tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24045532570958154672024-02-02T16:37:35.525-05:00DID YOU KNOW.... CHIN HAIRS ARE NOTHING BUT STRAY EYELASHES?Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.comBlogger413125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-87912125923839592482017-08-02T10:11:00.000-04:002017-08-02T10:11:05.500-04:00Bet you thought I was dead...didn't ya?Well...I'm not! I retired from event planning after 12 years of last minute room sets, wanting to smack more than a few mothers of the bride for insisting their daughters forget the wedding of their dreams and instead have the wedding Mom wanted in 1982 along with 1982 pricing. Also thought about pinching the heads off of a few meeting coordinators with a beer budget but insisting on a champagne event. Why yes, it was time for me to retire...why do you ask? I also need to mention all the lifelong friends I made during those 12 years and there are many more of those than there are of the clients who made me want to poke myself in the eye with a stick.<br />
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Grandchildren are growing up much too fast. Tory our oldest has finished college and married to a wonderful man, Katy is a Junior and Sarah is a Sophomore at Liberty University, Avery is a Junior at Providence High School, Matt is a Freshman at Liberty Christian Academy and Cam is a Freshman at Providence High School. The boys are 14, well over 6 ft and grunt in response to questions.<br />
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When I retired I thought I would have trouble filling the day. HA! I don't know if I'm just that much slower as I am getting older but the days fly by and I never run out of things that need to be done. I'm sure my book reading, movie watching and occasional nap isn't cutting into my chore schedule. Hmmm, think I might have found the problem with my days rushing by.<br />
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Brace yourselves, I'm back to blogging. :-) I have missed all of you...hope you have missed me.<br />
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<br />Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-36253042076080597402012-09-15T11:43:00.000-04:002012-09-15T16:14:53.231-04:00What feather duster?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHr_sG8ZMozY-s8gsgWZDWQ9eZrbQGX-63-QyRW8FCOshOuPTCINgic6FWojTy34JVq7AMrIFk9LkmaaKcC0fGpMMX3GYCiMcAIau3S_ZmsRh9MwawBLPWrUlE8k01n7GFB3MWEsXj3fM/s1600/feather.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilHr_sG8ZMozY-s8gsgWZDWQ9eZrbQGX-63-QyRW8FCOshOuPTCINgic6FWojTy34JVq7AMrIFk9LkmaaKcC0fGpMMX3GYCiMcAIau3S_ZmsRh9MwawBLPWrUlE8k01n7GFB3MWEsXj3fM/s200/feather.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feather Duster</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQH-ZRI-hVAPeg0IcBz9AzKnTOAxMiXGfsFzm5wckjuNJbqFXvmn9vnkcQnvxCFvZPfc8YsiiZaF90Ar8FjcMbaqgfITKLNoakistp_dR2a93mx3tKWTryqoNgtNpL6eL_ikj536Ap2qO8/s1600/morty.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQH-ZRI-hVAPeg0IcBz9AzKnTOAxMiXGfsFzm5wckjuNJbqFXvmn9vnkcQnvxCFvZPfc8YsiiZaF90Ar8FjcMbaqgfITKLNoakistp_dR2a93mx3tKWTryqoNgtNpL6eL_ikj536Ap2qO8/s200/morty.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Morty</td></tr>
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Do I really have to tell you how many days the feather duster has been sitting in this chair?? FINE...five days, happy now?? FIVE DAYS but I am moving it today mainly because I cannot tell you how many times I have reached down to "pet" the feather duster thinking it is Morty because after all...it is HIS chair. Polly and Eddie are already looking for any excuse to drop me off at Shady Pines and I really don't need to give them any ammunition. I have a completely logical explanation about why the feather duster has been sitting in this chair for the last five days and I think it's called ADD. I dug out the feather duster to dust the ceiling fan in the living room but the glass tables looked worse so I started there but halfway through decided that was dumb because the dust from the ceiling fan would fall on the tables and I would only have to dust them again and then the doorbell rang and it was the UPS man with a new ink cartridge for my printer so I put the new ink cartridge in and printed off a letter I needed to mail so when I took the letter to the mail box I noticed the steps needed to be swept and when I put the broom away the storage closet was a mess so I straightend that up a bit and then it was lunch time. Why yes, I do believe that is probably the longest runon sentence EVER but that is exactly what happened, so shut up. Sorry Mrs. Johnson (my high school English teacher), hope this post doesn't make you twirl in your grave.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-66356011984024675892012-09-11T21:07:00.000-04:002012-09-11T21:07:17.300-04:00Downton AbbeyBet ya thought since I am familiar with Honey Boo Boo I wouldn't have a clue about the PBS series Downton Abbey but ha ha ha....you would be wrong! I simply cannot wait until season 3 premieres in January and have come to the conclusion I was supposed to be born in England during the early 1900's. I have known for a long time that I would make a very nice rich person but after seeing Downton Abbey I have decided being rich in England with your own castle, married to an Earl and having an entire staff to meet your every need is something I could probably get used to pretty quickly. It doesn't hurt that the Earl of Grantham (Robert Crawley) is played by Hugh Bonneville who I have always thought is cute enough to put on a biscuit. I would hate to get stuck with one of those whiny, limp wristed, runny nosed aristocrats who wouldn't recognize a good time if it slapped him upside the head but ole Hugh...yeah, he's the real deal. I can see us propped up in our royal bed on our royal pillows, eating royal popcorn and watching Netflix or maybe NASCAR on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Maggie Smith plays his mother (Violet Crawley) the Dowager Countess of Grantham and in my eyes she is the English version of my favorite octogenarian...Maxine, who is also my role model. As you can imagine with any wealthy family living in a castle with a huge staff there is no shortage of intrigue but what fascinates