Thursday, January 24, 2013
I called my Grandma yesterday for her 87th (I think) birthday, and although the call was connected, no one answered and no recorded message came on. I tried again with the same results. I know from experience not to call more than twice because she gets grouchy, (think of a hungry-caged-Feral-cat) so I called my mom with whom Gramma lives. Here is the actual conversation:
Me: "Hi Mom, I called Gramma to wish her a happy birthday but didn't hear anything.
Could you please tell her for me?"
Momma: "Oh that was you? She said she didn't recognize the number."
Me: "I thought she had an answering machine."
Momma: "She does."
Me: "But she doesn't use it?"
Momma: "No. Okay, this is what you need to do, the next time you call her, as soon
she picks up, you need to yell,"Gramma! Gramma! It's me Jodi!"
Momma: "Yeah, just yell at her and she will talk to you."
Me: "Um, thanks."
I am not kidding.
Thanks for visiting,
So I have a dental appointment tomorrow, and not because I like to visit her every 6 months and answer her topical attempts at conversation such as: "How were your Holidays?" with half her hand wedged in my mouth so that each and every answer sounds something like "Rawr eft shiz umber kuggle tufter moggin, moggin! Tufter moggin! " Nope. Through years of abuse at the hands of the Free Dentists (Students in training, IN MY MOUTH!) and On-Base-Military-dentists (I am not sure which had the most effective methods of torture but my vote goes to the students, FYI) I only go with the hope of not having to return for any procedure. ANY! I don't even like to take my kids for their check ups ,but I tried dropping them off once and the office staff came out to the car. (I wouldn't recomend this) I might try it again though, truth be told, and hope no one comes out with the "What kind of sick twisted Parent are you" look on their face. So, if you think of it, please send up a little prayer on my behalf. And one for the Dentist as well. Thanks
Update: the dental visit went well. Actually it was great considering that someone was scraping under my gums and between my teeth with a very sharp hook shaped torture device. When I got there, I was asked if I would like a massage. Can you believe it? They had new chairs with remote control massage built into them! It was a nice distraction I have to admit! An option of laughing gas would be nice too, but hey, they are making progress! They also had digital X Rays which means they don't make you bite down on those annoying cardboard things that cut into your gums and are built for a mouth the size of an orangutan. The dentist was great and took time to talk to me about her kids and the benefits of drooling in your sleep, and the hygienist was great too. So, if you live in the High Desert and are looking for a dentist, give Dr. Ginger Scoggins a call over there in her new office. State of the art equipment and great staff. What else could you ask for? (760) 244-3112
Three days in bed with a fever, chills and aches in muscles I had long since forgotten about, a week and a half of a hacking cough, and I am regretting not meeting up with Nurse Hatchet. No one else got sick, just me. Coincidence? Who cares? I am not taking the same chance again.
Of course I have been thinking about the precautions we take to avoid getting sick, and wondering if they are just money making hypes or of some value. I hear the makers of Purell and Lysol are doing pretty good in this economy. Clearly the Flu shot is of some value. Eating right helps too. But vitamins? Hand sanitizers? Antibacterial sprays and wipes? I really don't know. It certainly makes me feel better to use a wipe on a shopping cart handle that a snotty nosed toddler may have been gnawing at earlier, but does it really help? Probably not.
Neither does the friend who stops you from hugging them and exclaims, "NO! I'M SICK! Don't touch me!" No awkward moment here right? Wear a sign or something. Maybe a T-shirt with the words "I have a cold! Keep a 5 foot distance at all times!" on it. I am not so sure I believe the people who are obviously sick, coughing and hacking up phlegm either who claim, "OH it's OK, I'm NOT contagious. No need to worry! Gimme a hug!!!" Um, excuse me, but how do you know you are not contagious? Did you send a sample to a lab, or do you just know?
Well my dear friends, I hope you stay healthy in this season of sickness. And if you don't, well, stay far away from me.
Till next time,
Friday, January 18, 2013
We have all been faced with the awkward situation that occurs when you meet a friend or relatives ugly baby. You are horrified, shocked, perhaps even a little nauseous. What do you say? Even if you are able to compose yourself and not gasp, you are expected to say something kind and give a compliment. Well, I don't want you to lie, and I don't want you to be honest either. If this is a good friend, you walk the delicate line of offending them. Good friends are hard to come by, you don't want that. Here are some suggestions that might just make everyone happy:
Try complimenting the child's outfit, "Oh look at the darling tiny shoes! So cute!"
Comment positively on the child's nature, "Wow, she is so calm, so alert, so...little!"
Ask about Momma, "How are YOU feeling?"Are you getting any sleep?"
But what ever you do, do NOT ask if something is wrong or say that you hope it grows out of it, or raise your eyebrows. Be polite and follow my lead. There is not much you can do but hope that this is just a phase and carry on. I hope this helps.
