Going To The Movies With Janie

NOTE:  I'm trying to import my old posts into the new blog.  Bear with me.  I'll try to skip the most boring of boring.  Promise.

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Today found me at our local theatre,  enjoying the movie “Up in the Air” with ThatManILove. Fun stuff, that!

Until....the urge came upon me.  Yes, that urge.  I had imbibed too much of my 1 liter Dasani water and had to crawl across my husband’s legs to make it to the ladies’ room.  We’re in Theatre 14, which means I have access to the least utilized bathroom - yahhh!

I go in.  It seems clean enough.  Onwards, I trudge, past stall 1, to stall 2.  (Wonder how many people do that?  I should probably go in stall 1, if it’s clean.)  I open the door, ready the place (which means I killed three trees lining the toilet seat with toilet paper, not that I even sit down on it) and do my business. I slide the latch with my elbow, and open the door with my foot.

All while counting.  Don’t ask me where that came from, I’m just trying to get out of there asap.  

I’m so ready to get out of there, I get to the main door and reach for the handle when I realize I’ve been so concentrating on getting out of there,  I’ve not yet washed my hands.  I turn, and run back to the sink, where for once in my life there is hot water and soap.  HALLELUJAH!  Can you sing Happy Birthday and still count?  I did it!

I wash my hands, and turn to the air dryers, still counting.  I turn on the air dryer with my elbow, and start drying my hands.

And then, I remember someone saying how more germs go through those air dryers than any other appliance. 

I start praying over the air dryers like I pray over my food...”Lord, please dry my hands to the nourishment of my body, and kill all those germs.”  Crap.  What number was I on?  Dang it!

Finally, my hands are dry enough.  I pull my hand into my hoodie, and open the bathroom door.  I feel like I’m a prisoner, been set free.

Lord help me.

You Are Getting Sleepy...You Are Getting Sleepy...

And you're shedding all over my bed, Zanna Roseannadanna!!!  Snoozebucket.

I'm Surrounded By Snoozebuckets

This morning, my phone rang at 5:40 a.m..  What the heck?  Oh, yeah.  Me and my big mouth.  I had offered to take a friend to the airport at 6 a.m.

I went and started my truck, came back in while the truck warmed up, got dressed, and headed to pick her up.  I drove to the airport, dropped her off, and headed home.  When I arrived, the Wonderdogs were stirring, so I let them out and fed them.

Per our daily ritual, Zanna hopped on the bed and wanted under her comforter. I was laying at an angle across the bed, propped up with pillows, and had just opened up my Mac.   Zack came up to the right side of the bed, and tries to paw me.

I said, “If you want up here, c’mon.  No paw.”

He looked at me.

“What?,” I said.

He looked at me.  

I turned back to my computer, and felt him get up on the bed. 

The next thing I knew, he was up behind my head, laying on my pillows.  All 70 lbs. of him.

So, now, you can color me a German Shorthair sandwich.

It won’t last long, I promise.  I’m a menopausal woman.  And I can’t stick my foot out from under the covers in this position.

Just sayin’.

Going Down With My Boots On - Funny Story #1 from Last Year's Appendectomy

(NOTE:  Another of last year's posts...I'm okay now.)


Late last week, I had a horrible night.  I was running 104 degrees fever, and in terrible pain.  I should have just gone to the emergency room that night, but the pain eased.  Chills stopped.

The next morning, I told ThatManILove I was going to the doctor.  He was heading out to the field, to substitute in for a guy that needed a day off, and would be back early afternoon.  I told him to go on, and promised I would call my brother Scott if I needed a ride, or anything.  TMIL left around 4:30 that morning.  

I got up, took a shower, fixed my hair and put on makeup, and called my brother.  He assured me he was coming to Midland and would clear his day for me “just in case.”

I went to my office to collect my computer, since I was working on a project.  And everything started again.

I drove straight to my personal physician, who diagnosed :  appendicitis. He called the emergency room, I drove to my house, and Scott met me there.  We went to the hospital.