me the most are O'Brien's bangs. O'Brien is played by Siobhan Finneran and is a sneaky, spiteful Lady's Maid to the Countess of Grantham. You have got to see these bangs, they could carry a show all on their own. First of all, I don't think they are technically bangs but since they hang in the vicinity of her forehead I don't know what else to call them. They are springy coils that bounce when she talks and I tend to get all wrapped up in watching those things bounce around and forget to pay attention to what she is saying. I'm telling you they are an entity all on their own! If you aren't familiar with this show I highly recommend you watch season one and two on Hulu Plus and if you are cheap (like me) just sign up for the free week. I am very sorry Hulu Puls...yes that is exactly what I did and yes, I am slightly ashamed of taking advantage of your generosity. Still can't believe I was born in Kingman, IN in 1950 instead of Hampshire, England in 1920. Of course with my luck instead of being born the Countess of Grantham I would be the sneaky, spiteful Lady's maid with bad hair.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-23708903536689891042012-09-10T10:57:00.001-04:002012-09-10T11:04:35.528-04:00Polly and Eddie don't read this...and if you are a friend of either one of them don't mention this post but please put your arms around them, give them a big hug and say bless your heart. They will know it has something to do with their mother but I promise you they don't want the details. OK, so here goes...my latest travel faux pas. A few weeks ago I was packing for a short trip and since it is emotionally impossible for me to be separated from email or Facebook for more than about 12 minutes I made sure my Kindle Fire was in my purse. I was in a hurry (yes Anny, I DID wait until the last minute to pack) and I noticed the screen was really smudgey...is that a word? Smudgey? Sorry, my mind wanders. Sooo...I threw a few of the foil wrapped alcohol based electronic cleaning packets in my purse. By the way, if you don't have any of these marvelous little packets you need to get up right now and go buy at least a case. Not only do they clean your electronics but they are great for your glasses, sunglasses and phone. TommyB picked me up for our trip to the airport and I talked him into whipping through McDonald's so I could get a big ole bladder buster Diet Coke. I'm not a coffee fan but honey I can knock back a Diet Coke in a heart beat. We got to the airport in record time, made it through security without incident (rare for me) and next thing you know we are airborne. Finally the ding ding sounds meaning passengers are free to get up and use the bathroom if they so choose and believe me, I so choose. I hate airplane bathrooms but due to the bladder buster Diet Coke it was necessary to visit the facility. TMI? Oh honey, if you think that is TMI then you don't need to read any further! So I wedge myself into the minuscule space, hold my purse in my teeth, take care of business and reach into my purse for one of the little foil wrapped travel bathroom cleansing cloths. Come on...be a sport and guess which one of these foil packets I pulled out of my purse?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUOwPAq-hIiQnN0svyudc6HyMPLs7aNN5KQufIBCCDO61pZk7FGAN4mwQgsFc_UhwsAl3aowVMXpl8i2crdpx1eDoPL-XXUOpa5a4oTZPXtWE7Rl9CsXy7EhwBsBZ2a2drzAudn37pesT/s1600/trav.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUOwPAq-hIiQnN0svyudc6HyMPLs7aNN5KQufIBCCDO61pZk7FGAN4mwQgsFc_UhwsAl3aowVMXpl8i2crdpx1eDoPL-XXUOpa5a4oTZPXtWE7Rl9CsXy7EhwBsBZ2a2drzAudn37pesT/s320/trav.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__strIg6YTGLkc8opb5uLiYd3qlXLq2-z10eQeXfSgKScmiF_NaT_zeDFU5Dpr2kBRtahMlmkGxMTKQepGmR-oMRAPOYWNmbr4nbtQnv1NvhL_dP_jrXPDFh_zqkBvMWzSDjPg3P4aQIv/s1600/cloth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi__strIg6YTGLkc8opb5uLiYd3qlXLq2-z10eQeXfSgKScmiF_NaT_zeDFU5Dpr2kBRtahMlmkGxMTKQepGmR-oMRAPOYWNmbr4nbtQnv1NvhL_dP_jrXPDFh_zqkBvMWzSDjPg3P4aQIv/s200/cloth.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
Yep, the first one. Did I read the packet first? Oh heck no. Lawzamercy, as I am banging around in there frantically digging through my purse hunting for the CORRECT foil packet it had to sound like I was trapped in that teeny tiny space with a claustrophobic crazed orangutan with a hammer. I am proud to say I did not not scream but it would be a big lie to say there wasn't a tear in my eye when I finally made my way back to my seat. Not a mistake I plan to make again.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-90121591381538977502012-09-09T15:38:00.000-04:002012-09-09T15:38:35.242-04:00Reality TV or why Honey Boo Boo is no Queen For A DayOH my goodness gracious sakes alive. My grandparents had so many wonderful sayings (some I can repeat in mixed company and most I can't) but one of their sayings comes to mind and really applies to this particular reality TV show...<em>If it ain't purdy don't put it on the front porch</em>. I am guessing Honey Boo Boo's grandparents never heard that expression. Yeah, we all know I'm a sucker for reality TV...Dance Mom's (Miss Abby scares the bejeebers out of me), Keeping Up With The Kardashians (my butt is big enough but my bank account is woefully lacking), Hillbilly Handfishing (this show is like flipping through my family photo album) and my favorite reality show of all time Queen For A Day! If you are of a certain age (so old you fart dust, another one of my Poppy's favorite sayings) you will remember this show started on the radio in the 40's and moved to TV in the early 50's. My grandmother never missed an episode and since I was a preschooler living with my grandparents that means I never missed an episode either. Even at the tender age of 4 I wondered how desperate I would have to be to tell the WORLD all my troubles and as if that isn't horrible enough you also are judged by an applause meter. I do have to confess the crown, roses, throne and of course the red velvet cape with the sable trim held a huge amount of appeal. I also learned that if you want to win you HAVE to cry or you just as well stay in the car and not humiliate yourself on national TV. It couldn't be one of those wimpy single tear on the cheek cries...oh no, it had to be a sobbing, snot flying ugly cries. OH...guess I should mention that in the early 70's it was discovered that the most recent version of Queen For A Day was rigged and the contestants were all paid actresses. Think Honey Boo Boo is is fictional? Nope, me either and my hand to God I swear I ran into the entire family on my last trip to Walmarts. Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-65216281651755070222012-01-11T14:35:00.000-05:002012-01-11T14:35:59.666-05:00Walmarts is trying to give me a stroke.Walmarts is not a typo, I live in the South and down here it is definitely Walmarts not sure why but it's been that way since I moved down here boocoo years ago. Yes, boocoo is also a measurement of time in the South but I digress. After watching Morty throw himself down face first in front of his food bowl and sob I figured it was probably time to restock the cat food cabinet. So I jumped in my trusty Honda and headed to Walmarts as there is nothing worse than a whiney cat. While I was there I decided to swing by the "this meat must be used by 4:15 this afternoon or you will die from a horrible disfiguring disease" meat case and see what goodies were ripe (poor choice of words) for the picking. I hit the jackpot! I love those little pork tenderized cube steaks and they had two packages marked down to less than half price. There was a meat department clerk a few feet away and I said, "Excuse me sir, if you have more of these pork cutlets in the back I would like to buy them too." He didn't acknowledge my presence but he did start walking towards the door leading to the storage area. OK, that looks promising so I followed closely behind. Just as he is opening the door another Walmarts employee stopped him, showed him a ham and they both start walking towards the meat case at the far end of the store. Well...maybe there is a customer there who needed something and we are taking a little detour. That's fine, I know I'm not the only customer in the store. Well...guess again. They pick up and put down every ham in the case at least once and I am waiting and waiting AND waiting. The three of us finally start moving back towards the magical doors where my pork cutlets are hiding. The "Ham Man" and I are standing about three feet apart and he also never says a word to me. A few minutes later the meat clerk appears with additional packages of the pork cutlets, hands them to me and again not one word is spoken. I THANK HIM and just as I turn on my heel to leave the "Ham Man" turns and I can read his name tag. Ha! Come on, guess what his job is at Walmarts?? Yep, CUSTOMER SERVICE MANAGER!<em> </em>I thought my head was going to explode!! Are you kidding me?!? Yep, it's official....Walmarts is trying to give me a stroke.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-55538779290255908582011-12-03T11:59:00.001-05:002011-12-03T12:52:13.938-05:00Kindle FireMe LIKEY! In fact I think I'm in love. It's small, fits in my purse and is extremely fast...much faster than I was expecting. It is strictly wireless and I haven't had it long enough to know if I will miss the 3G but so far I am thinking the wireless is going to work fine for my needs. The 7 inch color screen is easy on my old eyes and I would be a big liar if I said the color wasn't a nice addition. Yes, I was one of <em>those</em> Kindle snobs who looked down on the Nook users and insisted color was not an issue to a<em> real</em> book lover. Yeah, I'm going to be eating those words! The Fire weighs in at 14.6 oz which is a bit heftier (4.4 oz) than my Kindle 2 but the extra weight is negligible even to my old flabby arms. The verdict is still out for me as to whether it will replace my Kindle 2 but since I live at the beach and love to read while baking in the sun (yes, I KNOW it's not good for me but fat definitely looks better brown) I am thinking I will keep my K2 for beach and pool reading because the e-ink on the Kindles makes reading in bright sun a pleasure. There is a definite glare on the Kindle Fire screen but it is easy to adjust the brightness of the back lighting and there is also a nifty feature that allows you to change the page color to a soft beige which made reading kinder to the eyes. It would be nice if the charge lasted longer but all the other nifty features far outweigh the shorter battery life. I have watched several Netflix movies and was very pleasantly surprised that there were no hesitations and of course the clarity was amazing! I love having access to my AOL, Yahoo and RR email accounts and of course Facebook. At $199.00 the Kindle Fire is a bargin! So yes, I love love love THE KINDLE FIRE !Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-60194199972805317292011-08-09T18:37:00.000-04:002011-08-09T18:37:59.003-04:00WAY too gullible.I live at the beach, I have lots friends who don't, it's summer time...do I have company? What do you think? My friends who are visiting now are more like family and I will hate to see them go. They cook, do laundry, vacuum...I was wrong, they are definitely more like friends than family. Sooo...on Sunday evening we were all hungry and none of us was really in the mood to cook and it was right at dinnertime so all the restaurants were packed. Mike said, "HEY...when we drove into town we came by a great looking little Italian place that says they deliver. I'll order us a pizza." Wonderful! So Mike orders the pizza while Beth and I have a strawberry daiquiri with mooshed up fresh strawberries..yum. I asked Mike where this restaurant is located. He told me the name of the shopping center and I know right where it is but didn't remember any little Italian restaurant in there so I asked him the restaurant name. This is how he pronounced it Doughmeano's. Doughmeano's....hmmm, I drive by there a couple of times a day, how have I missed a new Italian restaurant that delivers?? Imagine my surprise when the doorbell rang 30 minutes later and I say hello to the Domino's delivery boy. Yep, I fell...headfirst.