Mothers Day Mix

Hi Tadpoles!

Hope 2016's pond is warming up nice and that you all are in great health and doing well. This is Wallene and I wanted to share a video me and PoolDad made for mom. Mothers day is coming up soon and we wanted to make something not only for Skippy but for all moms as a thank you for being so wonderful and always going along for the ride. So thank you, and have a wonderful day <3 p="">

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lfMJ_0h37g

The Final Post . . . For Now

Hello Tadpoles

This is Skippy's daughter, Evelyn (or Wallene for those of you who have been around long enough for those days), and I'm here (accompanied by Pooldad) to update you on our mother's situation.

As of November 3rd, 2015, my darling mother, Janine, passed away. My mom lived a wonderful and full life - having 4 kids, Taylor, Sean, Emily, myself and having two more upon marrying Pooldad, Delaney and Tucker. (not quite in that order) We all loved her very much and while some of us have been separated for some time, we will continue to love her everyday. For those of you who have been around, you know she wanted no more than to take care of us kids and do her best to make us all happy. Some of you have become so close to my mom, and me and my family cannot thank you enough for being there for her during those times when she needed you most, or even in some cases, when we were making mistakes. That being said, we received all of your thoughts and prayers and feel love from all over the country. (and from some of our foreign country tadpoles too <3 nbsp="" p="">
Most of you know from reading her blog that she was never in the best shape, because she was rather sick. There is no doubt in our minds, she always did her best for all of us, and she'll be in our thoughts everyday and we know she'll be there looking over us.

Thank you all again for being there and making my mom happy and sharing your lives with us, because you all are family too.

Mom, you skipped through a beautiful life, and we'll see you again.

Tadpoles, we may update every now and again, but until then, thanks for everything.

Love Always,
Skippy and Family

Say your prayers, my friends

Hi my friends. This is Emily, one of Skippy's daughters. Mom is ill and in the hospital, but she is a FIGHTER and we are all hoping for the best. We are not posting anything on facebook for privacy reasons. Please say a prayer and send positive thoughts.

Much love, Emily
P.S. For those of you that have my father's phone and email, you are welcome to  communicate with him.

Frick and Frack

As my mom  used to say.

It's what she called my brother and me when we used to get into mischief.

Well. . . y'all know me. I am a big dog kind of girl.  Dachshunds are the exception, hence Spot the Dot, but my preference is to have big dogs. My favorite breed is the Chesapeake Bay Retriever. And that explains my little pony, Scoobers and his predecessor, my beloved Rudy.

But now? Even Spottie is too much for me.  She weighs about 22 lbs, which is a fine weight for her breed of standard size, but heaven forbid she try to sit in my lap or jump up on my legs for a treat. She has never been a jumper except with me and now I can't change that behavior. She is 11 years old and really it's not a problem, but the constant pain doesn't allow me to enjoy her like I wish.

Don't get me wrong. Spot is my savior on all days and I would NEVER give her up. And if our history of having dachshunds is any indication she will live 5 or 6 more years. Steven is convinced the girl is going to break the record for longest lived Dachshund at 22 years 5 months just to spite him.

hee

But yesterday we were gifted with a new family member.  And to tell you the truth Tadpoles I never thought I would see the day I had a dog smaller than Spottie.  Or that I would agree to rescue yet another animal and in this case, a breed of dog I am not particularly fond of.

Yes gang...our newest family member is a Chihuahua named Bentley.
And he is a kick!  He is one year old and came from a friend of ours whose Grandmother raised him from a puppy.  She recently had a stroke and was moved into different living arrangements where taking care of Bentley would be impossible.

So....being home all day the grandkids decided our family [me!] was a good fit.  They gave us Bentley, his cage, his dishes...basically everything, for free, knowing we would give him a loving home.

He fits in perfectly [well....don't ask the cat] but Spot loves him, as he loves her. He is caged trained and knows his commands. I am truly impressed at how well he is doing after one day, and being only one year old.  So a big bravo to Grandma.

Please understand that no pup or kitty could replace my Spotters in my heart. She comes first above all our pets, but I think she's kind of happy to have a new partner in crime  I hope so at least.

And now? I have a new lap doggie who doesn't weigh too much. Yippy Skippy.

And that is what's happening in the pond Tadpoles. Hope y'all are safe and dry. The weather sure is being it's wicked self this week, isn't it?

Take care and we'll talk soon.  I'm off to find the Snickers, our cat and try and console her. :D

Smile loudly. Life is such a gift.

Oh - and the "Frick and Frack" title? Yeah, that is what I call the two dogs. giggle

There is Happy in this Post

I should be asleep and drooling in my chair. heehee - But I promise this is all good. Especially the middle few paragraphs.

So that was some mental pic', eh? Sorry about that - it's just that my new meds [again!surprise!] have given me the unavoidable side effect of falling asleep mid sentence, no matter where I am, regardless of who is around or what I am doing.

Yeah, It also means Skippy doesn't drive anymore. Which, some of you know, isn't such a bad thing because I gave Ozcarz to Wallene for her 17th birthday so I really don't have anything to drive anyway. hee.

It's a good thing I suppose.  And it's the Lyrica that is doing it.  You know that nightmare inducing drug?  Well. . .I figured out what the problem was with it and why it was giving me such awful nightmares.  The doctors had prescribed Dilaudid with it. It's a narcotic that I seem to be highly allergic to, in that - I do really strange things when I take it.  One time they mixed it with sleeping pills while I was in the hospital and [my hand to God] I removed my IV and tried to escape from the hospital. I just thought I could go home. I was pretty desperate to get home [you all know how much I hate hospitals]. That is until the big burly security guard, my husband and my two young daughters pried me off the front doors of the hospital and escorted me back to my room where I passed out. I woke up later restrained to the bed.

If nothing else I lead an interesting life. giggle

Okay, where was I? So, I figured this out. Dilaudid = bad, Lyrica on it's own or combined with morphine = good.  The morphine doesn't help with the pain so much [not like the Lyrica does] but it has the added benefit of giving me energy and keeping me awake. But? It's a narcotic and plbhhhht on that. The Lyrica is fine, on it's own, but it's not narcotic. Yippy Skippy!

I did have a lovely talk with a very kind High School friend [Hi JPS!] and when she called one evening she told me all about her nutritionist. I have an appointment at the end of next month.  You all know I watch what I eat due to my heart - and you can learn a lot on the internet about eating and reducing symptoms of pain, swelling, flares etc - but I have so many questions as I am discovering a lot of what I thought was good for me [i.e. low in sodium and healthy for others] may be exacerbating my conditions.  As I told a fellow Tadpole, lottajoy, I would try voodoo at this point if I thought it would help.  No one should have to accept this kind of pain and live like this 24/7.  Still, I am thankful that my friend called, so thankful, because eating well makes so much sense and as much as I have tried, it will be nice to see what else I can do from someone who actually is trained to know.

But I am working it Tadpoles - and working it hard. There is so much I want to do and people I love an want to take care of, so we soldier on ::salute::

Aw hell - just know I am thankful that I am still here. I am a very blessed woman. I know that - you know that and thank you God, He knows it too. ::grin::

I do have a bunch of happy stuff to report.  As I have said before all of this stuff is on Facebook, so it will be repeats for some of you - but it IS too much fun not to repeat twice. ::wink::

• At the top of the list, bestest thing ever, our Squirrel graduated from James Madison University on May 9th of this year. We were busting with happiness [and pride] for her - and had a nice lunch before her and Wallene left on a trip to a local amusement park to celebrate with friends.  She is packing up her apartment and will be leaving for graduate school next month. Can you believe it?

  

  Momma [out of her wheelchair momentarily], Squirrel and Wallene

• Now, Wallene?  She graduates High School next month and will be attending Virginia Commonwealth University's School of the Arts in the fall.  Which, again, makes us very proud, but leaves Steven and me a little sad because it is going to be so quiet around here come September.  I think I am going to end up being one needy froglet then. Anyone have a kid they would care to .....I don't know....drop off for an extended visit in the hills of Virginia? hee

  

  Yes, This graduates in less than 3 weeks. Where did the time go?

