30 May, 2015

New Photo of Yours Truly

30 May 2015

R. Linda:

I have so far changed up me profile pictures twice as the years passed on. I think the two Halloween costumes that graced me profile were me two favs. Being Captain Hook was a hoot and then Sherlock O'Sullivan was a blast. But now, it is time to switch it up and get a new pic on the blog. My fascination with Sherlock has made me think Moriarty be me next persona.

It not being Halloween, I had to think how to disguise meself in public for the new photo, as Moriarty be a shadowy figure. Me wife came up with the perfect place, time and PHOTO! I did manage to wear a black shirt because Moriarty be a dark character and well, the photo shows me not reading a Conan Doyle novel but a menu which fits me more.

I don't think you will be disappointed with me updated pic. SO without further ado here is the new blog photo of yours truly! How do I look?

Me wife tagged this photo with the title TYPICAL -- So what ya think?

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

29 May, 2015

This is a doozy AND there is at least one picture in it

29 May 2015

R. Linda:

It must be the season for picking up other peoples mail, dog sitting, and Memorial Day sales!

Let's start with the sales. Tonya heard that the best time of year for buying appliances is Memorial Day. SO she got it into her head when we first moved in the abode that all the white appliances (that worked perfectly fine) had to go because they were an eyesore when one has a black granite counter top. I have to agree, black appliances would look nicer BUT! Come on I said, we will replace them as they get old.

No, no, the BIG sale was coming so we had to go at least and LOOK. I knew look wasn't the true word, BUY was. I was hauled off to many different appliance stores in an attempt to wear me down and it worked, by the time we got to the last store I would have bought everything. We did find that every store where the appliances WE wanted to buy -- we were told by various salesmen were not that good, wouldn't last a year, had major issues, etc., BUT this one that costs triple what the one YOU want is listed for is GUARANTEED to last for YEARS. Oh sure it is! Well, we took an upgrade on the stove, but we refused to budge on the refrigerator and dishwasher. If we would at least upgrade on the fridge, they'd throw in a free wine chiller. NO THANK YOU. I could buy one for what the upgrade would cost me, so NO!

Tonya was happy she had her appliances, my wallet was quite a bit lighter, but I will say we did save big on everything, or at least I thought so until later. We bought from one big box store so we were insured fast delivery, but guess what? No installation. They don't do that anymore so find someone. Great, by the time you find a serviceman, you are paying triple for the service so where was the savings, I want to know. I left that small detail to Tonya, because me old neighbour rang me up to ask if I'd pick up his mail while he went on a Viking Cruise to Prague and beyond. Must be nice to be retired.

I told him I'd be happy to, it was on me way home. I will say I did not expect to be picking up the mail and the sugar ants at the same time. I opened his mailbox the first day of me mail pick up to find some kiddo had put a half sucked on hard candy in the old fella's mailbox (with the flag up just for shites and giggles). I saw the mailman had stacked the mail on one side of the mailbox to avoid the sticky gooey mess. I got the mail and had some of the baby wipes from the youngest in me car, so I swept the candy out and closed the box.

Then I went home to find that Dragon had her dog shipped up from New Jersey. But the dog arrived one day before she went on a trip to Vermont with the elderly ladies travel club she belongs to. She found out they had a trip from Jersey to northern Vermont scheduled and would be coming her way to get there, so she was hopping the tour bus from here! How nice I thought, to be rid of her for five days. Of course, I do wonder what there is to do in Vermont for five days! Anyway, I came home to the most spastic dog I'd ever seen in me life. This animal she acquired after Hurricane Katrina. It was one of the dogs that was rescued and never found by its owner. I know warm touching story and isn't the Dragon lady so warm hearted for adopting the hound. Yes, she has adopted the hound from hell. It is a hunting dog, so it wants to run and it thinks it is a horse, it rears up to its full height of 6' when anyone comes in the room and it has a bark that is a deep WOUFFFF that near shatters eardrums. In the south this thing is called a Red Coon Hound and we have lots of raccoons up here so the barking is constant at night when those critters are out by the pond after our fish. Forget the full moon the howling goes on non-stop.

Not only is this hound unpleasant vocally and socially (has no doggy manners), it thinks it owns the joint. Me Red and White Setter be sulking that her abode has been invaded by this intruder from Louisiana and she does not like it. She has a futon couch she sleeps on at night, but no not anymore. The hound, named Banjo has taken her couch over. Lookie here as they say down in 'Orleans.

Yup stretches himself down the entire length of the couch and is happy about it too.

He thinks there is nothing wrong with taking over, but when a thunderstorm comes, the good times begin! Let me tell ya. He fits his big self into the dark space between me bedroom and the guest room where he thinks he is invisible. I can't get into me room for his blocking me way. He whines like Armageddon be on its way right to where we live.

So all was well the first night of the new house guest (and I use that term very loosely), but when his mistress left for the wilds of Vermont he turned into a real bugger he did. Not only had he taken over me own dog's territory and took her toys, her bones (no matter he had his own), he head butted her out of his way or ran her over, or pushed her so he could get a treat first. Not to mention he is like a vacuum he wolfs down his food and then goes for hers. She be a dainty eater, when she gets to eat.  He also had an annoying habit of nosing and tonguing his way along the counter and table tops slurping up what was not there. You'd think he hadn't been feed in years the way he was so food oriented, just like his owner, SHE never missed a meal. I was putting up with this insanity for three days when Tonya asked me to take a day off to wait for the delivery of all the new appliances she had put me in the poor house to buy. Oi. Me mam was there but no, she had no clue when it came to "deliverin' machinery" which I told her it wasn't machinery per se' it was appliances -- the very thing she used everyday in that kitchen, but no, no, she wasn't going to be "responsible" for the placement and "wot have you." I did end up taking the last three days of the week off and must say it would have been pleasant being the Dragon was not around, but for her dog that was.

The nonsense started as I was sipping me morning cuppa and Banjo sat 5' away watching every sip I took. I picked up me toast and started putting jam on it and I could hear the audible licking of his teeth with his tongue. I happened to look over and he was focused on me like a target, the drool dripping to the floor. I shook me head, took a bite and watched the hound's head move with the toast. I tell ya! I finally turned me back on him, but that was a mistake because I soon felt a wet tongue licking the bit of jam that fell on me barefoot. Gross, gross, gross! No matter how much I yelled at him he'd disappear and then magically reappear. I couldn't eat anything in peace AND he had already had his food before I got mine!

I had two hours before delivery so I took off to the old neighbourhood to pick up me old neighbour's mail. This time when I opened the mailbox, the mail was jammed all the way to the back and where the sticky goo had been was thousands of sugar ants. I was not happy having to reach back to get that mail, but I did it. I saw one cardboardy piece of junk mail and I used that to swipe the ants out. Only problem was, they were far enough back me quick swipes were dispersing them all over the box, the ground, the mail and ME!

Okay I don't like creepy crawly things and sugar ants are no exception. They are tiny beings I'll give you that but they remind me of fleas so -- GROSS! What to do right? There I was stamping on them and dancing around, trying to brush meself off at the same time as people drove by, slowing down to look at me with open mouths like they thought I was having a fit on the side of the road. It was terribly embarrassing, and took a few minutes before I realised I had an audience. I got in me car pronto, ant hanger-ons and all and drove off until I realised I had ants crawling up me arms and fleeing the mail on the seat to other parts of me car. I pulled into a car wash and tried to vacuum them out of me car and then off me until some woman rolled down her window and told me that "if you got bugs you need to bathe more often!" Oi!!!

