A Spot of T

The Busy Body Booster Butthead

2008-09-10T01:00:00-06:00

I tell you. Typepad just plain sucks. I can't make that any more clear than that. This post was to have been posted last week, another post was to be posted today. I get a comment in my inbox on a post like this but not the entire post....and no picture. So I'm re-posting this again now in hopes the proper post will post in the right post to the post of the post.....I'm paying for a service that drives me completely around the bend and I can't for the life of me figure out why. Ok moving on here. Here is the original post. I hope...

It's a wonder my doctor thinks I may have a slight case of agoraphobia. "Baby steps." she tells me. "You need to try and get out more before this thing really grabs hold of you." she encourages me.

It doesn't help I hate people. Not all people. Just a lot of people. Like rude people...busy bodies...gossipers...child beaters...animal abusers....but mostly rude people. Alright alright, hate is such a strong word. I don't actually hate anyone. Believe me I've tried but it's just not in me to do. Well except the child beaters and animal abusers. Those people I would like to run over with a really big truck.

As I've stated on here many times, I'm a creature of habit. Which means monday was grocery shopping day for me. Always groceries on monday. Oh and laundry....but let's leave that bit of excitement for another day.

Like I do every week when I'm unloading the grocery cart into my vehicle, I put the bags with the eggs and loaves of fresh soft bread and anything else that's breakable in the front passenger seat of the vehicle. Because as I've learned in the past, the minute I strategically place those eggs and fresh soft bread and anything else breakable on top of the other groceries in the back with the rest of the groceries, some moron will cut me off in traffic and I'll have to slam on my brakes. Then I'll get home and go to unload the groceries only to see the strategically placed eggs and fresh soft bread and anything else that's breakable have some how strategically ended up under the canned goods and milk and vegetables and been smushed to smithereens.

As I was walking to the side passenger door and opening the door, a lady was standing in the place where you take your grocery carts back and trying to get her quarter back from her cart. She heard me and looked up.

Because I'm a creature of habit I always try and park beside where you put the carts back. Don't ask me why. It's a sickness. And don't ask me what I do if there are no spots beside the cart thing. You don't want to know.

Now because I'm a mostly friendly person and I believe in the kindness of others, I smiled and said "Good morning" to the woman who was in the cart parker putter backer thingy and trying to get her quarter back. She replied with a hearty "Good morning!" right back. Sweet. Then we both made a comment about how hard it is to sometimes get those quarters out. Then it all went down hill from there.

See because I opened the passenger side door while we exchanged pleasantries and she obviously peeked inside my vehicle. And this is how it went from there....

Nosy Lady no longer smiling: Excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing that the booster seat you have in your vehicle isn't a regulation child booster seat.

Me: Excuse me?

Nosy Lady: I know you could tell me to mind my own business but I feel I have to say something. It infuriates me to see such a thing. I just think it's horrible that you would have a child booster seat in your vehicle that isn't...up to code."

Me: Huh? Wha??

Nosy Lady: Don't be that way with me. It just figures someone who is driving around in a fancy vehicle wouldn't take the time to bother to get a proper booster seat for their child. That's what this world is coming too you know. People are all about themselves and not about the children any more."

Me: *blink* *blink*

Nosy Lady: I have a good mind to take down your license plate and report you.

Me...finally realizing what she was talking about...and getting ticked: I have a piece of paper if you want. And a pen. Can I get them for you?

Nosy Lady...finally getting her quarter and walking away while huffing: Don't think I won't report you. You should be ashamed of yourself.

Me....smiling: K you have a good day now. Try and cheer up though. I'll await the arrival of those police at my door.

And this is the seat the lady was all in a huff about......

My non-regulation child booster seat......

which is oh so regulation puppy seat.

Blogger Diarrhea

2008-09-07T18:20:00-06:00

I had a friend in school who liked to talk a lot. Oh how 'K' loved to talk. It didn't matter where she was or what she was doing, you would hear 'K' talking. Loudly. I can't remember for the life of me all the things 'K' used to talk about because I learned to tune her out about the second week of meeting her.

