#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!

#190- MASTERING MY MASTERS

I have explained to you before that I have had ADHD my entire life.  One of the numerous problems is that this disorder causes memory problems.  Often I was forced to over learn everything and how to severely focus my attention in order to remember something I had to regurgitate on an exam.  I came up with several tricks to trigger my memory.  The following is just one of many.

(I COULDN'T COME UP WITH ART FOR THIS ONE.  

READ ON AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND).

Studying for my Masters exam caused me some anxiety and a great number of long nights trying to drum information into this brain of mine.

Finally, I came up with a scathingly (I love that word) brilliant idea.  It was noticed by me that I always seemed to remember stuff I wrote on my hand when I couldn’t find a paper.  So, I ran an experiment and wrote my grocery lost on my belly.   Sure enough, when I got to the grocery store I remembered what was on my list and picked up everything (and, back then, I had an ample belly for even very long lists).  There is no way I can begin to explain how this managed to work, it just did.

Therefore, the day before my Masters Exam I wrote all pertinent information (in a shortened form, of course) on my abdomen, my belly, my thighs, my upper arms and, yes, my boobs.  I was sure to write this list on parts of my body that I could not see, because this wasn’t to be used as a cheat sheet just a memory jog.


When a question would come up about best practices I would think belly, and voilà, the information would pop into my mind (so on and so forth).  I was a little paranoid on the way to and from the exam.  What if I was in an accident or something....how on earth would I explain this to the ER people?  Not only that I failed to consider how difficult the magic marker ink might be to remove (it took me 3 days). 

When I left the exam I felt as though I had done a thorough job, but when I, later, talked to my counselor about the results he said that I ACED the exam.  It was a first for them.  When he asked me how I did it I simply said,  "Well, sir,  I studied so hard that the information became as familiar to me as my own body." 

I haven’t used this method since because life does not have written exams.  But, it did prove to myself that I could come up with unique, practical, and successful ways to solve problems, which is a skill all good mothers and teachers need.


POST SCRIPT: I did try to come up with art.  I actually wrote some educational facts on my tummy and photographed it.....well, let me just say that it a sight that no one would ever want to see.  


(By the way, I have a serious problem.  That horrible picture is on my image folder and I .....WANT....IT....OFF!  How on earth does one delete one of those uploaded images?  Why did I even up load it in the first place?  Did I actually consider using it?   STOP SMILING....I'M SERIOUS!)

kt 6/2011

#189-I'M IN A STICKY SITUATION

I found myself in a sticky situation, you see, I have absolutely nothing scheduled for today.  But, luckily, I have this great friend that I met when I first started blogging.  She does not blog, but, she does send me the greatest E-mails.   I thought I would post the last one she sent me...........AREN'T THEY ADORABLE! ! ! ! !

Have you ever seen a baby porcupine?

Fable of the Porcupine 

It was the coldest winter ever.  Many animals died 

because of the cold.  The porcupines, realizing the 

situation, decided to group together.  This way, 

they covered and protected themselves; but, the 

quills of each one wounded their closest companions 

even though they gave off heat to each other. 

After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one 

from the other and they began to die, alone and frozen. 

So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of 

their companions or disappear from the Earth. 

Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. 

This way they learned to live with the little wounds 

that were caused by the close relationship with 

their companion, but the most important 

part of it, was the heat that came from the 

others. This way they were able to survive.  

Therefore: 

The best relationship is not the one that brings 

together perfect people, but the best is 

when each individual learns to live with 

the imperfections of others and can admire 

the other person's good qualities. 

The Moral of the story!

LEARN TO LOVE THE PRICKS IN YOUR LIFE.

Thanks Clenna!............kt

#188 - AND I SCREAMED INTO THE OFFICER'S FACE...

I was invited to be a guest blogger on professionallyinsanem.blogspot.com.  This gal is so good about helping other bloggers get out there into "bloggerland" and find new friends.  She hosts a lot of giveaways too and is generally a great person to know.  This is the post I sent her:

The 9 year old was at her mother's on picture day.

In the late 1960s I was living in Palm Desert with my husband of 3 years.  At this time I was the mother of my son (from a previous marriage), our daughter and a part time step mother to his two daughters and a third daughter from his ex wife’s previous marriage…..Did you get all of that?  Let me put it another way…there was ours (1+ years), mine (3+ years), theirs (5 and 7), and hers (9).  You know how it goes.  We only had the 3 girls part time, but I was overwhelmed. 

My son, Gene, walked at six months of age.  HOWEVER, my daughter, Patty, didn’t walk until she was 13 months old.  We tried everything but she would just sit down and crawl.  Then, suddenly, she was up, walking around, and changed overnight into the grand explorer.  She got into EVERYTHING. 

The week after the 3 older girls left I went to visit a friend and vent about how exhausting and frustrating it was having 4 kids to wrangle along with the toddler.  Things went fine at my friend’s house.  I only had to pull Patty out of 2 cupboards, from under 1 bed, and off the dining room table twice.  My  son would run to me and appraise me of her activities and I would retrieve her from where ever she wasn’t supposed to be.

Finally, we left for home and I placed them both in the back seat of the car.  There were no seat belts back then, but Gene would stay put and I placed Patty in her car seat.  The child seats, back then, had hooks that went over the back of the car’s seat and looked like a basket with leg holes.  

As I was backing out of my friend’s drive way when Gene started yelling, “SHE’S GETTING OUT OF HER SEAT, SHE’S GETTING OUT!”

At that time I was already pulled half way way into the road and I could see a car coming from the left.  So, I backed all the way to the curb, cramped the wheel and parked.   I was dealing with Patty’s escape from her seat when someone cleared their throat at my window. 

Patty was wailing, Gene was staring, big eyed, at something over my shoulder, and I was already fed up with my day.  So, I flipped around and shrieked, “WHAT?” into the POLICE OFFICER’S face.

Woops!  Sorry, Officer.

Obviously the officer did not have a clue as to the predicament I was in and the jerk issued me a ticket!

Well, I was not about to pay for a ticket, so, the next week I went to court and explained the whole thing to the judge. 

It went something like this…

…With Patty balanced on my hip and Gene clasping my hand I approached the bench (I wasn't stupid, kids are great props). 

Your honor, I have just spent 6 weeks taking care of my 1 year old, my 3 year old, and 3 step children ages  5, 7, and 9.  The 9 year old hates me and  made my life miserable.  The 5 year old bites and we all have the wounds to prove it.  And, my 1 year old is a pistol, (indicating with a nod at the squirming toddler in my arms...I could hear snickers coming from behind me). 

I went on to explain (in high pitch, rapid speech)... "As I was pulling out of a drive way all HELL broke loose (the court room erupted in laughter).  My 1 year old had gotten out of her car seat and fell to the floor.  She was screaming and yelling bloody murder.  My son was yelling warnings of impending disaster and my brain went into overload (by this time the judge was smiling, too).  I had to stop the car immediately in order to see if my daughter was hurt.  So, I quickly backed to the other side of the street and parked.  The vehicle, which turned out to hold a not so understanding police officer, was a block down the street when I started backing out.  The chaos caused by the children caused me to have a momentary mini stroke in the middle of the street, then my brain kicked in, and I parked.  I think I did a good job, under the circumstances."

The judge agreed and dismissed the ticket.

kt 3/2011

SUNDAY'S SONG (What If - Nicole Nordeman)