#222-THE PARTY PLANNER

This was me doing my work
while a film crew was trying to
capture the workings of of the
clerks who kept the courtroom
up and going.  (Yes, that is my
real hair!)

Back in the mid 70s I worked as a Courtroom Clerk at the Culver City Municipal Court.  At that time it was a small court with only one judge and one courtroom.  In the clerk's office there were 6 women who did the business end of the court; all the way from traffic tickets to small claims and civil law suites.  Once in a while we had an arraignment on a major crime, but mostly it was the small stuff that went through out court.


All of the women worked very closely together and we became kind of like a family.  We ate lunch together, bowled together and often went out together.  Each year one of us was rotated into the "PARTY PLANNER" position.  It was this person's job to put together a birthday party for for each lady's birthday.  It was held in the break room during the afternoon breaks.   As a perk, the "PARTY PLANNER was given the whole afternoon to set up and break down the party.  My second year at the court I suddenly found myself in that position.


In two years, the gals in the clerk's office had enough time to get a read on me.  They knew I was accident prone, was a tad unpredictable, and was not beneath playing a practical joke now and then.  Bottom line was to unanimously DRAFT KAREN!


As for me I really didn't want the job because I knew that I would end up working my heart out making it something EPIC each time;  and I did.  Every party I threw had a theme based on what I knew about the person of honor. All of the decorations were hand made and colorful.  And, here's the clincher, each party incorporated a practical joke into the mix.


The first party started off with a bang (or rather a "slumphhhhhh!").   The break room was beautiful. Hand made paper flowers made a gorgeous center piece.  Each person had their own hand made paper corsage and BIB (key word).  Also, at the place of honor sat a  beautiful, home made cake.  We also had ice cream and a bowl full of punch.  Everything looked NORMAL.


We always did the cake cutting at the beginning of the afternoon  breaks so everyone could be there to sing happy birthday and watch the blowing out of the candles and the cutting of the cake.  I remember Mary sitting down while everyone sang happy birthday to her.  


Now, Mary was the #2 head honcho, very quiet, prim, and proper.  I began to feel butterflies in my stomach as this was a SPECIAL cake that I had baked and decorated myself.  I held my breath (and backed up a little) as I handed Mary the cake knife.  You see, Mary's cake was booby trapped.  There was a balloon neatly tucked into the center of the three layer cake with thick yummy icing spread over it's bulging top.  I had made sure that Mary had a large bib to cover her clothes as she dressed meticulously.


Mary leaned forward with an intent look on her face and placed the sharp cake knife in the dead center of the cake.  She gently pushed down (I stepped back a little further).  But, instead of the POP I expected there was a sloughing sound as the balloon collapsed.  The weight of the icing caused it to implode and sink into the void left by the balloon.


Mary's mouth was hanging open as a look of disbelief spread across her face.  For a brief moment everyone in the room had a mixed assortment of facial expressions, not quite comprehending what they had just witnessed.  Then the whole room erupted with laughter.  Actually, I was relieved, because I didn't know how far a POPPED balloon could fling icing.  I quickly pulled out the real cake and a good time was had by all (including the judge who had come out of his chambers to see what the uproar was about.  And I might add, from then on, he took a recess for each party so he could participate).


Well, at this point the cat was out of the bag so I had to be more devious.  I knew they would be expecting something so for the next party I put those trick candles on the cake and Betty thought that was the surprise.  However, as Betty put the knife into her cake she soon found out that she, also, had been had.


The knife went in smooth as silk, and then Betty went to pull it out.  The cake remained on the knife and as she pulled the knife up and away she found herself sitting there with a piece of beautifully iced styrofoam raised into the air.  


The neat part about my parties was to watch the look on my victims faces as they would go from flummoxed to flabbergasted to flat out hysterical.


I let one birthday go by without any cake shenanigans.  I had set the break room up with children's tables and chairs.   It was decorated like a play room.  You should have seen these prim women and marshals (packing heat) sitting gingerly in the small chairs.  It was a hoot!


The last cake I did was frozen and the gal wielding the knife was about 6 foot tall and muscular.  She bent the darned knife as she stabbed it into the cake.  People were lying on the table laughing with tears running down their faces.


They asked me to take the party planner position again the following year, but I declined.  I said that I had run out of ideas and my parties were too rowdy for the courthouse.  My only regret is that I didn't take pictures.