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-25036018852797652482011-08-03T17:30:00.000-04:002011-08-03T17:30:49.914-04:00Some things I like about living in the South...other things, not so much.The slower pace, I like the slower pace but it would also be nice to call a repairman and not only have him asnwer the phone but also show up to fix whatever I have managed to break. Oh I don't mean he has to be on time...that is asking way too much. Heck, he doesn't even have to come on the day he says he's coming, just please knock on my door sometime before I buy a new whatever I broke. I don't like mosquito's the size of my head but I love not having to scrape my windshield or shovel the driveway. The fresh fruit and produce are great but I would like to be able to buy Popsicles and not end up with a bag of colored water before I ever get out of the parking lot at the Piggly Wiggly. Yes, nosey britches....I DO still like Popsicles but I can only buy them approximately four months out of the year. I LOVE the Piggly Wiggly! There are lots of good grocery stores but it's just more fun to say Piggly Wiggly than it is Bi-Lo or Kroger. Piggly Wiggly also sells their very own t-shirts with cute sayings and yes nosey britches, I do own several Piggly Wiggly t-shirts. I've never seen a Piggly Wiggly anyplace other than the South..do they have them in other locations? It's hard to picture a NYC woman in stilettos and carrying a briefcase running to The Pig to pick up a case of canning jars which I have done...minus the stilettos and briefcase. Yep, I dig the pig!Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-32506659014354777612011-08-02T16:17:00.000-04:002011-08-02T16:17:58.648-04:00Plague! Famine! Pestilence!Actually we are all pretty healthy so plague isn't really an issue and if you could see my behind you would know famine is not imminent. Hmmmm, must be pestilence. I already told you about my two weeks in Great Falls, MT at Rodent Ranch but after talking to Eddie this afternoon I found out that she too is trying to relocate a very happy little mouse family in Charlotte, NC. Well, they were probably much happier before Eddie murdered their Uncle Albert. Did you know that if you have a mouse skittering (they all skitter and I HATE things that skitter) behind the compactor just as you happen to turn the compactor on...you will end up with a mouse pancake that begins to smell in about 24 hours? Once you figure out where the smell is coming from you then have to lay flat on your belly, ease the compactor out, use a spatula to pry Uncle Albert away from the wall and then find a pair of tongs to haul Uncle Albert to the trashcan. I am praying that you also throw the spatula and tongs in the trashcan along with Uncle Albert as I don't think I want my over easy egg flipped with Uncle Albert's spatula. You threw the spatula away..right Eddie? Eddie?Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-3334038139309765992011-08-01T23:07:00.001-04:002011-08-01T23:24:24.420-04:00FUN GrandmaSometimes I get to be FUN GRANDMA and that is the title I like the best. You don't want to brush your hair? No problem, you're going home tomorrow you can brush your hair when you get home. Want to stay up until Midnight and eat popcorn in bed? No problem! Grandma does that 5 nights a week anyway. Before I went to Montana I looked for something special (translation: something Mom would not buy) to take to the kids and of course I went to my trusty friend <a href="http://www.amazon.com/">www.amazon.com</a> . What can I say? I love Amazon! Matthew is 8 years old and still very easy to buy for...Lincoln Logs or Lego's and he is one happy boy. The girls are older now and more challenging to find something they like that doesn't scream...OMG my grandma bought this for me and I have to wear it at least once before she goes home. Soooo....I found an OPI nail polish that was new to me (not exactly a tough assignment) did the magic One Click shopping and hopped on the plane. Well honey, I am THE most popular grandma EVER! This polish is so much fun to use and I think I will have to get some for myself. Ok, here's what you do...polish your nails with your regular polish, let it dry and here is the fun part. After the polish is dry put on a thin layer of the crackle polish and prepare to be amazed. I LOVE this product! We spent a lot of time polishing fingers, toes and trying to figure out how to fold towels with wet nails. Not easy but it can be done. Shhhh...don't tell Avery but grandma got her some too.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-5474867370836018312011-07-31T13:26:00.000-04:002011-07-31T13:26:27.041-04:00It's TOURON TIME!For those of you who do not live in a resort area (which is anyone with an ounce of common sense) you may not be familiar with the term...touron. A touron is a moron who happens to be vacation. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE tourists....we need tourists to keep our economy going, they are fun and yes, they are the source of my paycheck. NOBODY needs a touron. Tourons are the ones who suddenly decide that they absolutely positively MUST stop at THIS Eagles which happens to be on the other side of the street and across four lanes of traffic. For those of you who are not familiar with Eagles, they are a beachwear store and can be found approximately every 50 feet in Myrtle Beach. A touron will ask you, "What time is the 11 o'clock dive show?" Tourons want to know what time the beach closes. OH...love this one, "How far above sea level are we?" Uhhhh.....we were standing in the ocean when she asked me that question. A very pleasant couple sat their beach chairs not too far from mine one Sunday afternoon and when they discovered I was a local the husband asked me how long we had been in a drought. I told him it had been several months since we had any measurable rain but we were supposed to have rain for the next two days. His reply was that was good news because they weren't leaving until the weekend and maybe the water level would be back up before they went home. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was low tide.