Saturday, September 26, 2015


Sitting at a football game waiting on it to start so I'm playing on my phone. I'm not a good phone typist so pictures. 


We've had a rash of birthdays in September.   Pretend it says Igor.

Mom had a birthday too.  It's like looking at a picture of my grandmother. 

The Cub Scouts hired a raptor program to come in for the kids.   It was really cool because we were really close to the birds.  I'm sure I liked it more than the kids. 

First day of school.   6th grade and 3rd grade 

Sunday, September 13, 2015

I Must Be Nuts

They (of the all knowing) say that you can tell a lot about a person from their hands.  I suppose that's true.  My nails are ragged and torn, very short, from a bad habit I've tried to break most of my life of picking at my soft nails. Slight callouses line my palms from yard work and other chores.  Often the skin on my fingertips is stained with paint or food color from some project or another.  The skin on my hands is rough and chapped, usually begging to be greased down with some sort of hand cream.  All these things would be obvious to the casual palm reader, it wouldn't take a 120 year old gypsy to make these out.  I wonder though what people would think of my new callous.  It's the strangest thing, it is on the tips of my middle finger and pointer finger of my left hand, just on the edge of the end of my wicked short fingernail.  The pointer finger callous is less pronounced, the one on the middle finger was so thick I clipped it down with nail clippers.  It took me a bit to figure out what in the heck I was doing to form these strange callouses.  We are not talking a place on your hands where anything seems to rub on a constant basis, then in dawned on me.

I formed them rubbing my own neck.  The pressure of the edge of my fingernail rubbing on my skin while I pressed and manipulated the muscles and tendons that leave me in pain near constantly.  Yes, I rub my neck so much with my left hand I have formed callouses.  Hard to believe I know, then I started noticing just how much I do this.  Pretty much every time  there is a pause I pushing and prodding at the spots on my neck.   Driving, waiting in line, shopping for cereal, poking at the Ipad, reading a book.  Just about anytime I don't actually need two hands to accomplish the task.  Young children that know me must think my arm is surgically attached to my neck.

There is hope for relief in the future. (hopefully very soon)  My doctor referred me to a neurologist saying she though Botox would be beneficial.  Three weeks of waiting on the appointment and I talked to the new doc and she seems to think a round of Botox would do me a world of good.  Yay, that's what I'm here for, let's do it.  Alas, insurance must be consulted, specialty pharmacies get involved and three weeks more I still don't have a firm date for the procedure.  I do see some light as I had phone calls from insurance gathering data and asking me my allergies.

My sanity though is somewhat questionable.  The Botox procedure is something like 30+ shots in my hairline, scalp, neck and shoulders.  I must be the only person the planet actively looking forward to getting shots in my head.  Constant pain will do that a person.

Thursday, September 3, 2015

You never know

Two posts in one day?  I'm disturbed and need to get it off my mind I suppose.

Doing my chores today and be-bopped out to water my potted plants and grabbed the mail.  The local weekly paper arrives on Thursdays so I scanned the headline about the high school football team and tossed it on the counter to read while I ate my lunch.  Below the fold was disturbing news.  An 8 year old child was removed from his home when neighbors flagged down an officer to report he was home alone.  The child allowed the policeman in, who found deplorable living conditions, filth, overflowing litter boxes etc.   The kid told the investigators he hadn't been outside since school was out for the summer.   The kid was taken to a foster home and the mother arrested.

This in itself was disturbing, I often wonder what the hell these people are thinking letting children live like this.  This case is even more so as I was acquainted with this mother and child.  The boy was in Igor's Cub Scout group for a while.  The child's attendance was spotty at best and his mother pulled him citing she couldn't bring him to meetings and didn't have money for the expenses.

Just goes to show you that one never knows what goes on behind closed doors.


Last night while in a dead sleep I hear the dog making retching noises, I sling the covers off of me at the same time as Hubby who had evidently heard it too.  I begin yelling "RUN Callie!" As dog and underwear clad husband trot down the hall to the stairs and toward the outdoors.  Figuring it didn't require both of us to let the dog out to puke I went to the bathroom and crawled back into bed.  Hubby joined me soon and I inquired about the dog's health.  Hubby replied she'd never barfed and said "I think she was just snoring really loud".  What must the dog think?  I bet she thought the house was on fire or something.

School has started, thank the good Lord.  The boys were making a marathon sport of video games and pestering each other until blows were thrown.  Couple that with the fact I somehow acquired two neighborhood kids that find my house way more inviting than their own.  I don't mind one of the boys, he's polite, friendly, and seems to be a pretty good kid.  The other one is more than a little odd, rides over on his bike always carrying a foam sword and uses literally like a comma.

Football is in full force as well, seems several boys from the neighborhood are involved.  The kids had a scrimmage last weekend and kid originally at center was doing worse than poorly at the job. Sonny Boy was put in the position because he'd played the position for one game three years ago.  There wasn't really a game going, just snaps from both teams on each side of the ball facing several teams.  The last team the kid guarding my 85 lb child probably weighed in the 200 lb range and was at least 6 inches taller.  Sonny Boy was shoved aside like a wet Kleenex repeatedly.  Coach tag teamed the guard with Sonny Boy and another larger kid (this kid weighs in at 120) and they still had a hard time.  Thankfully he wasn't an aggressive player, doesn't really need to be I guess.  He must be a third year 6th grader.

I must really get moving.  The last couple of days I've spent painting in an effort to finish kitchen project finally.  Hubby has finished trim so now I'm under the gun to get paint on it.  While painting no other chores have gotten done and the house appears bomb like.  I envy people with maids.