Because of my level of pain, they immediately put me in a patient room.  They got me comfortable, gave me drugs, and I settled in for a long wait while they ordered tests, started i.v., and asked a million questions.

At some point, I had to go to the bathroom.  Since I was on drugs, a nurse had to walk me to the bathroom down the hall, and back to my room.  

I came in, looked at Scott, and said, “These drugs must be some good shit.”

Scott:  Why?

Me:  I kid you not, as I was walking down the hall, I saw a guy all gowned up, with his stuff all hanging out, and...he was wearing a cowboy hat.  And the gown is open to the front.

Scott, laughing:  Seriously?  His cowboy hat?  He’s wearing his cowboy hat with a gown?

Me:  Yeah, you might be a redneck stuff, huh?  I dunno.  It may be the drugs.  But will you go look?  (at this time, he would do freakin’ anything to stop me from hurting and to make me laugh - which, by the way, hurt just as much.)

Scott goes out of the room, and shortly comes back with this killer grin.

Scott:  Yup.

Me:  I’m not hallucinating?

Scott:  Nope.  And....

Me:  What?

Scott:   He has on his cowboy boots, too.

I had to call for more drugs.  Yeah, baby.  I’m from Texas.

Ahhhh. The Garlic Press. Friends. Food. Fun.

Thursday night found me at the Garlic Press, a local eating establishment, along with customers and coworkers - aka friends.  ThatManILove is out on a job, so, once again, he missed it.

There were 8 of us, and we had such a great time, talking, telling stories...it’s good to laugh. The subjects included kid antics, first cars (back in the day) and adventures gained in such, highway patrol, music and musicians, Mozart, Beethoven, Aerosmith, ZZ Top, shotguns, cruises, all sorts of things. 

It was a fun gathering with a bunch of great people.  The food wasn’t bad, either (thanks, Josh and Joey!).

I love my job.

Dancing Boxes Will Get Me In Trouble Everytime

ThatManILove is a movie aficianado.  So much so, that while he was exiled on the mountain in Pennyslvania, I went to one movie - the Chihuahua movie - and I took the Little Brother, Geoffrey. I was bound and determined to save all my movie dates for ThatManILove.

One night, we decided to take Geoffrey to the movie, and go for the 7:10 p.m. showing.  We bought the tickets online early in the afternoon.  I decided to take a long bubbly soak in the jacuzzi tub and read a Dixie Cash novel.   ThatManILove comes in and gives me a time check, letting me know I have an hour.  I get out and get ready.  We leave the house at 6:45 p.m. 

Such is the setting for the next conversation.

TMIL: Jane.  Are you ready?  (Remember, he calls me “Jane” when he’s mad?)

Janie:  Yes.

TMIL:  It’s Saturday night and it’s going to be crowded.

Janie:  No, it’s not.

Geoffrey:  What’s wrong?

Janie:  TMIL’s aggravated at me because I took so long to get ready and we’re going to be at the theatre right when the movie starts.  (Aside to TMIL) The movie’s been out for a while, it won’t be crowded.  We’ll get there and get a seat just in time to watch 20 minutes of dancing boxes.

TMIL:  See, that’s your thinking.  I guess we’re going to be doomed to have this conflict every time we go to the dang show.  You always make us be late because you hate the dancing boxes.  I think you do it on purpose.

Geoffrey:  What are the dancing boxes?

TMIL:  That’s what Jane calls the previews and advertisements.

We get to the movie, fight the traffic to find a place to park.  People are standing outside, in a line that lasts for.ev.er.  And the concessions?  Packed to the max.  There’s a recession going on, people?  What are you doing here?  What am I doing here?  

Oh, Lordy.  I am so going to be in trouble.  I start to cringe, inside.  That man loves his movie popcorn, and it looks like we might have to forgo such.  We go straight to the ticket taker, passing up two lines of people that are there for another show.  He waves us in, and we go into our theatre.