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-73155770700054822562011-07-29T21:31:00.000-04:002011-07-29T21:31:42.891-04:00LivestockWhen I am at the ranch in Montana I expect to deal with livestock....horses, cattle, an occasional jackrabbit and oh yes, there was also Cuddles the pygmy goat that Polly had for about 45 minutes. Apparently Cuddles did a little tap dance on the the hood of Tony's new truck and I was told that Cuddles went to live with a nice family down the road. Quite frankly I have my doubts. I don't want to point any fingers but if Polly offers you a taco just back away and say no thank you. Their house is surrounded on three sides by hay fields which is great until the hay is cut and all the little mousies have to find a new home. This summer all three fields were cut on the same day and my hand to God it looked like something out of a Stephen King movie. Remember Ben..."the rat" movie? I think Michael Jackson sang the theme song. Well, that is exactly what it was like when the hay fields were cut. OMG...mice were EVERYWHERE! I think all the mice lined up at the edge of the yard and their leader (come on, you know there was a leader and I bet his name was Ben) said, "OH..look, there is a pretty log house right over there, let's move in!" And they did. I'm not sure how Tory became the designated mousetrap setter upper AND emptier but she was a trooper. The first night it sounded like a war zone....whap! whap! whap! Of course you always have a "flopper" or two who refuse to die quietly and fling themselves around the room until their last gasp. I am not proud to say this but I put a pillow over my head and was quietly chanting, "Oh PLEASE just die already." On the second night of "the invasion" I sent 8 yr old Matthew upstairs to get his bath. Katy and Sarah were upstairs and said, "Grandma, Matthew wants to take a shower downstairs." Well, OK...whatever. So Matthew comes downstairs and says, "Grandma Katy and Sarah won't let me take a bath." Huh? Sooo....I go upstairs and Sarah is in the bathroom while Katy is guarding the door. "What's up girls? Matthew really wants to take a bath up here." Katy grudgingly opens the door and I see Sarah with a shoebox and a pan lid trying to catch a mouse that has somehow fallen into the jacuzzi tub. Kate looks at me and says, "Oh grandma, if it makes you feel better we will call it a chinchilla." Matthew took a shower downstairs.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-9364227428570630642011-07-28T21:23:00.000-04:002011-07-28T21:23:08.252-04:00Dance Moms<strong><u><em>DANCE MOMS</em></u></strong>.....after seeing this TV show I felt the need to put the title in caps, italics, underline AND bold . If you haven't come across this show on Lifetime then you really really need to check out the guide and crank up the ole DVR. Let me put it this way, if Hitler decided to open a dance school he would hire Miss Abby to be the instructor. I thought children's dance classes were to develop poise and confidence. Nope, according to Miss Abby IT'S ALL ABOUT WINNING and the scary thing is there are parents paying $20,000 plus per year, per child for lessons, costumes, competition fees and an unlimited amount of verbal abuse from Miss Abby. One of Miss Abby's milder comments to a student was, "Your legs are as straight as Elton John." Oh all right, I thought that was pretty funny. The girls spend hours and hours in the studio, often not getting home until 10pm or later. I have no idea when they have dinner, do homework or have any family time. The "dance moms" appear to be fine with this grueling schedule and they spend hours in the observation area gluing rhinestones on costumes and trash talking each others children as in, "Ha ha ha...look, she fell down!" I swear that mom went to my high school. One good thing came out of watching this show...I have a new mantra! As mom Cathy told 6 year old Vivi, "If you forget what you are doing...just shake your butt!" Well there ya go, feel free to use my new mantra as I can't imagine any situation in life that can't be improved with a butt shake. Lawzamercy.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-78956979142879148012011-07-27T22:38:00.000-04:002011-07-27T22:38:39.976-04:00Wowsers...<div><div>It seems like I'm always on my way to or returning from Great Falls, MT or Charlotte, NC but that is because my grandchildren live there and I have to make regular visits to both places to straighten out their parents. Sure would love to see their parents faces when they read that first sentence. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bahahaha</span>!</div><div>Polly and Tony had to be out of town for business and wanted to know if I could come up and stay with the kids while they were gone. Are you kidding? Heck yes! This is the sales pitch I received, "Mom the next two weeks are really light so you and the kids plan on going to the movies, shopping, out to dinner....just do fun things." Cool, I can do fun things. I know Polly, I also know the schedule Polly keeps and why in the world I fell for that sales pitch I will never know. SO...I arrive in Great Falls and as Polly is hustling me to the car in the airport parking lot she is shouting instructions to me over her shoulder about basketball open gym, basketball camp, company coming for dinner, a load or two (HA!) of laundry and picking Sarah up at horse camp. Oh OK, guess the light schedule starts tomorrow. Foolish foolish Grandma. At the end of two weeks the floor of the laundry room was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">visible</span>, we had been to the grocery store 6 times, took the dog to the groomer, cleaned out the freezer, completed five days of basketball camp, church on Sunday morning AND Wednesday night, worked the rodeo concession stand for 6 events, took Matthew to the Doctor (I said I was sorry and his foot should be fine in another week), put medicine in Luke's (the dog) eye twice a day, tried (<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">unsuccessfully</span>) to save the sod, folded a mountain of clothes and yes, we also remembered to pick Sarah up at horse camp. We did manage to sneak in two movies and one dinner at Macaroni Grill plus a ton of fun and lots of good memories. Oh yes, remind me to tell you about the chinchilla in the bathtub.</div></div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-76897299413128939242011-02-25T00:39:00.002-05:002011-02-25T00:43:01.464-05:00My oldest daughter is a rat fink.<span style="font-size:85%;">I just returned from visiting Polly and family in Montana and discovered she sent the email below to a few hundred of my closest friends. I refuse to confirm or deny the charges but I will say the side meat really hit the spot.