Monday, March 30, 2009

My Husband, the Philospher

In the shower, some people sing, some people pray, some people just get it done.

But my husband, well, he thinks random thoughts. And he has the “courtesy” to share them with me.

I’m so proud to be married to a man with such a brilliant mind – he is a member of MENSA after all.

Philosophers have pondered, debated & written theories on everything imaginable. However, my husband has given me and everyone reading this blog something to think about.

A recent sample of his random thoughts:

In a backward world, what if air was replaced by water?

Would toilets be filled with air?

Would fish breathe air while we breathed water?

Sounds to me, like he’s ready for summer and swimming. Or a vacation that involves SCUBA diving.

Now, for the scary (not so proud) revelation:

In a bizarro (as if the air/water thing weren’t bizarre enough) world, what if the human body worked backward?

Would we suck crap up our butt instead of it coming out?

Would it make its way up through the body so our mouths expel food?

Where would our teeth be located, in our butt?

These are the things he thinks about in the shower. How the hell did he get admitted into MENSA? Perhaps he should be admitted to a mental institute.

They're coming to take me away, ha-haaa!!
They're coming to take me away, ho-ho, hee-hee, ha-haaa
To the funny farm. Where life is beautiful all the time . . .

Silver lining:

  • I’m having a tough time with this one. I suppose there are worse things he could be doing in the shower, like singing.

Thursday, March 26, 2009


First off, I have to tell you how utterly disappointed I was on my way to Bible study tonight. There is a house under construction that I’ve wanted to get into, but those construction guys got smarter about how they are locking up the houses (click here to read about my B&E adventure). Now I need an actual tool to get in and I keep forgetting to look for one.

Anyway, one of the doors was wide open, but I was running late. I was carrying my coffee cake AND my dinner plate filled with pizza rolls to Bible study – that’s how late I was. So I couldn’t go and properly explore beforehand, and by the time Bible study was over, it was dark. Shaz-bah, better luck next time.

I was not disappointed in our Bible study though. Back when I was a kid, my parents really didn’t talk very frankly to me about the body. This seemed to be the case with most of the other ladies in the group. I said most . . .

Do you remember when you first learned what an enema was? I know it’s a common question and I’m sure you have a story at the ready. Please share it by leaving a comment below.

I really couldn’t tell you about the first time I figured out what it was. I can tell you the first time I had to give someone an enema. My niece was constipated & I had some of those baby enemas. My sister actually administered it. Normally, it takes a little bit for them to go to work and you have a chance to get a diaper on. Not my niece – it was soooooo disgusting. I don’t know how that much poop accumulates in a baby. It was kind of like when you squeeze the play-doh through the snake maker. Yuck!

One of my friends in Bible study remembers her first time quite clearly, and the story demonstrates a dramatic difference in 80’s parenting styles.

As a youngster, my friend, we’ll call her “P”, and her friend “Q” heard the word “enema”, but neither of them knew what it meant. They started tittering about it and finally decided they would each ask their moms, then get back together and compare notes.

This story exemplifies the “lost enema generation.” They had to go to their parents and actually ASK!

Back in the really olden days (40’s & 50’s), everyone over the age of four knew what an enema was. That was a time when mothers were obsessed with your poop. If you didn’t poop for even one day, you got an enema. It was part of the evening bedtime check list:

  • Jammies on?
  • Brush your teeth?
  • Go potty?
  • Did you poop today?
If the answer was no, you had go to the clinic (they had special clinics for this) first thing in the morning. Mothers would fret about your lack of poop all evening and into the night. Fathers, on the other hand, saw the clinics for what they were – a profitable business.

“So Bill, what do you do for a living?”

“Well, Bob, I’m an enema administrator.”

“Wow! Now, that’s job security – don’t see you hitting the bread line anytime soon. Every time I drive by, those places are packed. And I don’t mean just the number of people!”

Today, kids would just Google it. Then they would text the definition to all their friends. Phones would be a buzzin’ all over the playground. “OMG! NMA is so NAGI!”

But, as I said, P & Q had to ask their parents a question – OMG, the horror!

Q got the prim and proper answer:

“Well, I asked my mom. She looked a little shocked, and then she smiled and giggled. My dad told her to go ahead and tell me. So she said, ‘Honey (giggle, giggle), let’s sit down a moment. An enema (more giggling and somewhat uncomfortable smirking) is when they insert a tube into your anus and use water to gently flush out any compacted fecal matter.’ What did your mom say?”

P got the straight up version:

“It’s where they squirt water up your ass so you shit.”