PREVIEWS OF MONDAYS TO COME:
#223-SLOSHED!
#224-I CHOOSE CONTROL
#225-DOROTHY, TAKE ME WITH YOU
#226-DID I WARP HIM FOR LIFE?
#227-ANOTHER FINE MESS!
#228-A SCREAM PIERCED THE AIR!
#229-AND THEY THOUGHT THEY WERE GOING TO GET LUCKY

kt 2/26/12

#221-PETS LEAVE THE STRANGEST GIFTS

WARNING, WARNING, WARNING...THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE WEAK STOMACHS PLEASE BE CAUTIONED.  CONTENT OF THIS POST MAY BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR SENSIBILITIES. 

KIT (bird watching)

One night, not too long ago,  I had a sore throat and huge dose of NyQuil rendered me zombified the next morning .   Barefoot, I schlepped into the kitchen and  stepped squarely into a fairly large pile of what, I thought, was regurgitated dog food (Toby overeats once in a while).


I immediately thought to myself, "This just might make it to BLOG status."  Thank God there was an empty baggie setting on the table.  I quickly stowed the offended foot in the baggie and made my way to the bathroom by the kitchen (while trying not to step squarely on the foot).  I adopted a kind of hop-drag type of gate which drew a playful attack from Toby.  He tried to wrest the baggie from my foot and I had to fight him to maintain ownership of the protective cover.


Once there, I stuck the disgusting foot into the toilet and graced it with a "swirly."  In fact, it got two!  Then I sprayed that miserable extremity, profusely, with lysol and deemed it once again acceptable.  From there I raced to my computer and started writing.


Once finished with my intro, I went back to the kitchen and stood there contemplating how to best clean up the disgusting pile of glop.  Kit,  my cat, nonchalantly strolled by.  She stopped,  stared blankly at me, turned up her nose, flipped her tail in the air, pointed her backside to me, and strolled off.   


Ok, so, when I finally had a plan formulated (that did not include leaving it there until it dried) I armed myself with plastic gloves, throw away wipes, Lysol spray, another baggie, and a face mask.  Kit came by again, froze in mid-step, and giving me a wide birth dashed through the room; and hid.  She knew by experience that seeing me in such garb was a signal that it was unsafe for anyone to be around.


I guess it could have been worse.  I could have found the muck on the floor of one of the many carpeted rooms in the house.  But the mental gags going on in my head made it hard to clean up no matter where it was.


This is where I apologize to Toby.  You see, it wasn't his mess.  Upon closer inspection (much to my chagrin) there was fur and guts  (yuck) in the gastronomical gift.  (Way to go Kit!)  Not only did she leave the nasty carcass of a mouse on my front porch for me to find earlier, but she gifted me with the rest of it a day later.

Aren't you glad I elected to forgo the attachment of a (before and after) picture for this entry!

PREVIEWS OF MONDAYS TO COME:
          #222-THE PARTY PLANNER
          #223-SLOSHED!

kt 11/4/2011

#220 - SO, I MADE A LITTLE PIT STOP!

BACK IN SEPTEMBER I PROMISED MORE SNAKE STORIES

 SO HERE IS THE NEXT INSTALLMENT

"You would have thought she learned a lesson from her experience in 1968.  

But apparently, with the passage of time,

 her brain does not process old lessons into useable knowledge. If you didn't

read that post, here is the link.  Just click on it."

http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/ 

(but if she screwed up the link just go to her blog archives and to #209 on 9/19)

I was living in Missouri, again, after moving my children and myself from California.  I had been divorced for about 7 years and had purchased my first house.  I was so proud of myself and so proud of my new property.  The house sat on 3 1/2 acres of land in a small rural town of about 6,000 people.  The house had once been a farm house which was built back in the early 40s.  It was sturdy, well built, had two bedrooms, a very large front room, dining room, kitchen and bathroom.


One Saturday morning in 1977 I was out front doing yard work.  There was a lot of that kind of work to be done on my new place, but I was joyfully mowing, cutting, trimming and in general doing a bang up job preening my new home.


Plopping down in front of a crepe myrtle (a beautiful plant by the way) I started to pull weeds and trim around the base of one of the myrtles.  Out darted this cute little snake about 6 inches long and about as big around as my pinkie.  I quickly slapped my ungloved hand down and caught it by the back of the neck.  At the time I was thinking, that my son, Gene, would probably like to have a pet snake (de' ja vous).


