Bad Hair Day

And you think you're having a bad hair day? I went out the back door Saturday morning and found this guy right at eye level. I went back inside to get my camera and when I came back, he was still there. It was relatively cool (for Texas in the summer) and he seemed to be pretty sluggish. I think he stayed with us for a couple of hours. He's a pretty good size critter.

There's a T-Rex in My Closet

Don't ask how I come up with this stuff...because I don't know.


I knew it was going to be one of those days when I opened the closet door, looking for something to wear to work and there stood a miniature t-rex with one of my shirts in each hand, and ruby stilettos on her feet. The row of rhinestone studs running down her chartreuse spine did nothing to allay my rising nausea.

She glanced from one fuchsia tipped hand to the other at the knit shirts grasped with delicate care. “I just can’t decide which one. No, these will never do.” She dropped them onto the pile growing at her feet and took two more from the hangers.

“What the…?” I gargled out. I rubbed my eyes with too much vigor, but the apparition didn’t go away.

The t-rex turned to face me. “Oh, there you are, honey. I didn’t hear you come in. Don’t you have anything with more pizzazz?” She held the blouses toward me. “These are boring, boring, boring.

“But…you’re a t-rex.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She smiled showing huge incisors and batted her long lashes at me. “Give this girl a prize,” she said. Then she asked, “Rough morning?”

I nodded. Or at least I think I did. I know a trickle of spit oozed down my chin.

“Aw, poor baby,” T-rex said. Then she reached into a pocket and withdrew a fine linen handkerchief edged with delicate pink lace. “Here’s a hanky, wipe your chin, doll face.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Looking for something to wear to work. What are you doing here?” Two more shirts and a corduroy skirt floated to the floor.

“But t-rexs don’t wear clothes. Besides that, they don’t work.” I was starting to babble. “They can’t talk either.”

“A lot you know, dumpling.” She pawed through the clothes hanging on the opposite side of the closet. “I’m an m-rex. T-rexs are too mundane. And dull, dull, dull.

“Oh, look!” she squealed and pulled out a dyed feather boa that I’d bought for Halloween last year. “And it’s my favorite color, vermillion! Now, this is more like it.”

“I…I…I…” My mind was about to short circuit. “There’s no such thing as an m-rex.

“That’s short for margarita-rex. You can just call me Emmy for short.”

I slammed the mirrored sliding door shut with a bang, flipped off the light and prepared to run.

“Yoo hoo,” Emmy yodeled. “Where are you going, buttercup? You haven’t even looked for something to wear. You’ll be late to work.”

She slid the door aside and stuck her snout through the crack. “My, dear girl, you look rather green around the gills.”

“I think I’m going to be ill. I bolted to the bathroom and reached the toilet just in time. Hunkered on my knees on the cold tile, I gripped the even colder porcelain throne. My stomach erupted through my nose bringing up my toenails for the ride, tied itself in knots and then snapped back into place.

“Gag, gag,” a voice floated from the bedroom followed by a raucous laugh.

“Go away, Emmy,” I yelled.

“Are you sure, lovey? I always hate being alone when I’m sick.”

“Just go away!”

“Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, sweetums.”

Then I heard a gurgling pop, pop and all was quiet.

I think I dozed with my cheek resting on the rim of the toilet. When I woke up I was sweating and shivering all at the same time. “Emmy?” I whispered.

No answer, so I pulled myself up by the boot straps and tiptoed into the empty bedroom. I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head…but I just had to know.

I stood in front of the closed door for at least five minutes, mustering my courage to look inside. I couldn’t hear a thing and almost convinced myself not to look. But then I heard that annoying, singsong voice. “Wasted away again in Margaritaville, Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt.”

“Emmy!” I screamed, and swept aside the door. The closet was empty. No chartreuse, miniature t-rex wearing ruby stilettos and rhinestone studs down her back. But there was a rumpled pile of discarded clothing tossed aside by the enigmatic m-rex, Emmy.

Hot Flash on the Hoof

Yee haw! It's a hot flash! This has been one of those days when I seem to be one giant hot flash. I haven't been bothered as much lately (except at night and those are called night sweats) by these power surges, but today has been miserable. I'm sitting here in a sleeveless t shirt fanning myself.

Normally in the office I'm shivering. Especially in the summer when the air conditioning is cranked to the max. I have a small fleece blanket I wrap up in when it gets too cold and people walk by and say, "Are you cold?" Now tell me that isn't a stupid question.

Maybe I'm getting sick and it's actually a fever. But I can't remember the last time I ran a fever. Maybe it's a premonition of good things to come. I could use a few good things in my life. Or...maybe it's just another atomic power surge.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

"The idea for creating a day for children to honor their fathers began in Spokane, Washington. A woman by the name of Sonora Smart Dodd thought of the idea for Father's Day while listening to a Mother's Day sermon in 1909."

