A Weirdly Appropriate Conversation - with many contributions by my co-worker Kim

After a lovely, yet noisy, morning at the Range, in the rain and chill of a delightful 48 degrees, a fellow co-worker let me know whe was back in service.  She lamented, however, that since she'd had to pee for the last 4ish hours or so, she wished she'd peed before going 10-8.

"Business Check it is!!" she exclaimed, realizing that relief was in sight, without fear of interruption.  You see, us girls have to do a whole lot more when it comes to peeing, cuz we haven't perfected the art of peeing while standing....YET.

Once she finished her dual purpose stop, she joyfully informed me that she felt SOOOO much better.  She also gave me a lesson  in physiology, letting me know that she had increased the size of her bladder three times while "holding it" for those 4ish hours, and by "releasing it" (aka peeing), she'd lost about 1-2 pounds of water weight.  I responded with "Thank God for Depends!"

Our conversation then naturally veered onto weight loss and wishing it was just that easy.  She made the efficient observation that water weight needs to exit our bodies from one end or the other, and that with Depends, you save time and can expel it from both at the same time.  I think we'd all be happy with that, don't you?  We both agreed that it would be okay to gain a little weight here and there, as long as it came off just as easily.

My co-worker, who I might name Kim at this point, because I really don't want to keep calling her just a co-worker (too many letters and opportunities for misspelling - and we all know how anal retentive I am about spelling - and co-worker is just so impersonal), then suggested the brilliant idea of making a pamphlet on the "How To" of peeing, if only we had the necessary programs on the car computers (MDTs - Mobile Data Terminals).

Kim was really gung ho about this and was thinking purely about the benefits the Department would reap, because she knew the importance of our weight standards.  She said:  "There are multiple types of "Diets" ... I prefer this one."  I told her I would get a hold of our computer tech and have her get right on that, to which Kim responded with overflowing gratefulness "That would help me out A LOT!!!!"  She promised recognition to all who helped make the "How To" pamphlet possible.

"How to Pee on Duty-A Weight Loss Program-With Immediate Results"  .... How do you come up with a cover for that???   Well, that's where the BFWSRN comes in...he's got such a brilliant mind I tell you!  He thought it would be great to have a picture of the back of a policewoman (pony tail or bun), standing up to a urinal, and have her peek over her shoulder with one of those talk bubbles saying:  "I got this!"  HAHAHAHAHA   Love It!!

So then Kim told me that she always got her best ideas in the bathroom, which, in this case, seemed only appropriate, considering we were discussing activities that belong in there.  I told her I felt a new post for my blog coming on and asked her if she wanted to help me write it.  She gallantly responded with "That's a lot of pressure.  Your blog has a standard and I may not reach that level."  I'm hoping she meant High rather than Low here.

I told her that the last post was about bugs and windshields and would naturally lead into peeing and weight loss.  I sensed a smidge of hesitation on her part here and quickly explained that when you're driving along, you often hear an "EWWWWWW" after you hear that splat on the windshield and then you hear "I gotta pee", ....which comes right before "Are we there yet?"  She agreed with me and retorted with the Mom-like response of "Didn't you think to do that BEFORE we left???"  I, in turn, agreed with her and had to add the often repeated "Just a few more minutes, Dear", which is usually followed by "But I gotta pee NOW!!!!"  and the quick stop alongside the highway, with cars and trucks zipping by at warp speed, causing the wind to catch the droplets and blowing them all over your shoes ... and you were trying to be so careful ........  (there's those dots again)

All of this imagery is making me have to pee, but I'm busy writing this post ... Thank God for Depends!!

Preferably Dry,

My Father's Daughter

Bugs on My Windshield

Earlier this week, I was driving up to Iowa for a visit.  It was a 4 hour and 15 minute drive, as usual.  I listened to a bit of music, made a few phone calls, and let my mind wander a bit.  Suddenly, I was brought back to reality by the continuous "thwacks" and "thuds" that my windshield was being bombarded with.  It was getting increasingly difficult to see.  No, it wasn't rain or hail, nor was it cats and dogs.  It was that ever-present population of bugs that hovers, flies, and generally annoys us all.