Fortunately, (not necessarily for them) there were some men across the street in my neighbor's back yard.  They were digging a pit in which to fashion a storm shelter.


I walked across the street and into the yard with my newly acquired friend dangling from the thumb and forefinger of my right hand.  I stepped up to the edge of the hole (which was about 6 x 6 x 6) held my hand out over the pit (great choice of words, right?) and asked, "Do any of you guys know what kind of snake this is?" (Nope, as my friend said at the beginning of this post, I didn't learn a thing from before).

Other than at a sporting event, have you ever seen men jump six feet into the air, up and over an obstacle?  Well, I had the pleasure of seeing 2 men levitate almost straight up and out of that hole in a split second.  This not being the big city, but being a town with a church on almost every corner, they weren't shouting obscenities.   It went more this, "Dang lady!"  "Woah there, girl!"   "For heaven's sakes, woman!"

Yes, you guessed it.  I had found another Copperhead.  Only, this time it was a baby.  Yes, it had a beautiful pattern but it was more black and grey and did not have the bright copper color as yet.  But, I was puzzled by their reaction to this cute little guy/gal until one of them calmed down enough to tell me that the little guys were almost as venomous as the big ones.

"Are you reading this, Sisssssy?
Can you believe that she has gone and done it...
 AGAIN?"

At that point I became concerned.  Here, I had it by it's neck.  I didn't want it back in my yard because of my children and pets.  In fact, I didn't want to turn it loose at all.  That is when my neighbor suggested that I just go into the street, drop it and run.  He would then chop it into pieces with his shovel.  So, that is what we did.  I dropped the sucker and ran.  He chopped away and dispatched it post haste.

My neighbor stood there for a minute and staired at me (by that time I was up on my porch).  He smiled, shook his head, turned, and headed back to his yard.  For months, when ever he saw me he would smile and shake his head.


And this is not then end of my snake stories.  I have at least two more coming up in the next month or so.
See if you can pick them by the coming attractions I will end each post with.

NEXT MONDAY WATCH FOR:

#221-PETS LEAVE THE STRANGEST GIFTS  #222-THE PARTY PLANNER #223-SLOSHED! kt 8/11

#219-"MOM, NOW WHO'S THE STUPID ONE?"

When my children and I first moved to a small town in Missouri (the end of the world, according to my children) we decided to have all of the animals around us that we could not have while living in the city.  First we set up a coop and filled it with chickens.  Next we decided to have ducks.  I swear, they are the nastiness, dirtiest, and stupidest animals I have ever had the misfortune to own.

Daffy

We set up a kiddy pool (you know the kind with the hard metal shell and a plastic liner) and we put them up in the chicken coop each night.  We assumed that, eventually,they would put themselves away at night like the chickens.  NOPE!  They plopped themselves down right where they stood when it got dark.  This became a real pain (for us and the ducks) because my kids and I would have to run around in the dark looking for them.  Often we found them the hard way (when they squawked after being stepped on).  They never learned.  I found this to be incredibly stupid since there were all kinds of animals around that would enjoy a nice duck feast.  

Doris

We did have fun with those ducks (Daffy and Doris).  We even purchased fish to turn loose in the pool so we could watch them dive for them.  However, one afternoon the sky clouded over quickly, as it often does in Missouri, and, without a doubt, we were about to have a severe storm.


The INTELLIGENT chickens had already noticed the impending danger and had quickly headed for their coop.  But, not the ducks, no, THEY WERE STILL SWIMMING IN THEIR POOL!  My son, Gene, and I tried to get them out of the pool, but they would just gaily swim out of our reach as if it was some kind of game.  

The thunder and lightening began to make an ominous approach.  Each time the lightening would flash those STUPID ducks would dive under the water to escape (DUH!).  I began yelling, "YOU STUPID  DUCKS GET OUT OF THE WATER BEFORE YOU GET FRIED!"  At this, I stepped into the pool, and scooped the ducks up in my arms.

That is when my 12 year old son put his hands on his hips and calmly said, over the rumble in the sky,  "MOM, NOW WHO'S THE STUPID ONE?"

PREVIEWS OF MONDAYS TO COME: (quick quiz...can you guess which of these posts have to do with a snake?)