</span><br /><br />OK!! I have asked Mother what time does she leave Great Falls at least 4 times in the past week. Not that I want her to leave but because I am trying desperately to keep all my ducks in a row, which any of you that know me,,,,know that can be challenging. Anyway each time I asked her she replies with 4:00. We even commented on the fact how unusual that was, she usually leaves on a morning flight so she can get home earlier so she doesn't have her dear friends at the airport in the wee hours of the morning. WELL, I had to do some work this morning at the office and I thought no big deal I will work for a couple of hours and then go home spend the rest of the afternoon with mom and take her to the airport. I had two kids at home this morning, Sarah who really is sick and napped most of the morning and Matthew who just wanted a free pass since Grandma was here, therefore played "sick", I chose to buy into it. :) I breeze in the door about 11:50 and had this craving for sidemeat, so I get it out of the freezer and set up the frying pan and start dredging sidemeat to fry and mom comes in,,,,,,still in her pj's, hair running amuck and sits down to visit. She says to me, "Hey I have this neat APP on my phone, it automatically pops up with all the flight information for the airports you fly in and out of." She has it on Great Falls airport and sure enough it has all the departing flights listed and what gate they go out of. I replied with, "Wow, that's pretty neat...................what time did you say you fly out?" Janice replies, "4 o'clock", Polly replies, "umm Janice there isn't a 4 o'clock flight.", Janice replies, "O, it might be 4:10 or 4:30, something like that." Polly replies, "Janice there isn't a flight at 4:00 period." Janice then decides to go get her itinerary out of her suitcase, which is not only not packed but looks like it exploded in Sarah's room. Mind you Mom is usually a very neat person at my house, not sure why the suitcase exploded, just thought you would like to know. :) Janice comes back into the kitchen with her itinerary folded and she is looking at it and says, "See right here I leave at 4:07." And then it happens,,,,,, that look,,,,you know the look,,, the one you get when you first realize, " I forgot to pick the kids up at school and I am now 20 minutes late and my little munchkins are sitting on the side of curb sobbing because their mother forgot them,,, look!" I look down at her "folded" itinerary,,,,,,and to Janice's horror she just discovered she leaves out of Denver at 4:07, however once she flipped the "folded itinerary" over she would see that she actually flies out of Great Falls at 1:26. WELL! At this point I am frying a pan of sidemeat, she is still in her pj's, hair running amuck, hasn't brushed her teeth and her suitcase is exploded in Sarah's room and it is 12:26!! OK Great Falls isn't exactly a booming city, we can still make it right!!?? I yell at Grandma to get her pants on, do something with that hair, pack her suitcase and brush those teeth, in the meantime I will finish frying the sidemeat,,,,,,,,,what? We have to eat don't we!! She throws everything together, kisses the kids, grabs a few pieces of sidemeat and out the door we go!! We get to the airport at 12:47, a little frazzled but in time to check her in and get her thru security. We have said our goodbyes and as I am turning to leave I hear her explain to the Security Guard, "I would have been here sooner if my daughter hadn't been late getting me here." GOTTA LOVE HER!<br /><br />pJanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-70818094887244117482011-02-08T16:25:00.004-05:002011-02-08T18:11:59.823-05:00If you are going to live in my dumpster...there are rules. First of all there will be no slithering or slinking as slithering and slinking make me think you are trying to sneak up on me and run up my pants leg. All movement must be made with purpose but not rushed because rushed makes me think you are running towards me and your main goal is to run up my pants leg. If you have a tail I would prefer that it have hair as hair on the tail means you are a possible pet but no hair on the tail means you are a rodent who with no warning will run up my pants leg. Do you see a theme here? Since moving to the South many years ago I made peace with the fact that I would have to become accustomed to sharing "my space" with new animals that we didn't have when I was growing up in in the big city of Kingman, Indiana. The only animals we had were raccoons, possums, skunks and an occasional black snake. Have you ever seen a skink? Bleeeah....they are a lizard but look and move like a snake. Their favorite habitat is under my pool chair or between me and the mailbox. I still don't know what was in the dumpster the other night. All I know for sure is it was about the size of a possum and squeals when it is scared. Hmmm, that might have been me who squealed. I was definitely the one who wet her pants.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-74818087696200074512011-01-29T10:45:00.002-05:002011-01-29T11:58:03.148-05:00I thought Moms Mabley was dead.Surprise! Not only is Moms alive and well but she is working as a gate agent for Delta. Since I live on the East coast and four of my six grandchildren live on the West coast I spend a fair amount of time in airports. During a layover in Atlanta (doesn't matter where you are going there is always a layover in Atlanta) a little old lady who was dressed in navy blue from head to toe, including a stunning navy blue hat pulled down low over her eyes, marched toward the gate desk. The hat was pulled down so low and tight a series of little springy curls had escaped and were hanging on for dear life. At first glance my fellow passengers and I assumed Moms must be in need of assistance but noooo...she moved behind the desk and picked up the microphone. Well, Moms made a lengthy announcement. My fellow travelers and I looked at each other in confusion and we were fairly certain there was a flight delay and possibly a gate change but that was all we were able to decipher from Moms toothless dialog. Bless her heart, after confusing (and entertaining) a tired group of travelers she gathered up her belongings and moved on to her next assignment. Ah yes, gotta love the glamour and excitement of travel.