#203 - MAN UP TO THE PANTY CHALLENGE

FISHDUCKEY...SEE SPECIAL NOTE TO YOU AT THE VERY END.

(THIS IS KT WRITING IN RED)  I received THIS from thedesertrocks.blogspot.com on Saturday 8/6 GEE THANKS!:　

Laila at The Untroubledkingdomoflailaknight sent me this challenge saying that since I was sweet she knew I wouldn't turn her down. How do I argue with that? Thank goodness it's not a let's all jump off a cliff challenge....

IT'S MEME TIME

Then, after I answer these questions I am supposed to tag five bloggers so this delightfully easy challenge gets passed along.  

Try to go for sweet and vulnerable and you shouldn't have a problem....

        I TOOK OFF THEIR PICTURE

          AND DECIDED TO POST MY OWN:

            

CAUGHT SHORT
This is me during my infamous mini-skirt days.
The picture was taken then posted on the bulletin
board where I worked (a Municipal Court House
 in Calif.)   NOTICE = my knees are together...

Ok, you can hardly blame me for stepping up to the challenge as I have authored TWO posts which discuss my undies!

http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=874207911908838979&postID=1591679827437061830

(HOW I GOT THE NICK NAME BETTY BOOP)   I understand this one didn't work so try:                http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/03/159-friday-flashbacks-how-i-acquired.html

AND

outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2010/12/61-paranioa-tighty-whities-story.html

(PARANOIA, THE TIGHTY WHITES STORY)

AND ta-ta..ta-da! here are the questions:

1. What do you call your panties / underwear / undergarments? Do you have any commonly used nicknames for them? 

Well, not tighty whities I learned this the hard way.  What?  Doesn't everyone call them under pants?  Give my underpants a Nickname...are you nuts!

2. Have you ever had that supposedly common dream of being in a crowded place in only your underwear?

Nope,  but I have dreamed about suddenly finding myself shopping in the nude.  However, since the dream happens in Walmart, nobody noticed. 

3. What is the worst thing you can think of to make panties out of?

Well, dental floss.  Woops, they already make them out of that don't they?  They're called thongs.

4. If you were a pair of panties, what color would you be? 

Ahhh, no way would I ever all myself to be changed into a pair of panties.  I can't imagine hanging around crotchety old ladies netherlands (or is it Never-Never lands?).  

5. Have you ever thrown your panties/underwear at a rock star or other celebrity? If so, which one(s)? If not, which one(s) WOULD you throw your panties/underwear at, given the opportunity?

I have never thrown my underpants to anyone.  However, it just so happens that I did throw my panty hose at a Matador while in Tijuana watching a bull fight.  But, cerveza (beer) did play a major role in that fiasco (and I did have underpants on under the hose).  This incident is on my list for a future post.  

6. You’re out of clean panties. What do you do?

Go commando!  Duh!  btdt (been there done that)

7. Are you old enough to remember Underoos? If so, did you have any? Which ones?

No.  But, I'm old enough to know that Cleopatra probably didn't wear undies.  However, I haven't a clue what Underoos are.  Must have missed those.  Let me check on the internet... ... ... 

Oh, I see.
These came out in 1977 (when I was 36).
 They probably didn't have them for adults.
But. if they did I would have chosen these.

8. If you could have any message printed on your panties, what would it be?

BACK OFF!, I'm too old for that kind of S#!T...

9. How many bloggers does it take to put panties on a goat?

SIX
One to club the goat over the head.

One to put the panties on.
One to take pictures.
One to bail the first three out of jail for animal cruelty & malicious mischief.
One to pay off the farmer whose goat was violated.
One to write up the blog post.


Come on....only nine...there should be at least ten questions when doing a survey.  Every statistician knows that.


10.  What was your most embarrassing moment involving your panties?


Don't have any, BUT I SURE HOPE YOU DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now to choose a few friends who won't mind playing along. So here we go....

You can if you want to but...NOPE, you know me better than that.  I don't always follow the rules  (Ergo, the picture change).  So let me try this... ... 

Any of you reading this post, who would like to rise to this challenge, please do, and then comment back to me so I will know that you did so.  (That is all except Christine Lucas who begged to be include  http://christinalucas.blogspot.com/).

The challenge is to MAKE ME LAUGH.  COME ON, I DARE YOU!

kt 8/6/2011 

SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY FOR...... 
"#204 -

 "BOO, BUG-A-BOO, TOBY AND A KITTY TOO"

BE SURE TO WRITE THE 8/29 ON YOU CALENDAR 

FOR MY FAVORITE STORY.
  