"In 1972, President Richard Nixon established a permanent national observance of Father's Day to be held on the third Sunday of June"

I for one didn't realize that Father's day was made official so recently. But regardless, here's to all the wonderful dads out there who make our lives what they are.

This is my father and me. We won't discuss the year.

My parent's wedding picture. I guess I should have put it first.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU!

Father's Day Dilemma

What do you buy for a man for Father’s day when he invariably says he wants a Porsche and he’s only half joking? I struggle at every gift giving occasion because I don’t know what to buy Jimbob.

Electronic gadgets, which so many men love, hold no interest for him. A year ago last Christmas I bought him a new cell phone with Bluetooth and voice dialing. Yes he uses the phone (all the time). But the headset lies beneath a thick layer of dust where he originally set it. JC and I both tried to show him how to use voice dialing but that proved too difficult.

He mentioned the other day that he was going to need one of those GPS systems for his car as he gets more and more music students. He has this habit of thinking he knows where he’s going, but gets to where he thought his destination should be and …no, that’s not where he’s supposed to be.

So…my dilemma is whether to go spend a couple of hundred dollars and have the GPS system take up residence next to his Bluetooth, or just buy him another shirt? Come to think of it, he has numerous shirts setting in the closet gathering dust, too.

Finally!

I finally got a clean bill of health from the urologist one year after my fall. My left kidney is completely healed and I can resume normal activity. It's about time, too.

So I took a good look in the mirror the other day and it was pretty scary. Gravity waits for no man...or woman (that's me). And that insidious beast is winning. That's when I decided it was time to return to the fitness center on a regular schedule.

Until then, I'd been going on a hit-or-miss basis to peddle my buns on the exercise bike. I even fooled myself into thinking that this would fend off the dreaded sagging and bagging brought about by too many years as a desk jockey. WRONG! Pencil pushing and computer tapping don't qualify as exercise.

Last week I got on a machine that is kind of like a treadmill, except that your feet are on pads that ride on rails. I can't remember what it's called. This wondrous contraption of torture also has handle bars that alternate backward and forward to exercise your arms. I thought this might be helpful for my shoulder since it still causes me some pain.

After 30 seconds on this iron maiden, I thought I was going to have a heart attack right there in front of all those young, buff exercise fanatics. So I slowed from a crawl to a snail's pace, dropped my mouth open for more air, and gritted my teeth (hard to do at the same time). I managed to last another 90 seconds before running up the white flag of surrender.

I spent the next 15 minutes on the stationary bike at a remarkable speed of -20 knots. I had to get my heart rate down before I could go change clothes and go back to work. Besides I was afraid that I might pass out.

This past Tuesday I lasted a whopping 3 minutes. Admittedly, a tortoise could have run circles around me, but I did improve. Score one for the Old Gipper and all that hogwash.

Four minutes today on Tin Lizzy before I was forced to cool down on the bike. TA DA! A new record. Of course I had to crawl back to my cubicle. And my coworkers kept asking what all the moaning and groaning was about. Damned if I'd admit that I was melting into a greasy little puddle.

I've promised myself that I will go to the fitness center no less than twice a week, and might even make it to three. That remains to be seen though. Since I go on my lunch 45 minutes and it's right downstairs, I have no excuse. In addition, I will at least equal the time spent in purgatory during my previous session if not increase it.

Now for another short. I've given up on Miss B sending me pictures of my precious granddaughter, so I ordered a web cam. If you know what a computer inexpert I am, you'll know how proud I was when I installed it successfully. Only problem was, after I got it installed, I have no idea how to use it. I did take several pictures of myself, but that wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Now I have to wait for number one brat, JC, to come over and show me how to use it.

Oh Rats!

A couple of winters ago, we had a rat infestation in our attic even though the exterminator didn't believe us. Seventeen dead critters later, (I had to empty the traps myself) I still don't think they believed we had rats.

Anyway, I was sitting in my chair yesterday evening and happened to look over toward the bird feeder. It's strategically placed so I can watch the birds eat without getting up. And low and behold, there's a big fat rat going after the seed. I chased it away and later I saw a smaller rat doing the same thing.

I asked Jimbob to call the exterminator today while I was at work but he forgot. I just don't want the nasty things in the garage and attic again.

We're Off To See

We’re off to see the eye surgeon again tomorrow. Jimbob is having more problems with his sight and the optometrist thinks it might be due to a cataract.

Which I understand is not a big deal to take care of. This would certainly be the lesser of the evils that could be causing the problem.

Of course there’s always the possibility that Jimbob will never see as well as he did even 5 years ago. Age is not an easy opponent and he’s 75 years old.

So, wish us luck. We need all we can get.