Of Unintentional Teen Girl Teaching

So, Jr.'s girlfriend has a classic 'Audrey Hepburn' black satin dress.  She wants him to wear a classic tux with a bow tie.  He says "No."

So I tell her to tell him her dress is pink, and she would "So love" if he would wear a pink shirt/vest/tie.  Then, when he balks, say "Well..you can wear a WHITE shirt...but ONLY if you wear a bow tie."

Bingo.  I'm going straight to Hell.

When to Quit Whining

After 6 weeks, Wednesday was the day I was to be free of the cast on my right arm. Nope.

Being a wise man, my Dr. said he's heard me whining for weeks about how far behind I am in getting my house together for Jr.'s June graduation. He knows I'll jump right in, over-do it, and maybe aggravate the break. Two more weeks.
I agree, but I'm not happy.

Then, today, my neighbor calls me. She says she's going to be gone for a couple of days and asks I keep an eye on her house. First, let me tell you about my neighbor.

She's in her mid-60's. When she was born, she came out with her right arm over her head, and the Dr. used it to pull her out. Her right arm is crippled.
She has a gazillion grand kids and every Christmas knits each a hat, scarf and mittens. She quilts.

So, today, she asks me to watch her house because she's going out of town to participate in a bowling tournament.

Time to quit whining.

Of Karma and Teens...

My right arm has been in a cast for 5 weeks. For the last 3, Jr. has been saying, "When are you going to quit whining about what you can't do"?

Hey, I don't care if you call it 'karma,' getting your 'come-up-on's,' or the result of not abiding by 'The Golden Rule.' I believe it'll catch up with you; yesterday was Jr.'s day. He put his right elbow through glass.

We get to the ER and the receptionist asks how it happend. I wink so she know's I'm kidding. "He's been ticking me off about my arm, so I cut him."

He's going to be OK, but he's bandaged wrist to armpit. Don't you like, if it's going to happen, to have it have some 'poetic justice?'

Of Quitting Smoking and Routines...

If you've ever tried to quit smoking, you know how 'routine' is your enemy. It's also my cat's.

As a kitten, he'd start threading himself about my feet as soon as I got out of bed, asking to be fed. No. He's since learned my routine: Bed to bathroom. Turn on news on way to fridge. Juice for pill. Cigarette. Feed cat.

He's so good, he's learned the difference between 'tap' and 'extinguish'; "Meow."

But now, some mornings, I don't have that cigarette. This messes with my cat because I, too, am accustomed to our routine; 'meow' equals 'feed the cat.'

When I don't have my morning cig, he's waiting, all confused; "She hasn't smoked, but it's been an hour ..should I 'meow' now? Wait?"

Quitting smoking is difficult on everyone around us.

Of Sharing a Toothbrush...

Took Jr. and Girlfriend to Cincy for Easter.

Next morning Jr. looks over Seeester's balcony to the kitchen, yelling at me with a mouth full of foam.

"Hey, what color is your toothbrush"? I say, "Blue," which sends him running and spitting, and then brushing with the green one.

Girlfriend then screams, "Ew! MINE is the green one!" They're both freaked out.

Funny, but it's true; trading spit during a kiss is different than sharing a toothbrush. Funnier yet was the look on Jr.'s face when he thought he'd shared his Mom's toothbrush.

Even better is that I knew the new one I got him was blue; mine's purple.

Of Easter Memories...

Easter brings back memories of patent leather shoes, hats, white gloves, ...and throwing up. Let me explain.

We'd come to Monroe to visit my Dad's sister and family. Lots of great food and (and here's where the story takes a turn) lots of candy.

We lived 4 hours away. Ah, the puke stories I hold dear.

Isn't it strange how 'a certain' sight/smell triggers 'this' memory and 'that' reaction?

I'll get to the point. Don't buy me a chocolate bunny.

Of Easter Egg Hunts...

After my first organized Easter Egg Hunt where a Mom tripped me so that her son could grab my eggs, my parents started their own.

They'd put jelly beans and pennies in plastic eggs and hide them in the yard for us kids and our friends to find, but...

When summer comes, should you find the 'lost egg,' take it from me; don't open it. No amount of potential pennies is worth finding an egg completely filled with ants.

Your Broken Bone Is Healing When.....

When you first break your arm/wrist, you know it; it hurts.

After a while, except for the cumbersome nature of the cast, you kinda forget. This is what happened Sunday.

Jr. and Girlfriend have nothing to do; the mall closes early and no good new movies. I say, "Bowling!" They say, "Yea!!" I go to grab my jacket and we all cry laughing.

We completely forgot my right arm is in a cast. Whatever. We're going. That's when you know it's healing.

However, my Mom is Polish and a Fantastic bowler (notice the capital 'F'?). I am not. So, upon returning, I call her.

I say, "Mom. I went bowling left handed and was the third best of everyone who was there bowling! So, what do you think?!!"

She says, "First, you're an idiot for trying it; you want to break something else?! Next, you're either way better with your left arm, or you were one of only three people in the bowling alley."

Dang it. It was the latter.