I drove home feeling like the little buggers were crawling all over me when they probably weren't. I was thinking about the delivery and the annoying hound. Where to put him I wondered. If I tied him outside he'd be rearing like a horse and barking. Though once home I found I didn't have to worry about any of that, the delivery was delayed so it would be the next day they "thought". Oh goody. I was extremely irritated with the shipping company, what if I only had the one day off? And they didn't call to tell me they weren't coming until three hours into the arrival time. Who does that?

"Who knoes how long they will be here if they doo shoe oop," me little Irish mam said.

Thanks mam. That be a great help. So next day, same thing, more ants, me avoiding them this time and getting that mailbox slammed shut once I had the mail. Then I'd examine it hoping it looked to passersby like I was sifting through me mail which I was in a way, not for bills but for ants. I know you think I be crazy, I do too because it wasn't my mail or my bills or ants!

I get back to see the delivery truck is already unloading and guess what? The refrigerator doesn't fit. THIS after we had taken everything out of the old one. Or, I should say me mam did in a hurried fit because suddenly there she was with deliverymen, two barking dogs, and notta clue what to do. Like she never had modern conveniences before. I tell ya the woman!

So THAT appliance had to go back for a smaller size, OK then. The rest of it was put in place, the white ones taken away and that was that except we had to put all the melting food back in the old fridge. Why can't things be easy? I want to know the answer please.

I rang up Tonya told her what happened, she seemed a wee bit disappointed about the fridge, but was all chatty that she found some guys on Greg's List to come install everything else.

"Greg's List?" I asked sceptical. For sure! They were the cheapest she could find, and hey we were doing a good turn being me and me mam were immigrants from Ireland these guys were immigrants too but not from Ireland they were from someplace else she couldn't remember. Oh boy.

"They will be there at 7 a.m. tomorrow," said she.

"Why so early?"

"The guy told me they were building a rabbit hutch for their rabbits so . . . "

Honestly, I don't know how she does it. Where she finds these people I don't really want to ask too much anymore, I never like the answer. Rabbits? I did ask if they raise rabbits and she said no, she didn't think they raised them for sale but for hunting. The man had told her they "got gun, let robbit loose go kill an eat."

Uh huh. I thought she was pulling my leg UNTIL I met them. No they were raising rabbits to let loose and then waiting a few minutes go hunting to eat them. I was thinking I was having a nightmare and not awake. On top of this me last day off I'd be getting up at me normal time I would for work to wait for the rabbit killers to come and install my appliances. Never mind I would be getting everyone's breakfast going, feeding cat and dogs, getting those outside, and trying to get dressed in the bargain.

Well, the guys from Greg's List arrived right on the dot and eyed the pot of coffee and the scones so my wife offered them some and they sat down to breakfast as she and kiddos went out the door. I was shocked but had nothing better to do but sit down and try to tell them what I needed done, but they were too busy asking for more coffee and scones and would it be "trooble to get egg too?" I felt like a short-order cook. Eggs? They had the nerve to ask ME to cook THEM eggs, my eggs. They were on the clock they had told Tonya, so I was paying for them to sit around and wait for ME to cook eggs while they leisurely munched on scones and sipped me morning joe! NO WAY. I instead told them we were on the clock (I pointed at me wristwatch) and I needed to get to work, but that didn't fly because me mam (not exactly awake) informed me "this be yer day off." Thank you mam.

An idea struck me and I excused meself because I said, the dogs need come in and so I unleashed the Dragon hound first and then me own who is nothing compared to the Banjo dog. Right away dog slobber was all over the two of them as they fought the hound off who was rearing and jumping and barking and licking, and it was the promise of them getting to work I'd get the dogs put up.

The stove went in, no problem, the dishwasher . . . problem. They went to the basement to "figure woter system for whokup."

"They are Putins." Me mam whispered to me.

"They are wot?" I was confused.

"Putins. Russians. The accent."

"Ohhh," I said realising that yes, the accent was familiar like Uncle Boris. Oi!

Meanwhile, I had shut the hound in the guest room and the setter in the kiddos room. They were barking tandem and making such noise I was sure me neighbours (who none live close) could hear them. The scratching at the doors had me mam telling me they would be ruining the wood and I would have to put them out. Easier said than done. Foolish me got the two of them somehow on leashes and they took me flying down the stairs and to the basement door where they both wanted at the workers. I managed to pull them out the backdoor and got my dog on the long leash but the hound had other ideas and pulled me to the open bulkhead where he was determined to drag me down the stairs to get those men. I tell ya I still hurt from muscles in places I didn't know I had!

It was three hours later and the Russians were still at it in the basement. The dogs had dug up pretty much most of the backyard trying to get to the bulkhead, me mam was clicking her tongue over the long gouges the dogs had made in the two doors, and I was panting from the exertion still of leashing up dogs. I yelled down and asked them what seemed to be the trouble and they told me they were trying to figure out the water connection. Oh boy.

Meanwhile, the hippie Tonya hired (also from Greg's List) showed up unannounced to rotor till the patch of vegetable garden Tonya had over the weekend (when I wasn't home) asked him get ready for her garden. He had no shirt on, but he did have a bandanna wrapped around his blond locks to keep them out of his eyes, a pair of homespun trousers and no shoes. Nope not even a sandal. It wasn't three minutes into the tilling I hear me mam calling me for a first aid kit. Yeah you can guess what happened. I be surprised he didn't loose all his freaking hippy toes! He nicked one so that was dressed and bandaged, and he had to go home because the shock was just too much for him in one day. Begorrah me!

Four hours into water connection, the Russians still at it, and I was starting to get worried.

Now five hours into water hookup or whokup I was about to go down and tell them they were done when one of them came up soaking wet with a huge smile to tell me we had "connection" and turn the dishwasher on. I was not wanting to. You know five hours of fiddling around down there, one soaking wet, the other one missing (sort of) and we are talking electric and water for God's sake. Yes, I was afraid I'd be electrocuted if I touched the thing, but me mam made it hard for me to refuse by calling me things like wimp, scardycat, etc. I didn't see her touching the dishwasher though.

The two of them came up out of the cellar with their tools and probably mine, and told me they hoped it would drain okay. What? I was thinking I didn't hear them correctly. They were talking bill and sidestepping me asking WHAT ABOUT THE DRAIN OR LACK THEREOF I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT. I wrote them out a check (I don't remember the amount because I was thinking what did they do?) and they turned the thing off and said to turn it on again later to see if it worked.

"Oh I will be ringing you up it doesn't." I said as they flew out the door.

I started the thing again and it seemed to be working. I had to take a shower, I was full of dog slobber and so off I went. I turned on me faucet to get a cup of water to brush me teeth and nothing happened. I stood there listening to air groaning through the pipes. Hum. I turned on the shower and the usually good water pressure came pouring out with the intensity of Niagara Falls. There was nothing to do but jump into the falls and worry about the faucet later. While in the shower I could hear the hound barking up a storm which made me think there was trouble. I would turn the water off and listen and hear nothing. I'd turn the falls back on and battle to catch me breath and hear that stupid animal barking. I rushed through the shower and towelled off to quiet. I got dressed and went downstairs to find the mother of mine sitting in the kitchen with a cuppa, the dishwasher on dry cycle and the hound scratching at the cellar door.

"Ee's been dooin' dat da whole time." She muttered.

Sighing heavily I opened the cellar door and thought it looked shiny down there. I turned on the light and I now have a swimming pool in me basement. Enough said don't ya think? Of course when I told me mam what was down there, she said, "See spies for Putin."