After the roar of laughter died down, somehow our fearless leader was able to pull our study group back to God’s word (she's really good at it). The key verse related to our entire study last night was 1 Corinthians 6:19:

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?"

Maybe we all need to keep this verse in mind and get ourselves a mental enema – flush all the shit out so you can take care of the body you have been given & strengthen your relationship with God.

Silver lining:
  1. God and enemas – who knew?

  2. Things don’t change that much from generation to generation. Moms still obsess over poop; we just don’t go to the same extremes.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

SOLD! Well, sort of . . .

Back in 2005, a friend gave us a 10% off coupon for Home Depot. We had just refinanced the house & taken out equity so we decided to buy ALL the wood to build both an 11’X12’ shed and a 16’X32’ deck. This is enough wood to fill a 2 car garage.

It was August, right in the middle of the dog days of summer. Outside projects would have to wait. So the wood sat in the garage.

Fall came and Hubby had to dig out an area to pour a concrete pad for the shed. This involved digging holes for cement pillars and an “apron” to support the cement pad. By November the pad was finally poured and approved by the city.

Now it was getting too cold for outside projects. The wood continued to sit in the garage.

Spring (2006) came, but there was a lot of rain so outside projects would have to wait. Wood was still in the garage.

Eventually, we pulled 2X4’s out of the garage and started putting up walls!! By the time fall rolled around, we had all four walls up and the attic subfloor laid down. Now it was time for the roof trusses – hmmmm, we’ll have to read up on how to do that.

Around the same time, we fell in love with Pleasantville and signed a contract to build a new house. At this point, the house had a garage full of wood and a skeleton of a shed in the back yard. We also looked around the house and realized there was a lot to be done before we could compete with other houses that were for sale.

We got to work, but it is slow and tedious when you have two kids who are almost three and one. In fact, the progress was so slow, I had to call my dad. He lives in Wisconsin and gave up his vacation to Niagara Falls to make the trip down and finish the shed and get the deck started. Between my father-in-law and my dad, the framing of the deck was done before my dad had to head back to Wisconsin – GOD BLESS THEM!!!

Then, Hubby broke his hand! The city inspector wanted a couple more piers poured under the deck. Rob was using a drill and auger bit to break up the dirt when he hit a rock. I had to get out there and finish the piers with my father-in-law's help. Yah, I’m a concrete pourin’, manual labor type, NOT!

Somehow, after the deck was completed, we still had a ton of wood left in the garage. Ken, Roxie, Hubby & I loaded up a couple of pick-up trucks (TWO trucks worth of wood!) and hauled it all back to Home Depot. There was so much involved a manager had to get involved. I had no receipts since I had bought the wood almost two years earlier. I was so embarrassed. Thank goodness Roxie was there with me - it’s always better to be embarrassed with a friend. At least the wood in the garage was gone.

Anyway, with all the work to get the house up to snuff, we didn’t get it on the market until June of 2007. By then, the market had started to get a little weak so we decided to sell it by owner in order to avoid the 6% realtor fees. I swear the day we put it on the market, the bottom dropped out of the real estate biz.

Despite several drops in price, we were unable to sell before our closing date (September 2007).

We were fortunate to find renters right away so we didn’t have two house payments. They moved out at the end of April and, again, by the grace of God, we got new renters without any time lapse.

These guys were so interested in the house, they put down new mulch, planted some bushes, painted the inside of the garage (where there was drywall), and laid tile in the master bathroom. We thought for sure they would buy it when their lease was up.

Unfortunately, being in the military, they received notice of probable deployment somewhere. Not a good time to be buying a house.

Here we go again.

With the help of a friend, we decided to sell the house via Lease to Own. I was very skeptical that anyone would buy the house at our asking price, even with seller financing. But we got a call the day after we advertised it (which was just this past Sunday).

Heaven and her husband came to look at it on Monday and signed a lease with option to purchase on Tuesday. Now, they either have to buy the house (at our current price) at the end of their lease or they lose their deposits, which are pretty substantial, and the house. So as long as they fulfill their end of the bargain, the house is sold. What a relief!

I have no doubt, God sent me Heaven.

I guess this isn’t a “Laugh” story, just an “I feel good” story that I had to share.

Silver lining:

  1. The responsibility of maintaining two houses is gone.
  2. We will actually make a small profit on the house; after bracing ourselves for taking a loss.
  3. A huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders and I slept like a rock last night.
  4. Through blood, sweat, and a lot of tears, the saga is almost over & I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.
  5. Despite four years of calamity, we’re still happily married.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Were You Born In A Barn?