#220-SO, I MADE A LITTLE PIT STOP! #221-PETS LEAVE THE STRANGEST GIFTS #222-THE PARTY PLANNER #223-SLOSHED!

kt 2/18/12

#218-CHICKEN AND TATERS

WELL, FINALLY, I HAVE SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT!

I have been putting gall-bladder surgery off for about a year because I was busy taking care of Dad.  Then I took a few months off after his passing to visit my daughter in Connecticut.   When I got home in late January I finally was able to find a surgeon and schedule the darned thing.

The doctor was not very encouraging about being able to do laposcopic surgery because of a previous surgery I had in 1995.  He thought there may be too many lesions in that area since I had my spleen removed and extensive repair to my liver (after a car accident).   Not only that, much to my regret, I found out that the darned thing only weighs a few ounces which means that there will be no major weight loss once it is removed (BUMMER).

I asked him if he could strip out some of the fat that had accumulated in that area, while he was in there.  This caused him to laugh as he explained why he couldn't.  I think he thought I was serious (some people don't get my kind of humor). 

So, Friday, February 17th at 4:30 PM I went into surgery and the long and short of it is that I was home by 8:30 p.m. sitting in front of the TV with a bucket of KFC in my lap, ready for my weekly date with Tom Sellick (in Blue Bloods). (And, of course Toby and Kit were at my feet hoping  I was still loopy enough from the anesthesia to drop something).   The only problem being that Blue Bloods WAS A REPEAT!  WELL DARN!  So, I ate a thigh, leg, wing, 6 potato (tater) wedges and a biscuit to console myself; then went to bed early.  (What's going on with this font is all screwed up... oh! yeah, I forgot C.R.A.P... computer related attacks by poltergeists) .

This is the least gross image I could find.
You should see real one with all the gall stones inside....Yuck.

I wasn't having any pain what so ever so, I crawled into bed only to be awakened EVERY TWO HOURS to pee (volumes) ALL NIGHT LONG!  Good thing I wasn't in any pain because I did a couple of "Whoopie Goldberg spritzes" and had to change my pajama bottoms twice! (sorry if this is too much information?)

By 7 AM Saturday I had already spread up my bed, fed the dog and changed into a pair of sweats. Now what am I going to do? It is Saturday morning and there is nothing on TV. I am not supposed to do anything but sit, lay, nap, or walk around. So, after 5 trips through the house I decided this wasn't going to fill up my day. I really didn't want to read because I read almost an entire book while WAITING in a holding pattern around the surgery landing pad.

So, here WAS my plan...
Sit around and read, lay around and nap, walk around the house 5 times every once in a while, watch Sponge Bob, and EAT!  Then this afternoon, after the fun filled morning outlined above, I am going to go to Walmart, walk around, pick up a movie, and something to EAT (I hope this isn't the beginning of a feeding frenzy on my part) !

Looks as if I have a fun filled week end in store for me......(that is if I don't wet my pants at Walmart.  Oh, well, it's Walmart, nobody will even notice).  Maybe I'll buy some depends!.

During one of my trips (woooahhhhhh, I guess those C.R.A.P. guys really missed me as all of a sudden the font has changed - Honest, I'm NOT doing this....it just happens) anyway, during one of my trips through the house I noticed a piece of paper on my table that read "Outpatient Post Procedure Instructions."  Now, one would think that I would have read this last night.  Noooooo!  I was too looped from the anesthesia!  However, this morning I noticed that one of the very first instructions was about eating only light foods to begin with.  Woops....too late...Oh well!  Since I didn't "TOSS" the fried chicken right away I guess I'm good to go.   (I'm planning on having BUTTERED popcorn tonight!).

Oh..Oh...Fly in the ointment.....while I was composing this post, my nose started running and I began sneezing and coughing.  Yep, Murphy's Law has come into play.  I guess that ole devil is miffed that he couldn't mess with my surgery and decided to see if he could pop my stitches.  Every sneeze and cough triggered a grab response that had me creeping about the house like Quasiomoto (I don't care if I spelled that wrong I'm on  a roll here) holding my abdomen and scrounging for a remedy.  Finally, I found some 'way out of date' decongestant in the ice box, (I did pause, briefly,  to remember my bout with food poisoning -  then I considered the worse case scenario of having to go to the hospital for additional surgery if I didn't find relief -vs- the possibility that I MIGHT have to go the the hospital for an antidote if the decongestant had gone bad).  I said a brief prayer and chugged an ounce or two of the elixir!