Yeah never mind. You don't know how much I be looking forward to work tomorrow. Let Tonya handle this new mess. But wait, one more thing. I had to go pick up Dragon at the bus station, hence the shower. Me mam pleads with me to take her hound with me, I didn't want to do it, but ended up doing it anyway. You ever drive with a large animal jumping from the front seat to the back and throwing slobber on you each time? It isn't fun I can tell ya that much. So I go to the station and she be waiting, I put the luggage in the boot of the car, get her ample self in the passenger side and off we go.

So I be driving home and Dragon starts wiggling in her seat. Her dog is in the back seat scratching himself which has her wondering if MY dog gave him fleas. REALLY? I did notice a small sugar ant on me arm but I made like I was stretching and flipped it on Dragon.  Before long the two of them were scratching, and I be trying to ignore them both. By the time we got home they were both in spasms of itching and with Dragon's poor eyesight she is certain she sees fleas on her.

I be about to get the hose to blast the "fleas" away before I will let either one of them in me abode. Yup.

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

Where are the blog photos? I will tell you where they are!

29 May 2015

R. Linda:

I have me followers writing asking "where did the pictures go?" And since I be getting tired of writing each one individually I be doing the public service announcement, so here it be:


I know, I know, my bad.

If you want a story with the pictures write me and I will put them back though that will be time consuming on me end (doesn't matter there are 773 posts), but for me faithful 19 and missing 20 I will do it. It will kill me though and take away hammock time, but if you really, really, really must HAVE the photos in a fav story I will drag meself in here and set it to rights.


Your lazy leader,
Gabriel Aloysius O'Sullivan

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

16 May, 2015

A Day In The Life

16 May 2015

R. Linda:

Yesterday morning was me day off. I was going to sleep in when at 6 a.m. I hear "You son of a bitch get out of here now or I swear I will do something drastic!" Of course, I dreamt that in me sleep or so I thought and then I heard, "Oh yeah and I'll call the police and what will YOU do?"

I opened one eye and the room was grey from the dawn light and Tonya was fast asleep and the dog was curled by me side of the bed looking up at me as if to say, yeah I heard that too.

"You try it Bozo you just try it and see what happens."

No, I was really hearing shouting and as I looked at the clock another outburst rang out and the dog growled as if saying she didn't want to be disturbed either. I finally realised it was me neighbours five acres away. The air was still, me window on that side of the house was open and I was hearing them argue. It stopped eventually with a door slamming and tyres grinding at top speed down the driveway. By that time I was not getting back to sleep so I got up, made breakfast, coffee, and cleaned up until the house was up.

I decided (being wide awake) to help get the kiddos off to school and I tell ya it was a trial. I know mornings are hectic with two of us trying to get ready to go to work and the three kiddos getting ready to go off to school and daycare. I told Tonya to go on I would take kiddo duty so she could enjoy a cup of fresh Joe and not have to gulp it down. Famous last words.

I had one spazo on me hands, that be baby who has developed an alter-ego we call Georgie. The reason he is called Georgie is because I had a cousin Georgie who was the image of the cute blond, blue-eyed babe but underneath all that "cute" was a demon of a child. His middle name was Trouble it was. He couldn't keep out of that muck no matter how much his parents threatened him with all sorts of diabolical punishments. He was the first of our family to run away from home. Yes, and he did it with typical Georgie panache, at the tender age of 10 he hopped a railroad car and made his way from Wicklow to Dublin! Yes, he did.

Well, it doesn't take much imagination or thought to know when young George was returned to his rightful abode, he was in the doggie house big time. He was grounded until the age of 60 his ma said and his da immediately enrolled young George in a boarding school to be taught what being on ones own really means when one is the "new kid" and friendless. It did not take long for young George to turn it all around and find a way to steal his peers homework, thus achieving academic stardom the easy way. Not only that he had a system of blackmailing the younger students into handing over any and all goodies sent to them by their caring families, and turning around and selling the said goods to the older students who coveted what they did not have. I tell ya.

When George was graduated with honours and released from the said boarding school, he turned a page and became a farmer! Oh yes he did, forget academic promise he bought a used tractor and some acres that came along with a run down farm house and there he was, Farmer George.  His parents were not proud.

I lost track of cousin Georgie, but he amazingly reappeared as he possessed me youngest son. We would have head banging on the floor to which one thought the child in fit of temper would suffer concussion. The worse of the head banging (in which he propelled his arched upper body hard backward into the back of the hard wood highchair he was sitting in), was the sound of the whack his head made on hardwood. This often as not happened when our youngest was in a fit of temper. Why and how he knew to do this distressing action I have notta clue. Neither of his brothers ever attempted to whack their heads on anything hard (and this done dozens of time in succession on his part), therefore, I don't know where he learned it unless there was someone in daycare that exhibited same.

So it turned out Georgie was out in force spazing on me, head banging on the pine floor boards screaming at the top of his lungs. This, after I went up to his crib to get him, to find he had stripped himself of his onesie AND his nappy, and was bouncing around the crib throwing everything he could out of it. I somehow waded through a sea of stuffed animals and got him in a clean nappy and jeans, before he kicked me in the mouth and I put him down for a minute to get a Kleenex. He took the opportunity to go crawling backwards down the stairs at a hundred miles an hour shirtless. When I caught up to him he was not letting me get the shirt over his head for the head banging on the floor. Me mam told me to ignore him which is pretty hard to do when you are in fear the child will cause himself brain damage. The dragon lady, me mother-in-law was all for picking him up and hugging and kissing him as if that behaviour never happened. I saw it as a reward to keep doing that kind of thing, and told them both their suggestions weren't within me realm of possibility, so I continued to fight to get that shirt over his head as he screamed at the top of his bloody lungs.

Finally, I got our Georgie in his chair where he continued to head-bang until I got his oatmeal in front of him. He was quiet for a minute as he picked up his plastic baby spoon, and then looked at me with slits for eyes and while still watching me watch him, he let the spoon scoop up a large spoonful of the porridge and then he flung it in me direction. Before I could wipe the stuff off, he had thrown the spoon on the floor and picked up the plastic bowl (yes, we know not to give him breakable anything) and threw the bowl and contents on the floor where the dog was happy to clean up on aisle five.

I left his care to me mam while I told me middle child to go and brush his teeth and comb his hair and when I saw the older one I took pause. His shirt was buttoned wrong and for an 8 year old I was rather stunned. I told him the problem, "one side is longer than the other," but he couldn't see there was a problem and for a good 3 minutes we went back and forth. Finally, I unbuttoned his shirt and re-buttoned it correctly. No sooner had I done THAT I turned around to see the middle child with hair dripping.

"What did you do?" I asked him.

"I wet my hair in da sink and combed it." He said smugly.

"It is dripping down your face, your chin, your shirt, the floor," I pointed out.

"Iz okay." Said he and off he went leaving me a puddle to clean up.

What kind of kids do I have? One spaz, one can't button his shirt to save his life, and one who thinks putting his hair under the sink and combing it without towelling is acceptable.

Off they all went to school, the two older ones walked to then end of the driveway and the little one me Mam offered to drop off if dragon lady would do the breakfast cleanup. She agreed which meant she'd rearrange the kitchen and we would never find anything ever again.

I left holding me head to sit down and veg by meself in the living room. I hadn't sat down for more than a minute I hear SLURP SLURP SLURP and I realised after a moment it was the dog drinking water, but then I realised the dog dish was in the kitchen, not the hallway. El Stupido was drinking out of the toilet bowl that one of the kiddos had left the seat up. We put the seat down expressly because of that. I was so grossed out to find the dog had drunk the toilet dry! Now beside meself I took meself outside to the back deck where I had left a grill I had bought to put together.