Said theatre is so freakin’ crowded that we can only find two seats together.  I mean, two seats in the whole theatre.  The advertisements haven’t even started!    Geoffrey jets us for a single seat down front, saying he likes to sit there.  He’s probably just running from our eternal conflict concerning the movies.  I’ve told y’all all along he’s a smart kiddo!

We sit down.  I glance to my left to check out how ThatManILove is breathing.  At the same time, he’s checking me out.  I tentatively smile.  He doesn’t.  And then, he does.  He is so jacking with me.

We laugh our butts off at the movie.  It’s really funny, but to make it better, the 5 year old little girl sitting to ThatManILove’s right is laughing so hard she’s crying.  And ThatManILove got tickled at her laughing, which made me laugh harder.

It’s never boring around here!

Mattress Sandwich

Bear with me as I post another rerun from early 2010 in my seemingly eternal quest to get the funny stuff moved over to the new blog:

Elder Son was in the area, roping with friends, and jumped truck at Lubbock.  So, Thursday night found us picking him up there, and bringing him home for the weekend.  We tarried too long, and got home to Midland around midnight.  Then we picked up a bit for the housecleaners, and went to bed.

Unbeknownst to me, ThatManILove had gone on a cleaning of the bedroom spree earlier that day.  Our bed - a Big Huge California King Sleigh Bed - was pulled out from the wall. I commented on such, and TMIL confessed to tackling the dust demons under and behind the bed.  (Such things are obviously beyond our house cleaners, but I digress.)

We pushed the bed back up against the wall, and got in bed.  Immediately, Zack the Wonderdog jumps in the bed, and demands to be “under his blankie.”  (Which is, by the way, a blanket on top of our comforter.)  This action places him right around where my knees go in the bed.  

And, voila!  Zack snuggles down in the bed, deep mooooaaaannnns of delight, and immediately starts snoring.

ThatManILove looks at me, and says, “Need me to move Zack?”  I tell him no, that I’ll move over closer to him.  I snuggle up to him for a second, then tell him, “Wait.  This isn’t going to work.  I have to be able to stick my foot out of the bed if it gets warm.”

(I know.  Don’t even say it.  That’s what hormones do to you when you’re my age.)

So, I skooch back over to my side of the bed, and we move Zack to the middle.  He never wakes up.  We lay back down.

And immediately hear this weird deep moaning sound.  Loud.  Louder. And then the moan escalates, both in volume and up an octave or two.  We’re looking at Zack, then realizing it’s not him, at each other.  I’ve got chill bumps on my arms.  Do we have a freakin’ ghost? Is Zanna having a bad dream?  Oh, Lord!  Is the air conditioner kicking the bucket?   (You’d be amazed at the thoughts that shoot through your brain in a second or two)

And then...

BAMMMMMMM!  CRASH!HHH!  BOOM!

The.

Bed.

Craters.

And all three of us - ThatManILove, Zack, and myself - all roll into a Deep V that now suffices for our top mattress.

I immediately start giggling.  ThatManILove - cussing.  

And Zack?  Still snuffling and snoring away.  He doesn’t even wake up.

Thank God Elder Son was around.  We have one of those Denver Mattresses, and baby, a California King top mattress ain’t light.

We move the upper mattress to determine the extent of the damage.  Guess what supports a California King Denver Mattress, under the twin box springs?

Three 2X2 slats.  Screwed into the frame.  And attached to each of them, a  3X3 leg. Two of which had bent when ThatManILove went into his cleaning frenzy,  causing the bed to lose support and the slats to break in half.

We wedged them back up, supported them (with all those books I’ve promised you I’d give away on my blog), put the mattress back on and ThatManILove went back to sleep.

That was a miracle in itself, that he could sleep through my laughter and snorts - but I finally quit laughing long enough to go to sleep.

Elder Son Follies

This was previously posted in August 2009, but is so funny, it wins the move to the new blog.
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This morning, my phone rang.   It was Elder Son, though I could barely understand him.

ES:  Mom.

Me:  Yeah, babe?