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-55112392205283660102010-12-17T15:48:00.004-05:002010-12-17T17:03:00.939-05:00You're kidding...right??I love the symphony. There is something magical about a live performance of any kind but the symphony is special. Well, it used to be special. It was special until I chaperoned a group of seven year old boys...six of them to be exact for an afternoon at the symphony. It was the first really cold day, snowing hard and of course the wind was only slightly below gale force. After loading the boys (why do I always get the boys??) in the trusty Suburban I knew we were in trouble when I glanced in my rear view mirror and all six of them had removed their coats, hats, gloves and were in the process of trading boots. Why? I don't know why....they are boys, they are seven and seven year old boys do things like strip on the way to the symphony. I put my hand to my forehead and muttered my first swear word of the day, the first of many swear words. Of course all the parking spots close to the performance center are taken and we are forced to park in a questionable area between two taverns. Lovely. It takes a few minutes to sort out hats, gloves, coats and boots but after lots of snorts and giggles (the boys) and sweating & tugging (me) everyone has on a hat, coat, boots and at least one glove. I'm sorry you don't have a glove for each hand. Stick your other hand in your pocket and shut up. We walk and walk and when I think the wind could not possibly blow any harder it does a 180 and whips down my neck. Me and my "little gang" finally reach the performance center where they discover (with great delight) the high ceilings of the entry foyer have an awesome echo and the louder you yell the louder the echo. As I looked around the lobby it appeared I was the only chaperone with boys. It seemed to me every other chaperone was there with little girls who were dressed in their finest and patiently waiting to be seated. My group was the one in the middle of the foyer running in circles, yelling whoooo whoooo (remember the echo?) and trying to put boogers in each others hair. We were finally all seated and the conductor made his appearance. It should be against the law for a conductor to wear a hair piece so bad that even seven year old boys snicker. I gave them "the look" and everyone sat back in their seats to enjoy the performance. That lasted halfway through the first piece. One of my gang discovered that if he put his hand in his armpit he could make farting noises in time with the music so of course within 30 seconds I had six boys giggling hysterically and making farting noises in their armpits. I gave up. I was toast. Done. I gathered up my little gang, put hats, coats and gloves back on and worked our way out of the auditorium. There was applause as we were leaving and I really really want to think it was for the symphony.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-57739836282969199532010-11-01T19:02:00.002-04:002010-11-01T19:31:30.262-04:00I'm never going to the optomitrist again.What the heck?? I entered my optometrists office a middle aged person and came out 45 minutes later ELDERLY?! I knew my eyes had changed this year so I was not surprised when Dr. J kindly pointed out that it is time for bifocals. FINE...I have heard the horror stories from newly bifocaled friends about raising their foot 3 feet trying to get up on a curb that suddenly appears much higher than it used to be or completely missing a step that they have navigated without incident for the last 10 years. I also knew there have been improvements made with bifocals over the past few years with no lines and being more user friendly. Can't say I was exactly thrilled to hear that I need bifocals but I wasn't completely surprised and figured I should count my blessings as I didn't need any type of glasses until I was 40. Basically I told myself to suck it up Buttercup you are getting older and you need bifocals, big whoop. Well, just as I am picking up my purse and trying to decide if I want cherry amaretto ice cream or pumpkin spice ice cream (as my reward for being good...DUH) Dr J says, "We won't worry about surgery until your exam next year unless you notice a change in your vision." Excuse me? Surgery? ME? I'm having surgery? Apparently the look on my face made it very clear I had nooo idea what she was talking about. Well folks, I have cataracts. Everything on my body is falling into my shoes, turning black or doesn't work anymore so why would I expect my eyes to be any different?? Geesh...I'm going back to the dentist next week and cannot wait to hear what good news he has to share. They don't make false teeth out of wood anymore...do they??Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-23796284744026000392010-07-19T19:31:00.002-04:002010-07-19T19:56:48.874-04:00Today..I met the bug man.July is always busy at work with tourists and family reunions so it wasn't unusual to have four banquets scheduled for this past weekend. You are probably asking yourself what the heck that has to do with me and the bug man but it actually plays a very important part in our memorable meeting. Working long hours and being charming for hours on end wears me out and I don't bounce back like I did ten years ago. So after working all weekend let's just say I was a little slower than normal on getting out the door for work this morning. I had just gotten out of the shower, towel wrapped around my head and was wearing one of my lovely t-shirts I like to wear to bed. Apparently I was still in the shower when the bug man rang the doorbell so you can imagine his surprise (AND MINE) when I came charging out of the bathroom and almost knocked the poor man down. His doctor tells me that with proper medication and lots of rest he should be able to resume a normal life in less than a year.