• Steven and I celebrated out 20th anniversary this month.  I don't know if that makes us crazy, considering what we have been through in 20 years, or crazy in love.  But he is truly my bestest friend and I have never had someone love and care for me so much - even at my darkest.  I love you baby ::waving::  I just betcha' we make it 20 more, don't you?

  

  Anniversary roses in my favorite color!

Big days ahead.  We still stand to lose the house, but Steven and I are taking it one day at a time. We aren't looking forward to downsizing and all the packing it entails to move to a smaller home, but as with everything we are up against, we will do it. We always do.  We are just waiting and working on getting Wallene to the University before we have to leave this home.  It makes me a wee bit sad, because gosh knows I love this place and our neighbors - but then I say my prayers and realize a cardboard box could be home for us, as long as we are together.  I do laugh to myself when I mention the cardboard box thing because at the bleakest Steven or I will say to the other "I could live in a cardboard box with you."  It's simply a different way to say "I love you" and realize what our priorities actually are.  He has worked so hard his whole life, and has been amply rewarded for it, but being up against all of this now has depleted everything we every thought we would have at this point.  But?  All the kids are safe, healthy and hopefully very happy [they tell me they are!] and Steven and I are here, now and together. Forever.

And that my friends is reason to Skippyhappydance, even if the world is crumbling.

'Cause you know? It could be worse. I never forget that.

Smile loudly - Life is a gift. A big, fat gift with shiny paper and a red bow.  Enjoy your Sunday. I will see you on the flipside Tadpoles as I feel the drool ::giggle:: coming on...gotta' go!

How Willing Am I?

To save my marriage and my family?

This willing.

What debilitating pain looks like. The warmth of my husband holding me helps.

I know it sounds dramatic - but that's me "Skippy the drama Queen" - tough rocks. I don't care.

I have spoken of pain before. I have talked about the debilitating effects of conditions I didn't even know I had - only to discover the stuff was real and nothing was touching it.

SURPRISE!!

I have a new pain that makes RA seem like birthday cake - with sprinkles and candles, no less - but this HURTS.  It is beyond hurting. This is a slamming door to the point you separate the door frame from the wall, you cry for 20 hours a day and wake up after a four hour nap knowing you cried in your sleep because your face is still wet. The kind of pain where you scream at your husband and your daughter because they are not getting it.

They have that stupid pain scale, right? The one that comes out of the doctor's mouth as "So on a scale of one to ten, where is your pain?" and they show that inane chart with the withering smiley faces?  I have gotten to the point where I look at them and say "Where is the one with tire marks running across it's face and Xs for eyes? THAT IS MY PAIN."  [They usually step away at that point, but I promise I am saying it quietly and without my eyes rolling back in my head.] I told the doctor and my nurses one time that I considered childbirth to be a 4, at the worst - and for me, and four kids? Yep that works. They shook their heads and went to correct me.  I stopped the doctor  from telling me "Oh no, ALL childbirth is at LEAST a 6."  I wanted to scream "Who the fuck are you and when is the last time you pushed a watermelon out of your body? IT IS NOT."  Sorry - but it pisses me off to be corrected when people who don't live in MY body but are book educated try to explain PAIN to me.

YOU, doctor sir, have no idea. No one has any idea and it is simply one more area where I am completely isolated from everyone and everything.

I am fed up with being asked if I am suicidal.  I retort "Why? Why do you ask? Do I look depressed? Act depressed? You bet your fucking socks that I am as depressed as I AM - but NO I AM NOT suicidal.  Had I been I would've shot myself long ago."  Yeesh.  I don't want more meds - I want LESS - I want to know how to FIX THIS.  No human being, living creature - oh hell - nothing should live like this. [As this is a blog I feel the need to point out that I am NOT diminishing other's struggles with mental health and suicidal feelings. They are real and their worlds, and I pray that they get the help they should have been allowed a long time ago -but?  I am not chemically imbalanced.  I am worn down and desperate from fatigue, pain and isolation.]

YET? I do LIVE LIKE THIS.  And you all see me play nicely and happily in the sandbox over on Facebook - but what you don't realize when I am talking about Evie's prom dress? Or Emily's graduation? While typing that, I have tears pouring down my face.  When I speak of our 20th anniversary in less than two weeks? My heart is happy but I am contemplating whether or not I can catch the garbage truck barreling down our street to just step in front of it.  At this point I think the mail truck could do a fair job. Considering.  The weight is going south AGAIN and Steven is starting his whole "I can tell her she is pretty. . . BUT? She looks like hell" marathon.

Put your thumb and forefinger around your wrist.  Make them touch.  Okay?  You shouldn't have a gap between your fingers and your skin on your wrist, or a smallish one if you are small boned.

Me?  I can fit a fucking SNICKERS bar in the gap between my fingers and my wrist.  The only weight I have on me now is due to swelling and water retention.

Oh joy - oh thrill - let's do the happy dance.  ::and the sarcasm drips, drips....and then it pours.::

So what am I willing to do now to alleviate this pain? To get me back to being marginally me?

I am going to take Lyrica again.

Even typing those words scare the living crap out of me.  If any Tadpole remembers the last time I took that drug I had such severe nightmares that Steven had to come home from work to help me.  He could not convince me that the older kids weren't hurt or dead.  I kept dreaming that Dee, Tee, Jr. and Squirrel had been [for lack of a better word] slaughtered.  And I couldn't help them. Save them.  These nightmares left me screaming, unable to wake myself up that my 13 year old daughter had to come into my room and physically shake me as hard as she could,  hurting me, to get me out of the fugue I was experiencing.

Steven and I finally decided that it was time I picked.  Functionality or debilitating pain?  Nightmares or me?

I picked pain free with the added gift of bloody nightmares.  Wish me luck while I figure out how not to sleep until they can reduce this swelling and take the damage away.

I tried to do happy Tadpoles. You simply have no idea right now how I can't. I am so sorry.

It's My Biannual "I'm Not Dead Yet" Post

::waving furiously::

Just being goofy!

If you are on FB or talk to me via email - most of you know I'm still alive and kicking - but not everyone does that, and I truly understand - but thought I better get something up here and let you all know I am thinking of you. 'Cause I am Tadpoles - I most certainly am.

It has been an exhausting last couple of months.  Steven is at the end of his tether with all of the woes associated with my health and the cost of it all. Meanwhile, I am plain old worn out from being sick.

I am so tired of being sick - and having it define every step I take every moment of every day. I am weary of talking about it. I am nauseous looking at our bills from it and lay awake nights knowing come March 30 our health insurance rates go up, and a new round of deductibles kicks in, so we start over again.

If it wasn't for the generosity of a very loving Tadpole, Bizzy -  we would have had no hope of a Christmas for Evelyn, nor would I have had my most valuable and expensive medication these past few months.  What is so surprising about it all is I have no idea how Bizzy knew we were in such dire straits, but these surprise packages would show up randomly in the mail [snowmen included! :) ] just when I thought all hope was lost.  She is truly an answer to all the prayers I say at night. Thank you Bizzy - I truly have no words for the extension you have given us.

Speaking of special packages in the mail. My sweetheart of a friend and Tadpole, Mare, went on vacation for 3 weeks to Key West Florida. Not only did I receive  daily updates via email of her consumption of Key Lime Pie [all time favorite] but she sent me the coolest care package from FL - including a pamphlet on manatees and a t-shirt that I had to hide from Evelyn. giggle Thank you Mare - truly brightened my dreary days.

So - now....here comes the hard part of this post.   Steven and I have come to a very difficult decision, knowing we have to keep all the insurance we have and be able to afford my medications.