PS:  My granddaughter  has moved four hours away to another tow (Amen).  Call me crazy but, I will miss the little ones (and I am not talking about the critters!).  

TO FISHDUCKEY:  THERE ARE ALL KINDS OF GLITCHES IN THE BLOGSPOT PROGRAM.  AND,THERE ARE ALL KINDS OF THINGS FOR ME TO REMEMBER TO DO.  PUT THOSE TWO ISSUES TOGETHER AND S#!T HAPPENS.  


USUALLY I TRY TO SCHEDULE BLOGS AHEAD SO I WON'T MISS A MONDAY POST (DUE TO LIFE'S LITTLE SURPRISES).  ANYWAY, WHEN I FINISH A POST I SCHEDULE A DATE FOR ITS RELEASE.  THEN I HAVE TO CLICK ON "PUBLISH POST."  HOWEVER, SOMETIMES THE DARN THING POSTS IMMEDIATELY.  IF THAT HAPPENS I HAVE TO IMMEDIATELY WITHDRAW IT OR IT MESSES UP EVERYTHING.  ONLY, THE SNAPSHOT OF THAT POST DOESN'T COME OF AT THE SAME TIME.  I HAVE A NAME FOR THIS.  I CALL IT C.R.A.P. (Computer Related Attacks by Poltergeists.


BY THE WAY...I DEFINITELY LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR COMMENTS.  I JOIN WITH MY BLOGGER FRIENDS AND AGREE THAT YOU SHOULD START YOUR OWN BLOG.  THINK ABOUT IT.  WE BLOGGERS ARE REAL HELPFUL AND WILL ANSWER QUESTIONS AND HELP.  THINK ABOUT IT.     kt

#202 - ALL FIRED UP!

When I was a Sophomore at Santa Monica City College I took several speech classes.   Noooooo, way you say!  This gal is way too shy!  Sure, right!  Well, this story is about my final speech in that class.

I wanted to get an "A" since I was thinking about becoming a member of Toastmasters International.  All of my other speeches received fantastic reviews and I was working on straight "A's."  To me this had to be a speech that EVERYONE would remember, especially the instructor (who could be my Toastmasters' sponsor, if I finished well).

I researched feverishly on my topic which was drawn from a box.  At first I wasn't too enthused because it the topic I drew was, "The Dangers of House Fires."  However, after reading a gazillion articles a plan began to form in my mind.

An outline of the required techniques was made and under each one notes were sketched.  I began to get excited and could see the way it was going to go.  My information was well documented, phrased in interesting and unique ways, and I had come up with a mind staggering (required) demonstration/finale.

On the day of the final, I admit, l I was a little nervous.  With my notes memorized in my head I stepped to the podium and set up my props, stage right, on a table.  One of these props was a carefully crafted paper and cardboard house with shingles, a chimney, windows, door and the typical type of siding drawn in color on the model.

My voice was well modulated, my tempo was up beat and crisp, I demonstrated an excitement about the information I was imparting and put across the seriousness of the topic.  I HAD THEM EATING OUT OF MY HANDS.  I was cooking on all burners.  I was firing on all cylinders.  I was going like a house afire.  It is then that I launched into my final comment and the ending that would grab them all.

As I said, "Don't let this happen to you," I stuck a match and touched it to the house.  Well, here is where it gets interesting.  I had worried about the house not catching fire, or only partially burning so (remember I was only a Sophomore in college and REALLY STUPID!)  therefore I had soaked the paper house with lighter fluid....................  WOOSH!  up it went.  If the front row had been any closer their eyebrows would have been part of my speech.  Everyone jumped up, the fire alarm went off, and I looked on stunned at the conflagration melting the top of the table.  The instructor rushed up with a fire extinguisher and became a participant in my memorable demonstration.

Mann, oh mann, it went up in a mini explosion of flame in less than 5 seconds.  WHAT A SIGHT!

I GOT AN "A." (and a lecture from the Dean).


POST SCRIPT:  I have had several blog worthy experiences with fire.  See the following:
          #32 = the 9th Street Fire Fiend,  http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/03/164-fiday-flashbacks-9th-street-fire.html

          #20 = Recipe for Disaster,  http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2010/08/20-recipe-for-disaster.html

          #90 = From the Frying Pan to the Fire, http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/01/90-from-fring-pan-into-fire.html

I also have one more coming up as soon as I get around to writing it.  What can I say....I'm a slow learner and I have already told you that have ADHD (and am a tad nuts).  By the way.  I never joined toastmasters.  I fell in love instead... ... ...

