I'm pretty sure that the meaner you are, the longer you will live.

I took my Mom to the doctor this morning.  While I was sitting, waiting for her to come out of his office miraculously healed of her pain, I saw a spry old woman walk across the room and take a seat.  I kept looking at her because she looked so familiar to me. I also got this nagging feeling that when I figured out where I knew her from I was going to remember that I didn't like her much.  But alas, I just couldn't remember. As fate would have it, Mom and I came across her path on our way out the door.  I couldn't help myself and tapped her on her arm and told her that I thought she was very familiar but I couldn't place how I knew her.  She told me her name and then it hit me.  She was the front office clerk at the school I taught at my first few years as a teacher.  Two minutes into the conversation I realized why I was having that ominous feeling that she wasn't pleasant. The reason was because...she wasn't pleasant.  It all came flooding back to me by the fourth minute when she had already talked a blue streak about the #@^& principal that was there back in 1989 and how even the teachers called him a #@^& behind his back. All these things were said directly in the presence of the ears of my mother who is, I believe, allergic to foul language. I walked faster hoping that I could get away at a pace she couldn't keep up with, but then I remembered the reason we were at the orthopedist's office and that mama couldn't keep up either. Needless to say it was a long, long walk to the car. When we finally find ourselves in relative safety behind the doors of the jeep, I asked mama to stop me the next time I thought I wanted to open such a can of worms again.

But back to my original sentence.  This woman was as old as dirt in 1989.  I mean seriously old. According to my math, which may or may not be faulty, she must be 120 by now...and is obviously still just as mean as a snake.  I think I need to rethink this life of kindness and goodness and love (shut up) so I too may live to be 120.

Beej

Tonight, when I returned from my walk/run/walk, (I hope Abby and Deirdre are reading this) Pateriko called me to his bedroom, where he was trying to go to sleep. He told me that ever since he ate that peach smoothie at 5:00 his throat had been hurting and it felt funny to swallow. I told him it was probably nothing but maybe he was allergic to something in the smoothie, or maybe he was actually getting sick because he had been complaining of not feeling well earlier in the evening. I suggested he go drink some water and if things didn't start feeling better pretty soon to let me know and I'd give him some Tylenol or something. He said okay and then added that he told his Dad this story and Dad didn't seem very sympathetic.  I think his exact words were "Dad didn't believe me and told me it was all in my head". I confronted Dirty Larry about it a few moments later and he said, "I did not say that." But I knew he was lying because he had that goofy "I'm lying" grin on his face and then he started snickering.  He walked directly to Pateriko's room and said "Are you feeling okay?"  Pateriko said "It still hurts". Then I heard this precious, sweet Daddy say "Do you see a bright light?"  and then he switched the overhead light on in his room and commenced with the laughing. He ain't funny.  Much.

Beej

Tonight a television commercial caught my attention and by the time it was over I was riveted to the screen. 

Trasylol.  Did you have this drug during your open heart surgery? It causes kidney failure and heart failure. Did your loved one die from complications after open heart surgery? Did they take this drug?

Daddy's doctor told us he had a 97% chance of pulling through his surgery perfectly with no problems whatsoever.  I have no idea if he was given this drug, but you watch me find out if he did.

Beej

Apparently, there is something in my life that is making me half sad because my left eye is crying. My right eye seems to be perfectly happy...jovial even. But the left eye is weeping for some unknown anguish or torture that it forgot to tell me about. I'm so thankful my right eye can still keep its happy demeanor considering it lives so very close to my tormented left eye. It must be a very strong eye. I'm proud for it to live on my face.

