When Good Grandmas Go Bad

We have a rare blessing. Dan/Daddy and I still have 3 grandmothers living. I have one, and he has two; so many people our age have none... we are blessed.

One of Dan/Daddy's grandmas is a bit more "feisty" (we'll say) than the other.
She cracks us up. We all call her "Nonie."
She has those skills that so many people of her age and generation have:
1. She will tell you EXACTLY what she's thinking. Even if the rest of the room would not say it. Even if it's unpleasant. Even if it might be embarrassing.

and

2. She likes to repeat things. I don't mean repeating in the sense of telling the same story twice. I mean repeating in the sense of saying something 3,956 times. Even if the rest of the room would not say it. Even if it's unpleasant. Even if it might be embarrassing.
Most folks refer to it as "beating a dead horse." (not a pretty word picture)

For example, one of the first times I met her, Dan/Daddy and I were dating. (He tells me I should have run then, but that's another story for another day.) His mom had made some BBQ for dinner. Her mom (Nonie) declared,
"Hey! This BBQ is hot!"
It was spicy BBQ, but she felt like it was too spicy. So she began to tell us.
Over and over and over and over.
"This BBQ is hot."
"This sure is some hot BBQ."
"This is the hottest BBQ I have ever eaten."
"You sure did make some hot BBQ, Honey."
"Wow! This is hot BBQ."
You get the picture.

The hot BBQ incident happened over 15 years ago, so you can imagine how Nonie has honed her dead horse beating skills.

The only thing that Nonie adores more than repeating things is her grandson... Dan/Daddy. She ADORES him. I don't have the heart to tell her that he did not, in fact, hang the moon.
Anywho....

Dan/Daddy had his back surgery last week, and in all the times Nonie's called to check on him, I have told her he's doing great. He is, really.
It is a very slow recovery, and he isn't a fan of slow recoveries. He's been a good patient, but he's not the most obedient patient. He wants to be back to his old self a little faster than the doctor will allow.
It's just best if Nonie knows he's recovering. It is best if she DOESN'T know he's pushing himself a bit too hard too soon.

Well. The boy (my boy) took matters into his own hands last weekend and called Nonie up.
To "rat out" his dad. To get the thrill of knowing she's gonna begin to beat that dead horse again. Except this time, the "dead horse" is his slow-moving daddy.

Within 2 seconds of the boy calling Dan/Daddy's Nonie, the phone beeped with a text.
From Dan/Daddy to the boy.
"I am going to kill you."

Apparently Nonie had called him.
To rant and rave and scold him for not taking it easy.
Let the dead horse beating commence!

The boy thinks it's hysterical. (It is.)
Dan/Daddy thinks it's annoying, yet sweet. (It is.)

I can honestly say that even 5 years from now, when he's running a 5K or jumping out of an airplane, she will still be telling him to sit down.
"Don't you need to take it easy, Honey?"
"You better rest a bit."
"Your back isn't what it used to be."
"You need to sit down and rest."
"You better rest and sit down."

And the boy will be rolling in the floor, holding his sides, and laughing his hiney off.

So will I.

This Face

This is the smallish face that showed up on our doorstep (literally) this week.

She must have known that a bleeding heart softie lives here. (Make that 3 bleeding heart softies.)

I took her to the vet and spent a sad amount of money getting her checked out and treated for a respiratory infection. Then I spent some more money on de-worming meds and flea treatment because we don't have the heart to look at that face and tell it "no." That's probably what's wrong with the boy. Not worms... We can't say "no" to cute faces.

She barely weighs a pound, and the vet says she's probably about 6 weeks old.
We've known her for 3 days and we already love her to pieces.
The sad part of the story is we can't keep her. Our very overgrown and spoiled cat H-A-T-E-S her. Hate is a mild word.

We've spent 2 days on the phone and on the internet searching for rescue centers, no-kill shelters, pet foster homes, and humane societies.
No one can take any pets. NO one. And that includes several cities.
They are all so overfilled already, and they can't legally have any more.
It is heartbreaking... it makes me see why some people (mean heartless people, that is) just dump unwanted animals out like trash. They really don't have many options.

I am waiting to hear from 2 more rescue places, but the path ahead for baby kitty is unclear.
My mom is considering taking her, but she doesn't really want another pet. She also has 2 very spoiled and unfriendly cats already.

So for now, baby kitty is with us. Getting well and getting lots of snuggling.

In the words of Bob Barker...

"Have your pets spayed or neutered!"

Bring On The Artificial Pumpkin Flavoring

Since I last blogged...

Dan/Daddy had back surgery. Yes. BACK. As in cutting around the all-important spine.

We found a teensy tiny itty bitty baby kitten on our front porch on Tuesday. We are now giving her love, food, a warm bed, and very expensive medicine.
But mercy is she ever cute.

I went to the Podiatrist for some foot pain. Foot pain I now know is related to the great Sewing Machine Drop of 2008. Now I have nerve damage, and I have to get a shot. In my foot. Did I mention I hate needles?

All of these big life events are just pushing us along, and I need to stop and post some blogs.

On another note, I had my first Pumpkin Spice Latte of the season yesterday. Mmmmm.

It may take several more of those to get me through the rest of the month of September.

Croutons and Stuff

Here's what's on my mind, in case you wanted to know.
If you don't, then why are you reading this?

1. Why does a long weekend completely mess up my internal clock and calendar? Is it Tuesday? Is it Wednesday? Oh creature of habit and routine, I am.

2. Croutons are the best part of a salad.

3. I was doing some laundry. (Listen to the cheer from Dan/Daddy. He was about to have to build a bridge over the pile.) While doing the laundry, I found bullets in my washer. I can't help but wonder what would happen if they'd made it to the dryer.

4. Bullets in my washer are not uncommon. We were at my parents' house this Labor Day weekend, and the men folk went hunting.

5. The boy shot more doves than Dan/Daddy, and he has rubbed it in his father's face like nobody's business. Dan/Daddy has been gracious as the boy does the victory dance around him.

6. Our weather dropped from the range of "Satan's Domain" into the 60's over the weekend. There is hope.

7. The start of college football makes me happy. And it makes me want to decorate for Fall. Which makes me even happier. I am a simple girl.

And that is all I have for this Tuesday... I mean, Wednesday, update.