What came upon me by that evening had nothing to do with the above decision.  As a matter of fact my cold symptoms had abated but it was the chicken I ate Friday night that bedded down in my bowels and started building a nest.  Not a pleasant feeling....So, I went back to the doctor's instructions and there it as right after the part about eating only light foods..."IT IS COMMON, FOLLOWING SURGERY, FOR PATIENTS TO BE CONSTIPATED." Well, S#*! (or rather lack there of).
You know that saying, "Man makes plans, and God laughs."  I get it now!  I guess that means no popcorn for me!

I will spare you the details of the next two days.  Let's just say that that darned chicken even built a chicken coop in my bowels, invited friends over and had a rowdy party.  Might have been a nightmare but apparently Ron White was at the party because I kept hearing my stomach growl, "The 'TATER' did it!  (If you haven't seen blue-collar comedy you won't get this.)  Anyway, the rowdy party kept me miserable 2 days and awake 2 nights.  Now, if you are counting, I am on my 3rd night without sleep, plus add 3 days without food.  I haven't kicked the dog yet or flung the cat by her tail but, I sure felt kicking or throwing something.

Ok, for your sake, I will be as vague as possible on this next part.  Suffice it to say, after taking the suggested remedy for cleaning out the chicken coop I found myself experiencing the opposite effect which, again, kept me up for 2 more nights making my own nest on 'THE THRONE'.  So, now I am up to 5 nights without sleep and 5 days with little or no food.  Both Toby and the Kit are hiding.

It is now 11:30 PM, Thursday the 23rd, almost one week after my surgery.  I am feeling better and hopefully, tomorrow, I will return to quasi(moto)-normal and be able to eat a sensible meal.  Hopefully, I will be able to sleep a full night (in bed, NOT on my nest).  I can't wait to see if I lost any weight through all of this!  (I may avoid KFC for a while).

(Quick P. S.  I weighed myself Friday...I ONLY LOST 3#...what's up with that?)

PREVIEWS OF MONDAYS TO COME:

#219-"MOM, NOW WHO'S THE STUPID ONE?"  #220-SO, I MADE A LITTLE PIT STOP! #221-PETS LEAVE THE STRANGEST GIFTS #222-THE PARTY PLANNER kt 2/27/12

#217-WHY DO I BLOG?

                                                            

I have been gone for a while in order to reprogram myself after attending to my father's needs for several
years.  I found it difficult to write anything after his passing.  However, I am going to make an attempt to get back into the mood as I need to find a jumping off place to reboot my life, so to speak.  I examined the reasons behind my need to blog in the first place and I believe that this will be a good place to start.
Some of the up coming posts will be ones that I wrote earlier.  Others will be new attempts.  You should be able to spot the difference between the two as I am finding it difficult to be humorous (which has always been one of my goals).  So, WHY DO I BLOG?

I am a story teller.  Have been forever and probably will be for a long time to come.  My daughter has been telling me to write down my stories for years.  She said she thought they were funny and always seemed to laugh even though it was the umpteenth time she heard them (what a gal!).  Then, sometime in June of 2010 she, her mother-in-law (Cathy) and a friend of theirs (George, who also has a blog) got me started on his blog.  At first I posted on George's site and then in July 2010 Patty started me off on my own.   And, as they say, the rest is history.

However, that does not answer my question, WHY BLOG?

Everyone probably has different reasons for blogging.  Their are probably numerous reasons of a very diverse nature but for me I guess the first  reason is because I was told I should (and being a good girl I always do what I am told....yeah, right!).  After I started writing I found that a void in my life was filled.  I was unable to get out and socialize due to taking care of my elderly father, so,  I used my writing as a way to communicate with others.  At first my target audience was my family; a way of documenting my stories for my children and grandchildren.  I didn't even expect them to read my blog very often as they, all, are so very busy.  (This still remains a major reason for me to blog).

The second reason is probably because I was bored.  I had recently retired and I didn't know what to do with myself.  Because of my father I couldn't take on a part time job.  I cleaned and swept and dusted and sanded and painted and washed just about everything in the house.  I dug and planted, and raked and cut and mowed just about everything else outside.  This reason has changed a little because I am now able to get out and am no longer tied to the house.  However, I am finding it difficult to make myself get out.  (Hopefully, this reason will disappear as I venture out more and more and find my place in this community to be useful.  Having already signed up for the "Pink Lady"program at the hospital I hope to also pick up some substituting jobs and maybe some babysitting.)