Have you priced grills? They start at a whooping $500 and go up into the thousands. AND they last a total of one year. I wasn't about to invest in something that expensive that would last me one season. SO I went to Ocean State Job Lots for the first time. It is an inexpensive Walmart as I see it. Right as I walked into this mecca of Chinese goods the first thing in me sight line was the grills. I bought this one:

Looks good now!
There I stood looking down at the box. No tools necessary, everything needed to construct grill was in box. OK I decided no time like now so I got the box opened and found pieces that didn't look like a grill but okay it said piece A gets attached to pieces B and C. Sounded simple enough. I found the key wrench and the plastic knobs and the wheels and well . . . it looked easy. Guess what? It wasn't. Nothing lined up! I was very frustrated after five minutes so after thirty you can imagine how I was. Dragon, meanwhile, had watched this show of mine from the kitchen window and was snickering (I could hear her). After another twenty minutes of me cursing for real and kicking things, I hear a car door open and close and there is this oriental man smiling at me as he came up the deck stairs.

"I hear you need hep wit grill." He said putting out a hand and introducing himself.

It seemed Dragon had befriended him at the only Chinese Restaurant in me area. His name was Chang and he was very nice and very much ready to pitch in.

"I can't get this lined up," I said showing him me problem.

"Oh no Chinnie grill line up straight," he laughed, "you see Chinnie letter writing? It not straight either."

"O K," I didn't know if I should join in the humour or be more humble.

"Here let me do." He took the parts from me and started getting them together as if they were aligned which they were not.

"There, see you jus fass it." He smiled. "That how you line up paahts."

"I see," I said, but not really seeing at all. But he forced the parts to align and while I struggled to hold them steady he used the wrench to tighten them up.

"Now you have Chinnie shiny grill!" Broad smile at me as we both stood back to admire the completed grill.

"Thank you." I said truly humble and feeling the complete idiot. I didn't feel that for long because Dragon came out when all was said and done and made me feel the TOTAL idiot.

"He isn't mechanically inclined," she pointed at me as she regaled Chang with horror stories of Mr. Fixit Not. I left them to go in and brew us coffee, all the while wondering if I should have made tea instead. But all I had was Bewleys no Oolong. But then I realised after working with Ms. Jaio I didn't want to insult him if he was from another tea province. She drank Houkui tea because she was brought up on it. She be from Huang Shan where that particular tea be made. It was no big deal to Mr. Chang, he was good with coffee and a scone with jam. I worry needlessly sometimes to be politically correct and notice Mr. Chang wasn't very politically correct, he was having fun at me expense making fun of Chinese products.

The gist of this grill business be that I reckon it would cost me $500+ for a grill I'd get one season or maybe two. This way me paying $120 I get probably two seasons at not even half the cost. I won't have to send for parts or any of the $500+ parts needed, instead I'll just go buy another one at $120.00!

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

10 May, 2015

The Rumour Mill Takes Off

10 May 2015

R. Linda:

I thought moving farther out to the boonies would be a tranquil experience. I live on the edge of a forest and technically in one before they built a few homes in it so now my area be not considered IN the forest, but an old part of it, whatever. With that in mind, you think not much goes on in a community of a few hundred people and thousands of tall pines. But things do go on like yesterday for example.

It was mid-afternoon when I was looking at the beaver-less pond in the front of the abode, thanking the powers of the universe that there were none of those critters there to harass me. The air carried a slight breeze scented with lilac and the day was simply gorgeous. I inhaled a breath of the lilac and pine scented air and when I opened me eyes I thought I saw flashing blue lights in the distance, up where the road would be. Faeries? Blue faeries? Out here in the wilderness? I stood there and more flashing blue lights, and then more and more until I lost count and realised those were police lights not blue faeries!

I wondered what be going on? So I walked the long trek down me driveway (yes I do have one, I know unique to me) and then took a path into the woods that overlooked the road below. Now me road is a back road, certainly not a main thoroughfare so to see one police cruiser is a novelty, but to see as many as I did (a parking lot full) be rather a stunner. The amount of unmarked police cars was just as crazy.

Look here:

Look at them all!
I stood there watching more and more state police cruisers come quietly in, lights flashing and part way down the road they went. There were police in bullet proof vests with machine guns and all this began to register in me brain that something be greatly amiss. I had never seen a police presence like that in a remote area. A city yes, but out here in the sticks?

The reason became clear later, but at that time I had no clue. Watching the police turn away the occasional vehicle from the road and horseback rider, made me more curious. I will say a heavy police presence was not the way I thought I'd meet me neighbours but that's what happened. A man who lives two long distances away from me, came up and told me what he thought was happening.

"Some guy is barricaded in someones house down there. He's waving a gun and this is the result."

Then the guy's wife came up looking for the hubby and says, "No, I heard he has kidnapped a small child."

Well then, that explained it more. But neither of those were true though they both had an ounce of truth in them I found out later.

Then the policeman waving the occasional car away started walking towards us. I thought he would tell us to disperse but he asked if any one of us owned the house way back in the woods. I said I did and he said they were evacuating me neighbour across the way and could she and her kiddos stay with us. Well certainly says I. But she decided instead, like a typical woman, to go shopping!

Me neighbour standing next to me asked the officer what was going on and he said something about a high speed chase gone very wrong and that was it.

It wasn't five minutes later, me neighbour on me other side came up and said he heard on his police scanner (I know some people have nothing better to do) that the man who lived down the road was involved in a road rage incident and was holed up in his abode.

We were all so confused as to what was really going on. Then to our utter astonishment an armoured police tank came rolling in. Holy Moly was this guy a terrorist? Had we got it wrong?

Look here:

Tank arrives

How many terrorists were there? That's what me neighbours wife asked, her eyes bugging out of her head. Was there a militia gone wrong down there? This is the Live Free or Die state. Who knew? We watched as the armoured vehicle made its way a little down the road.

Armoured Vehicle on its way down the road
For all appearances with so many unmarked cars it looked like a party gone wrong, but those cars, make no mistake, were police. An ambulance rolled on by and we were primed for gunfire to start.  Whatever was going on it did not look good.

The interesting thing was we couldn't see but maybe three heavily armed officers, the rest had surrounded the house which was deep in the woods as is almost all the homes where I live. We had no view of anything for the trees and being the homes are acres apart, it is hard to hear or see anything. So we were mostly still in the dark, though we were more apt to believe we had terrorist in our midst, but that didn't make much sense, there is no one out here! Unless there was covert activity. I tell ya we were all talking crazy by this time.

This went on for hours and as it happened, more neighbours came out of the woods with lawn chairs and bottles of beer to watch the show. I was stunned. The officer keeping watch on the road didn't seem to care he was too busy with the situation at hand. I was gobsmacked at the party atmosphere that was taken hold on a possible dangerous situation not far from us. I tell ya! Americans -- anything for a gathering to socialise!

I did find out a story about the same area of woods across from me while all the hoopla was going on. I was told a summer ago three or four males were running naked through the woods. Someone saw them on the horse trails and called the local authorities. They were arrested the next day, two of them from Rhode Island. How they were identified I haven't a thought in me head. But they were caught. Why they were running around without clothes, I also don't know and have not a thought on that either. Seems I have moved to an interesting and bizarre area. Who knew?

I thought with all the craziness of the chemical scare, the thieving beavers, and general silliness of me old neighbourhood, I was set to live a boring and sedate life. Not so R. Linda!

Just as quietly as all this started, it ended. No shootout, the man came quietly (or at least I think he did). The men in blue packed him in a squad car and they drove by our silent selves who were waiting to get a look at the bad hombre.