                             

             SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY FOR.....#203-"BOO!, BUG-A-BOO, TOBY, AND A KITTY TOO!"
       BE SURE TO WRITE THE 8/29 ON YOU CALENDAR FOR MY FAVORITE STORY.

kt 7/3/11

#201-AN UNLIKELY HERO

My mother, God rest her soul, had a number of interesting interactions with MY pets over the years.  Here is one of the stories.

In 1963 I was living with my parents in Palm Desert, California.  My first husband, and the father of my son, had just bailed on us and I came home to have our baby.

Ugly sitting on the deck by the pool.

I brought with me an unusual cat which I named Ugly.  She was a small irascible kitten when I found her and was extremely emaciated.  Her head and paws were much larger than the rest of her body which gave her a strange look.  Plus, she was a weird multi color (which, I found later, to be called tortoise shell) and had a short tail, (with a crook at the end) hence the name Ugly.  This cat NEVER uttered a single meow! Instead she would chatter like a squirrel!  She even had a  strange habit of flinging herself from trees as if she imagined herself to be a flying squirrel.  She was so in tune with me that she started labor when I did.  In fact, I had to deliver her 3 kittens before I went to the hospital myself.

This story happened around June of that year when my parents were having a swimming pool built in their back yard.  The pool crew had dug a gigantic hole in which to burry their debris.  It was about eight foot deep and several yards from the pool.  We all knew it was there and was very careful to skirt the pit during the day (key phrase).

One night Mom was out back doing some yard work.  You see, it was during the summer and day time temperatures were extremely hot d (and barely tolerable at night).  The yard had been landscaped with flood lights on various shrubs and trees (another key phrase).   The lighting cast a shadow across the area of the pit (see where this is going?).  As Mom cut across the yard she stepped off into hell!

I was in the front room which had a large picture window looking out onto the back porch and beautifully landscaped back yard.  The sound from the television and air conditioning made it impossible to hear anything from outside the house.   I sat comfortably, sipping iced tea (and probably watching Red Skelton on TV),  as Mom was hollering her lungs out .  The only one who came to her call was my cat, Ugly, and her three kittens (Larry, Moe, and Curly).   Ugly would appear at the edge of the hole,  peer down, chatter, and then disappear while her kittens ran around and around the edge knocking sand/dirt/gravel down onto Mom.  Ugly, would return periodically, chatter a message, and then disappear again.

Now from my vantage point I could see Ugly come to the sliding screen door and paw the screen, then she would disappear.  A few minutes later she would come to the screen door again and rattle it even harder.  This went on for quite a while and each time she would get more aggressive with the screen door.  Finally, she plastered herself two feet off the porch floor, in the middle of the screen and shook it like a crazed monkey on meth.

Finally, I got up to see what was going on.  When I opened the glass door Ugly took off, chattering up a storm as she darted off the back porch.  I stood there watching her disappear into the dark.  I was curious about her behavior but, not curious enough to step into the blistering heat.  Then, as I was closing the door I head a little sound and my mother's voice shakily uttering, "Hhhheeeelllllllpp!

 I ran out  into the scorched night and Ugly came up to greet me then took off again.  When I realized what had happened, I said, "Hang on Mom I need to get a light and ladder."  I reversed myself to the garage for a ladder and a flashlight.  Upon returning I gazed down upon a beleaguered, dirty, (no, muddy from the sweat) mother who still had a little spunk left in her as she said, “Well, hell!  "It’s about time you got out here!"

Ugly, sitting in the front room.
And, yes kit looks a lot like her.

Mom was OK, and what interested us the most was how the actions of my cat, Ugly, brought me to my mother’s rescue.  You see, it was not uncommon for my mother to stay out past midnight working in the yard.  In just a few more minutes I would have gone to bed and probably never found her until morning.   Who would have thought that a cat could deliberately communicate the need for help.

PS:  And you might as well say it, because I know you were thinking it.  Yes, I take after my mother.


Also, my regular followers are probably thinking that Kit looks a great deal like Ugly.....Yep, sure does!