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-35874643517783671642010-07-15T13:42:00.003-04:002010-07-15T14:09:06.707-04:00amazon.comEverybody knows I love love love Amazon. It is the most amazing place in the whole entire world! Don't want to carry those 10 gallon jugs of Tide from the car to the house...NO PROBLEM! Order it on Amazon and UPS will bring it to your front door and if you are real nice the UPS man will even start a load of laundry before he leaves. OK, that last thing about the UPS man is a big lie and truth be told I am willing to bet my UPS man is plotting a way to take my computer away from me so I am back to doing my own shopping at the Piggly Wiggly like the rest of the world. One afternoon last week at work (sorry Peter, yes I sometimes shop when I'm at work but I also take work calls at home so let's not go all nutso here) I had ordered a book for my Kindle and forgot to log out of my Amazon account. Not good. My <em>friend</em>, John, was tipped off by my other <em>friend</em>, Tom, that not only had I not logged off my computer but my Amazon account was still on my screen. YES...I know, DUMB DUMB DUMB. Well...when I came back to work the next morning my computer was all shut down properly and according to the paperwork on my desk...I had done some serious shopping! My <em>friends</em>, John and Tom, placed a small order of things they thought I could use. Did you know you can order a pontoon boat on Amazon? Well, neither did I until I checked the order confirmation. You can also order an anchor, trolling motor, fish finder, drill press and condoms by the case. OH...in case you are interested I have more uses for the anchor than I do that last item. Paybacks are hell boys.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-61106591416240628492010-07-14T19:46:00.007-04:002010-07-14T20:13:58.049-04:00The Ultimate Compliment<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTAeWjw4uRBZkRYtNfUXwzMT0vIlCpRrlCdbCMP8LhlxKGR1uSc4MSFvwMWLbsNI_Xi9s6FVq_9TbuwvmoD7QuScmYYsACYTs-Ptd_p3yrBGrbZ3VxHe3V1O5n7i7LQeOGFOdlhrIN2P1X/s1600/perfume.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 250px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493919316123744194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTAeWjw4uRBZkRYtNfUXwzMT0vIlCpRrlCdbCMP8LhlxKGR1uSc4MSFvwMWLbsNI_Xi9s6FVq_9TbuwvmoD7QuScmYYsACYTs-Ptd_p3yrBGrbZ3VxHe3V1O5n7i7LQeOGFOdlhrIN2P1X/s320/perfume.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I love fragrances but they have to be light especially during the warm weather which is approximately 51 weeks a year here in SC. Gucci Pour Homme II is my current "go to" fragrance and please don't tell anybody but I'm 99% sure it is a mans cologne. Pffftb....like I care. I also like Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue and Marc Jacobs Cucumber....all nice and airy, not heavy and I know they are women's fragrances because they are in fru fru bottles. Today I received the ULTIMATE compliment from a 4 yr old boy. I was wearing Sugar Lemon by Fresh and quite frankly I thought I smelled pretty darn good. It's hotter than the hinges on the door to hell so I especially like the nice cool lemon smell in this humid weather. A little boy and his mother were waiting in line for an exhibit at work and as I walked by the mother said, "OH...you smell so good, may I ask you what fragrance you are wearing?" I told her Sugar Lemon by Fresh and her little boy said, "I want to smell too!" I am thinking what an adorable child and quickly leaned over for him to sniff my neck. After a deep inhale he said, "OH Mama...you gots to get some of dis fume. Dis lady smells just like Fruit Loops." Thanks a lot kid. </div>Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-46335605223403166742010-07-13T21:15:00.004-04:002010-07-13T21:46:58.462-04:00Adding Insult to InjuryIt appears my oldest daughters ranch in MT has become the ultimate destination for unwed kitties. The Mama's are local girls but both Daddy's must be smooth talking traveling salesmen who hit the road once the deed is done. In less than sixty days two Mama kitties have appeared and presented the family with a total of 11 (ELEVEN!) illigitimate babies. Of course the four children think having all these kittens is better than Christmas but Polly & Tony....ummm, not so much. Tragedy struck this past weekend and both Mama kitties disappeared. We don't know if their traveling salesmen boyfriends are back in town or they woke up one morning and decided motherhood just wasn't their bag OR worse case scenario, they were eaten by something bigger. I prefer to think they are just trampy and are out on the town with their traveling salesmen boyfriends. The older batch of six are mature enough to feed themselves (this is starting to sound like a Lifetime movie) but the younger five still need their Mama. This morning it was obvious the five little ones were in trouble and a trip to the vet was on the agenda. After a few sips of formula, water and electrolytes (plus a check for $113.65) the babies were almost as good as new and ready to head home. Polly also found out that she will be feeding the little darlings formula three times a day with an eyedropper followed by canned (GAG) kitty food mixed with formula. OH...after all five kittens have eaten they each have to have their bottom wiped to help prevent constipation. SO, how was your day?Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2404553257095815467.post-26927550459519040592010-02-01T18:24:00.007-05:002010-02-01T18:30:30.723-05:00Yep...it's official.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSnyIF_qvOhyphenhyphencBADO5pWh8MkCcPq4KXwF2hNbw5uMC-HL2F2xYwjf6F4bZhi5pP92AhaNZe8RK0_fTrsjbsvPUL08AHph3p6sxWAt8MnulRdCiQU-d-zCeP9TVgtPdkuHuJ9o12iSMn7D/s1600-h/puffy+hair.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirSnyIF_qvOhyphenhyphencBADO5pWh8MkCcPq4KXwF2hNbw5uMC-HL2F2xYwjf6F4bZhi5pP92AhaNZe8RK0_fTrsjbsvPUL08AHph3p6sxWAt8MnulRdCiQU-d-zCeP9TVgtPdkuHuJ9o12iSMn7D/s320/puffy+hair.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433414822620441282" border="0" /></a>It's hard to tell from this picture but my head really does look like a Bloomin' Onion. I have thick hair that curls very easily so even though my hair is short every hairdresser I have ever visited feels compelled to give me mall hair. Remember mall hair? Mall hair resembles that yeast bread Lucy and Ethel made on I LOVE LUCY circa 1955. I can see the people in the adjoining chairs eyeballing me as my hair continues to grow as if it had a life of its own. They are probably thinking, "Oh dear God, please don't tell me my hairdresser is doing that to me too." Oh well, it is what it is...I would love to stay and visit but I am off to the shower so I can shrink my head back to normal size.Janhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04514258615457676425noreply@blogger.com6