ES:  Mom, I had to ...call you.  (He’s hesitating, sounds like he’s crying.)

Me:  What’s up? Is SOMETHING WRONG???? 

(I can hear all this snuffling, and scuffing around, and some type of weird guttural noise.)

ES:  Jason and I are having to load these little...(more snuffling, weird sounds)  miniature horses that Jason’s granddad bought for Jason’s kids at the livestock auction, and...and...(mumbles off into nowhere, and I can hear him laughing and trying to catch his breath.)

(I can hear Jason laughing out loud.)

Me:  What?  What’s going on?

ES:  Well, Mom, it’s just that.....(fades into laughter again.  He finally composes himself)...we got all the horses loaded except for...(and off he goes again) except for this  (Jason laughing his butt off in the background)...

Me:  (I start laughing, too.)  Tell me!  Finish your sentence!

(Now, I ask you, how stupid is that, that I start laughing?  I can’t even see them, I don’t even know what’s happening.  But I can imagine.  Jason isn’t a tall guy, but Elder Son tops out at 6’4”...one tall lean bean.  And a miniature horse, much less 7-8 of them?  Just the visuals are funny!)

Me:  Elder Son!  Finish, please?

ES:  Mom....I can’t....it’s just that, I’m really trying...okay, give me a second....okay....we’ve been trying...trying to...(and he dissolves into man giggles again.)

I just sit there, grinning like a cheshire cat.  I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s going to be good.  It’s gonna be one of those worth the wait ones. I wait.

He finally calms down a little bit.

ES:  Mom, we’ve got all these teeny horses loaded in this honking huge trailer, (screaming deep laughter from Jase, which further kicks off both Elder Son and Jase, you can tell this laughing’s been going on a while, they’re losing their voices)...(they finally catch their breath and ES resumes)  except for (bustin’ gut laughs now)  the little stallion.  (And he cracks up again.)

Me:  The what?

ES:  The stud miniature horse, Mom.  He’s a stubborn little &*O(^)%(&.

Me:  Oh, Lordy me!(I really started laughing now.)

ES:  Oh, Mom, we are so frustrated.  We tried to herd him up with the rest of the horses.   He’d get halfway up the ramp, which is really short, then fall off.  He’d just tip over.  He’s really fat.  We’d start again - he’d back down the ramp.   He did not want to go.   Then, we tried to lead him up.  No go. Then, I led and Jase pushed.  That didn’t work.  So,  Jase led, and I pushed.  (Laughter.  Then escalating laughter.) That didn’t work, either. 

And now, Mom, the horse is mad.  He’s snorting at us and pawing at us like a bull.  It is so funny!  (Uncontrollable laughing from both he and Jase.)

(By now, tears are running down my face and I’m having trouble breathing!)

 And then, Mom....(giggles)....I finally got so frustrated I tried to pick the little b*st*rd up and throw him in the trailer. (huge laughter.)

Me:  What?  You tried to pick him up?

ES:  Yessssssssss...(fades into sputters and they’re off again, laughing hard!.)

Me:  Did it work?

ES:   Hell, no, Mom, it didn’t work (and they crack up into laughter again), he weighs 400 pounds and he was thrashing around and trying to get away!

Me:  Oh, Lordy.

ES:  I gotta go, Mom, we gotta figure this out, I just had to call you.

And he hangs up laughing.

I talked to him this morning.  They finally got the stud horse loaded into the trailer. How, you ask?

Elder Son and Jason physically picked up the horse, together, and stuffed him in the trailer.

Elder Son is still laughing.

And so am I!

  

Little Brother, Advocate for the Elderly

A 2009 Post
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Geoffrey, our little brother in Big Brothers Big Sisters, called Friday night and begged to come stay the weekend.  (He always gets his timing just right!)  I picked him up at Whataburger, where he had just finished a double Whopper with bacon and cheese with his mom and siblings.  We went to meet friends at a new restaurant in town.  