I realized that my windshield resembled a crime scene with multiple victims of various sizes, shapes, and colors and I was the only witness to this chaotic scene.  Thank goodness I didn't have to write THAT report, because I had no way of identifying my victims or making any sort of notification to next of kin. 

I almost felt like I was at an autopsy.  I knew their exact time and mode of death and was somewhat privy to what they ate last.  I know they hit my windshield at 73 mph (my speed).  It was a MESS!!The questions I will never know the answers to are things like where they were going or coming from; shopping?  If so, where were their bags?  How did they carry their bags?  What do bugs shop for?  Or, were they going to visit relatives in the next block, mile, or county?  I wonder if the relatives are still waiting. 

Well, we've all heard the saying about "being that fly on the wall", right?  I think everybody has wanted to be that fly at one time or another, but you never hear "Boy, I'd sure like to be the bug on that windshield". 

Of course, there's also the joke about what was the last thing that went through their minds?  Did their lives flash before their eyes?  Did they see it coming?  Did they scream?  I don't know the answers to the last three questions, but I do know the one to the first question - their ass.

I was intrigued by the multitude of colors on my windshield as well.  There were whites, yellows, oranges, blacks, reds, and a few shades of purple as well.  It almost looked like my son had had a field day on my windshield with finger paints. 

I'm sure you're wondering why in the world I was thinking such morose thoughts while driving.  Well, talking to myself only works for so long.  The thought also crossed my mind that I don't have to deal with the slow-down in traffic for the rubberneckers.  You know, the ones that see a police car on the side of the road with its lights on, due to a car accident, and feel they have to slow down to see what's happening.  It's almost like they would prefer for the officer to drag the body over to them, so they can see the blood and gore, and then mosey on their merry little way.  Drives me NUTS!!

Well, I know that the only thing that will get all of these bugs off my windshield is a good rain, so please, pray for rain....CUZ I CAN'T SEE!!

With Condolences,

My Father's Daughter

How about a little TMI

So, The BFWSRN and I were at his brother’s house this weekend with Mom, Dad and several other members of the family, lounging comfortably after a fabulous dinner of spaghetti, salad (good enough to compete with Olive Garden) and crunchy garlic bread, when the Sis-in-Law brought out the “1950’s Good Wife Guide” for our entertainment.  I listened intently, giggled quietly, and laughed quite raucously at some of the “Advice” given in this Guide.  I also, somewhat reluctantly, realized that this list described ME and my behavior toward The BFWSRN.  EeeeGads!!!  Was I born in the wrong era???

Perhaps.  OR…it could be that I was raised by my old-fashioned Oma, who instilled in me most of my best attributes, morals, virtues, and otherwise positive qualities.  Regardless of the reasons for my strange identification with this Guide, The BFWSRN justified all of them with the most amazing gesture.  After Sis-in-Law finished the list, The BFWSRN said that he would like to add something.  He said it loud enough for those in the kitchen to hear him clearly….and they continued talking about whichever topic they’d chosen to veer off into….and he didn’t get to say what he wanted.

Being the attentive and adoring girlfriend that I am, I asked him what he had wanted to say.  He hemmed and hawed and tried to blow it off, but then said:  “I was just going to add that I have found the closest thing to that list, in You.”  I was absolutely FLOORED!!  I think that is the sweetest and most complimentary thing any man has ever said to me.  Sighhhhh!!!!

After thinking about it for a couple of days, I decided that I would take that list and go through it, point by point, and see how much of me he actually saw in it….kind of a self-analysis, right?  So, here is the list, and my unabridged rebuttal to each point:

·         Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they get home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.

I do make dinner for him each day that he comes home from work and I’m at home; whether it is something elaborate like pork chops and mashed taters, or something simple like chili with chips and cheese.  As far as thinking about him during the day….well, I think I discussed that in a previous post…it just never stops!!  He’s constantly on my brain…see, here I go again, off on a  BFWSRN tangent…FOCUS JILL!!  Ok...Ok…I know he’s not starving when he gets home every day, but he definitely appreciates the meals I prepare and is sweet, courteous, and considerate enough to thank me and help me tidy up afterward.