My third reason is that I found that something really weird happened.  People I didn't even know clicked on that little "follow" button and started making comments.  That really gave me a rush!  Wow, someone actually liked what I wrote and they weren't even related or obligated to read what I had written.  Suddenly, my reason for blogging changed.  I can't explain it but, my blog began to be very important to me.   So, I guess the third reason is to gain positive attention (oh heck, to gain ANY attention). ( I don't see this reason going away either.  We all crave positive attention and I really need it right now.)

The fourth reason came shortly after  I reached 30 or so followers.  My reasons for blogging changed, again. (or at least took on a new dimension).  I was making new friends.  Some like George, Nicki, Clenna, Julie, Carrol and April have been there almost from the beginning.  That is when I became greedy and wanted more and more followers.  My terrific daughter suggested I have a contest and she would provide the prize (since she is a crafter of jewelry).  I did two contests and gained a lot of followers.  But, then I decided that this wasn't the way I wanted to get followers.  I wanted followers who were following me because they wanted to; not because they were trying to win a prize.  I wanted followers like those 27 who commented on the post  about my father's demise.  Those 26 are ALL very dear to me and those comments helped me to want to get back to posting again.

I have learned more and more about some of my followers and I find that I really like most of them.  Ok, I wrote most.  Yes, there was one critic that chose to rain on my parade.  I went into such a funk that I almost didn't write another word.  But, then something amazing happened.  OTHER BLOGGERS STARTED SUPPORTING ME AND IN SO MANY WAYS.  (SOME EVEN TOLD ME IT WAS OK TO WRITE IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS IF I WANTED TO!)

So, my major and final reason reasons for blogging are (in no particular order):
George, and Patty, and Clenna, and Julie, and Nicki, and Madeline, and Desiree, and April, and Fran, and Elizabeth, and Gail, and Irene, and Lilly,  and Michele,  and Melynda, and Darlene, and Nick, and Baiba, and Carol, and Nezzy, and Eliza, and Carrie, and Lazaus, and Laila, and Ann, and Deb, and Donna, and Tray, and The Desert Rocks, and Oklahoma Girl, and Clipped Wings. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PRAYERS AND COMMENTS DURING MY HIATUS.  

So, hopefully, my  break from blogging is over and maybe I can find something to blog about.  I hope to get you all back....Karen

CHRISTMAS STORIES REVISITED

Hello everyone!  I am posting this from my daughter's home in Connecticut.  This will be the first Christmas I have been able to spend with her and her family in five years.  I have been here since November 17th and I am thoroughly enjoying the grand-kids.  I posted these stories last December and will probably make them an annual post.

 

THE LAST SANTA 

 

Before you get started I want you to know in the first story there are “spoilers” for those of you who may still BELIEVE.  So don’t read any further.

 

I was in the second grade the fall of 1949, and I had a horrible revelation foisted on me by a mean classmate at school.  My parents found themselves with an hysterical child, ranting on and on about a stupid boy and his stupid ideas.

I was VERY angry because he had snidely said,” Only BABIES believe in Santa Clause."  This boy was a “know it all jerk” and made my life miserable for the entire day. 

I was extremely upset, but what I did not realize at the time was that Mom and Dad were devastated.  I was too young to be robbed of this beautiful concept.   They weren’t ready to let their baby grow up.  By the end of the day they had hatched a plan to thwart this young man’s intentions.

The first was to have a conversation with the boy and his father.  Since my father was the superintendent of that school district, this was a sobering event for the bully and his dad.  I was never bothered again.

The second strategy was what ended up being the most memorial event of my young life.  They set out to PROVE that Santa did indeed exist! 

Mom and Dad told me this story several times over the years and now I am sharing it with you.

On Christmas Eve it was snowing and we went about our usual tasks of setting out milk and cookies after figuring out the most likely place for Santa to get into our second floor apartment.  It was finally decided that he would probably come in through my bedroom window because it overlooked the roof of the grocery store next door.  Cookies and milk was set on my nightstand and the window was unlocked so Santa could easily gain entrance. 