We have to move. Again.  We already left Sterling, VA two years ago because we couldn't afford the cost of living after our landlords needed their house back and we couldn't find another one in the same range.  So we moved 100 miles from Steven's work just to be able to afford a place to live, not realizing 6 months after we moved in our insurance rates would double and then our deductibles for doctors' visits, medications and hospitalizations would go beyond the stratosphere.

We can't afford both this house and my [sketch] health.  Sometimes I look at Steven and say "Sorry I didn't die already. This wouldn't be a problem and you could keep the house."  I cry as I write that because it does sound pathetic, but I understand what I am costing my family. And it crushes me, because I know, I DO KNOW, that they would rather have me here than gone. But what good is being here for them if we can't keep a roof over our heads.

We could handily afford this home when we moved in, otherwise we wouldn't have gotten it. We have 0 - yes ZERO credit card debt. We pay for our home, the utilities [electric, water, house phone and internet] one car payment [Oscar] and car insurance.  We don't go on vacations. We don't buy clothes or presents or go out to eat - ever. This is the first year since I had kids that they didn't [in this case, just Evelyn] get new school clothes for school. I just don't understand why, except that the insurance and pharmaceutical companies are greedy bastards and we are suddenly lower middle class because of it.

Please don't misunderstand - I am, I truly AM grateful for all that I have, but I don't get this. How can my husband have worked so hard for 4 decades, be 4 years from retirement and by the time we get there he won't have anything to retire on?

I have searched high and low for a place to cut our housing expense, but keep Steven close to his work. We can forget the "close to work" part of this equation. It simply can't be done. Nothing within less than a hundred mile radius is cheaper than the home we live in now.  And we have agreed with Emily graduating and Evie going off to college we we would downsize to a 2 bedroom, 1 bath if we could find something that cut our costs and we could get closer to work.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!  I have been looking for over 6 months, and the bottom line is - you are just gong to love this - the closest I can get Steven to work and cut our payments on housing down is to move him and me to Harrisonburg, VA. Why is this so funny to me? It is the town where Emily's college is located.  The town where we have been visiting her for 5 years. Nice town. BUT? We have found a few condos that would suit our needs [of size and cost] but it is 115 miles from my husband's work.

I am sure some of you are questioning why Steven doesn't simply find new employment. First, he has been in this business for almost 40 years. It is a specialized industry and to be able to afford health insurance, he needs to work where the $$ is - meaning where the pools are. There are not a whole lot of expensive, in ground pools in central Virginia.  Second, as I mentioned, he is 59 years old [in July] and in his industry he is quite well known and could find a job BUT it would be in the same geographic location of the one he has now [remember, nice expensive pools that people pay a lot of money to have others play pool cleaner].  We did talk about him branching out and trying to find a job in management in another field, since he has been in the office managing for 30 years, but no one wants to hire a 59 year old man, regardless of his experience especially if he hasn't worked in their industry.

See the problem here?  And if it sounds as though I am whining, so be it - I'm not. It's just the explanation of the reality of our life right now.

I am a fortunate woman in that I have the love and support of my Tadpoles and my family. In addition I have my faith - these things sustain me. More than anyone realizes I think, because somedays I fall asleep, despite the pain and hope that it's the last time I close my eyes.  I know what I have, I do sweet friends - but it's getting so hard to sustain it while we ponder a future we never realized we were going to have.

Thanks for listening - I have lots of new recipes and tidbits to share, but this is foremost in my mind. So this is whatcha' get. ::wink::  I am Skippy - I will always be Skippy - and the 'ol me shall return. Soon. I am sure of it.

Thank you again. We'll see ya' on the flipside froglets and don't forget to smile loudly. Life is truly a gift.

How Do I Say This

I don't blog so much, but I do read and comment on your blogs. At least I try. Mostly I stay on FB, because I find it is less taxing and easier on my hands and my brain fog.

I do keep up. With you all, even if I don't say anything in comments. Some of us have been friends for over a decade. Wow. That's a long time, isn't it?

Yet, be it a year or ten - you, my Tadpoles, are my friends. You have stayed fast and true. You have been supportive and loving, funny and sarcastic. You have made me laugh until it hurt and. . .

Your lives have brought me sadness. Not through any act of your own, or anything you can control, but because I truly love you and love your families.

I have watched your kids grow up, some even getting married, having babies. I have rejoiced in your birthdays and your anniversaries. Graduations, deployments for those in the military. . .the list is endless. But, as you have been there for me, I have done my best to be there for you too. There is nothing better than being able to cheer your happy.

But? Life. . .  and death have an awful way of sneaking up on us. Doesn't it?

My last post I wrote about being so terribly sad over a friend I knew was hurting that I disappeared into the kitchen to bake away the hurt I felt for her and her family.

You see . . .our lovely and dear friend Beth, Bizzy - from My Bizzy Kitchen - has suffered a loss that is completely unimaginable to me.  He husband, known as Tony on her blog, passed away a few short weeks ago.  Through the last weeks of his life Bizzy never faltered in her devotion to her husband [of 14 years] not only working, but travelling great distances to be with him while he was in the hospital.

Bizzy and I talked via FB/private message and email. Tony had two conditions that I also have - Congestive Heart Failure and liver failure - mine being a genetic condition, Tony's LF due to his heart.  A lot of what they were treating Tony for in Illinois, they are working on my sketchy body here in Virginia. I tried the best I could to answer Bizzy's questions, but it wasn't until recently that I realized that Tony was much more sick than I am and more than even the doctors had told her or her husband.

Sigh.  One of the things we discussed were transplants. Since I am waiting on one, Bizzy explained that Tony was waiting on [first] a liver transplant. But then the doctors said he would need a heart transplant. Ooookay. Both? Okay....well it still looked promising, but then?  His kidneys started to fail due to his heart. They mentioned that now it would be three transplants.

He was in the hospital on kidney dialysis, awaiting a transplant when the doctors told Bizzy that Tony's heart just wasn't strong enough for anything more to be done and that she should take him home, to hospice. I can't even write the words "take him home to die" because who can do that? HOW do you do that? [Ugly cry commencing now.]  I don't know that I could if it was Steven, but Bizzy is Bizzy and she's amazing.

It was a Friday when Bizzy told me they had Tony home and comfortable.  I was alone, in my house, waiting for Steven and Evie to come home. Of course I was crying. Crying for the unbearable pain I know Bizzy, Tony and the family were facing, but also because of the unfairness of it all.

Let me stop for a moment and say something. . .I am doing a sucka** job describing any of this, and for that I apologize. It's one of the reasons I didn't do this post sooner. I used to be very good at getting my thoughts down on this dang computer, but it isn't as easy as it used to be. I love Beth and Tony with all my heart and I hope I can relate this in a way that honors their love and life together and what a terribly awful thing I think this is. Perhaps others or even Bizzy sees it in another way, but I just don't know.

All you Tadpoles know I believe in God. You also know I believe in the power of prayer. Bizzy and Tony were prayed for from all corners of the world, including this little 'burg, and I can't say prayer failed, but I have to say I was truly surprised when Bizzy called me to tell me Tony was coming home.

Steven walked in from work and found me sobbing. Although he knew that Tony was doing poorly, he initially thought it was one of our kids. I don't think he wanted to hear what I said.  Nope. Evie pulled him aside and whispered in his ear what was happening and he came over to put his arm around me. And do you know what the only thing I could say, between heaving sobs and the snotfest I had going on? The only thing I could say was. . .

"It is just black words, on a white screen. They are just pictures on a page. These people aren't real."

And I kept repeating it, and do you know why?  I wanted it to be true. If just for that day. To take away all the pain and be able to pretend that the Velantis weren't real and their pain and Tony's death weren't going to happen.

Sounds awful doesn't it?  I know better - God knows I know better - but it was my last defense to take away the pain I knew my friends were feeling. I was scared for them and DAMMIT I am 1,500 miles away, so pretending they weren't real seemed to make sense to me. I felt [still feel] so powerless.