Next Monday = #202 - ALL FIRED UP!
And be sure to see my favorite story on Aug. 29th 
kt 7/2011

#200- SHOOTS AND LADDERS

Somewhere around the summer of 2003 I was doing something in the backyard at my grandson’s home.  I heard a crash, then “Awhhh, Mannnn!” and then some grumbling.  A few minutes later I heard the same thing again.  I searched out the source of the commotion and found my grandson, Gene, amidst a pile of rubble (tires, wood, boxes, etc).  When questioned he told me he was trying to build a club house.  To which I said, “Honey, Memaw will build you a club house!  Now, get out of this stuff before hurt yourself.”

AND THIS STARTED THE EPIC 'BUILDING OF THE PLAYHOUSE' SAGA.

I couldn't find plans for a small playhouse or fort so I purchased plans for a small storage shed (6ft X 6ft X 8ft).  Undaunted by the apparent enormity of the project I had chosen, I launched myself into it with my usual gusto.  It took me until November of that year to finish it.  And, it did give me a number of experiences I will never forget. 

Today, I will tell you something I learned about attaching siding to a building [I have already told you about stapling my glove to my hand during this project...see #38 aka 

FRIDAY FLASHBACK = "WHAT A MAROON" (MORON)!].

When screwing siding on to the side of this shed I experienced a problem.   As the screw went in the siding pulled away from the studs.  I could not seem to keep this from happening unless I drilled a hole first.  I saw what kind of time that was going to take so I opted for another way (a gigantic mistake).

This is a picture of the clubhouse as it stands today.

With my ladder (see picture, above) sitting parallel to the wall I was able to put my foot up onto the offending siding.  As the next screw went in the siding started to pull away again.   I simply applied pressure and pushed with my foot to keep it fast.  It was simple all right...SIMPLE MINDED!

As I pushed with my foot my ladder SHOOTS away from the wall leaving me suspended in mid-air (Ok, the word should have been shot not shoots, but I wanted two shoots to go with the title).   I yelled,  "SHOOT!" (that is a substitute for what I actually yelled which also starts with an S= and fulfills the criteria for the second shoot).

"SHIT!   (woops) SHOOT!"

It all seemed to happen in slow motion.  Down I floated, with the electric screwdriver still (SEE COMMENT BELOW)

squealing in my hand.  I clutched that screwdriver for dear life as if it was going to belay my fall.  The potential of major pain looming in my near future, played out  before my eyes.  Luckily, the screwdriver turned off the minute the slow motion stopped and my body crashed to the ground.  Later, I found it hanging over a fence several feet away.

I lay there for a while taking time to assess the situation.  The ladder was lying on its side, but I wasn't!  I was lying on my back looking up at a dreary November sky and mentally searching my body for the injuries I was sure I had just sustained.  I was also searching for my breath, which had escaped into that dreary sky.  Underneath me was the damp soft ground, which, I'm sure, was sporting an indentation the same size and shape of my body.  Feeling no particular pain and seeing no angels floating by, I decided that I was OK and got up.  Not only that, I finished the siding that night.  


(AWH, MANNNNNN!  I didn't work a second ladder into the story so the title would fit.
So, just pretend that I got another ladder to finish the work.)

That is why, when I write THINGS I LEARNED THE HARD WAY part 2,  Number one on the list will be:  Never put your foot up on the side of a building while standing on a ladder!   (See #22-FRIDAY'S FLASHBACKS - Things I learned the hard way part 1).
  

 (COMMENT:  I tried to fix this paragraph 4 times and got no where so the heck with it.  It is those darned poltergeists again!)                                                         

SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY......... FOR "BOO AND BUG-A-BOO"kt 7/2011

                                                                 

#199 - A COMMENT FROM THE FLOOR OF THE HOUSE!

Almost exactly a year ago my father fell, butt first, into the bathtub while pulling up his underwear.  This prompted my first story which I put in installments on my Face Book page.  For my family, I described the antics I went through trying to design and install a bar to put across the tub to keep this from happening again.  That particular story became blog posts number 12, 13, 14, and 15.  Well the bar prevented another dive into the bathtub, but... ... ...

Today, July 4, 2011, only a few days away from the anniversary of this event (and my first post on blogger... Yes, this is the anniversary month of my debut on blogger) my dad fell in the bathroom again, but NOT INTO THE BATHTUB.


Now, I know what you are thinking, "Karen, shame on you!  This is not a funny subject.  He could have been seriously hurt."  Well, yes I guess that is true but hang on, hear me out, and let me finish the story.