I will never forget what my eyes were awakened to the next morning.  It was cold in my room because my window was slightly ajar.  There was snow accumulated on my windowsill and footprints made of snow just below the window on my rug.  The footprints led off into the front room and were slowly melting from the warmth.

I bounded from my bed and bumped into my parents who were standing there pointing out the window with amazed looks on their faces.  I turned and looked out the window and THERE on the rooftop of Schindler's Grocery Store were the long straight marks of Santa’s sleigh and tiny reindeer tracks. 

Just outside and below my window was a large round place smoothed out where Santa had obviously set his large sack of presents.  I WAS ECSTATIC!  It was the best Christmas ever and turned out to be my last because other kids were determined to make this BABY grow up on their timetable not my parent’s.

What I didn’t hear that morning was my mother gasp as she placed her hand over her mouth.  What I didn’t see was that the sleigh tracks came across the roof and drove right past (over) a chimney in the middle of the roof.   Dad in his frantic early morning effort, with a close-line pole, had failed to notice the irregularity.

Nevertheless, it had the desired effect and proved to be one of my favorite stories to be told each Christmas.  Their expression of LOVE was the best present I could have ever received.  Christmas is supposed to be about the expression of LOVE.  I think that a lot of the people in this world have forgotten that.  

 

kt 2010

 

Now here is another one:

OH CHRISTMAS TREE; OH, Noooooo, THE CHRISTMAS TREE!

When I was in high school (late 50s) my mother (ignoring Dad's vociferous protests) bought us a REAL tree.  Up to then we had had a series of really BAD silver tin-foil trees with an annual changing of the color of the ornaments to be used.  One year they were a horrible magenta!

I was delighted that we were going to have a REAL tree. Mom even had it flocked with fake snow.  It was a magnificent tree!

However, (yep, you knew the however, was coming) what she failed to consider was the budgie cage filled with 6 young parakeets.  Our loving couple had blessed us with 8 eggs that fall, 6 of which hatched into adorable little trouble-makers. We thought it would be cool to watch the process but, hadn't a clue as to the problems we were inviting into our lives.

The first thing that happened is that the male (Sam) dropped dead a few weeks after we purchased him a beautiful yellow mate (Samantha).  Apparently, we had waited too long to get him a mate as he couldn't handle the stress.  I guess he knew what was coming as the brood that hatched was a real rowdy bunch.

One day, one of them figured out how to open the cage door (my mother swore that I left it ajar after feeding them) and the whole lot escaped (except for Samantha, who was glad they were gone).  I heard my mother yell, "Noooooooo! Nooooooo! The Christmas Tree!"

I rushed into the front room to find her shooing the flock from her precious tree. They were busily plucking off flocking and pine needles.  The front room was more flocked than the tree.  Thank God my mother didn't have a gun because she probably would have shot the birds, me, and then herself!

By the time we caught all 6 (took about an hour during which time my mother was uttering all kinds of obscenities) the poor tree looked a little sad.  There was white flocking and pine needles in every part of the house.  My mother was livid.

The next day the parakeets were gone (all of them) cage and all.  I never had the courage to ask her what she did with them.  I had visions of her taking them to the Chinese restaurant at the shopping center  down the street (Sorry, was that not politically correct to say?).

We went back to fake trees the next year.  A green one this time!

kt2010

                         HAVE  A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE !!!

 

 

#216 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY KALLIE

My granddaughter, Kallie (pronounced Kay-lee) is birthday is 23 on December 2nd.  Therefore, I had to come out of my "vacation mode" to wish her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

Unfortunately, she probably won't be able to see this as she is in Japan training for her upcoming deployment in Kuwait.   Yes, I said Kuwait, I'm not too thrilled about that, but at least it's not in one of those other places.

This is baby Kallie before I knew her.

Anyway, back to the birthday girl.  When I first laid eyes on Kallie it was the summer after her kindergarten year.  She was helping her mother pack for moving; and this adorable little girl was writing the contents of the boxes on the outside (and doing a darned good job of it).  She was a little waif of a thing with sparkling blue eyes that danced with excitement.  You see, her mother was moving because she was marrying my son and Kallie was delighted.  Every time I saw her she was laughing or smiling. 


It wasn't hard to get to know this sweet young girl as she was cute and funny and so easy to love.  She started calling me grandma right away and the next thing I knew she was mine!

The little mother.

Kallie at her mother's baby shower.

 When Gene William came along she was a great a big sister and a little mother to him.

