Morty's Attitude

Polly, Eddie and Ginglebelle (especially Ginglebelle) were all hoping that when Morty had "THE SURGERY" his attitude would improve. Well, I have waited a week for the verdict and the better attitude? Ummm, not so much. Morty definitely has short man syndrome and it has nothing to do with hoohaws or lack of hoohaws. He just happens to have a twisted personality. Morty will arch his back, hiss and fly at Ginglebelle if she even tries to sit on my lap. That doesn't mean he wants to sit on my lap it just means he doesn't want her on my lap. What a brat, it's a good thing Ginglebelle and I love him so much. Ginglebelle, we do love him...right? Ginglebelle? Hello?

Did you know I'm a pig killer?

Well, I am and that's also one of the many reasons my first husband wanted a divorce. He finally figured out that if he was going to have any financial success in the farming world then he needed to dump me ASAP. I am not a farm/country person by any stretch of the imagination and I am happiest in the heart of any big city. Rod loved the farm life, living in the country and of course raising animals. Remember Green Acres? I didn't walk around in chiffon and fluffy high heels with a poodle under my arm, but it was close. Hmmmm, I have NO CLUE why that marriage didn't last. However, we were together just long enough to have two beautiful children and for that I will be forever grateful. Wouldn't you know both of those kids inherited his DNA and LOVED the farm life. Apparently my wimpy city DNA didn't stand a chance against his big burly country DNA.
Now on to my pig murder story. We were in debt up to our eyeballs which means we owed everybody from the bank to the parents. Rod had managed to save enough money to buy a registered boar with a very good pedigree and the plan was to rent this big guy out to the area farmers and collect for "services rendered". Good plan...right? Well yes, until you remember who Rod had married. Rod had already contracted the boars services for the next several weeks and it looked like we might actually be able to pay ALL the bills next month. I was out in the front yard with the children watering flowers and it was nasty hot with high humidity. I was over by the fence when a big truck pulled in to the drive with this monster hog who was going to keep us from going to the poor house and they unloaded him about 6 feet away from where I was watering the flowers. He grunted, groaned and snorted coming down the ramp and plopped down under a tree in the shade. While Rod and the former owners were on the other side of the truck signing the paperwork and handing over the last of our money the kids and I walked over to take a better look at our financial savior. I said, "What's the matter feller are you hot?" He snorted and I soaked him down with ice cold well water. He gave one final snort and flipped over on his back....dead as a doornail. The cold well water caused a heart attack and the truck hadn't even pulled out of the driveway. Yep folks, that is the day I became known as the pig killer.

Sanford and Son

How can ONE person be such a slob? I am not a collector or a saver...heck my kids are lucky I kept their birth certificates. I don't save plastic bags, paper bags, bread wrappers or Cool Whip containers like Aunt June, but right now my condo looks like the set for an upcoming production of Sanford and Son Moves to South Carolina. I cleaned out my closet and the donation bags are in the dining room along with a stack of magazines I need to drop off at the hospital and the set of Christmas dishes I haven't used in 5 years that are going to Habitat. We won't talk about the exercise equipment that is still in the back of my closet and the most exercise I got was manuevering that 150 lb monster into that tiny space all by myself.
Since I am an only child I have all my grandparents, parents plus my own photographs that need to be put in albums and oh PLEASE DEAR GOD let me live that long. Thank goodness my mother and grandmother were very good about writing not only the names of people but also their relationship to the family as I have no clue by looking at the photos who most of these people are. I am also very thankful that my grandmother was a storyteller so not only do I have the pictures I also have a story to go with almost all of them. One of my favorites is about a deaf cousin (Homer) and his wife who lived in Howard,IN at the Round Barn Farm during the 20's and 30's. The wife's sister was over visiting one afternoon after Thanksgiving and asked Homer's wife what she would like for Christmas. Homer's wife replied, "Oh I pray someone gives each of us a pair of white gloves so Homer and I can talk when we go to bed at night." As a child I thought that was the funniest thing I had ever heard and as an adult I still think it's pretty funny but also very sweet. My grandmothers sister (Aunt Doodoo and I have no clue why she was called Doodoo and Uncle John) had a grain and dairy farm. I don't remember how many cows they milked twice a day but it was a BUNCH. At that time (surely they have an easier way now) each cows udders had to be hand washed (YEW) before the electric milkers were attached to each teat. Grandma and I were there visiting one afternoon and helping Aunt Doodoo can tomatoes. For whatever reason Aunt Doodoo was upset with Uncle John about something and she opened the back door and flipped a switch on the wall. About 30 seconds later Uncle John came running out of the milk house and said, "DAMN IT TO HELL!" and then ran back in the milk house. Well, I was stunned and couldn't believe my grandma and Aunt Doodoo weren't as shocked as I was that Uncle John had said a BAD word. I later found out that the switch that Aunt Doodoo had flipped was to the milk house and she had waited until Uncle John had gotten all the cows "bags" washed and attached the electric milkers before she cut the power off to the milk house so the stainless steel milkers fell on the dirty floor and Uncle John had to start all over again. Don't mess with the women in my family. We'll cut off your power in a heartbeat.