Around 7 AM I heard, "Oh...Oh...Oh....groan...Oh...Oh...groan...   ...  ...   "


Quickly jumping out of bed I rushed to the bathroom to find him on his knees in front of the comode, with his pants down.  It was not a pretty picture but with my concern for my dad this did not register in my brain, until later.

He was holding onto the edge of the sink counter and trying to get up.  Despite my insistence he remain still he kept trying to pull himself up.  It was definitely  impossible for him to achieve this, but he wouldn't listen.  I tried to convenience him to let me help him lay down on his side but he said he couldn't (his feet were straddling the toilet on the floor).  I ran to the phone (I swear I am going to put telephones in both of the bathrooms) and called 911.  While imparting the information I heard a thump.  Back to the bathroom I raced to find him laying on his left side in front of the sink.  I grabbed a pillow for his head just as a city police officer appeared at the front door.

When the paramedics arrived they asked him a few questions, like they do, to determine the mental status of their victim.  What is your name was the first question and the second question questions was, "Do you know where you are?"  Dad almost did a double take, gazed up at them over his right shoulder, (with an incredulous expression on his face) and said, "Well, of course. (pregnant pause) I'm on the floor! "  (you could tell by the tone of his voice YOU IDIOTS was implied in the pregnant pause).  That elicited a laugh from everyone.

They checked him out, found a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing more, then got him up.  

See, the tough old bird is ok, and delivered a great one liner in the mist of the possibly serious situation.

SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY... ... ... for  SHOOTS AND LADDERS... kt 7/4/2011  

#198-AN EXPLOSIVE SITUATION

One fourth of July (I think it was the summer after my son's 7th grade year) he had his first real supply of fireworks (they didn't allow personal use where we lived in California).  He was so excited he could hardly contain himself.  He emptied his entire supply of firecrackers into a pouch which, at one time, contained an old WWII gas mask.  It was perfect for his purpose (easy to reach, light then toss).  I cautioned him, had him do a few practice lights for me, and then let his do his thing.  He had a small punk and started his small imaginary war.

Watching from the window I watched him warm up until his skills gradually became like an infantry soldier lobbing grenades into the hoards of approaching enemy.  He ended up making a stand on the front porch and then something happened.  I was keeping an eye on him since this was his first real experience with firecrackers and I suddenly heard his yell, "NO!  OH, NO!" and then a whole battery of explosions started filling the air.



When I quickly stepped out the front door I saw my son's ammunition pouch bounding all over the place as multiple little explosions erupted inside the bag.  My son was jumping around like he was lead dancer in Lord of the Dance, and the bag seemed to be attacking him.




The explosive dance didn't last very long as several were going off at the same time.  In less that a minute the chaos subsided and the pouch died a pitiful death on the cement floor with more holes than Swiss cheese.  My son dejectedly flopped down beside the smoking pouch and looked up at me with the most pitiful look I have ever seen.  "Mom!" he said, "That was my entire supply of firecrackers.  They were supposed to last for days."



When I asked what happened he said that he was holding the punk close to the pouch so he could light the fuzes fast, when the end of the punk broke off and fell into the bag.  He went on to say, "I thought I was dead meat because I couldn't get the bag from around my neck fast enough."

This was our first year in Missouri and money was tight since I quit my good job to move my children out of LA.  But, I managed to come up with enough to buy another smaller supply, knowing that my son learned a valuable lesson.   I was thankful that he still had his head and all his fingers......... HERE'S HOPING YOU KEEP YOURS TOO!...........

SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY......for "AN UNLIKELY HERO"  kt  6/23/11

(change in plans, next week is about something that happened today... ...

#200 - A VIEW FROM THE HOUSE FLOOR!)

                                                          

#197 - OK.....Here's the deal!....

OK.....Here's the deal!....

My life has gotten so complicated that I can not keep up with my blog.

You all know that I take care of my 100 year old father.  However, he is starting to decline fast and is requiring more attention.

Also, most of you know about my granddaughter and the challenges she has brought into my life.

Then there is the fact that it is summer and there is so much outdoor work that has to be done that I am up to my eyebrows (literally) with weeds and the like.

Plus, I am trying to regularly attend a weekly school for Toby, my dog.

Even though I have tried to give up cooking, eating and sleeping but can't seem to do it sooooooooo...
I am cutting back some more.

I WILL ONLY BE POSTING ORIGINAL PIECES, EACH MONDAY.  Hopefully things will slow down in the fall.  Please stay with me.  In July it will be a year since I started this blog and I would like to still have one by next July.           kt

#196 - MY VERY OWN MISSION IMPOSSIBLE.