Beej

My only remaining grandmother died Friday night.  She was 91. Her brother who is 93, attended the funeral and made some pretty witty jokes. I found him fascinating. I was also told not to cross him because he'd cuss me if I didn't watch out.  As I sat in the foyer of the funeral home, cousin #1 demonstrated to the crowd the way my great uncle enjoyed flipping people off as he drove his car.  The great uncle seemed perfectly harmless to me, but...yeah, I've heard the stories. The other four cousins were in attendance as well.  As far as I could tell, none of the cousins seemed to be talking to each other and only a few of them were talking to me.  Cousin #5 was there in all her finery; tight black Capris with a red satin blouse and red stilettos.  Cousin #4 stuck by me and we had a fabulous time laughing and talking about why he was just suspended from his job for not sharing the microwave with his coworkers. A familiar looking man walked in the room and I said, "cousin #4, who is that man?" His eyes got wide and he said, "That's my real Daddy".  He then launched into a story that made me laugh until tears came out of my eyes. He has a deep suspicion that his mother had an affair with this man and that he is actually the love child of their indiscretion. In the past he has gone so far as to go up to this man and put his face close to his and say "don't you think we look a lot alike?" The amazing thing to me was that about this time, cousin #4's actual father walked by.  He smiled a cheesy smile, pointed to the man and said, "Hey son, there's your real daddy". Then they laughed really big and cousin #2 walked by and said the same danged thing. I seriously suspect that cousin #2 has a problem with methamphetamines as she is the size of a twig and looks to be 65 years old when in fact she and I are the same age. I'm not even gonna tell you about cousin #3 because that would be airing the family's dirty laundry and my mama would not approve.

At any rate, grandma's on the roof and can't get down. (*see joke below) She's probably eating dinner with Pawpaw and my Dad as we speak. I just wonder if she's putting her fingers in her mouth and whistling that shrill, shrieking whistle for a waiter to attend to her. I wonder if she's being kicked out of a heavenly restaurant just as she was here on earth. I wonder if she's telling the angels they are too fat and need to lose some weight. So many questions.

I will say that one of my grandmother's redeeming qualities is that she birthed my father, and as I told some friends of mine, that pretty much makes her a saint.

Beej

*The Bachelor And His Cat

A bachelor who lived at home with his mother and pet cat went on a trip to Europe. Before he left he told his best friend to inform him of any emergencies.

A few days after his departure, his cat climbed up on the roof, fell off and was killed. His friend immediately wired him with the message: "Your cat died!"

In a few hours he was back home, having cut short his trip in grief and anger at his friend, whom he told "Why didn't you break the news to me gradually? You know how close I was to my cat! You could have sent a message 'Your cat climbed up on the roof today', and the next day you could've written, 'Your cat fell off the roof' and let me down slowly that he died."

After a quick memorial service, the bachelor left again to continue his trip. A few days later he returned to his hotel and there was a message waiting for him from his friend. It read, "Your mother climbed up on the roof today."

...then there aren't many virtuous people in this house.

This month at church, the grade school kids are learning about the virtue of patience. To help them grasp this concept, the kids were given an airhead. You know this candy right? Anyway, they were given an airhead with a label attached to it that said...

Do Not Open Until May 31st! 
Patience - "Waiting Until Later For What You Want Now."

Even though Pateriko isn't in grade school, he got an airhead too.  Sadly, by the time we made it to the car, it had been opened and partly consumed.  Litkia held onto hers and made faces at him for being so impatient and waved her unopened candy in his face several times. I suppose that is the job of a little sister.

So today, Litkia brings me her airhead and says "Take this mama".  When I asked her why, she sheepishly showed me where she had opened it and taken the tiniest little nibble off the corner and then closed it back up.  I guess she just couldn't trust herself to keep it in her room any more.

The only person who lives here that might be able to pass this test is Dirty Larry, but if the airhead was green, there'd be no question about it's early ingestion. Green candy is Dirty Larry's vice.

I'll just be honest with you.  Had I been given an airhead and been told that I couldn't eat it until the 31st of May, that would only make me mad and I probably would have eaten it on the spot even if I didn't want it....which is why, as a good parent, I didn't bother getting one myself.  I'm already a pretty sorry example for these little people.  No need in making it even worse.

Beej