I’m sure spring is just around the corner. It was almost 80 on St. Patty’s day, cooler today, but the weekend looks great! Tulips are starting to come up. The air is fresh & crisp. I have to say “Sorry,” to my Northern friends – your snow may not melt for another three months & I’ll be enjoying the return of my summer color.

The problem with this time of year is exterior doors tend to stay open, especially when you’re just running in & out for “a second.” We have a double standard in our house. Hubby and I can leave the door open, but when the kids do it, that common expression is heard, “What were ya, born in a barn, aye?”

I’ve never heard any one say, “Yah. What’s it to ya?” Fortunately, neither one of my kids can say yes. Although, in anticipation of this expression being uttered, we should have had a cardboard cut-out of a barn over my belly during the birth. That would have been pretty funny – pretty fricken’ weird too.

I could go into a full blown description of the scene, but I’ll let you use your imagination. Tell me about in the comments below.

Anyway, on such a leaving-the-door-open occasion, we ended up with a visitor. As we were all leaving for the day (7:30AM), my oldest daughter had to run back inside because she forgot to feed our bird, George. Hubby went with her; therefore, the adult-leaving-the-door-open-is-ok clause was in affect.

I was busy buckling my youngest daughter into her car seat & my back was to the front door. Hubby & Cupie were at the back of the house feeding the bird. That’s why none of us saw the sparrow fly into the house through the open front door.

To make it worse, no one found out about the sparrow until 11PM that night!

Cupie has a tendency to cry as she’s running to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Hubby & I were still downstairs watching TV so I ran up to make sure she made it and calm her down. I sat on the edge of the tub and stroked her hair & wiped away the tears. When Cupie got off the toilet, in the faint glow of the nightlight, I noticed something BIG in the toilet.

I thought, “For cryin’ out loud. What did Stinkles put in the toilet now?” Good thing I was right there. We have those crappy builder grade toilets that stop up if you don’t flush between pooping & dropping the toilet paper in. I can only imagine the mess this “thing” would have caused.

I had to turn on the light so I could see what I was dealing with. When I did, I yelled down to Hubby, “Hubby, get up here!”

Hubby’s first thought was, “How big a turd could it be? Ooo, maybe it’s psychedelic in color!” Understand, he knew nothing of the bird (bird/turd – that rhymes, hee, hee – gee I’m mature, aren’t I?) so he thought if there was something to see in the toilet, it had to be a GIGANTIC poop or be rainbow swirled with neon colors. Dude, unless you’ve been tripping on magic shrooms, neon swirl should not be the first thing popping into your head.

So that I didn’t freak Cupie out anymore than I already did, I sent her to bed quickly.

Hubby arrived to see the amazing poop. Boy, was he disappointed.

We both stood over the toilet looking down. I don’t know what we were thinking – that the bird would just wake up after being peed on and fly out??? What a mess that would have been. I’m picturing the same effect as a dog getting out of a lake and “shakin’ it out” – water goes everywhere & reaks, right? Bird, pee bath, wings a flappin’ – EEEEWWWWWWW!

How the heck were we going to get it out of the toilet & what were we going to do with it???

I wasn’t sticking my hands in the toilet. They don’t make rubber gloves thick enough to entice me to pick up a pee-soaked, dead bird.

After searching the kitchen, I came up with a pair of barbeque tongs & five Wal-Mart bags.

Up in the bathroom, I handed the tongs to Hubby and held open the five-ply Wal-Mart bag.

“What am I supposed to do with this!?!?”

“Use the tongs to get the bird out & put it in here.” I thrust the bag at him. Like, duh!

He looked in the toilet and slowly reached his hand forward. Then, he quickly pulled back. Slowly reach forward, pull back quickly, slowly reach forward . . .

This went on for a bit before I asked him, “WHAT are you doing?”

“I just can’t do it!”

I grabbed the tongs & gave him the Wal-Mart bag. I dove in, got the bird, put it in the bag, left the tongs in the bag, snatched the bag back & took the whole kit-n-kaboodle down to the trash bucket (the one outside, not the kitchen trash).

Leave it to the woman to ultimately take care of things – GIRL POWER!!

Silver lining:

  1. Thank God it wasn’t George – that would have scarred us all for life.

  2. Cupie doesn’t really know what was in the toilet so we haven’t scarred her for life (at least not with this incident – there are plenty of other events she can discuss with her therapist later).

  3. Hubby’s excited – he’s getting a new set of BBQ tongs!

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