One day in math class 'Mr. Z' closed/slammed/tossed his big thick math book so hard it actually bounced off the desk and landed in the trash can sitting beside his desk. It also made the entire class jump in their seats. Except 'K'. 'K' didn't notice because she was too busy talking. Startled, I looked up to see Mr. Z's face a lovely shade of red and a look of frustration like I had never seen in the two years I had Mr. Z for math.

Exasperated, he told my friend 'K' to "Please be quiet. PLEASE 'K'. PLEASE! I am begging you to give it a rest already. To be quiet. To rest your tongue. To SHUT. UP! As long as I've been on this earth I have NEVER heard anyone talk as much as I've heard you talk. I swear, I think you have a bad case of verbal diarrhea!"

I? Laughed my pants off because I was immature and thought the words verbal diarrhea were hysterical. My friend 'K'? Brought it down a notch after that and only continued to talk for about 89% of the time instead of the usual 120% of the time. And Mr. Z continued to be quite frustrated with 'K' for the rest of the semester. As a matter of fact he was frustrated with the entire 'K' family because 'K' told me when he tried talking to her mother and father about how much 'K' talked in class....they talked all over him and didn't let him get a word in. They said he frustrated them. *snort*

Of course this was back in the day when teachers could actually talk to a student like that. You know. Ask them...beg them...plead with them...to please be quiet. Or 'shut up', but in an exasperated I will kill myself if you don't shut up, kind of way.

Unlike today when the teacher would be brought up on charges for hurting little Sally's feeeeeeeeelings for saying she has verbal diarrhea. Even though little Sally definitely does have verbal diarrhea and most likely has verbal diarrhea because little Sally's parents have never told her the world does not always revolve around her. So you know. When little Sally gets out in public, she has no manners and doesn't know how to listen because if it's not about her then it must not be important. And I? Want to smack little Sally's parents right upside their head for raising such a self absorbed rude little human being.

Um. Where was I? Right.

Much like back then, I tend to surround myself today with people who talk a lot. Hence why I married Gregg. Ha. Anyway. I like it that way. Contrary to how I go on and on....and on...on my blog, in person it can be a whole other story. One-on-one I'm not bad, add more then say, four people and I'd be the mute sitting in the corner happily watching and listening to people.

So when I saw this little 'test' on Pensieve's blog quite some time ago, I jumped at the chance to take it. Ok I actually saved it for a rainy day and today happens to be raining. That and I jumped on it today because I can't get my Flip to work to download the fun weekend on the river boat I had so instead of throwing my Flip against the wall I am meditating and doing tests like this to calm down. Otherwise I will likely FLIP out. OOOOooooommmmm

For some strange reason, even though I know I go on and on and on...and on...in my posts, I thought maybe the percentage would be much lower.

Not 294% longer?! Wow. I have no words to say what I'm feeling about that. Which is probably good because I could probably hit an even 300% if I kept going.

It Followed Me Home....Can I Keep It?

2008-09-04T01:25:00-06:00

I grew up in the country and when I was around 10 years old I was going for a walk down our country road. There was a vehicle up ahead and I saw the door open and something tossed out. If you live in the country you see this all too often. Someone drove out to the country and tossed an animal out onto the gravel road.

I ran up the road and saw a small dog shivering and looking very confused. It took one look at me and came running over to me. It snuggled into my arms and I knew instantly it felt safe with me. To this day I'm not sure what kind of dog it was. Lots of black hair, small and looked very much like a cocker spaniel...but not. Oh but those eyes, I can still see those sweet sweet eyes.