So 48 years old of me, right? I know..."Janine, grow the eff up." Steven gave me a little shake and told me what I was saying was wrong and that trying to discount the realness of Bizzy, Tony or any of you wasn't going to do anyone any good. Everytime I said it, he would respond "No, Janine. You know better."

After cleaning myself up I explained to Steven that since Tony was home, dialysis had been stopped so ....I can't even write it. Sorry. You guys know.

What I can't believe, and what I will be forever grateful for, is that Bizzy took the time to phone me the day her beloved husband died. She told me that she didn't want me to read it online. I actually couldn't believe she had the strength to think of anyone outside of her big, loving and supportive family. [Bizzy's whole family is amazeballs btw - makes sense considering how wonderful she is.] I love her for that and she taught me such a great lesson in love, compassion and friendship.

I truly wanted this post to be a tribute to the love story that is Tony and Bizzy's life together. If you want to read about and see what true love really is - and what a great friend we all have in Mrs. Velanti - you only need to go and visit her at My Bizzy Kitchen . Most of you already know Bizzy, because I honestly believe she is the best cook I have ever met. Not only that - she is one of the most generous and kind people I have ever met.

I am blessed that she shares her life and Tony's life with me and for that I will [also] always be thankful.

Do me a favor, if you have a moment - please go over and share the Tadpole love I know that you all are so beautiful for and do so well.

I'll see you on the flipside. And never forget. . .Life is a gift.
Love and hugs, Janine

Whatcha' Gonna Do?

When I get sad. . .not depressed, mind you, just heart wrenchingly sad.  You see. . . when something happens that affects someone I love and I am powerless to do anything to help the person [by virtue of distance and health] I get sad.

And I do three things. Always.
-I ugly cry. Because my heart is breaking for a loved one and it makes my heart ache for them. And we all know what an ugly cry is.
-I pray. Recently it feels as tho' my whole days have been taken up in praying. Does it help? Me, I suppose. I have some idea of whether or not God answers my prayers, but it brings me a small amount of peace to hand over the awfulness of something that is troubling me for another.
-And I cook.

I cook a lot. It seems to be the only thing that works because I am alone all day with my thoughts and powerlessness against it all.  The cooking is always from scratch because it takes longer and occupies my hands and my eyes and my mind and no one wants Mom snarfing in dinner, right?

I know most of you know of what am speaking about - that one of our own is suffering and so far away, but it is not my story to tell on her behalf right now. Until it goes up on her blog, I respect her quietness and pray she keeps the strength that all of us have come to admire. Although it is up on Facebook, and she called me yesterday, she has many, so many, blog friends that aren't on Facebook that I don't want to run the risk of telling them anything until she does through her blog.

Make sense? I hope so. I suck at this kind of thing, especially when I am sad, but I am trying.  I just needed to come here and talk, about anything.

Steven came home last night and found me in tears but preparing dinner. At first he thought it was the pain, but then realized this was worse.  He told me to sit down, forget about dinner and we would just eat leftovers.

Nope, I had to get up and do something.  So with Evelyn's assistance in the kitchen I made up a few new recipes.  I was too exhausted to look up recipes, but having never made these dishes before I thought I would just wing it with the knowledge I have on hand. . .my sketch memory and sad skills.

I knew we had about 2.5-3 lbs of dark meat turkey leftover, turkey stock I made Sunday and a few blocks of cheddar cheese.

I don't know why but I thought turkey burgers and macaroni and cheese sounded like a meal. So I used my Ninja [mini food processor] and minced the cooked turkey, celery and onion for the burgers. I followed the same recipe I use for salmon cakes and added 2 eggs, about a cup of Italian bread crumbs and then veered off of that with 2 heaping tablespoons of turkey stock [it had congealed, so it was probably more like a half of a cup,who knows] and a heaping teaspoon of sage.  I mixed it all in my stand mixer and Evelyn made patties.

While she was making the patties I used the base of another recipe I use that is a roux to begin the macaroni and cheese.  I melted 5 tablespoons of butter in a pan, adding a teaspoon of salt and 3/4 teaspoon of pepper [more or less]. I added a heaping quarter cup of flour and mixed that until thickened. To that I poured in milk - I don't know how much, but I would guess 3 or 4 cups? I just poured until I had a nice thick sauce which I added 3/4 lb of ninja'd [I love that thing] sharp cheddar cheese and about a cup of mozzarella. I stirred until it was melted and had the sauce to mix with about 8 oz of cooked elbow macaroni.  Put that in a greased baking dish, sprinkled with paprika, covered and cooked at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes. My family doens't like it overly brown, so I didn't remove the lid.

While that baked, I fried the turkey burgers in a scant amount of oil on medium heat.  When they were thoroughly browned on both sides, I drained them on paper towel and let them sit.

When the macaroni and cheese was done, I took it out to rest and popped the burgers in the oven on 250 degrees to keep warm.  The turkey was already cooked from Thanksgiving so no worries with making sure they were cooked all the way through.

I also served the last of the Cracker Barrel style green beans and ham as a side.  I made these for Thanksgiving and that is what Evelyn calls them, Cracker Barrel beans [we haven't eaten there in 5 years, so how she remembers?] To me they taste like my grandma's homemade, and again, it is another recipe I couldn't be bothered to research. I just winged it.  I snapped two lbs of green beans [took me an hour - I don't miss the days of doing bushels of these during canning season for my grandma] rinsed them and put them in the slow cooker with 2 cups of chicken broth and 6 oz of diced cured country ham/fat back/pork hocks - take your pick. I used the cured ham. Set on low and those were some of the best dang green beans I have ever had. And easy. Just cook them until soft. Steven did have to put a cup of water in at two intervals, but our slow cooker is pretty hot.

I served the turkey burgers on hamburger rolls with the sides.  Steven put cranberry sauce on his, while Evelyn ate mayonnaise on hers.  I was too tired to eat, but I would lean towards my homemade cranberry sauce because it is more tart than sweet and tastes really good with turkey.

Sorry to bore you all, but it's honestly? I just didn't know what else to do and it seemed to make sense to come here and write down recipes.

Hugs and love to all of you. I can't begin to tell you how much you mean to me, and if you knew the heartache I have for one of own I am sure you could begin to understand better.

See ya' on the flipside. Janine

Day Full O' Bargains

Something is in the air Tadpoles. I don't know what it is. . .but Sunday was epic!

Two things well known about me are that I don't like any type of shopping except the grocery kind and I LOVE a bargain.

Yesterday was so cool.

We all know Thanksgiving is Thursday. However, we won't be eating the traditional meal on Thursday because the kids can't make it home until Friday. No worries, we're going the Mimosa and Sloppy Joe route that day, while prepping everything for Friday and watching the parade. Works for me.

We did want to make sure we had everything purchase before Thursday tho' and we decided to go shopping at ALDI.  I have an unabashed love for this grocery store. There are so many reasons, but today I am going to focus on one of my favorite things about their store.

Prices. I can literally get three times the food for the same price as I could at Food Lion or heaven forbid Giant Foods.  For example - three weeks ago I went shopping with Steven and we purchased enough food for 3 weeks of breakfasts, lunches and dinners for $160. We ate chicken, pork, ground round, sausage and soups. They only thing we replenished in three weeks was bread, milk and juice.

This makes me happy. So, so happy.

Our Thanksgiving menu consists of the following [keep in mind everything is fresh and homemade. I don't buy boxed or canned goods with the exception of boxed chicken broth because I don't have any homemade made and stocked in the freezer.]

Turkey with gravy
Oyster dressing
Mashed potatoes
Sweet potato casserole
Corn Casserole
Green beans with ham
Yeast rolls
Cranberry sauce
Pumpkin Pie
Apple Pie
Caramel Cake
Crudite plate [don't ask but this is a weird tradition my mom started years ago and the kids insist we have it] It includes black olives, sweet pickles, radishes and stuffed celery [see? told you it was weird - but it works. somehow]

I didn't write that list to bore you or even make you drool - I am doing enough of that for all of us - I write it because I still can't believe how little we paid for all of the ingredients. I could feed 6-8 people with our meal and it only cost:  $48.24. That's $7.10/per person for 6. Not too shabby.