Till next time,
I have noticed that some of you seem to be unaware of the church etiquette and so I thought it would be beneficial to have a little refresher on this topic. Not that I am without fault mind you, but what I do know, I will gladly share for the benefit of all. I'm nice like that.
First of all, if you are not in a hand raising church, don't raise your hands. You might scare someone when the Spirit is moving. Secondly, it is OK to have some candy during the message, something small like a Tic Tac. No Kentucky Fried Chicken though, it's just too messy. And no gum. Nobody wants to hear you smacking or snapping your bubble gum. Nasty. Now your pastor knows good and well that we eat during his sermon. But don't be noisy (make sure you have quiet wrappers), and wait till he turns away from you or looks at his notes before you bring anything up to your mouth. You don't want him to see you eating because he may get hungry and punish you by going over and talking about In N Out. Thirdly, if you save a seat for someone who is notorious for being late (Vicki Hetzel), don't make eye contact with the usher or he will make you move and Vicki will be without a seat. Be quiet. Now is not the time to be catching up with your neighbor, and certainly NOT during worship. That's just plain rude. Turn off your phone. No body needs to talk to you during church except Jesus and He won't call your mobile. I guarantee this. And no texting. Or Angry Birds. Lastly, don't touch your face or scratch your nose during an altar call. Folks just get too excited and think you are getting saved. Awkward.
Anyway, I hope y'all are taking notes. I will see what I can do about getting this published in the church bulletin. In the mean time, do your best to spread the word.
Till next time,
Monday, January 7, 2013
I know I can't be the only one in this cold world who lives with picky eaters. How I became the designated food preparer I'll never know. It kinda just happened. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am a female, and along with that comes the obvious. That's right. A bosom. The ability to carry, nurture, and sustain life. So every one figures, "Well, if she could carry a baby to term, and nurse it, and if it ain't broke, why fix it?" Am I right? Whatever it is, I am expected to feed my family. EVERY day. Sometimes, more than once. I think that's a bit drastic. But they don't. So, along with shopping, prepping AND cooking, EVERY day...comes the delight of my life. Feeding picky eaters. I was raised in the 70's when nothing was fresh or organic. Everything came in a can, box, or a powder. Think Spam and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and of course, Tang. What is Tang anyway? Never mind, I really don't want to know. So, I am used to eating whatever is there. Hot, cooked or cold. There were days when all we ate were frozen fish sticks and pickles from a jar on the counter. So, imagine my surprise, when my first child suddenly had an obsession with eating ONLY hot dogs. Or when my dear husband informed me that he would not eat anything with sour cream, gravy, or tuna fish, or anything that even remotely resembled sour cream, gravy, or tuna fish. All of which I used on a regular basis to cook my "Gourmet" meals. I will admit to you, that I have a fantasy. Oh not the Brad Pit kind, no. This one involves me opening up a restaurant in which I decide what to cook and how much you will eat. The menu may consist of fresh salad, plates of tender crisp vegetables, and fish (salmon not sticks). My patrons will sit with their napkins on their laps and cell phones turned off, speaking to each other about the days events. When the waitress arrives, they will tell her, "Oh, whatever. I know it will just be amazing." And I don't need to say things like, "You'll eat it and you'll like it!" Or, "You have two choices, take it or leave it!" Yes I know, ridiculous. I did mention it was my fantasy, right? But for now, I will just have to keep on fantasizing...that or keep Pizza Hut on speed dial...
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder-an anxiety disorder characterized by intrusive thoughts that produce uneasiness, apprehension, fear or worry leading to repetitive behaviors.
Aversion-a strong dislike or avoidance of a certain thing
Exposure therapy- intended to help a person face and gain control over fear and distress that is overwhelming through desensitisation.
I will readily admit that I struggle with OCD. If things are out of order, anxiety rises. If dirty dishes are piling up in my sink, it rises higher. If I should happen to see mold, or have to touch raw meat or poultry...that's right, higher still.
Which, according to the condition of certain areas of my home (certain bedrooms in particular), leads me to believe, that my family who love me so very much, and naturally want the very best for me, are using Exposure Therapy in an attempt to cure me.
Till next time,
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
I have an inward struggle when I see a can of Vienna sausages. On one hand, they repulse me. Yes, I know repulsion is a very strong word, but it is also a perfect description. Gelatinous globs of processed WHATEVER, shaped into little logs of edible, yet stinky potted meat. I suppose, if I could get over the smell, and the texture, and the sight of them...I might even serve them on occasion. But I can't. So I don't. But....the taste. Yes, they may look like hot dogs, and even (GAG) smell like hot dogs, but the taste, OH WHAT JOY! WHAT RAPTUROUS WONDER UPON MY TASTE BUDS!!!!! Heaven right there in my mouth! So, you can understand my dilemma. Revulsion versus DELIGHT. Contradiction in a can.
Till next time,
Till next time,