·         Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

I do freshen up before he comes home.  I used to smoke, so I always brushed my teeth and popped some gum in my mouth prior to his arrival….but I don’t have to worry about that anymore, cuz I quit smoking.  YAY ME!!  I also run a comb through my hair, put on a pretty dress sometimes (and sometimes my favorite comfy lounging pants), or something slinky…depending on the mood during the phone conversation on the drive home…a touch of mascara, even though he says I’m beautiful without any makeup.  I want him to be happy when he sees me….I want him to want to come home to me.  Don’t we all want that from our “significant other”?  Ummm….I will say that I WON’T be putting any ribbons in my hair though…just sayin’.

·         Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

I’m not exactly sure what they meant by gay, but I think I’ll stick to giddy or silly….it makes him laugh.  As far as a boring day...well, I doubt highly that his day is boring.  Overwhelming is probably more accurate.

·         Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Run a dust cloth over the tables.

While my dear Oma instilled all those good things in me, you know, like morals and stuff, she was also directly responsible for my intense dislike of dusting.  EVERY Sunday, I had to dust ALL of the little knick knacks she had on those fabulous antique 3-tiered round tables, you know, the ones with the claw feet.  My Oma had A LOT of knick knacks and they were all placed just so on the tiers….and I had to put them all back, just so, after dusting each…and…every…one…of…them.  A suggestion was made to me by one of my co-workers about a more creative way of dusting the furniture, but we decided it was a bit too risqué for this particular column.  Heeheehee

·         During the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

I am truly thankful that The BFWSRN does NOT have a fireplace at his house, since I do want him to be able to keep his house, unsinged, because if I was in charge of making the fires, he might not have a house left to come home to.  So, he’ll just have to suffer through the chill, until I provide a blanket and my snuggly self to help him reach that Haven of rest and order and warm his chilled bones.

·         Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet.

With the new well pump he just put in, which happens to be quite noisy every time you turn on a faucet, I don’t think I have to worry about making too much noise on my own.  Besides, the washer and dryer won’t be running when he gets home, because I’ve already tended to the wash and folded all the laundry and put each piece, lovingly, in its proper place.  I let him run the vacuum cleaner.  That way he is allowed to feel like he contributes to keeping up the house.  He is always very appreciative of the things I do, like the laundry and the dishes and the cooking, and….

·         Be happy to see him.

I always am.  I have to actually control myself when he walks in the door….I give him a few minutes (while I sit patiently on my hands) to put down his backpack and keys and coffee mug and thermos and take his shoes off (yes, he does that all by himself), before I accost him with my silly grin, a sweet kiss, and a grope or two.  I always tell him I missed him and he does that patient smile thingie and says he missed me too.  (He did….I just know he did)

·         Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

Didn’t we just cover this?  I must reference a co-workers attempt to do this to her husband….which almost ended up with her in a straight jacket.  Knowing the husband of this co-worker, I would have given anything to see his reaction.  I hear it was priceless. heeheehee

·         Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

I do express an interest in how his day went and listen intently to him as he relates the antics of his co-workers to me.  Since The BFWSRN and I talk equally A LOT, our conversations roll along fairly easily, with each of us interrupting the other as needed, to get our point across.  Our timing is like a finely tuned clock…he ticks while I talk and vice versa.  Sorry, that just sounded funny in my brain.

·         Don't greet him with complaints and problems.

Yeah, ok, here’s where you’re going to need the barf bag.  I don’t have any complaints.  I’m always happy….and even if I was grumpy about something, seeing him makes all my troubles disappear.  Sighhhhhh.

·         Don't complain if he's late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through at work.

The BFWSRN and I had a conversation at the very beginning of our relationship covering this faux pas, and we both are respectful enough to each other, that if there is to be any tardiness or failure to appear at all(ness), appropriate phone calls will be made as appropriate.  The staying out all night thing is probably not going to happen, since we both work days and can’t keep our eyes open past 8:45 p.m. on any given night of the week, including weekends.  Ok, so we’re old(ish).

·         Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or lie him down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

I don’t have to do anything to make him comfortable….he’ll usually end up stretched out on the bed for a short nap after he gets home from work.  I do get him his cool drink though…Mango Peach juice with a shot of Mountain Dew, over ice.  Yeah, I’m devoted…. (keeping that bag handy, are ya?)

·         Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

I let him take off his own shoes (he is a big boy, after all), but I did have the privilege of giving him a pedicure the other day.  I usually don’t speak a lot right after he gets home.  I basically just ogle him, talking with my eyes, and get that ever patient smile and “Silly Girl” from him. 