Even better?  We will have leftovers Saturday [Gravy with turkey and mixed veggies over waffles - again, don't ask. It is SO good.] Then I will boil the carcass and make turkey soup, pot pie and Thanksgiving sandwiches with the remaining turkey. So actually my food cost is much lower. YAY!

We have never, ever paid so little for Thanksgiving - and we know, as we make the same exact menu every single year.  Even when I could purchase turkeys for .39 cents a lb [25 years ago] I still spent upwards of $100 for 8.

Even better than that bargain?

Wait - let me back up a moment.  I talked about this on Facebook, but I realize not all of you are there [and if you are, why aren't we friends? :)  ]

::drumroll::

This goofball, our very own Evie Lou [Wallene], was accepted into the National Honor Society. We could not be more proud and I have to say, with all the turmoil in her life in the past 4 years [my health, losing our home, moving in her Junior year of HS, etc] we are amazed at the hard work and perseverance she put forth to earn this honor.

Tradition in our home is if you are accepted into NHS Mom gets to pick out and will purchase you a new outfit for the induction ceremony. I know, pushy right? But you can only imagine the fights that would ensue if we let them dress in school clothes for this. It's a big deal.   I have done it before, to the liking of her siblings, but with Evie?  She was having none of it.  And really? It's our last kid and I am worn out by being sick, so I told her to go shopping by herself and Dad and I would pay for whatever she chose. She knew I had to approve, and I gave her parameters. Then I sent her out.

On the way home from the grocery store Steven received this pic' on his phone. I was shocked that she had actually listened and found something appropriate for the ceremony. Look! Her she is in the dressing room:

When I saw the pic' I said to Steven "It's perfect and looks so good on her.  But? This is going to cost us $50, isn't it?"

Um...nope.

We arrived home and Evie was already back from Cato [the only women's clothing store in Orange, VA] and she came walking down the hall holding up a blanket. I asked her what the heck she was doing when she suddenly dropped the blanket and was wearing this dress.  I squealed because it looks even better in person [she paired it with the cutest belt] but I was confused.  We hadn't given her more than $5 [to eat lunch while she was out shopping] so I asked her how did she get the dress home. Certainly $5 wasn't going to buy a dress that nice. [Btw, for those who care - it's completely lined. It's a NICE dress.]

She showed me the tag on it.  It was, in fact, originally, $49.99. But had been marked down 3 times. To the low, low price of $4.99!!!!!  She had change in her purse so she was able to purchase it with tax.

HOW AWESOME IS THAT? ::skippyhappydance::

It's the little things Tadpoles. Simply the little things.
Okay, that's all I got for Monday. I hope everyone has a lovely holiday [if I don't make it back here] and we'll see ya' on the flipside.

Smile loudly, LIFE IS A GIFT! Love and hugs, Janine

Retro in the Pond

That should probably read archaic, but let's go with retro - sounds cooler.

It's no secret I don't own a cellphone. I don't need one. I hardly go anywhere alone, and if I do I am usually back at home within an hour or two. So, if the school, my family or friends need me? The house phone works just fine.

Not owning a cellphone isn't retro, but my house phone is.  Check this out. . .it was my grandparents and sat on their desk for as long as I can remember:

It's a stock photo, but our phone looks exactly like that.  I have the phone because when my grandparents passed away my mom took it because she thought the great grandkids would get a kick out of playing with it.  They did. They all love this phone.  They had never seen one until my mom put this one in the toy box. This phone is in my will because otherwise they are going to bicker.

The biggest bonus to this phone is, obviously, that it belonged to my grandparents and I have such fond memories of them and being at their house. When it rings here, it reminds me of being with them on the farm.

However - it has a few drawbacks.  First, the ringer is LOUD. Dang LOUD. So loud that everytime it rings the dog goes bonkers and tries to attack it, but we never miss a call.  I could be over at the neighbor's across the street and I can hear this thing.  Second, it is rotary.  I know we all grew up with rotary phones, but raise your hand if you have dialed one in 30 years.  Tadpoles - it is a serious time commitment when you are used to push button phones. I will get all excited to call my MIL or Steven to tell them something and I am standing there for a good minute DIALING. giggle I know - no big deal, but I tease my husband all the time and tell him that he needs to call me, I don't have time to dial. And finally, let's all admit it - it's brown. Brown isn't a bad color, but brown? It's ugly.

But I love it.

Let's continue onto other things we own [or don't own] that are out of the norm for the 21st century.

We don't have a drip coffee pot or a coffee maker.  I make Steven's coffee in our camp coffee pot.  Yeah, no kidding.  When we moved we misplaced our automatic coffee maker and in a "first day in our new home desperation" move I pulled this out.

Again, a stock photo but that's our pot, but ours has wear and tear. Steven loves the taste of the coffee so in the 14 months we have lived here I just never bothered to go buy another Mr. Coffee or a Kuerig.

Which brings me to having to admit we do not own a microwave either. ::GASP:: We did. In fact since we moved in we have owned two.  But we have had two electric blow outs in our home - one even set part of the basement on fire OH JOY! - and in the process roached both of our microwaves.  Turns out that the electrical company hadn't grounded our home outside, eventhough they came  out the first time and said it was an inside issue.  We had an electrician in after the first power surge and thought we had solved the problem, but nope. It happened again and it was the electric company. They fixed it and we haven't had any fires or flashing lights in over 6 months. ::skippyhappydance::

Not having a microwave kind of sucks.  I never cooked in it, but I liked it for tea, oatmeal and reheating food.  Now I reheat my lunch in the oven - and being the instant gratification kind of gal that I am [see what I mean about dialing the dang phone?] I hate waiting.  Tea and oatmeal, which is an almost everyday thing for me, is a little bit better because I unearthed the "Teapot From Hell" in our move.

Anyone remember this little number?

It is a Rachael Ray teapot that I received for free - I only had to agree to post on my blog about it.  And boy did I!  This tea pot is a hazard, but it's so happy I never got rid of it.  If you want to read the review of it's faults, it's here:  The Rachael Ray Teapot Has Arrived.  I was honest - and I found out that in recent years they have actually redesigned the teapot based on reviews like mine and other bloggers.  Since I am intimate with it's faults I know how to use it without harm. I am just glad they don't produce it anymore.

Basically, we're living in the 1950s and you know what?  It works for us.

But really? I wish the ringer dial wasn't broken on my grandparents' phone. I don't know how much more of this Spot can take. :)

Smile loudly. Life is a gift.
We'll see ya on the flipside Tadpoles.
Love and hugs, Janine

PS - GO VOTE!

Surprising Myself

Nothing earth shattering mind you - just the run of the mill, hum drum, "Oh look what Skip can do." kind of stuff.

Having a daughter in college, one in her senior year of HS and paying out over $3,000 a month in insurance and medication fees money is tight.  Damn tight.

And in the words of Mother Hubbard - Skippy's cupboards were bare. Cobweb collecting kind of bare.

Okay, really there just wasn't anything I wanted to make for dinner staring back at me from the fridge or the pantry. We have food - but you know that feeling when you just don't want "that"? That being anything you have when you really want something you don't have?  Yeah, that feeling.

Then I saw a large can of crushed tomatoes.  Hmmmm.....

And I knew I was in the mood for spaghetti with marina sauce.

This was so, so easy and so, so good.

I sauteed one small, diced onion in olive oil - I would have added green peppers too, but Steven threw away the tops to my peppers the other night when he made stuffed peppers for dinner - and after they were translucent I threw in some minced garlic and about a half a pound of hamburger.