The bad hombre turned out to be a 85 year old grumplson. Seems the "incident" started in the town over from me. Road rage, yes the old geezer waved a pistol at a man on the side of a road arguing with him, and that man reported his ancient arse to the local authorities who raced up to his abode to arrest his wrinkled arse. Only the old geezer wasn't leaving the house and locked himself in! So there. After a standoff that lasted from afternoon to the early evening, the boys in blue negotiated terms that led to the unlocking of the door and giving his old self up to the law.

I ask you does this look like he needs all that police presence?

Watch out! (photo courtesy police dept)
I won't mention the man's name or where he lives as it is, he is innocent until proven otherwise. But really?

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

02 May, 2015

Got a Stair Lift Chair? I do! There are times . . .

02 May 2015

R. Linda:

The bad news is that Big Tony be extending his stay in Japan. That means the Dragon lady be extending her stay at me abode! Seems Big has pitched an idea to a Japanese investor and there is interest therefore, Big isn't coming home anytime soon. The Dragon took that news a little too calmly for me taste. She just shrugged and wished him luck and that was that.

I stood there looking at the hung up phone that she had put down and then told me her good news. I could not move. I was frozen in horror as she walked off. All I could do was look at that phone and try to will it to ring back that Big had changed his mind and was coming home to NEW JERSEY!

No matter how hard I tried, no ring came until I started to turn for the kitchen to relieve my stress with chocie chip cookies. I near had to scrap meself off the ceiling for scaring meself that I actually had the psychic power to make that phone ring with Big being the caller. I ran for it, I did.

"Ello?" I said near breathless with excitement.

"Gabe, it's me, I'm running late so ask your mom or mine to start dinner. I will be there as soon as I can." Click.

It was Tonya, who didn't wait for me to tell her the news that Mommy Dearest AKA Dragon, would be staying another month at least!

Dejected I stood there once again looking at the phone. I got it to ring, but it was the wrong person. I'd try it again, I mean I got it to ring right? Next had to be the right person calling. I closed me eyes and with all me brain power willed Big to ring me up with better news, that deal was done sooner than later and he's on his way home to NEW JERSEY!

Suddenly I heard ringing. Me eyes flew open and I picked up the phone and got dial tone. I looked at the receiver and wondered what the heck. And the ringing was still going on before I heard pounding on me front door. It was the doorbell, stupid me!

Feeling a psychic failure I answered it to find another bit of bad news, the Weasil was on me doorstep! Could this day get any worse? The young whippersnapper had found me and he complained it wasn't an easy task. He had luggage with him, two suitcases. That could only mean extended stay. Ugh!

I didn't get to say anything sarcastic or demeaning to him as the Dragon must have smelled fresh young meat because there she was hugging his skinny arse and lifting him off the carpet in her deadly embrace. The Weasil's face was like a red balloon as she slowly (in her anaconda way) started squeezing the living life out of him.

Somehow he managed to shimmy his way downwards and out of those two massive arms and threw me between himself and the salivating mother-in-law. There were a few merry quips exchanged between the two, and then it was he and I running for the kitchen to get away.

"I needies me a drinkie. I was all for a cuppa but after THAT I needies something stronger." Said he.

After one whiskey for me and five for him, I had the nerve to ask him to what I owed the honour of his visit. More importantly how did he find me. I made sure I covered me tracks so he couldn't, but there he was.

"Housie warming prezzie." He said, and unzipped the carryon he had grabbed as we ran for it.

It was a lovely bottle of Midleton Whiskey, aged and precious. I was gobsmacked, but then Weasil can afford such gifts. I thanked him and told him I'd bring it out for special occasions. To which he informed me any visit by him was a special occasion. I ended up breaking the seal and we both partook of the smooth taste of the rare blend. Heaven I tell ya!

It was as the mellow feeling of whiskey bliss took me over that the young scamp informed me his visit was for two weeks. He wanted to see the new surroundings and acclimate himself with what was to do in the middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire. I was in a pleasant haze when he told me this and I just nodded and took another sip.

It wasn't until 3 a.m. I woke up from me sleep to realise how long his stay was going to be and it coincided with the Dragon's and well . . . I couldn't get back to sleep after that epiphany.

I won't get into the scrappy and oh so crazy conversations that occurred to me and around me by the two "houseguests" but suffice it to say it was hell on earth trying to extract meself from their company. Usually where you found one, the other was sure to follow.

While being critized and belittled by one, and watching the other drink from the coffee pot, lick his plate and be as obnoxious as he knew how, I was thinking of building a shed out back in the woods just to keep me sanity. I know living out there with no amenities like in me lovely abode would be difficult, but I'd rather chance the bug bites, the snakes, and spiders than those two combatants.

I had been back in me office figuring out dimensions and how much wood I would need and got that down, so this idea of mine was ready to become a reality. Just as I was about to go buy lumber for me woodland hide away, and sneak down the back stairs before either of them could find me, I heard a strange male voice telling someone to get on and take THE ride up the stairs.

Ride up the stairs? Whaaat? I stealthily made me way down the hallway to see a man standing to the side with Weasil behind him (never a good thing) and I could just see Dragon's knees go floating up the stairs. What the heck? Now me curiosity was peaked so I went all the way down to find that the stranger had installed a Stair Lift for Dragon. Do you know how awful that looks? Certainly took the old world charm of a colonial staircase away fast.

Here take a look:

How lovely is this?
So now me new abode has an old lady's chair that goes up and down the stairs almost silently except for a slight hum. Me abode looks like a rest home now. Yesss.

Can you just picture Dragon with her pointed hat and shoes, holding her broom as she floats up and down the stairs? It is very spooky at night because my bedroom is right at the top of those stairs and I can hear that slight hum and I can just picture her.

Now this has been installed without me permission, but I was told when she leaves it goes with her (bad knees you know). Somehow I don't think it will. Anyway, for the past week every night that damn thing is in use when everyone should be asleep. It was starting to get to me that hum. I be a light sleeper, and so I was tossing and turning as a result. One night the damn thing was being used constantly and I thought I heard diabolical laughter. Finally, at 4 a.m. I dragged meself out of bed and into the hallway to confront her, but the chair was at the bottom of the stairs. Ah ha! She had to be raiding the kitchen, but really, it seemed like that chair would get to the top of the stairs and then go back down. Hum, was it malfunctioning? Going by itself up and down? Well R. Linda, I waited for 15 minutes and no one came to the bottom of the stairs and the Stair Lift stayed put. I gave up and went back to me bed. I must have been asleep no more than three minutes I heard the hum of that stupid thing coming back to the top of the landing. I wanted to fly out of bed and confront her, but I was too lazy. I meant to say something to her the next morning, but I guess raiding the kitchen wore her out because she was sleeping in by the time I left for work.

I did notice at dinner that night that both Weasil and Dragon had dark rings around their eyes, and both were napping frequently or nodding off. I wondered what they were doing that they were so knackered, and then thought - no way would they be together doing anything because . . . because why? Well, I thought, maybe Weasil was here to be fawned over by that rabid Dragon. Sometimes he likes that, but oft he doesn't. Who knows? Who cares? Not me.