·         Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

Ummmm……I’m not sure that this is appropriate anymore in this day and age….that’s like so 1950’s, don’t ya think?

·         A good wife always knows her place.

Oh Ladies, don’t get all fluffy about this comment.  I think it was meant in jest by its author, so many moons ago.  I can think of soooooo many rebuttals to this particular piece of “Advice”, and they’re all so very inappropriate….so I’m sure you’ve already thought of them too.  Let your imaginations wander and get your giggle on.

I do hope you’ve enjoyed my self-analysis and found bits and pieces of yourselves in either MY version (in fancy Lucinda Calligraphy italics) or the OLD version (in boring Verdana).  I think MY version is much more Today, don’t you?

Historically yours,

My Father’s Daughter

The Ride

I sometimes write things off the top of my head....and have been known to write short stories.  I just read one of them to my sister and she loved it. So, I thought I would share it with you all to see what you thought too.  Here it is:

The Ride

“I got the horses ready.  Let’s go for a ride”, Toby said.

Sam looked up from the dishes she was washing in the sink, and he was amazed at the smile on her face.  Her eyes and her smile shone like the sun in the cloudless sky outside.  He had surprised her with a new mare the weekend before, and knew she couldn’t stay away from her for more than a day.

“I’d love to”, she said.  “Just let me get the basket I packed for us.”  Her dress was a pale blue sundress with royal blue flowers on it, and the bottom flowed around her shins with a silky sound.  She thought about changing into jeans, but chose to just slip on her boots. 

As they walked out to the barn, she almost skipped with excitement, unable to wait to mount her beautiful horse.   Sam felt like a kid in a candy store when she looked at the shiny, almost deep rust coat on her mare.  The mane and tail were like black silk, and shone with the brushing he had given them.  She had named the horse Sadie, for no other reason than that she liked the sound of the name.  It appeared that the horse did too, because when Sam called to her, Sadie lifted her head, and nickered in answer.  There was a connection between them that she had never experience with any other animal.  The first time she rode Sadie, it had been like magic.  They were one with each other, the earth, and the wind, and as they moved together, it was pure freedom.  Sam’s long wavy hair matched Sadie’s coat, and Sam’s mother would have told her that they would get along great for that simple reason.  Sadie laughed to herself at that thought.

Toby’s horse was a solid black gelding with a single white sock and a star on his forehead.  He was breathtakingly beautiful and had a coat that felt like velvet.   Black Jack was his name and he and Sadie seemed to take to each other right away too.  They had been inseparable since Toby brought Sadie home.

Toby and Sam mounted their respective horses, and Sam placed the picnic basket in her lap.  Her dress draped over the rump of the horse like a princess’ silk gown, adding a beautiful contrast.  They had decided to ride for a little while and find a place to set up their picnic.  Toby chose a clearing by the big pond on their property, where the only shade was provided by the beautiful green canopy of a massive oak tree that was over 100 years old.

Toby got down off Black Jack and took the picnic basket from Sam.  As he looked up at her, he saw a devilish grin on her face and that sparkle in her eyes that told him she was ready to fly.  No sooner had he placed the basket on the ground, he heard the click of Sam’s tongue and the yell he was so familiar with.  As he turned, he saw Sadie and Sam take off over the meadow and he hurried to get back on Black Jack to catch up to them.   The race was on.

Sam loved to gallop across fields and down dirt roads, just for the simple feeling of flying.  She was amazed by the power and grace in her Sadie, and the exhilaration she felt with each stride of her horse.  Sam looked behind her to see if Toby was gaining on her, and was surprised to see him trying to get Black Jack to hold still so he could get back up on him.  Sam knew that wherever Sadie went, Black Jack wanted to go too, and when she took off so quickly, all Black Jack wanted to do was catch up, with or without Toby.   Sam slowed Sadie to a trot and waited for Toby to get his horse under control.  Once she saw that they were heading her way, Sam clicked her tongue again and Sadie took off like a shot.  It only took a few minutes for the boys to catch up to the girls, because Black Jack was a retired racehorse, and Sadie had no chance in getting away from him.  And she really didn’t try too hard.