Once the hamburger was browned I poured in the crushed tomatoes, and tossed in some dried oregano, basil, salt and pepper.  I decided it was a bit thin so I added two heaping tablespoons of tomato paste and about 1/2 cup of water.

Then I let that bad boy simmer for an hour.

Side note:  My mom used to make homemade sauce when we were growing up. The stuff was amazing, but always made with canned tomatoes.  She was a "city" girl and didn't have access to fresh produce like we do here, so she became accustomed to cooking with canned.  I was blessed with an abundance of garden grown tomatoes from my beloved father in law's garden and spent a large part of the summer making sauces and lasagna with all the stuff we were given.  But I had never attempted sauce with canned tomatoes and have no idea what my mom's recipe included.

This is some good sauce Tadpoles.  And easy!  Impressed the heck out of the family too - always a bonus.  I have always bought canned sauce, until this year [see above] but I am not a fan of the sweet sauces like Prego or Ragu - we would buy Hunt's spaghetti sauce and this made up sauce came close to that, but BETTER.

I realize a lot of you have been doing this for years, but before this summer I had never made my own sauce. And with money so tight I find I have to stretch what I have.  I spend, on average, about $60 per week to feed the three of us - this includes all three meals - breakfast, lunch and dinner, as  Evie and Steven both take their lunches. Thank goodness Steven likes leftovers.

I know this is probably a boring post, but I am quite pleased with myself.  I have never really considered myself a great cook - I am just someone who cooks and bakes a lot.  But that sauce? Is really, really good.

Hope you all have a fabulous Thursday. Smile loudly, life is a gift!
We'll see ya' on the flipside. Love, Janine

October 27th

 Kind of pointing out the obvious aren't I?  Yes, it's today's date.

This day has a great amount of significance to me.  For two very important reasons.

Please allow me to explain, and I hope you understand.

I will start with the best part of this date.

My girl. The daughter I wish I could have added to our [insane] family. A woman who has been with me for over a decade. Someone who makes me smile. Who makes me want to scoop her up in a warm hug and make her cocoa.  A Tadpole of such depth, intelligence and honesty that I am surprised she puts up with my stuff. And for this long? Gawd, I love the girl. I do Yvo. Hope you know that.

I give you Miss Feisty Foodie, Yvo.  Lovely, isn't she? And it's her BIRTHDAY!!!

Yes I stole your pic'. Whatcha' gonna do?

I wish her the happiest of birthdays and hope she is rocking her butt off in NYC - which, if you read her blog, she probably is.  She has amazing friends and they do the funnest stuff, with great NOSHES included.  Friends, food [and alcohol] what could be better. hee

I wish I could call you Yvo and sing [poorly you know] to you! But this is my birthday wish for you. I will never forget your birthday. . .because you are you and I love you. You are my original Tadpole. And I thank you for all you have given me over 10 years.

Now excuse me while I walk down Morose Lane. I'm sorry.

The second half of today falls on my head.

Please understand that I am not trying to take away from our beautiful Yvo, but today is also Senior's birthday.

I know, right?  For those that don't understand, Senior was my first husband. He is father to Sean [JR] and Emily [Squirrel].

He died when he was 38.  On Christmas Eve.  It was the most shocking phone call I have ever received. That memory replays in my head so often.  When I got off the phone I threw the phone at Steven I was so upset. I wasn't aiming to hit him, mind you....just wanted to get it out of my hands because it told me what I never wanted to hear.

I know you all know how tumultuous our marriage was. We were young and scared. I think, sometimes, had we just matured a bit? That he would still be alive and we would still be married. I could have saved him.

That is not said to take anything away from how very, very much I love Steven.  I do. And he understands my emptiness at Senior's death. You know that I love Steven and the blessings he has given me, he isn't a second choice, he is my WORLD - every bit of 20 years -but I had to accept a long time ago that Senior chose to leave me and the kids, when they were babies, for his drugs. That was hard.  I don't think I ever minded for me so much, but the kids?  That wasn't fair.  And what he did afterwards was horrible.

Still? I can say this. . .

He was a good man.  He had his demons. He did.  He treated me and the kids poorly during the divorce [which took so long] and the ensuing years, but I have always known it was because he had an outside influence that he was trying to make happy.


Whenever we were alone together or the three us [me, Senior and Steven] he could be himself. He was witty, kind and loving. He was the *old* Senior I loved so much.  But when the influence was around?  He could be the nastiest son of a bitch I ever met.  His eyes would blaze at me, the words would spew and the only thing that kept him from coming at me, to hit me again, was my beloved Steven, but I could see the apology, the sadness, in his eyes, that he was acting a role for the sake of it and he knew he was hurting me and the kids.  He didn't want to, he just felt he had to...I don't know why he chose what he did over them.

He was a good man.  He worked hard. I have never wanted him back since he was so cruel for so long, but? This day makes me sad.  Because he shouldn't have died so young. He shouldn't have. He had gifts to give to others, he just didn't choose me, Sean Jr or Emmy.  He would be 46 years old today.  I raise a glass to him.  He had a good heart, I never doubted that.  Otherwise I would have never married him. I have always known I have good taste, right?
 

What prompted me to include Senior in this post is because a very nice FB Tadpole, Iggy, shared this song with me this morning [without having any idea of this day] - and the line "I thought I'd see you one more time. . ." resonated with me. I really thought Senior was timeless and he would always be a part of our lives.  Mean, funny, kind or cruel? I thought he would be here.

And now? 

He isn't.

http://youtu.be/C3uaXCJcRrE

So, welcome to the roller coaster that will always be October 27th to me.  I truly don't want to take away from Yvo's day, as she is simply the best.

I love you girlie and thank you for bringing such a light to my day, everyday.

Road Trip!

We are off this morning to take Evelyn to her first pick choice of a college, for a tour. She is so excited.
It is Christopher Newport University in Newport News, VA.

We are pretty excited too. Momma not so much for the six hour round trip car ride, but I will be riding in style once we get there because we are taking the wheelchair. No way I am walking that campus. heehee

Got a pic' this weekend when the sissies met up at "Parade of Champions" at James Madison University [Emmy's school] where Evelyn and her band preformed [and yes, we are loving the pink hair :)  ]

I honestly can't believe that we have come this far and our last baby is leaving us in less than a year. I know a lot of you have already done this too, but I can't even imagine what next year is going to be like.

Okay, what else have I got today?  Oh, went on a car ride yesterday - such a gorgeous day and stumbled on this place.  SUCH a hole in the wall, but the parking lot was packed. And if I can get a grilled hamburger and french fries for less than $5 and a Coke for a buck - then this is going to be our new date night spot.  It's called Joe's Place and it is about as big as my living room.

And finally here are two memes I made for Facebook, but haven't shown here - hope you like them.

Okay - that's all I got, but I will update when we get back. I know that car ride is going to throw me into bed for a week. But y'all know me - I can post even when I am flat on my back. heehee

Hugs and love, Janine

I Can't Believe it Went There

Yeah, health problems.

What the f*ck else is new?

I was just hoping, praying, throwing pennies in fountains that THIS would NOT happen. I am not joshing about the penny/fountain thing. I have actually prayed this wouldn't happen. And I have thrown pennies, nickels and quarters at it. We actually have a wishing fountain in Orange.

 YAY us. sigh.

And when I explain it further, you all are going to laugh. I would have. About a decade ago.
But it isn't funny.  I can imagine you thinking "REALLY Skip? You can't get through THAT?"

I suppose I have to, but I just didn't want it and it is damn near laying me flat.

The least of my problems is Rheumatoid Arthritis.  When the smallest of your worries is RA? You've got other, more serious sh*t wrong with you. RA is not to be discounted.

Trust me on this. If this was the only thing? I would whine and move along, but c'mon.

But we [Steven, me and the kids] walk through it with smiles, daisies and lollipops. As we always have. Natch.

If you read back through my blog it is very evident I have been in pain for a long time.

Let me stress that . . .A L-O-N-G time.