There, Geoff ate another full meal.  While we were there, we also picked up an entree for ThatManILove, who was stuck out in the field and hit the house around 10 p.m.  Whereby, Geoffrey sat down at the table with ThatManILove and finished off his sesame chicken.  The kid is a bottomless pit, I swear.  He cracks me up.

After the hunting field trial yesterday, we stopped by brother Scott’s to see what he would be selling at his auction on Sunday.  An auction house is full of adventure for a 12 year old, just saying.  Geoffrey met all of Scott’s helpers, two of whom are disabled and are on electric scooters due to their ailments.

Geoffrey poked around, asked questions, and generally entertained himself for an hour.  We were about to leave, and he discovered a couple of electric scooters scheduled for auction.  One wasn’t charged - but one was in full operating order.  Geoffrey ran to Scott, and asked permission to ride it, which Scott gave with a grin.

Geoffrey carefully rode around for a while, then  came back to where we were all congregated, and starts talking to Scott’s helpers again.  While doing so, Geoffrey backed the scooter professionally into its original parking space.  Everybody’s watching, and enjoying him.

Geoffrey turns off the scooter, and stands up, grinning like a cheshire cat, and says loudly, “Wow.  Now I know how elderly people have fun.”

The Prey...

Repost from early 2010:


In the past years, we have seen a couple of mice in this house.  I’ve not seen any lately, but I’m always looking, because i hate the wee furry little creatures!

Last night, ThatManILove left the TV room and went into the bedroom to get his book.  We always keep the dogs in the same room with us, so when TMIL left the TV room, he shut the dogs back into the room with me.

I was blogging and watching TV, and realized Zanna was way too still.  I looked around the room, and found her...on point.  

She was looking at something behind the TV.

I thought, “Great.  TMIL is in the other room.  Whatever it is, if it’s a mouse, when I move, it’s going to run, and Zanna will probably try to catch it, and we’ll have a wreck in this room!   Ooohh...I hate mice.  Hate ‘em, hate ‘em, hate ‘em.”

I quietly eased off the couch and moved toward Zanna.  She doesn’t flinch, that Zanna-girl is on a hard point.  I move onto the rug, trying to be as quiet as I can.  I take a peek behind the TV, right where Zanna’s nose is pointing.

Thank God it’s not a mouse.  Or a snake.  Not even a lizard.

It’s a housefly, 

A common housefly.  And I bet with all those eyes, that fly is scared to death. Because you know it’s gotta be seeing about a million spots on a hard-pointing quivering in her footprints out of pure excitement spotted wonder pup.

I had to say “No bird, Zanna” three times to get her to break point.

I laughed so hard, I cried.  Her trainers will be so proud.

Can You Still Put Them Up For Adoption After 22 Years of Age?

(This is a repost from 2009 - but just to show you how crazy our children are and that the fruit really doesn't fall far from the tree...)

Last report, Elder Son's knee was as swollen as a large watermelon.  If you remember, we had to take him in and hav e it drained.  So, now, Elder Son is doing better - he's mobilized, he's up and going, and already horseback again.  I sent him a text to see what he was doing and here's how it went:

Me:  What are you doing?

ES:  Riding a bronc...he's as hard headed as me.

Me: (Oh.My.God.Does.He.Have.A.Working.Brain.Cell.??) And your leg?

ES:  It hurts but what's new?

Me: (I swear he's going to drive me to drink.) What about the doc?

ES:  Gonna be Tues or Thurs next week

I guess we'll know more then.   Thanks so much for your prayers, they are greatly appreciated.

As to the Younger Smartalecjustlikehisfather Son, after his last April Fool's joke - prank - I thought his dad was going to kill him Facebook event where he told the world he had just found out he was going to be  a father, he is breathing.  I swear.  I saw him.  Yesterday, he changed his FB status to "single".  I couldn't resist, I had to do it.  I posted:  "But what about the BABYYYYY?"  Soon after, one of his friends jumped in: "Oh, did your beer break up with you?  how sad."  

How did that song go? "I believe the children are our future...teach them well and they will lead the way..."  RUN! RUN!!!!!!