Amazingly, the two horses seemed to interact very much in the same way as Toby and Sam did. Sam’s smiling eyes would say “Chase me”, and Toby always responded with a grin that said “Trust me, I’ll catch you”. 

Once the racing was over, the horses slowly made their way back to the pond, where they leisurely ate the long grass and took a deep drink of the cool water.  Sam spread out the blue and white checkered blanket in the shade of the old oak and laid out the items she had packed for their lunch.  There was cheese, grapes, crackers and their favorite wine.  Toby and Sam enjoyed their meal over easy conversation, and quite a few giggles from Sam.  Sam would not soon forget the antics of Black Jack when Toby was trying to catch up to her and Sadie.  Her teasing of Toby was all in good fun, and it would be a while before she let him live that down. 

After they put away the dishes, they moved the blanket to the edge of the oak tree’s shade and lay down to enjoy the warmth of the sun.  Sam was on her back with her arms up over her head and Toby was next to her, propped up on his elbow.  He looked down at her and felt relaxed, exhilarated, and confused, all at the same time.  He loved her spirit, her positive attitude, and her spunk, but he couldn’t quite figure her out.  She made him want more out of life, but she scared him half to death. 

Sam watched the emotions cross over Toby’s face and knew he wasn’t sure what to make of her, even now, after several months together.  She wanted to be the one that put the smile on his face; made his heart jump for joy at the sound of her voice; the one he went to for comfort, excitement, passion, and love.  She’d always wanted to be everything to just one person, and know that he would be everything to her.  Had she finally found that?  Time would tell.

Toby’s eyes shone as he looked down at Sam.  He gently wiped away the tear running down her cheek, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  “What a ride”, they both thought as their lips met.

Enjoy my imagination,

My Father's Daughter

The BFWSRN

When I was a young girl, I dreamed of My Prince Charming, like all young girls do.  As I grew older, I knew I wanted a Tall, Dark, and Handsome boy, with a sense of humor, a heart of gold, and a brain that would intrigue me.  Asking a little too much, you say?  Well, I knew he was out there, somewhere....over the rainbow, bluebirds fly, why then oh why can't I?...Oh, sorry, got distracted by a song again.

Anyway, I went through life finding certain attributes of what I wanted in the boys/men I ended up with, and realized that none of them were exactly what I wanted.  After a few failed relationships, and many teasings about the number of name changes I have gone through, especially by my co-workers, who blame the lack of a raise on the department's constant ordering of new nametags for me  (I could have hypenated, ya know), I found a guy that actually fit all of my wants and needs...The BFWSRN (short for The BoyFriend Who Shall Remain Nameless).

Through all of these relationships, I learned what I wanted and what I didn't want in a man and decided I wouldn't settle for anything less than EXACTLY what I truly wanted.  By pure accident, I met The BFWSRN.

I had signed up for a dating website and made some really good friends, but none of them seemed to trip my trigger in every way that I wanted or needed them to.  One day, I found that a gentleman had Favorited me and I looked at his profile to see what he was all about.  I saw his picture and can honestly say it was Love At First Sight.  I couldn't get his eyes out of my mind and my first thought was the he was Absolutely ADORABLE!!!   So, I replied to his email and found, to my suprise, that he was surprised at my reply.  Confused?  Well, so was he.  heeheehee

It seems that he had been talked into going on a dating website, by one of his friends, and was perusing his choices and "bookmarking" them, not realizing that he was sending out emails to the respective ladies, saying that he had just "Favorited" them.  He sheepishly, and blushingly, answered my reply and once we started talking on the computer (3 hours for the first conversation) and on the phone (2+ hours for the first conversation), we found that we actually had a lot in common and seemed to be well suited to each other in the fabulous personality department.

So, about 2 weeks later, we met in person, and I was absolutely smitten.  It was misting just a wee bit and he was holding an umbrella for me as I stepped out of my car.  Such a gentleman and so amazingly ADORABLE!!  Our conversation was easy and relaxed over a wonderful dinner, followed by a leisurely walk on the riverfront.  As time went on and our relationship developed, we found that his hand reached for mine as we walked side by side, whether it be at the grocery store or walking down the street.  Our hands fit perfectly together and the warmth that we felt through our hands, seemed to radiate from our hearts. 