I used to own one of those small Ford Escorts and it served my purpose well, even when I broke my leg.

This will be useful when you need to visualize the story at the end of this post.

The idiot doctor put me in a full plaster cast from just below my hip to the tip of my toe.  I did have a spiral fracture of the tibia but to cast the whole leg was old fashioned and cumbersome.  Bare in mind that at that time I was an empty nester and living alone with a wild and crazy cat named Mad Max, a giant German Shepherd named Luke and a blind poodle I was baby sitting for my aunt.

Getting around in this cast on my own was nearly impossible.  They did order me a wheelchair (and crutches) but, it wouldn't go through the bedroom or bathroom door.  Speaking of the bathroom, now that was a real challenge.  The toilet sat up against the wall at the end of a long narrow bathroom.  When seated the wall was on the right.  Yes, you guessed it, my right leg was the one being held hostage in this humungous white mountain of plaster.  Well, there wasn't much room on the right and to make things worse there wasn't much room straight ahead (the tub was there).

I made several attempts at .....poddying  awh heck, just say it.....peeing!  The first time I tried to sit sideways, missed the commode completely and bruised both my ego and my tail bone.  The second time I tried to prop my leg on the tub and sit down.  With nothing to hold on to I slipped and took another butt dive only not as hard (but the thumpapdy, thump, thump of the toilet lid on my backbone wasn't fun).  By this time the situation was getting desperate.  I was so afraid that I was going to pee down the cast (YUCK!) On the third attempt I raised the toilet lid, straddled the darned thing and let her rip.  That was successful except for a slight soiling of the area around the throne.  Vowing to improve the maneuver I later devised a make shift .....ah.....penis out of a toilet roll tube (Yes, you read it right).  It worked but had to be replaced frequently.  TMI???????  Well, in that case I won't share how I managed to go #2.

Another problem cropped up immediately.  I had been guiding my aunt's blind dog down two steps into the garage and out the back door to the yard so he could do his business.  This proved to be another challenge. I struggled out the first time and propped the door open for future trips.  Then I called him from the top of the steps and he managed to find his way back in.  However, when he tried to go down the steps by himself he did a nose dive and tumble onto the cement floor.  He did manage to stagger around and finally find the door but I felt bad about his nose plant.  So, I had to lay on my stomach, on the floor, in the laundry room, scoot down the stairs and guide his butt down those stairs, so he wouldn't fall.  After a few false starts he eventually found his way out the door.

(BUT THE BIGGEST PROBLEM IS YET TO COME!)

Luckily, I had plenty of food (dog, cat, and mine) to last several days, but the next problem came up when I had to go for my one week checkup.  I had a perfectly good car and I wasn't about to pay for a cab.   I hobbled out the front door and up to the drivers side of the FORD ESCORT (with bucket seats and a console).  I parked myself in a chair on the front porch and mentally made a plan to allow me to be able to drive.

I wish I had a picture but I will try to explain how I accomplished the seemingly impossible.
First, I had to insert my heavy right stump like leg into the car, over the console, and out the passenger side window.  This in itself was a tremendous physical feat since I hadn't done the splits in at least 30 years.  Then I had to load the rest of me into the seat and start the car.  The position I found myself in was uncomfortable but workable as soon as I figured out how to move the gear under my leg of cement.

I did both break and gas with my left foot and made sure I was traveling very slow.  This, however, is what drew the attention of the police officer (not the danged white cast hanging out the window).  I pulled over like the law abiding citizen I am and smiled up into the face of an officer I had come upon once before.  Quietly, he stood there and looked around taking in the ridiculous scene before him.  Having dealt with me once before (a very memorable moment for him, I'm sure.....see #111-AN OFFICER and A GENTLEMAN 1/26/11) he got a twinkle in his eyes and smiled.  "Well, (pause, pause, pause) Ms. Taylor, (another pause) I see you have devised a ingenious way to break the law."  I, with my own dazzling smile replied, "Oh, thank God you stopped me.  I have to get to the doctor and I was afraid to drive this way!"  He paused a minute and responded, "You do know what cabs are for, don't you?"  To which I said, "Yes, but I'm flat busted and couldn't afford one."  Not only did I NOT get a ticket, but he escorted me to the doctor's, helped me out of the car and up to the office.  He was even nice enough to tell me he was about to go off duty and cautioned me not to try to drive home.  Of, course I drove home.  He wouldn't be around to catch me and I tied a paper sack on my foot and drove faster so as not to draw any attention.   100% TRUE       kt6//2011

THANK YOU!

