time a week.  You have all week to prep. If any sweet little darlin’ gives you issues, you can send them to Mom or Dad (right down the hall) or tell them not to return (Wow, the ultimate definition of a bad kid.) Add all that up; then, throw this gasoline on the fire – the class only lasts an hour.  It can run over,  but never more than two hours tops.  O.K, now get ready for the piece de resistance. (for you Dr. Tracey) You get paid just as much as you have before – VERY LITTLE.  O.K., to be fair, just enough to enable you to keep on paying the electric company, gas company, phone company, grocery store, pharmacy, doctors, dentist, etc., etc., etc.  AND don’t forget that you can teach 3 year olds with the Kids Praise and just sing Do Lord for an hour.

Direct TV is persuasive

Today I called direct tv to disconnect service.  This means that we will have no television as we cannot seem to pick up local stations with antenna where we live.  I finally decided that 60 dollars a month for about 10 channels that I like out of the 300 that are offered seemed just too much.  Besides when I saw that I was watching “My mom is 57, but looks 27” I knew I had become a zombie.

When I called, I had already unhooked both receivers.  Of course tholle standard questions came – Why? What will yo do for TV service? etc.  When I told her that I was going to do without, she appeared concerned.  She offered to give me all the movie channels to stay with them – I said no.  She offered to give me the package I had for 29.99 a month – I said no.  She asked me what my monthly budget for TV could be and I said 20 dollars.  This seemed to end the bargains.  Guess they just couldn’t go that far!!  She was so nice and told me how I had been such a good customer for 11 years, before she sprang the 140 dollar cancellation fee on me.  I asked her what kind of contract did they have that lasted over 11 years!?  She said that when I ordered a new receiver last summer it automatically restarted the contract.  (Lightening ruined my receiver.  I ordered a new one.  I sent the old one back.)

I will give them credit though, before I had to get riled up, “they” decided to waive my fee.  How sweet.  At least it made me ok with going back to them if withdrawals are too painful.

I am meditating!! The man and I had the long, long conversation about how people did not always have TV.  He bought their first TV with the 1,000 dollar settlement from Zachary when the guy dropped the backhoe on him.  It cost 279 dollars and was a big cabinet sized Admiral.  He bought it in the early 1950s for his dad.  His dad went on and on about how it was a waste of money, but as the tube lit up for the first time, so did his eyes.  The man says one of his fondest memories is hearing his dad laugh out loud with Groucho was on.  I laugh out loud at TV also.  He says that reminds him of his dad.  I like that.

But back to before TV. I asked him, “What did yall do?”  He said, “Well, hell we worked till dark, then came in and ate.  Then we might sit out in the yard and talk or go straight to bed it we were especially tired.”  I asked what if you were alone.  He said, people read, or listened to the radio or visited or neighbors came over.  We had a really good conversation about it to calm my nerves.  See, it has helped already.

Eight Outspoken Grannies Have A Few Thoughts On

Eight Outspoken Grannies Have A Few Thoughts On.

What kind of underwear does a Southern Baptist wear? Not this kind!

It’s a good thing that my faith does not require certain kinds of underwear with little symbols on the boobs and knee and slits across the belly.  Who checks for those things anyway.  Is there an underwear policeman?  I’m having a hard time looking at Mitt and his perfect, good-looking family and imagining this underneath.  Will his white house staff be subject to morman missionaries?  The White House can be a new assignment request for young Mormons.  I really don’t see how evangelical Christians can vote for a Mormon or any other religion they describe as a cult. It appears to me that they must stay home or be labeled a hypocrite, but them one of their problems is how hypocritical they can be.

The Old People’s Olympics

I had to laugh.  My mom and I were having a discussion about all the things we could not do anymore.  It led to talking about what we did well.  With that in mind I would like to enter the Old People’s Olympics.  Here are a few of the events:

How many times you can pee during the night.

How fast can you get your cell phone out and get it answered.

An agility course for the various kinds of walkers.

These were just three that I thought of quickly.  Can you add to my list?

 

 

Ah, my love

I have a hard time deciding to write about the Man.  From a strapping six-foot plus man of a man, he has come to be very dependent on me.  He is very ill.  He is 87, and I believe he has gone to looking to the end.  He has not embraced it yet, but that will come.  Right now, we are in a game of him loosing his mind.  I hate to say this out loud, but it really is a funny stage if you can let go and let God and laugh about it.  Some examples:

“The Rifleman lives in our small town and has four kids.  Two boys and two girls – What is that boy’s name?” he says.   I answer, “The only one I know is Mark.”  He comes back with, “I know that one.  What is the other one’s name?”

“I saw a mouse in the bathroom last night.  Do we have a mousetrap?”  I answer, “No, but I will get one when I go to the store this week.”  Later in the day he tells me, “Right there is the shaving cream to catch that mouse with.”

He decides to lay down in the afternoon.  This takes several minutes to manuever.  We get him to the bed, and I’m hoping to get a rest as well.  I have some green beans on the stove.  I ask him if he would like some dinner in a couple of hours when he gets up.  He says he doesn’t want any dinner; his stomach is bothering him.  I lay down next to him.  he jumps up and says, “What’s for dinner?”  I’m shocked, but I am glad he’s wanting food so I say, “Are you hungry?”  He tells me yes, of course, isn’t it time to eat?  I hurry to the kitchen and throw a really good supper together – green beans, okra, avocado, watermelon, and cornbread. He eats every bite.  I guess it was time.

After supper he decides to go to bed.  I get all his bedtime medicine, and after several very slow trips to the bathroom to brush teeth, shave, etc. he lies down in bed.  Before I can walk around to the other side, he jumps up and says he has indigestion and is going to sleep in his chair – which he does.  He sleeps really well for a while.