He set the pace for our relationship...slow and easy...which is exactly what we both needed.  Any of you who know me, know that I have a habit of jumping in with both feet and running a bit too fast from the get go.  I'm thankful that his pace, our pace, has allowed us to really get to know each other and build a friendship and relationship that we both see lasting a lifetime, if we're one of the lucky ones.

He's tall (taller than me..YAY!!), dark (dark brown hair with beautiful blue eyes), and smart as all getout.  I could run around in his brain and NEVER get bored.  He's got so much information up there in those filing cabinets that make up his brain, that I could spend a lifetime being his brain's secretary and never be done with my work.  Our conversations are still at least an hour long, every time we talk, and they cover any topic you could possibly imagine.  Long story short, because I could go on forever, his brain intrigues me to no end.  I've told him numerous time that I love him for his brain.  He laughs, but he is also flattered by my comment.

Whereas his smarts make him sexy in my eyes, his looks do much the same for me.  He's not a model out of a GQ Magazine, but he's got this beautiful smile that goes all the way to his eyes and warms my heart like a cozy fire in the middle of winter.  He's soft spoken, has a gentle heart and possesses the patience of a Saint.  He allows me to fawn over him, which I do a lot, with an understanding smile and a "Silly Girl", letting me know that he knows I'm just a bit "Off".  His family sees that I'm absolutely crazy about him, and they tolerate my silly behavior with that same patient smile.

His heart is truly made of gold. He will bend over backwards for his family and friends and sometimes spreads himself a bit too thin. He's shown me, time and again, how gentle and sweet he is, by the things he's done for the people that are important in his life. My BFF told me that he shows how much he cares about me just by doing what he's done for the people in my life. He and my BFF surprised me a month ago, by him flying her up here to spend some time with me. They're both little snots for doing it, but I'm thankful for both of them. He gives everyone a fair chance, sometimes too many chances, which I've also been guilty of, but that's because his heart doesn't allow him to have a mean thought toward anyone...even those that have caused some of the slowly healing scars on his heart.

I could look at him all day and never get bored.  I can't be near him without reaching over and touching him....his hand, his shoulders (drool, drool) (have I mentioned that I just LOVE his shoulders?), his face.  We can be in a room full of people and see only each other.  WHAT MAGIC I've found in him!! 

He wanders in and out of my mind all day long, and every now and then I have to send him a text asking him if he's exhausted from running around in my brain so much.  Sometimes, I get a reply saying: "Can I put my clothes back on yet?  It's getting a bit chilly here." (Sorry Judy...his mom.. hehehe)  I can honestly say that I have never been so crazy about any man in my life and often tell him how stupidly and ridiculously in love with him I am.  He, again, smiles patiently, and just soaks it all up.  He loves it, admittedly, and has given me the compliment that I'm the best girlfriend he's ever had.  I know he's still adjusting to how I treat him, and tells me that he's never been on the receiving end of such affection, attention, and emotional spoiling.  I told him he just needs to get used to it, because I'm not changing how I treat him.  I just can't help myself.

For those of you who haven't found THIS, be patient....it took me 46 years to find it.  For those of you who HAVE found THIS, hang onto it, cherish it, and never let it go.

By the way, the reason he is named The BFWSRN is because I didn't want him innundated with condolence cards, emails, and messages saying they were "sorry" for him dating me.  He's already been told "I'm sorry" by the folks I work with.... hehehe

Sappily In Love,

My Father's Daughter

No Vehicle Inspections Today

Although it is Sunday and it is currently 10:28 a.m., I feel like I’m letting some of you down…because, come Monday morning, you will open your work email and NOT find one of my Vehicle Inspection Updates.  I know there may be a tear or two shed, so I thought I would appease you by posting something here…. and, thereby, make it ALL BETTER.

Since I’m NOT inspecting vehicles today, I will have to comment on something else then.  I think it’s time for another of my Father’s fabulous (I so love that word) stories.