It surprises me when I read back.  I just thought it was normal aging and none of my doctors caught it. I guess because I "looked so good". Nice going idiots.

SO, to GET TO THE POINT. . . yes Skippy move along.

The arthritis has reached my hips.  MY HIPS. I stress that because gang? IT SUCKS.

Always having to deal with it in my hands, feet, elbows, shoulders and back [I thought my back was bad...holy crap, no....this is worse] I said to Steven time and again "Thank goodness it isn't in my hips. That would suck."

Suck evidently being my favorite word.

I am only writing this because I need to SCREAM.  I actually did the other night. I freaked Steven out when I did it.  He walked into the living room and asked "What the hell was that for?"

'Cause I am a bitch like that. I just had no other release. It hurts so much. There are no words to give him, to explain, nothing. It just hurts Tadpoles.

I curl up in my quilt, with my rosary and my Vikes' pillow and I just can't.

I am doubled over trying to get to . . .the bathroom? The bedroom? The only place I am truly comfortable is flat on my back. For an hour. And then I have to stand up, bent over...walk. And lay back down. WHAT kind of life is this? [yes, still screaming. hee]

I thought child birth was the worst thing I had ever experienced in terms of pain.

Nope. Sit in a chair for a few minutes with this pain and you will feel the need to take a really sharp knife to your legs. It's insane.

I eyeball my good knives [I have two] every single day and wonder....wouldn't that feel better? Couldn't I just stabby stab my hips?  I know that is horrible, but when you live in this kind of pain for so long, you wonder.

Sick, right? Not really.  I don't care that the medical profession has let me down. Their job is to make money and they could give a rat's ass if I get better or worse.  They don't care.

No one deserves this.

Then again no one deserves their head cut off because of ISIS. Right? I know that. I should be counting the pennies I threw in that fountain, instead of crying over this.

How ca In compare the two? To compare my simple pain to those that are being murdered because of a political agenda?

Yeah, I shame myself. I do. I really don't mean it to sound so gross and there are people dying because of genocide in other countries and Ebola and hunger in our own country. . .

But? BUT . . .I weep. I lay my head on the table and sob. I don't understand this pain. I'm sorry I don't have a better description.

This is MY WORLD now. And I don't know what to do with it. It hurts so bad to live in it.

I should be thankful tho'. I know this.

My husband gets very sad seeing me in pain We were talking about something else when he said to me "Janine we have nothing." He was talking about monetary things, as we have lost so much due to medical bills, including the cost of insurance, which we are blessed to have. But our deductibles are so high, due to me.  He doesn't want his friends to think he is a failure. He isn't. You know how I love him. But he wants so much to see me out of this pain and he can't fix it. And that makes him feel powerless.

And I hate myself for that. He is the biggest, best man I know Yet? He spends hours rubbing my joints and my head to make me calm and so I can sleep. After everything else he does.

Want to know a secret?  At night we sit next to eachother and he always reaches over and strong arms my own arm Meaning he pulls it towards him. He rubs it up and down, and if you had any idea what that does for me? You would understand. He doesn't even realize he is doing it. He is focused on the football game or golf or some such stuff. But he will reach out, grab my arm and just rub.  That's nice. If you knew how it made the everything of me feel you would understand what it means that he does it.

I did have to remind him of everything we DO have. Don't you see? I am still here. [Sometimes I tease them and say "Aren't you happy? Mom's still here." It's usually around the time I ask them to unload the dishwasher.] Steven and I have a strong, faith in God and eachother, based relationship. Our eldest is engaged to be married, the two youngest are graduating this year - a roof over our head, food in the fridge. We have it all. Don't we?

And both of us also know what we have, don't get me wrong Tadpoles.

But sometimes I wish we didn't have as much as God has given us.

It is testing everything in my world. It is a hurdle I can't get past now.

Smile loudly. Life is a gift. With a ribbon I would rather not unwrap at this point.

Sorry, not one of my better days.

Love and hugs, Janine

Conversations I Am Pretty Sure I Shouldn't Have

Of course most of these involve Evelyn/Wallene.

The first one was posted on Facebook, so, sorry for the repeat - stay around for the rest.  I may be arrested at some point.

1.

Sitting around the table eating lunch.
The following conversation ensued. . .

Evie: "My friend was supposed to meet her boyfriend's parents yesterday. But she didn't."
Me: "Why?"
Evie: "Because she said the family went out and accidentally bought a cat."
Me: "How the heck do you *accidentally* buy a cat?"
Dad: What? Did they reach for bananas and suddenly there was a cat there and they accidentally bought that instead?"
Evie: "I'm not sure. But, where do you think the SKU would be?"
Me: "I don't know, never priced a cat, but how funny would it be if the cat was slid across the scanner, butt down, and rang up as $6.99"

2

I crawled into bed with Evelyn this morning. I wanted her out of bed, and hey - it worked.
Me: " Hi honey. [fiddling with her sleep pants I noticed a mark.] What is up here?" 

Evie:  "Oh. . .that?  I think that's blood."

Me:  "Been out serial killing again? What have I told you?"

Evie:  "Mom? I've explained this. You really need to stay out of my mellophane case."
Me:  "Lou, that's kind of sick. Funny, but sick."
Evie:  "Why do you think our band only consists of 26 members?"
Me: "Because you killed off the ones that sucked?"
Evie: "Pretty much. But really Mom:?  Where do think this comes from?"
Me:  "You watching too many horror movies?"
Evie:  "Netflix is fabulous, isnt' it?
Me:  "I better never read about you in the papers."

3.
Meanwhile, still hanging out in bed with my daughter while she was texting with friends.
Evie:  [heaviest of sighs] Gosh, I just wish this guy would get the point."

Me:  Who?Evie:  This guy keeps texting and the other day he texted 'If I asked you out, what would you say?' "

Me:  What did you respond?
Evie:  No.

Me:  Evelyn that is harsh Couldn't you have said something kinder like "Thanks That's so sweet but no"? I mean really Lou. It takes a lot for guys to ask a girl out.
Evie:  MOM! He is a SOPHmore!!.

Me:  Oh Okay then. I would've texted back "PUHLEESE, are you kidding? Senior here!"
Evie:  [laughing] Now who is being harsh Mom? I didnt' want to find the kid in a puddle somewhere.  I thought saying no was the best route.
Me:  Good point.  But where do find these people?
Evie: Lunch.
Me:  You need to eat somewhere else.

4.
Conversation with Steven on the way home from grocery shopping.  I dressed casually - read: NO BRA - but had a hoodie on, with a zipper.

[For those in the pond that don't know I am about an A cup, and really don't require a bra. Much to my chagrin.]
I looked down and noticed that the zipper had come down all the way to my waist.
Me:  "Honey, can you tell I didn't wear a bra today?"

Steven:  [thinks for a second] "There really isn't a good answer to this question is there?"
Me:  "No, not really, but that is why I asked it."

giggle

Smile loudly. Life is a gift we are given.
See ya' on the flipside Tadpoles.
Love and hugs, Janine

Well. . .Jesus Is Clean

I am horrible.
Or irresponsible. . .
or. . .something.

I have a great [or awful, depending how you view this] habit of carrying my rosary around in my pocket.

Yes, I am Catholic. I am very happy and proud of it - it sustains me and means a lot. To me. I don't agree with all of the Church's doctorines, but God means something to me, and although I don't bring up religion or politics - often - on this blog, let's just all agree to walk through together, mmmkay?

But I swear if I don't stop this they may well kick me out of the Church.

As I said I carry my rosary around with me.  All the time.  I am usually wearing a hoodie or a bathrobe, so into my pocket it goes. When I feel the need to pray, I pull it out. Or sometimes pain will strike and I can just reach in my pocket and just holding it, rubbing the beads and talking to Him will make it pass.

It's just me.

The thing is I have three beautiful rosaries.