Tuesday 6/21/11

Thank you, each and every one of you for your support.  I tried to be humorous when writing this Monday's post but I find this situation anything but funny.  The children are angels when I take care of them.  They are wild animals when their mother takes care of them is in charge.

However, the situation may be resolved, for me, because the $#!/ hit the fan Monday morning.  I can't go into what happened, but, I could not tolerate her shocking behavior.  That means that my poor son will probably inherit the problem.

This subject is such a downer, but I wanted you to know how much I appreciate your comments and understanding.  It has helped.  Yes, it has helped, a lot.

Hopefully, this coming Monday, I will be able to get back to my usual goofy self and give you a giggle or two.  Hugs to all..............Karen

#194-HOW AM I DOING? YOU TELL ME!

So many of my friends have asked me how I am doing.  I would like to say that thing have reached to point of peaceful coexistence, but things around here are anything but peaceful.

My granddaughter pulls her weight, maybe one day a week.  My great grandkids are like trying to cage a bunch of drunken monkeys.  Toby is a wild man who has learned to extort treats by stealing items and holding on to them ransom until I offer him a treat to give the item to me.  My father sleeps through just about everything (after all he is almost deaf) and when not sleeping laughs (or shakes his head) at all of the antics going on around him .

Here are some things I have said to my youngest great grandchildren (ages 4 and 5)...   (I will use numbers for the great grandchildren to protect the names of the... ahhhhh... .. ...INNOCENT?):

Number 3 son.

Number 4 son.

"#4, take the kitten out of your pants!"

"Yes, #4, I am taking a nap.  Now put my sleeping mask back down."

"#3,  do not hold the ferret by the tail.

To #3, "HE WHAT!  #4 WHY DID YOU PEE ON YOUR BROTHER?

"#3,  if you want to learn a great way to use duct tape, keep talking that way!"

(Thirty minutes after bedtime) "#3 and #4,  the one who is caught horsing around gets to sleep with grandma!"  (dead silence, quickly followed by sleep -  I have used this one frequently)

"#1 through #4, " if I hear the word 'fart' one more time I am going to make you all drink this yucky green stuff to make sure you can't make any!" (as I was holding up a large green bottle of malox)

To #4: "He kicked you in the package?  So, where exactly is this package?" (Picture a 4 year old concentrating and frowning as he considers his answer.) 

To #3: "So, who cares if #4 is staring at you!"

(fight between #3 and #4).  "Ok, guys.  You both got exactly the same toy from McDonalds.  How on earth can you be fighting over which one belongs to who?"

"Yuck, #4, do not kiss the ferret on the mouth....or the mice, or the kitten (oh, forgot to tell you, they now have a kitten), or Toby for that matter."

"#3 and #4, no you can not keep roly-poly bugs as pets. "

To #3 and #4:  "That's not my job.  Get your mother out of bed and make her do it!"

Here are a few sentences I have YELLED at my granddaughter:


(Just today) "LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Please be more careful.  The noodles you poured down the sink drain has stopped the whole thing up.  (She actually tried to convenience me  that she put them down the disposal; even though  I pulled a fist full of whole noodles out of the sink side and the entire drain is stopped up!)

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  #4 son is taking apart my new vacuum sweeper!" (he's 4)

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Your ferret is pooping on the door threshold!"

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Where is the mouse that WAS in THAT cage?"

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Feed your children."

("SPLASH") "LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  For the 10th time one of the boys did not put the toilet seat down!"

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  The kids didn't turn off the water out back!  THERE IS A FOOT OF WATER UNDERNEATH THE HOUSE!"  (apparently it was on for a couple of days and took us two hours to pump it out)


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Your cheese, in the refrigerator, is growing hair!"


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Wash these damn darned dishes and clean up that room!"


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  I just stepped in jello!" (Better than stepping in ferret poop!  How do you think I found out it had pooped on the threshold to their rooms?).


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Someone left the garage door up and Toby got out!"


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Someone left the gate open and Toby got out!"


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  One of your kids is blowing soap bubbles in MY front room!"


(After seeing something rapidl shoot by the window) "LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA! 
 #2 son is shoving #3 son down the handicap ramp, out front, 
in MY FATHER'S NEW WHEEL CHAIR!"