One afternoon, he is asleep in his chair, and I am napping on the bed.  I am startled awake by loud static sounds coming from the living room.  I run in, and he has unplugged the TV and several other things as well as thrown several things into the middle of the floor.  When I ask, he replies, “I can’t find the remote.” This one made me laugh and later cry.

These are just a few examples that we have laughed about.  He remembers doing them; he just doesn’t know why he does them.  He still tells me he loves me, and I get hugs at times.  He likes to talk about the grandkids.

Today, he said, “I am just trying to make it to see **** (our first-born). ”  He is coming the first of August.

I hope he makes it too;  sometimes I don’t.

Holiday is over

Home Sweet Home

After a long weekend all alone with the hubby and not much excitement except a knock down drag out about the proper way for him to take his medicine, today was the “you just thought you didn’t work anymore” day.  Not much sleep; the mister was restless.  He had taken a muscle relaxer to help his pain, but he gets so loopy on them that I can’t sleep well knowing that he may go the wrong way to the bathroom.  He also talks in his sleep when he takes a muscle relaxer.  Last night he told me to go hang the clothes on the line about ten times.  I guess I wasn’t going cause he kept telling me.

He got up at 7 am.  I wasn’t sure if he was sleep walking or awake so I jumped up (woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head) and went to the kitchen with him.  I had to go to the store today and pick up prescriptions and go to the bank.  I got my bags to take to the store, got the post office box key, cell phone, bottle of water, and purse and headed out to the car.  By this time, the Mister was throwing up sick and barely able to walk.  I went back to check on him, got him situated on the couch and went back to the car to hurry to get my stuff done.  The car wouldn’t start.  Battery so dead there was only one click, not even a series of clicks. I knew I had two options – jump it off or get out the battery charger.  I decided on the first and began to see how best to get the truck in to the front of my car.  My car was in the carport.  In front of it was two battery-powered ride on grandkid toys, a patio then a turn to the left has my compost bin, two lawn chairs, two saw horses, various pieces of lumber and a few other things that were not in their proper place of course.  Thinking I would not be able to get the truck through that obstacle course, I opted to push my car back out of the carport just enough to get the truck close enough for the jumper cable to reach.  I had hell getting the car into neutral so I could push it, but finally did and began to push.  There is just enough of a hump at the end of the carport to keep rolling it back the wrong way when it got to it.  I thought about getting out and going to the front to push it over the hump, but if it went over the hump there was an incline  that it would roll right down, and I had visions of me chasing my own car down the driveway right out into the street.  About that time, the mister came outside on the walker with one sock on and one barefoot.  It’s bad enough that he needs the walker to steady himself, but he can’t walk barefoot at all.  Hell, he couldn’t go barefoot when he was a young buck, so his possibility of falling had increased about 200%.  When he saw what was going on, he said the words that changed the world (as usual), “I believe your battery is in the trunk.”  Of course, I had never owned a car with a battery in the trunk, and granted it did make it much easier to get the truck to it, but damn it would have been nice to have had sense enough to know that before I tried to move a car on my own.    Moved the truck; jumped the car and off I go to the mechanic.  I guess the mister has known this mechanic for 50 years, and his parting word to me were, “Go straight to Bill Mechanic’s and tell him to get out there and help you now.”  I don’t have the same force that the mister has so I decided to wait to tell him until after he looked at my car.

I went straight to the mechanic and he checked the alternator – it was fine – then he checked the battery and said it was dead.  He didn’t think that it had ever been changed and it was a 2006 model.  Of course he couldn’t get the battery until the next morning so I will have to go back.  He assured me I could drive it and do my errands as long as I didn’t kill the car.

Off I went to the drugstore, and on the way out ran into an old friend and his wife.  We had a good long talk.  Next to the store, went through quite quick, forgot several things because of the hurry I was in.  Got the unfriendliest checker, and had to sack my own groceries and load the the car.  I like the checker, but I really have to work to get her to talk or smile, and today I was not successful.  Went through the drive thru at the bank to get some change to send all the grandkids a little summer spending money and headed the 10 miles to home. About a mile down the road every electrical thing on my car started doing weird things just like the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  I decided I best hurry, and I put the pedal to the metal to the tune of 90 miles per hours and raced the next nine miles to the house.  I kept thinking a policeman would stop me so at least I would have some help if I got stranded, but of course I could have robbed a bank and had Bonnie and Clyde in the backseat getting it on, and there would have been no police today.  So I made it the 10 miles with aliens having taken over my car.  As soon as I got home the mister was coming to the bed with his “cough up” can. (Kids called it that long ago; you know a nickname for everything, even the can you vomit in.)  “Get me a 7up,” was his first feeble request.  Then he wanted to go back to the couch; then decided not to; then decided to.  Got to the couch and moved all the vomit paraphernalia.  Got the groceries put up.  Mowed the lot across the road from us. Came in with “oh, my aching back.”

The remainder of the day went 7up, chicken noodle soup, answer the telephone, get me a blanket, turn up the air, turn on the fan, more 7up, medicine for upset stomach.  I finally convinced him that if he could find something on TV that would get him interested, it might take his mind off his ailments.  Rockford Files and Heat of the Night did the trick.

Went outside and fed the horse and rubbed him down with fly spray.  He was nicer to me.

Came in and got the mister bathed and tucked into bed.  He is so weak, but sleeping peacefully and now I will to.  And so ends a day of Laurel and Hardy, The Three Stooges and Abbott and Costello come to the Back Alley Stables of the McCoys.