Click here to see how she learned that little brothers can be a pain.

 

The next few years were full of all kinds of movies, miniature golf, swimming, ball games over nights, and the like.  She was my little buddy.

Click here to read about why I gave her the nickname "Little Turtle."

Then, the summer after she graduated from grade schools I took her on a trip to the Kenai area of Alaska.  My friend, Carol, and her grandson, Stephen, went with us.   Kallie had only met Stephen once, but the two of them were instantly great friends.

The kids and I camped out (in a tent) on the shore of a huge lake, explored the area, and cooked out over an open flame.  I talked to them about bears and how they should make a lot of noise as they walked along.  Of course this was no problem for either one of these kids.  Whenever they got too far ahead of me I would yell "Yoah!"  and they would yell back "Ho-Ho."  The woods echoed with our version of the Seven Dwarfs song.

At one point Kallie and Stephen found some interesting tunnels in the underbrush.  These tunnels were fairly large and when I asked them what they thought made these tunnels they both looked at each other then freaked out as the realization hit them......Both of their heads (sporting the biggest eyes I have ever seen) spun towards me in unison as they quickly backed away from a tunnel entrance and said, "BEARS?"   "That would be my guess," I replied.    From that time on they were a little more careful where they explored.

Just before we ate dinner I heard a splash and peals of laughter.  They had been jumping over a small stream that ran close by our campsite, and, of course, they fell in.   Two giggling, but cold and wet kids showed up within seconds.   After we ate, the fire was used to dry shoes and the like.  That night as we were snuggled into our sleeping bags we heard all kinds of grunts, snorts, banging and rustling.  Good thing we had hung our food high up in a tree as the tunnel makers visited the campgrounds that night.  I guess that is why everyone else was camping in trailers and campers.  Everyone but us, that is.  Oh, well!

The rest of the trip was spent covering every inch of the Kenai that we could.  We took a boat ride out of homer to an island and saw Orcas on the way.  We panned for gold at Homer.  We saw glaciers,  eagles, and moose.

In the picture to the left, Kallie is cracking up because I borrowed a fish from a guy at the market so I could pretend I caught one.

After that trip Kallie started to grow up and I didn't get to see as much of her as I would have liked, but she had other interests.  She still mowed my lawn for me and would visit often but it was never the same.  Then she got a car and, well, you know the rest of the story.

In what seemed like minutes she was graduating from high school.  Before I knew it she was attending junior college.  Then she knocked me off my feet by telling me she had enlisted in the Air Force and would be leaving for boot camp soon.   That just about took the wind out of me. The next thing I knew she was finished and assigned to Andrews Air Force Base on the East Coast.  My baby girl was all grown up and heading out into the world.

Kallie in her BD?s(Or something ike that.  The military is full of acronyms).

Big brother Justin, Kallie, and little brother Gene at her going away party.
(Justin was doing something to GW's neck that is why he has a funny look on his face.)

I really admire her for what she did.  Here was this young woman leaving the small farming area where she grew up in small towns which had very little of anything let alone the large variety of ugliness that can be found elsewhere.  The first time she was without her family for more than a week was when she went to boot camp.  She must have been scared to death, but she never showed it or spoke of it.   I know she was homesick because she called me and her mother almost daily.  However, she never complained.

From Andrews she went to Korea; from Korea she went to Hawaii; from Hawaii she went to Japan and from Japan she will go to Kwiate.  She tells me that she loves military life and is planning on making a career of it.  I will ask her again when she gets back from Kuwait as I think she is finding it difficult to leave new friends she makes along the way.

In DC when her brother and I visited.

Enjoying the beach in Korea

Click here to read the funny story I wrote for Kallie about her encounter with a spider in Korea.

Exploring Hawaii.

Don't ask!

THEN SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY SHE GREW UP INTO A BEAUTIFUL, SEXY, WOMAN!

Kallie, I thank God that my son married your mother.  My life has been made rich simply by you being in it.  I miss you terribly and pray that you will be given leave to come home before you are deployed.
I LOVE YOU SO VERY MUCH,  Grandma

POST SCRIPT TO FRIENDS:
S#*!  This took me two days and a lot of C.R.A.P. (new readers that means Computer Related Attacks by Poltergueists) and forth to finally get this to post right.  That's what I get for taking a vacation.
12/1/11 kt