100% TRUE, and this is just the last ten days!


kt 6/14/11

#193-I LAUGH AT MYSELF REGULARLY!

I really don't understand why some people get so angry at jokes which happen to spotlight their particular demographic group.  I managed to laugh at and even tell some very good blonde jokes myself (I was once a blond).  What's the big deal ?  So, just to prove it I am offering these jokes about aging that some of my good friends have been kind enough to send me since I turned 70.   kt    PS:  See answer to, "How are you doing?" this Monday (6/20).

                                        

                                        This would be me before my cataract surgery.  kt

This would be me after my cataract surgery.
(just can't resist an opportunity)   kt

                                        
                                If this were actually my chart there would be a slice
designated for peeing.  kt

I did have something similar happen.  I lost my half slip 

while walking down the side walk.  kt 

Been there done that.  kt

MY SENTIMENTS, EXACTLY!  kt2011  

#192-THE SENSATIONAL SIBLING SKIRMISH

One day, about seven years ago, I was in my son's back yard working on a club house for my grandson, Gene.  I heard a noise and looked up to see him opening his second story bedrooom window.  Curious, I watched as he placed several items on the roof of the kitchen, just below his window.  Then he closed the window and let down the blinds.  I thought this was strange but I shrugged it off and went back to work.

"You haven't seen me!"

Then, I heard the back door slamming and the sound of feet running on gravel.  Gene came tearing round the large storage shed heading toward the back of their property.  He looked up at me as he ran and quietly said, "You haven't seen me!" and kept running.  He disappeared into the pasture behind their property.

"GENE!  I'm gonna KILL you!"

In a few minutes, I heard the back door slamming again.  This time it was Kallie (Gene's older sister).  She paused, looked around and yelled, "GENE!  I'm gonna KILL you!"  She started stomping toward the back of their lot.  As she passed me she asked. "Have you seen that little shit?" Not liking her termonology I started to say something, but the look on her face WAS NOT FRIENDLY, so I just shook my head no.




About 20 miutes later Kallie came stomping back, muttering to herself all the way back to the house.  I didn't see Gene until the next day.  I was told that he didn't come in until supper time where he would have the protection of both his parents.

Apparently Gene and Kallie were having a heated argument about him using her Play Staion II.  Gene was loosing the fight so he took all of her games and hid them.   Apparently the arugment was settled that evening in Kallie's favor.  Thankfully,  she took back her games without bloodshead!
kt2011

#191-MEMORY AND MONTAGE

When reading New Life (thedesertrocks) June 5th post (about remembering names) it caused me to recall a problem I had in my classsroom yearrrrrrrssss ago.

In grade school I was one of those teachers who had to make the students keep their name tags on their desks for at least the first quarter.  Then when I moved to highschool and had different students each hour I had to keep a seating chart handy.

However, I couldn't carry a seating chart around while doing direct instruction or when stopping by desks to check on understanding.  So, I am embarassed to say that  I once had a student whose name was John but, for one full school term I called him Paul.  I tried everything.   I felt so bad that I fined myself one nickle each time I called him Paul.  Prominantly placed on my desk was a fairly large bank that I would deposit the nickel.   At the end of the week I would give Paul John the money in the pot.  At the end of each quarter I would apologize for my inability to call him by his real name.  He would just looked at me, smile and said, "Ms. Taylor, it is fine with me as long as the money keeps rolling in!"        kt

While writing this I received the following GREAT pictures from a friend.  Since I couldn't find  art for this post I thought I would pass some of the cuter ones.  I, also, decided to try to add captions.

Now, Freddie, look me in the eye and tell me again where you were last night, or I'm pulling your ear off.

Hummmm, interesting place to grow flowers. Now, where's the bathroom?  I have to go.

Hold still, Tom,  I have to hold my head just right to zero in on the scent.

Hey fella,  I bit a man on the leg.  What did ya do?

Open up, I know there's food in there somewhere.  I can smell it.

Me first...No me.....Ahhhh, I'm stuck,  move...no you move... ... ...

Hey!  I lost the one you threw.  Will this one do?

Will this trick qualify me for  America's Got Talent?

Turn out the darned lights.  I'm tryin to sleep here!

 I could care less what you think, Bruzer.  I'm not getting up until you say you're sorry.
And you had better say it quickly, because you ate all my GasX.

 You never listen to me, Shadow.  I told you that there was a skunk under here.
 Hoagie, for crying out loud,  just shut up and breathe!