Well, I had two more nights of humming Stair Lift and on the third I decided to wait for her. I heard the Stair Lift go zipping down the stairs, and then slowly it came back up before it went zipping back down. Then there was nothing for 10 minutes (yes, I timed it) before it came zipping back up. I crept to the keyhole and watched an empty chair go slowly down the rails to the bottom of the stairs. Did Weasil bring a ghost with him from that haunted castle he recently scared himself in? But as I pondered, the hum of the chair started again, and there was the thing coming into me sightline through the keyhole. The chair seat was laden with donuts, coffee, little tea cakes and sugar and creamer. Hands took the tray that lay across the seat and off the contents went but not before the chair magically floated empty back down the stairs. I was perplexed. Suddenly it started humming as it came back up with the Weasil sitting on  it. Hum. I opened the door a crack and watched him trot down the hallway to the kid's playroom where a light was flooding over the hall floor. The door closed and that was it. Weasil and Dragon were using the damn thing as a dumb waiter. One would ride it down and raid the fridge, the other would remote control it to come up with the food and then remote control it back down the stairs to pick up the culprit who did the actual raiding of refrigerator.

By riding it they weren't making the stairs creek, the hum was less noisy. Diabolical I tell ya, the two of them. I did wonder why we seemed short on goodies. Now I knew. But this wasn't the only use for that Stair Lift, it has three settings, very slow (as Weasil tells me so one can enjoy the scenery), slow (a little faster than very slow) and zip line fast (if there is an emergency and you need to get up or down in a hurry). However, I found out that there are two additional speeds, warp speed and extreme velocity. These last two are a Weasil invention he somehow wired the chair up for. Seems he and the Dragon have late night races up the stairs to see who can go faster. I tell ya!

When I found out about this I was put in the chair and seat belted, yes he added a seat belt. Not only a seat belt but I was fitted with one of those spongy neck braces you get for whip lash. And it was needed, he started me up on warp speed and I was thinking I was going up the stairs like me hair was on fire. Than he put it on extreme velocity and I came whipping down those stairs holding on for dear life I didn't lose mine, screaming like a girl. The seat belt kept me from being thrown out the front door or through it, and the medical neck collar prevented the whip lash that would certainly have come with the quick stop. There ought to be a law against fiddling with things like Stair Lifts. Further there should be a law against letting the Weasil free to roam. He needs to be locked up somewhere with the key thrown away. As for Dragon, I won't even go there.

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

24 April, 2015

What you should never do in a haunted castle

24 April 2015

R. Linda:

Weasel told me that recently a friend of his bought  an old ruin of a castle in Scotland. The price was very little, and well it should be as 3/4 of the castle walls were nothing but rubble on the ground. However, in the half standing tower I was told one could look over hills and dales and even a lough where the water rippled in the high winds of the Highlands -- and was as black as night. No not Loch Ness, but some other lough, loch, lake. If there be some sea serpent in that lough I have not heard, but it is ominous to look out at the black water, I understand, without getting a shiver up ones spine.

There is one wall and enclosure that is still standing I be told. And that if you got up on the half open tower (where the breeze will blow you about with no mercy) and stand upon the crumbling stone stairs, it be like one is experiencing a hurricane! There be a doorway up there that had been shored up that the new owner broke open to find two rooms inside the wall still intact. Messy, full of bird droppings, leaves, broken stonework, and such, the laddie spent a week clearing it out. He got a friend and they used mortar to restore where they could and basically got the two rooms into some order.

One room was made into a makeshift kitchen (because they had to have their food) and the other a bedroom of sorts. Well, the black lough in the distance and the high winds had so unnerved the other fellow he decided he was going back to Glasgow, he was done. He told the new owner that he felt like he was being watched as he worked, and he felt like something dreadful would happen if he stayed. Besides which, was that as he worked, he had the distinct feeling his ears were being pulled but there was nothing there! The new owner felt none of this and told his friend he understood (which he did not) and this is how the Weas got the call to come take the helper's place.

As you know the Weas be an enthusiastic sort he is and it would be just up his alley to be on top of a ridge looking down at the minions below (of which there were none), a black lake would not be a bother and as you also know, nothing scares the Weasil. I will say many a time the Weasil has frightened the bejayus out of me, but that is neither here nor there.

It came to pass that for two weeks the two laboured on these two rooms and the owner moved in, without electric, without a working water closet, without heat, without much at all but a lovely renaissance style bed and a few family tapestries placed strategically on the old stone walls to shut out what wind they couldn't mortar out.

A large assortment of medieval candle holders were got from somewhere and so at night at least there was a blazing two rooms in the old ruin that could be seen from far far away. At night with the aid of so much light, the owner drew up his plans for renovation. He had to go into Inverness which was some distance south and so he asked Weasil if he would stay at the old place one night to make sure it was secure. Secure from what I have no idea.

But Weasil being a camper and adventurer as you well know, jumped at the opportunity to stay saving him the long drive from the closest village which was some kilometres away. Well, it ended up being a lonely day and into the night the Weas was looking forward to a rainy, windy night of howling winds, and rain lashing the shingled roof above (which he had just finished repairing that very day), and all was ripe for a good nights sleep! Yes, it was, or so he thought.

Well, all happened as Weasil thought it might, the wind howled, the rain lashed, and he slept fitfully until the devil's hour of 3:30 a.m. He was restless and no matter what he couldn't fall back to sleep. He lit one candle and got out his mobile phone, as remote as he was he did have some reception, spotty that it was, but enough he could read his email. When he was done he played a few games on his cell and then bored, he decided to download an app or two. Well, none would download and as he sat cursing, he thought he heard the "woo woo woo" sound that goes without saying that the Weasil was not alone but in the presence of a spirit!

For some unexplained reason, his ears tingled and felt hot. He thought he felt a tug on his left ear but wasn't sure it was some muscle spasm from how he was lying in the bed. I tell ya a muscle spasm in ones ear? Come on, really?

Weas was able to Google for a very short few minutes the history of the place he was lying in by candlelight.

Now legend said that the former occupant of said ruins was a mighty and bloodthirsty warrior knight of the William Wallace era who cut off  mens ears and ate them for breakfast. He drank their blood because he thought it would give him more power and so the tale goes. Neither the new owner nor the Weas would normally be phased by such stories, but late at night, with wind and rain, sleep becoming elusive, and nothing much to do, ones mind might just start to conjure up the memory and that perhaps the stories were true?

What would someone like Weasil do in a case like this? Look at the ghost busting apps to download to his mobile phone, that's what. And that is exactly what the laddie did. He found one app that after several others, downloaded with ease. Now that in itself might tell you spirit was guiding that one app for one ungodly purpose, but Weasil was not thinking, which is usually the case and so he was happy to have the download.

Thrilled to the nines the Weasil set up his new ghost proggie as he called it, and settled back in his cushy sheets and goose down comforter to track the ghost. The app came with sound effects I might add and those did unnerve our Weasil to which he turned that off and let the ghost warning which was a pong sound be the only one besides that of the howling wind and rain outside to invade his delicate hearing.

He didn't have long to wait, for within a minute a PONG sounded and on the small phone screen there appeared a ghost floating across the screen and disappearing though the opposite wall. I would think that would raise the hairs on ones neck if the sound accompanied it. Now when you pointed your phone to the right the image on the screen of a square box room would zoom to the right and at first nothing. But when Weas zoomed to the left, BINGO, a loud PONG sounded and there coming out of the wall was a ghosty. Yes, and Weasil was thrilled. He tracked the image as it floated up to his ceiling and down to the left and then to the right, and as the rain and wind howled the Weasil's attention was rapt on the image, his eye lit up with a satisfaction that yes there was a ghost in his room!

For about thirty minutes the Weasil was thus occupied until another pong sounded and a second ghost came into the room. Well, this was wonderful to be able to track not one but two ghosts and to speculate who the second might be? An earless victim of the first ghosty? He thought so until the third, and the fourth and the fifth ghosty drifted in and well the Weasil after ten minutes was surrounded by too many ghosts to count!