I took the dog home in my arms and asked if I could keep him. I gave the same schpeel that's been heard throughout time...."But he followed me home. There was nothing I could do about it. Can I keep him pleeeease?" I was working at a kennel down the road, making my own money and I would buy food for him I pleaded. This small dog needed me I cried. The answer was a resounding "NO". My money helped to buy food, etc. not to buy food for 'those kinds' of animals.

Now back then, we didn't take stray dogs to the pound. Nope not us. Other people maybe but not my family. My step-father had a different way of getting rid of stray dogs and no way was I going to let him get a hold of my new furry friend and take him....out back. So I did the only thing a 10 year old could think to do. I told my mother and step-father I took the dog back where I found him and then hid the dog in the barn.

I was the only one who went in the barn because it was my job to feed the animals and clean the barn so in my mind I knew my new pup would be safe in there. I got a large box, took a blanket from my bed, put straw in the box and he seemed content to sit and wait for me each day. I spent every spare second with that dog and I named him Bugs. I was 10. Bugs Bunny was cool back then.

Bugs was safe for about three weeks. Then one day I came home from school and I won't go into detail on what happened to me when my mother found out I was hiding the dog. And I especially won't go into detail on the horrible fate of Bugs when my step-father got a hold of him...took him out back....and made me watch...to teach me a lesson. The bastard.

Whoa. Apparently that little scar hasn't quite healed all these thirty-some years later. awkwardsilenceandquicklymovingon...

All this to say....

When Gregg came home a couple of months ago and showed me this picture......

....and said "I don't know what happened it just followed me home I got a great deal on it.....can I keep it?" I looked at his face and knew that even though this river boat wasn't a cute furry little puppy named Bugs, the man had to have his river boat. That he already purchased. And taken out on the river. Four times. Or something.

No way could I give him a hard time about that boat. I mean look at that picture?! Ok Gregg's secretary was a doll and scanned the picture and sent it to me but for some reason the picture lost it's 'close-up' in the scan. Just trust me when I say the actual picture itself shows a closer look at Gregg and he's one very happy man. Yes even though the boat got stuck up on the rocks in this particular shot. Which was taken by Gregg's buddy who was laughing at him from his boat but smart enough to pull out his camera. I love to see happy faces on my family like this. Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

Unfortunately, with going to Prince Edward Island for two weeks, a wedding to attend, life in general, getting a child ready for school, picking belly button lint, washing my hair, etc., etc., etc., there hasn't been any time to head up to FSJ and go on the boat. Gregg has been asking but the timing just hasn't worked out. Until this past weekend.

It was a long weekend here and even though Samantha had to work all weekend, Kelsey and I decided to drive up to FSJ so Gregg could take us out on his river boat.

Now for anyone who knows me, water and I are pretty much the equivalent of a cat and water. You go to put me in water and I will sink my claws deep into the depths of your skull and clasp my big long chubby legs around you so tight you'll be crying out in pain and not able to move towards that water. To say I am petrified of water is an understatement.

Oh I love looking at water and I can't tell you what sitting by the water does for me except to say I go to an entirely different world. I love it that much. As a matter of fact it's my dream to be living near the water some day....but looking at the water, sitting by the water and even dipping my toes into the water are much different then drowning in the water. Yes I know you don't always drown in water. Ok no I don't know that. I will drown. I am sure of it.

So the river boat was a bit of a thing for me. I wasn't scared because I knew Gregg would be careful with me in the boat. He knows what I'm like with water and if he didn't behave he knows I would sink my claws deep into his skull and he doesn't like when I do that.

Turns out it was fun. Actually it was more then fun, it was a riot! Facing your fears can be a good thing after all. Who knew??

Gregg took it easy while driving the boat and I know he didn't even come close to how he drove with our son and our son's buddy a few weeks ago. But I'm ok with that. I was content to sit in the chair and take in the gorgeous sights and when he did go a bit faster I was ok with that too. As a matter of fact, next time I want to go faster.

At one point during the weekend he said he was thinking of now selling the boat. I told him it was going to be over my dead body.

Pictures and a video coming soon.