My father very much disliked telemarketers and their persistent phone calls at all hours of the day.  He was especially frustrated with the ones that called either at dinnertime or right before the cutoff time of 9:00 p.m.   Therefore, he and I had come up with A PLAN.  He was very much about PLANS, but only if they made good sense, because PLANS gave you step by step instructions along with a chance to practice your alphabet….Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, etc.  (I crack myself up)

Anyway, Our PLAN was that I should call his house, let the phone ring once, hang up, and then call right back and let it ring 4 or more times…. just in case he had to make his way to the telephone (even though I’ve told him time and time again that he was to carry a cordless phone with him at all times, since he was old and slow(ish) and I wouldn’t hear him yell for help at a distance of 800+ miles).  Once he answered the phone, we would go through a strict routine of questions, him asking and me answering, as per our PLAN, and there was NEVER a variation. 

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Who is this?”

“Francine.”

“Francine Who?”

“Ummm, your daughter Francine.”

“I don’t have a daughter named Francine…or do I?”

“It’s the one you found on the doorstep so many years ago.  Sweet, adorable, innocent…”

“Yeah, I don’t have a daughter named Francine, especially one with those qualities.”

So, with verification of identities accomplished, we would then go into our normal conversations about books, music, kids, and life in general.

I told this story, in order to preface a birthday card I received from my father for one of my birthdays…. I think.  It could have been a Christmas card too….

Here is how it went:

Happy Birthday to Francine – my 2^nd cousin Harold’s adopted niece! 

It has been so long; my how you’ve grown!  How are you? I am fine.  Hope you’re having a fun time at the lake.  Things sure have changed, haven’t they, since the days (and nights) of a basket on the doorstep.  You’re aware, of course, that you’ve always been my most favorite distant non-relative.  Keep up the good work!!

Things at the drugstore are only so-so this season.  Ardyss, sadly enough, lost both her temper and cool.  She hasn’t been the same ever since.  But you know how she gets (and keeps…and uses…).  If not “on sale” then either “on hold” or “on time”, or, even worse, “on and on”. 

Irv and Fragile Mae finally got married – on the very day of their diamond engagement anniversary.  Fragile Mae likes to quip that, if they ever have a daughter, they’ll name her “Patience”.  Irv just sucks on his dentures and tries to smile. 

The Wantsit twins are in trouble with the Law again:  They were caught in broad daylight, committing indolence.  No wonder, with Ardyss for a mother!

Well, that’s about all the excitement from here for now, but I expect that, come your next birthday, there’ll be at least a quarter dozen things to report.  So, continue unencumbered by ill health, may all your stockings on the fireplace be full of goodies, do birthday cake – and may all your dreams be while you’re asleep.

With Love from your adoptive Uncle’s 2^nd Cousin

Ohhhh, How I giggle at his humor!!  I think this is where I get my silliness…what do you think??? Hehehe

Obviously,

My Father’s Daughter

Little Bunny FooFoo

You ever get a song in your head and can't get rid of it for the rest of the day?  It's pretty bad when other people do it to you, like It's A Small World After All, but it's even worse when you do it to yourself. 

So, I go into BreadCo this morning for a bite to eat, cuz I was starving and had a minor headache.  I announced, in that ever so unassuming voice of mine, that I would like "One of Everything" and a FooFoo coffee with caramel AND chocolate on top.  So I watched them begin to package the delightful pastries and, with a shy giggle, I told them that I didn't really want "One of Everything".  I was also corrected by one of the charming clerks/cashiers, that it should be a Froo Froo Coffee, not FooFoo.  I would have stood my ground, but I was entranced by her fabulous British accent.  I told her I wanted to take her with me, just so I could listen to her talk for the rest of the day. 

Anyway, after listening to her talk for 5 minutes about whatever she happened to be saying...I was still entranced at this point, and that may have been what caused me to do what I did next....I reiterated my request for FOO FOO Coffee. I did so by singing the Little Bunny FooFoo song, and realized, too late, that I had actually put my hands together in front of my chest, with fingers slightly curled and pointing downward, and I gave a little hop. ............... (awkward silence...and lots of dots.....) To cover, I started laughing along with the staff, even though I'm not sure if they were laughing WITH me or AT me.

Long story short, I got my fantabulous sandwich and my FooFroo (I like to compromise with folks that speak in fabulous British Accents) Coffee, and quite the giggle out of that adventure.

So in the future, please refrain from putting songs in my head....because I'm never quite sure how my spontaneous side will react. Now, please don't think about the song I mentioned at the beginning of this post, because then you'll blame me for putting it in your head.