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.

Chihuahuas In My Shirt

I'll start with a bit of a confession. Then I will get to the story.

I've been in a mood lately.
I know, I know... I have too much to be grateful for to be in a mood.
But I am. I blame the weather's inability to cool off. Ya'll. I am sick of hot.
I partly blame Pinterest.
If you haven't been there, then go at your own risk.
It is addictive, and it's been depressing me lately.

If you don't know, it's a "collective" site of all the things you love. And all the things other people love and deem "cool."

So I sit and click and gawk and oooh and ahh and slide further into the blahs.

It's bad enough that my house doesn't look like all the fabulouso bloggers' homes out there.
And I don't cook like the Pioneer Woman. (How much do you love her?)
And I can't tell you how to make an entire garden patio from soup cans. (Don't laugh.... someone has probably done it.)

I can't just see a neat idea and recreate it, a yummy recipe and make it, or a pretty room and admire it.
I have to start feeling icky because I am not all that I see.
Why do we do that to ourselves? (Am I alone here?)
Internet, be darned.

But I have to stop, get off the world-wide web, and look around me at the life I've been given. It is a blessed one. I get to be a part of some really cool stuff.

Like just a few days ago.
I was running errands and stopped at a traffic light. I glanced over to the car beside me where a rather large lady was holding the tiniest baby chihuahua I have ever seen.
Cute didn't do him justice.
(What I am about to say is true.)
While I was looking at the puppy and going all "awwwww...." over him,
the lady took him and pushed him down into her shirt.
Way down in between her very healthy chest parts. Way down.
Tucked him in, put her hands back on the wheel, and drove off.

My "awwww..." went to "ewww...." and I know the light was red long before I could go.
I have seen a lot, folks. Now I have seen a lot more.

Who needs fancy homes, amazing photography, and sinfully delicious food?
Not me, I say.

Just give me my humble home, my scrawny pantry, my stack of dirty clothes, and my cat's stinky litter box.
I will also take a chihuahua. A tiny one that I can poke down into my bra.
Now that is living the good life.

PS... Not everything on Pinterest is cool. Or polite. Or appropriate. We do live in a free - but sometimes twisted - country.

A Hurricane And A Sermon

My mind is busy this morning with thoughts about all my friends in NC, MD, VA, and the Washington DC area.
One of the nice things about the Army is how it brings so many people into your life.
I've met folks I would have never known if we were not a part of this crazy Army thing.
But having all these friends scattered all over the world makes my heart stretch more than I'd like. Places that were only places on a map before are now much more...
Because someone I call "friend" is living there.

I suppose it should be that way anyway.
Places and faces on the news and the map should be more than just places and faces.

(Is the theme song from "It's A Small World" going through your head yet? Good. Mine, too.)

The pastor on Sunday made a point about the love of God being Global.
Well, duh. Of course God's love is Global.
But is mine?
If I am honest, I kind of like my little bubble.
But, it shouldn't take a natural disaster to shake me out of it.

I get caught up in the laundry and homework and sport practices and laundry and bills and gas prices and groceries and laundry.
I can't SEE over the laundry. And everything else.

There's a song from a few years ago (Brandon Heath) that says exactly what I need to say.
(And it's much better than "It's A Small World.")

Give me your eyes for just one second
Give me your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me your love for humanity

Give me your arms for the broken hearted
The ones that are far beyond my reach
Give me your heart for the one's forgotten
Give me your eyes so I can see

Praying for my East Coast pals today and praying for my own ability to SEE a little further.

Snacks... The Holiest of Concerns

Since moving to a new area, we've been church hopping. Or church shopping.
We've been to 4 or 5 different places looking for the place we fit in.

It's not easy and it's not fun and it's one of the 492 things I hate about moving.
It's become more of a chore since the boy hit Middle School age. We want him to have a Youth Group he can get involved in.
We also want him to continue in AWANAS. (Bible Clubs for kids and teens) He's been involved for 5 years already, and he's learned so much.

The problem is.... lots of churches don't continue AWANAS past the 5th grade. The material is out there, and some churches do go with it all the way into High School.

So we narrowed our search down to one church we liked that still had AWANAS for Middle and High School kids.
And a Youth Group.

We went for the second time on Sunday morning, and we took the boy back for AWANAS Sunday night.
When we got in the car, Dan/Daddy and I had a million questions...
"Did you like it?"
"Were they nice?"
"Was it fun?"
"Did you meet any new friends?"
"Do you think you would like to keep coming?"

He smiled and leaned back in the seat and said,
"They had snacks. Cookies and juice."

Something tells me we'll be back.