The novelty had worn way off as the wind and rain got stronger, the pong sounds more frequent and the Weasil was steadily losing his nerve and virb as the spiritual visitors increased. Another five minutes and the Weasil had enough, but instead of shutting the programme off, he went into the other room and closed the door. Fumbling with his phone he got the torch app to come on and finding a candle or two or three lit those, yet the storm sounds permeated the kitchen area too making him feel very uneasy and as he had not mortared that room, the wind came blasting through (which made the relighting and repositioning of candles a real challenge, not to mention that splashes of rain came with the wind making for a rather damp Weasil).

Stupid is as stupid does and he flicked on the ghost app and the four corners of the  kitchen flashed up but it was ghostless. Feeling better, the laddie took some cold mutton from the ice chest and some left over wine and made himself 'a feel better repast'. After the second bite though, a pong sounded from his phone he left across the room. Weasil froze and debated as he sat not chewing, food getting soggy in his chops, whether he should cross the room and take a peek.

Usually nothing frightens the Weasil as I said before, but this situation did for some reason. Curiosity getting the best of the  laddie, he began slowly chewing and finding it hard to swallow from the lump in his throat, BUT the Weasil rose and walked unsteadily towards his mobile. He looked down and floating behind him was a rather large ghost. Was this THE ghost, the one that cut off ears, ate them and washed them down with his victim's blood? Holy ghosties Batman, but Weasil was outta there like he'd be launched off a missile pad. Candles left burning, sanny half eaten, wine on the table, wind and rain splashing in and no Weasil in sight.

Weasil told me later that the Google history on the castle, placed the victims being relieved of their ears in the bedroom and the eater of the ears would wait to be served in what he and his friend were using as a kitchen. Explains a lot he said.

The next day when the owner arrived he found the wind had blown over the candlesticks, the rain put the fire out and mice had eaten the left food. He was perplexed as to what happened to the Weasil, and realising the Weasil's vehicle was not at the footpath entrance, that something must have spooked the Weasil for him to take flight and almost burn down the man's new abode.

Well, Weasil has yet to tell his friend the truth because he says he's embarrassed. That's a first in my book because as we know from experience nothing embarrasses that lad.

I asked him if he was going back there, he told me no way Jose. That he'd rather be lashed to the main mast of Captain Jack's ship in a raging monsoon. Could it be the Weasil be really afraid of the spirit world? Who knew?

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

18 April, 2015

The Delights of Watching WOLF HALL with the Dragon

18 April 2015

R. Linda:

Fiona mentioned Wolf Hall which is a new series on PBS from England. Now I will say with Dragon in me house, we do look at a lot of public telly and not because we are intellectual British freaks, but because we are forced more or less by the New Jersey Dragon and the fact local tv be our only other option.

The aforementioned new series had me mildly intrigued as to what it was. The adverts for it never showed anything but a black screen with two voices or one talking. And what they or he was saying I couldn't fathom. Anyway, that was enough for me to deem it cheesy most like, but for the New Jersey Dragon, that was enough to be a gotta watch it kinda show!

Since I now live in the far boonies of New Hampshire, we get almost no telly reception and we do pay through the nose for the privilege of having a little tv, and mostly the stations we get are all local. Yes, can you imagine tuning in to the local news for the price of hogs and chickens for the week? And the advertising be just as bad with used car salesmen pitching how great one would look in their PRE OWNED PINTO! For joy, I tell ya one hasn't lived until one lives in the New Hampshire sticks. Who knew?

Where I used to live (which was closer to a college town and things like supermarkets were only five miles away, and having Internet and wireless was the way of things), I was living the high life and didn't know it. Now, I live in rural New Hampshire where everyone rides a horse to the general store (no supermarkets out this way, no indeed) and owns a truck, guns, and a bob house. It be an entirely new way of living in the past that I be somewhat gobsmacked people do and seem to like. The cable company proposed free underground cable lines to hook me little town up for Internet and tv, but the folks said NO. As a result, no Internet, no cable tv. They're idea of relaxing be to sit around the fireplace and talk! Have you ever heard of such nonsense?

Me kiddos thumbs twitch because there is no PlayStation of Halo, or whatever it was that they used to play on their now useless I Pads. Me wife has taken up knitting which if you know me wife, seems like the last thing in the world she'd think to take up. Me mam watches paint dry and I well, I pace the floorboards bored out of me skull!

So PBS be the only saving grace from Boston that has some kind of thinking going into it, even if after every 20 minutes they stop the programming to prod the viewer into a donation to keep the good stuff coming!

Therefore, we are now watching more frequently PBS than anything else since we own no hogs or chickens. Oh one more thing, the weather, oh you'll like this, there is a local weatherman who talks like he's from the hills of Tennessee who has viewers call in. The calls are all very stupid as his viewers will ask crazy stuff like, "Can I put the hogs out tomorrie while I go down ta da generel store fur a few of dem pickles cum up frum Rhode Ilynn?" Yup and then there is the poor sod like meself who calls in and says, "Please what's the weather?" And the answer is, "Look out the winder and you'll find out!" Uh duh.

Being driven to madness in New Hampshire, as I say, we took to the PBS station not at all minding the 20 minute interruption for donation begging. And they do a good job of us calling in with our credit cards ready, because they tell us, "If we don't make our quota, all these wonderful programmes you are currently enjoying will be gone." Yup, gone and we will be looking at the farm report or worse a black screen without anyone talking!

Back to Wolf Hall. There we were and on it came and well if you watch it, it is not about Wolfie's family at all (oh drat no bad arse happenings and flying bullets and speeding car chases), but a lot of non-action with lots of ponderous dialogue. And if  you are an American good luck understanding what you are watching. I tell ya! The Dragon made the 20 minute pause for donations a dream come true because she'd watch five minutes of the show and pause it to ask me and mam, "WHO'S THAT? What relation is he to that guy, you know the one that keeps doffing his cap?" And me fav question, "When is Thomas Cromwell going to become Oliver Cromwell and ride havoc over the Irish and burn the monks?" Oi, oi, oi!

The Dragon-in-law knows nothing of British history. The only British history she does know is the American Revolution and the burning of the White House in 1814 during the War of 1812. That's the extent of her knowledge, so watching Henry the 8th and Thomas Cromwell is way out of her league. That she's heard of Oliver (no direct relation to Thomas) be a wee bit of a miracle, though when I was asked to explain Oliver's connection if any to Thomas, the telly was paused for a good 45 minutes until she resumed and I left to tear out me hair.

"Thomas's sister married this old geezer (no names needed because she wouldn't know the name anyway) and they had a son and his name was Oliver and sometime in his life he took the name Cromwell probably because it was better known then the one he had. But he isn't a son of Thomas Cromwell."

"Then who's Rafe and Richard and who's the Jeffrey guy?" Dragon throws at me.

"Rafe is Ralph and he like Richard are wards of Cromwell's. Rafe isn't a Cromwell, but Richard's father died and he has no other family so he asked Thomas if he could take the Cromwell name and I don't know who Richard was or if he's fictional, but you saw Cromwell say yes. And Jeffrey be the true son of Thomas Cromwell. Ugh!"

"So who were the two little girls and that young woman who died, I am assuming his daughter and his granddaughters?" She asked figuring the pause button which I was hoping she'd un-pause, but no, she's on to something else.

"That was his wife and his daughters." Said I to her horrified expression at hearing that.

"WHAT? Was he a dirty old man or what? Making like he's a pious soul when filled with sedition and impure thoughts!" She throws out and un-pauses and we are back at it for all of two seconds she pauses again and says, "Sweating sickness?"