One is made of wood from an olive tree and my beloved in laws purchased it in Italy when they were visiting.  My MIL presented me with it when Steven and I were going through a very difficult time with his ex wife and custody of the children. This was over 15 years ago, and I wasn't even close to being Catholic. They knew I wanted to be, but never mentioned I wasn't. My mom just leaned over, while in court, placed it in my hand and said "This might help sweetheart."  And it did.

The second is the rosary that my husband bought me when I began RICA classes to become Catholic, back in 2012.  It has grey beads and I keep it in a small pink rosary purse [yes, they actually make these] This is the one that I carry when I drive or anytime I am out of the house.

Then there is the rosary of all rosaries.  The one I pray with the most.  It is a heavy, gold and ruby beaded piece that my [again] in laws gifted me with when I became a Catholic in 2013.  It is an antique and I am not quite sure where they bought it, but that one stays in my rosary pocket of the quilt my lovely Tadpole Mary, and her cousin Anne, made me.  This one never gets washed.

This is the beautiful quilt they made - you can see the rosary pocket and my red rosary peeking out.

However the other two?  Yep, Jesus is getting a bath Often.

I suck, absolutely suuuuuck, at remembering when I do my laundry that they are in there.

Case in point:

Evie went to fold my clothes the other day. She came into the kitchen and said "Mom, you washed Jesus again."

I looked at her and said "What are you talking about?"

Evie replied "MOM! Jesus. Your rosary." And she held up the olive wood rosary.

I was chagrined Okay, I was appalled at myself. Damn. I took it from her and held it up - saying my prayers to the heavens...I mean, who washes Jesus? [and no I am not being flip here I did actually feel bad.]

Then I noticed. . .Jesus was gone.  Oh double damn.  If you don't know the rosary looks like a necklace with a crucifix at the end. You don't wear it as one, but that is the way it is styled.

Jesus had fallen off.  In the wash. Or the dryer? We don't know.  Sadly I haven't found him yet.

Skippy - 0, Going to Hell - WINNING!

I was a bit distressed at this turn of events, but my husband tried to make me feel better after I related the story.

He said "Look at the bright side Skip, now all of our laundry is blessed in holy water."

Not helping, not helping at all.

Then? Sunday night Steven was doing laundry. He sat down with me and he said "I will give you three guesses what I found in the dryer today. Go."

Evie started laughing but I was honestly perplexed. I knew I had my inhaler [another thing I wash often] and my glasses [ditto] . . .so I asked "What?"

Like a magician he revealed the grey rosary, holding it up and asked "Missing something?" with a slight smirk on his face.

I sometimes wonder how they ever let me join.

But Tadpoles? I have the cleanest rosaries in town.

Smile loudly. Lift is a gift.  We'll see ya' on flipside.
Love and hugs, Janine

And Skippy Teaches Lessons

You know I unabashedly love my kids.

Blah, blah, blah.

We ALL do, and it IS wonderful - we all have damn nice kids and it's probably why we are all friends in this pond.

But sometimes?

I swear on God's little green apples I am ready to stuff one of them in a closet. With a box of crackers and a bottle of water. Sleep on my coats. grrrrr. hee

It's not anger, it's frustration.  Sort of like the "ORLY?" b.s. they write on Instagram and Twitter when they do stuff.

Target of my ::headdesk:: this week? [see? I can do it too!]

YEP! Your's truly, my beloved Evelyn.

First off - the little dink had an extra credit project for an AP English class. She had to read a book and do an art project for it.

Okay...this is a no brainer for her, right?  She even picked a book we had both read, and love.  The Glass House.  A disturbingly wonderful book.  It is a true story and a very good read.

However, Evie had asked to drive [always a time commitment here] and go visit friends for the afternoon. But she made the mistake of mentioning this extra credit project to me beforehand. I told her she had to finish that first.

Um. yeah. Kids.

We discussed it and brainstormed a few good ideas. We both know this book well.

Then she went into her room to create.

She came back less than 30 minutes later and showed me the finished project.

I looked at it and told her "It's fine."
She took it back and said "Fine?"

And I replied "Yeah. It's okay.  What do you want me to do? Applaud because you rushed through something I know you can do better?  This isn't 'everyone gets a trophy for participation' Lou*."

I have to admit. I wasn't happy, and it was only extra credit in a class that she is doing well in, but c'mon.

I let it go.

I was not going to belabor the point - she knew what I meant.  She left it on her desk and went off to visit her friends. I resigned myself to the fact of "whatever".

I have to explain here that I don't believe in telling my kids EVERYTHING they do is perfect, wonderful and first place.  Y'all know me and I love them, but sometimes second place, last place and "life sucks" exists.  Life isn't perfect.  Our kids [yours and mine] do so many wonderful things, but when they aren't up to par, shouldn't we tell them?  When life hands you lemons sometimes the sugar and water isn't there to make lemonade.  I don't want to be the one to be the grinch in their life, but reality exists and not everyone is first.

Anyhoodle. . . to continue the story. . .

I took a nap.  When I woke up it was around midnight, Steven was in bed and I noticed the light was on in Evie's room.  I nudged my head around her door and saw her sitting at her easel watercoloring a picture.

Now, I don't have a problem letting her create when she wants to, but I do have a problem with midnight on a school night, and so I asked "What's up?"

She said "Oh, hi! I got back around 9 pm and Dad went to bed so I decided to redo my extra credit."

I would be a liar if I didn't admit to stepping back outside the door and fist pumping just a bit. YES!

It took her another hour to finish her project, but it was truly representative of the book and it made better sense. That is not my opinion btw, it was hers.

She came home today and told me it was hanging on the "Big Board" [whatever the heck that is] in the English room.  Sounds important - but more importantly she turned in her best work, instead of just throwing out a good scribble.

The second lesson?

When you don't understand how your new car works [Ozcarz - which Evie now owns] and you get cranky at your mom about it? Your mother will take your keys, hand you the owner's manual and explain that there is a 100 question test coming up next week.

And? You have to score an 80 percent or you aren't getting the keys back.

In Evie's defense - she is a fantastic driver, and it was a simple interior light issue that she funked out on, but? Instead of allowing me to explain Ozcarz' features [which I have explained so many times. We lived in that car] she snipped at me.  And it was raining. And she was tired after a 6 hour band practice and I was in pain....and....

Girl? I GIFTED you MY car. Idonotthinkso. No one talks back to da'Mommas. No matter what.

Get your pencil sharpened.  'Cause those keys are burning a hole in my pocket.

So? On a scale of A - F, I think I am rating about a C+ this week.  But can I please have extra credit for answering the phone at 6:20 am the other morning when her sister called "just to talk".  I asked her why she felt the need to "just talk" at that time of the morning and she said "Um, walking to campus and I was bored and I figured you were up with Evie anyway." UM NO.  But it was fun and I will talk to them anytime. It's a gift when they call....still? 6:20 am? Sigh.

Yep.  I love 'em. Couldn't live without them.  But? Rules people. RULES.

It's like the old saying "Parenting without a sense of humor is like being an accountant that sucks at math."

And then I got a surprise tonight - Evie painted me a picture in Art class, on canvas [a canvas she made herself] and told me "It reminds me of you Momma."

The minute I saw it I knew.  It is Alaska and the Northern Lights.  A fellow student offered her money for it and she said no, it was for me.

After she texted me the pic' I told her she had to give me the shirt back [I didn't know she took] and I would buy her another brush [for her hair] if her's was missing. giggle Ah, frantic artist I suppose. But? I still want my shirt back. And of course I praised her picture. She knows*

Smile loudly. Life is a gift.

We'll see ya' on the flipside. Love and hugs, Janine

*Lou is my nickname for Evelyn
And Alaska - well. . .you all know me well enough to know it is one of only 3 things on my bucket list.  I have had to trim my BL down, but that will remain number one until the day I die. I will never see it, but I will have a beautiful rendition of it on my wall, won't I?

So. . .who taught the lesson? I love my family.