Only Children

Have I mentioned that I am an only child? Not only am I an only child but I am the only child of an only child. Spoiled?? Me?? Naaaaa! Actually I wasn't spoiled with material things but I have to tell you as far as my grandparents were concerned I not only hung the moon but I also created the sun and stars and I didn't disagree with them. What?? You think I have STUPID written on my forehead? My parents divorced when I was in 1st grade and my mother went back to college to finish her teaching degree.I lived with my grandparents and for four years I only saw my mother on the weekends. That was very difficult but living with grandparents definitely had advantages. How many kids can say they never did anything wrong in four years and have witnesses to backup their story? The closest I ever came to getting into trouble was the time I set my grandfathers chair on fire and almost burned down the house. HEY...it was an accident and could have happened to anybody! My grandmother had walked to the grocery store and since I had been to the library the day before I was engrossed in a Bobbsey Twins book and elected to stay home and read. My mistake was putting the book down and deciding this would be a nifty time to play a trick on my grandma. I took a pair of my grandfathers pants, shoes and a shirt and stuffed them with newspapers to look like a person laying in the recliner. OK, "he" looked pretty real at first glance but hmmmm, what would make it more lifelike. OH....how about a lit cigarette?? It was the 50's and EVERYBODY smoked. So I placed the cigarette where the mouth would be, if my newspaper dummy had a mouth, and watched for my grandma out the front window. When she got to the end of the driveway I lit the cigarette, hid in the closet and waited to hear her scream. Well, I heard her scream all right. The dummy (the newspaper dummy not me), the chair and the living room rug were all on fire. Grandma and the neighbor managed to put the fire out before the volunteer firemen arrived but the whole house had to be repainted, chair and rug replaced,drapes washed...it was a total mess. My punishment? Couldn't tell you, I'm still waiting.

Favorite Food

If you had to choose one food that you would find next to impossible to give up, what would you choose? Mine would be watermelon. I have always loved watermelon and am probably the only person on the face of the earth who can say they got into trouble in Sunday school because of watermelon. I was four or five years old so it was around 1955 and my class was learning about Easter and Lent. My Sunday school teacher who shall remain nameless (Miss Thompson) suggested that for Lent we give up our favorite food. Fine by me mainly because I was scared Miss Thompson was going to suggest roller skates and that wasn't happening. Lent or no Lent....I had just gotten those skates for Christmas and they were staying! HEY now, cut me some slack....I was five years old and not really into the spirit of Lent. Miss Thompson went around the room and we were to tell her what food item we had decided to give up while she wrote our names and choices in our "Lent book". There were some pretty tough decisions being made as it's not easy for a five year old to give up ice cream or candy or hamburgers for a WHOLE six weeks. Well, Miss Thompson got to me and when I told her watermelon was my choice she was very snippy and told me in no uncertain terms that Lent was a serious matter and she was giving me five minutes to think it over and give her a proper response. Well, I thought it over and at the end of the five minutes I came to the conclusion that Miss Thompson was a little nuts. Watermelon REALLY was my favorite food but if it wasn't good enough for her then I would go with my second favorite...corn on the cob. When I told her my second choice she rolled her eyes and said, "Well that is just FINE and you can tell your mother to expect a phone call from me this evening." Miss Thompson called just like she said she would and I don't think Miss Thompson really believed my mother when she tried to explain that five year olds don't understand crop cycles and that I had no clue there was no watermelon or corn on the cob to sacrifice in Indiana during the month of March. My mother hung up the phone, turned to me and said, "You are giving up candy." Geeesh, and you wonder why I'm not quite right.

New World Record?

I would have been better off to throw three dollars out the car window or maybe invest in magic beans then spend $2.99 (plus tax!) on a marine frog. As you already know I have a beta fish and a peace plant in a pretty glass jar on my kitchen counter. Well, truth be told Little Frisky (formerly known as The Fish) actually belongs to Morty and Ginglebelle since the fish bowl is also their drinking water of choice. HEY...it's not like I don't put fresh water out with their food everyday but apparently they prefer their drinking water with a side of beta. When my friend Morgan was here visiting he mentioned that I should get a marine frog to put in with Little Frisky. This afternoon I stopped by Pet Smart for more lobster, filet and truffles or whatever it is that makes cat food so darn expensive and I also checked out the marine frogs. Hmmm $2.99, OK I can afford a frog and they do look kinda cool. I brought one home and put the bag next to the fish bowl. Ginglebelle jumped up to take a look because, after all, I was messing with her preferred source of H2O. I poured most of the water out of the "frog bag" and eased the little fellar into the jar. He immediately sank to the bottom just like he was supposed to and then the trouble began. As I turned to get the plastic lid to cover the top of the bowl the frog jumped out onto the counter and the next thing I know a big black hairy paw came down and SMASHED the frog into oblivion. Sooo, not including the 10 minute ride home from Pet Smart I was the proud owner of a marine frog for approximately 15 seconds.

Whew..if looks could kill

I would be laying on the floor of Dr. Doti's office. Morty noticed the first sign of trouble when I put away the food and water dishes last evening as he wasn't to have anything to eat or drink 12 hrs before his surgery. Ginglebelle was a bit ticked but she took one for the team with minimal complaining. However, Ginglebelle did awaken me about 4 AM by knocking my perfume bottles off of the dresser and in my sleep numbed mind perfume bottles hitting the floor sound just like a burgler/rapist packing a fully loaded Colt 45. Clearing my dresser is Ginglebelle's subtle way of letting me know that she is out of food and or water. When I reminded her why the food and water bowls were not there she chuckled and went back to sleep. Early this morning I got out the pet carrier with the two baby blankets (because one would not be soft enough...duh) and zipped Mr. Morty in for the ride to the vets office for his "BIG DAY". When we arrived the two ladies who work the front desk took him out of his carrier, scratched his tummy (OK, they also laughed at his 2 inch legs) and told him he was just too precious for words and as far as Morty was concerned this was a pretty good trip. Then the voice of doom appeared in the form of Dr. Doti....Dr. Doti with the sharp knife. Dr. Doti with the sharp knife pointed toward Morty's "nether regions" I kissed the top of his little kitty head and very gently handed him over to Dr. Doti. I swear I heard Morty call me an ugly name as I departed the building.