I made like I knew NOTHING about that, because I be not a historian  or a doctor, I just wanted to watch the show.  So yes, I left her with the misconception that was all fiction. I just couldn't do it. I could not get into a discussion that I knew she'd not believe anyway.

This went on and on and it got to be where I found getting up and dialing the station to make a donation the only way to shut her gob. I did it the first time because I was living in fear that I would be forced to watch Tennessee Bob's weather programme and the local yokel programming of rounding up sheep with border collies, how to perfect your turkey calling abilities, how to skin a snake or worse, tune into Betty's Improv Cooking Show where in the one and only episode I actually watched, Betty waited for her daughters to go off to the school house so she could go out and make short work of the pet rabbit and prepare it for that nights supper. The whole thing I thought a joke until the little girls came home and raved about the stew and then because Betty's a good Christian woman and couldn't tell a lie, she fessed up they were all chowing down on Rupert Rabbit, well, it was a bit loud all the screaming and shouting going on that I actually had to get up to turn down the sound before I finally clicked off.

I know it be all bizarre but I tell ya I honestly had no idea moving from me former abode to the boonies would make such a difference in me lifestyle. So yes, over the course of what three episodes of Wolf Hall? I have donated most of me salary just to be too busy to answer Dragon's crazy questions.

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

17 April, 2015

Don't order the whole milk unless you want to be driven to distraction

17 April 2015

R. Linda:

What is it? The day is gloomy with soft rain and everyone gets grouchy? Or, is it me, feeling good, happy outlook on the world, and just too happy for people around me? I don't get it. Just because it is rainy, overcast and generally soggy, is that an excuse to take it out on moi?

I came down to me family and everyone was bustling around. The kiddos were getting their snacks for school, Tonya was feeding the wee one, me mam was cooking eggs, bacon and making toast. The Dragon was holding her head as if she had toothache (her regular posture at breakfast), half awake looking at her coffee as if reading tea leaves, and there was I, happy to be alive and looking forward to me brekkie and ready to go off for a lovely day of work in Boston.

So I ask you, just because I was happy to be alive, is that any reason the gloomy among us must pick on me?

As soon as I sat down, the Dragon moaned because me knee hit her in her rather large thigh and it was a gentle rub not a whack, so why she gave me that dirty look and mumbled I should be more mindful of me elders, I haven't a clue. You'd think with the amount of meat on that thigh she'd feel nothing as I gently slid onto the stool next to her. Gees the woman!

Then me mam turned from piling the bacon on a tray when the dog did a speedy clamp of teeth and steal of a piece hanging off the edge of the tray, and swish she was gone, me mam hollering after her that she would beat the dog's rump she does that again and then she turned to me and hollered at me for not watching the dog. I was like what? I did not know it was me job to be on dog duty.

"Why don't you feed the dog and the cat, Gabe?" Me wife asked in an annoyed voice.

I got off me rumpus and fed both animals, even got the fresh water in their bowls and then gently and making sure not to touch the Dragon, I sat back down to sip the coffee me wife slammed down in front of me. You'd think she'd be grateful I did her job and fed the animals. But nooo!

Somehow I got through breakfast and out the door and since I did not want to be in a houseful of grumpy people, I decided to get me second cup of joe at Dunken' Donuts. Big mistake. I had me wee son strapped in the back car seat (since I was talked into dropping him off at daycare because Tonya was running late, which is fine if your name is Tonya, but if it's Gabe and you are running late it doesn't matter for some unknown reason). So there I was pulling in and I ordered me a large black coffee and a whole milk for the wee laddie to keep him occupied and not falling to sleep.

So I pull up and this old hen says, "White milk or chocolate milk?"

"Whole milk," says I with a smile at her grumpy face.

"White or chocolate?" She near takes me head off.

"Whole milk." Says I.

"White or CHOCOLATE!" She loses it and shouts.

"WHITE," I shouted back followed by, "duh!"

I sat there mumbling I didn't know whole milk and chocolate were the same. It just seemed dumb, I said whole milk so naturally I assumed white milk not chocolate. If I had said CHOCOLATE then chocolate! I was befuddled with this I was.

The woman shoved the whole WHITE milk at me and I pay her and she shoves the change at me, nearly making me drop it and the WHOLE WHITE MILK.

"Jayus," I say shaking me head at her.

She stood there looking mean and I noticed I was not being served me cup of joe so I remind her by saying, "And the coffee?"

She reluctantly gets the cup and hands it off to me and I grab hold and instantly the hot stuff is flowing under the top (which she I believe on purpose didn't press down) and there I am in me suit getting coffee stains all over me AND burning me manly unit to boot! I looked at her aghast.

"Move it along." She says with a snarl.

I quickly got the hot coffee in me cup holder to keep from further spillage and burnt skin. I did move it along because I was miffed at being treated like a criminal for not knowing that whole milk came in chocolate which I didn't ask for. I mean really, if I wanted chocolate milk, I, like anyone else would have said, one chocolate milk please, but if I say one whole milk, don't you think I'd get the white milk? Apparently not!

I was going to pull around and go inside and have it out with her and her manager if there was one. But then I remembered I had the wee one in the backseat and was already late for work. Gees! I tell ya.

Hopefully, the rest of me day won't be this ugly. I can hope anyway.

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07 April, 2015

A way to save your sanity sometimes makes you lose it

07 April 2015

R. Linda:

You remember the story of the missing fav jacket (see The Story of the jacket gone missing - 23 November 2008), well I reversed the angst to the person who deserved it after she has got rid of a lot of me fav old and comfy clothes on the sly.

As you know the Dragon lady be still with us and as you also know, she drives me to distraction and after distraction I drink . . . a lot. When that happens she usually gets the upper hand on me so I promised meself I wouldn't let her get to me. I have found a myriad of things to keep me out of her sight and occupied elsewhere and occupied so well I forget she's in the same abode.

One of me little jobs as I call them was cleaning out the boys mudroom closet last week. As with kiddos it was pretty disorganised and it held a zillion toys instead of coats. I boxed the toys, stuck them in the trunk of me car for transport to the transfer (dump) station to put in the "free for the picking" section. I also got rid of coats that were worn or too small and those many pairs of snow pants and old boots zapped in the trunk of me car. I got all that to the transfer station without incident and no one the wiser.

The mudroom closets looks like it did when we first moved in . . . empty. No one has noticed because the coats and boots in use are usually lying on the sofa or a chair in the living room. With such a clean closet I decided to move the collection of coats my wife has accumulated through the years that jam the front hallway closet so I can't even put one coat of mine or a guests inside it.

The wife had gone to work, the kiddos were all in school, me mam had gone shopping, and I had the day off. I had originally decided to enjoy me day doing absolutely bloody nothing. BUT the Dragon was home and roaming the lair so I decided to get busy to keep me mind from exploding. I knew it would be no more than seconds of her seeing me relaxing that she wouldn't be wagging her tongue at how lazy I be.

So I went to the hall closet and started moving half of the zillions of coats the wife had hanging there.  Now there were two or three of her coats I had used as packing material (you know the drill when in a rush and out of bubble wrap one takes what is handy) and well those three coats were so wrinkled and full of lint I decided to put them in a plastic bin and transport them to the transfer station only not to the free picking section, to the DUMP section.

I  spent half a day sorting her stuff out, rematching the glove collection that went along with the coats. Anything that didn't match or looked ratty I chucked in the plastic bin. You know those old rabbit fur lined gloves that once wet are useless, yeah lots of those. Then I started on the scarfs and hats, and in the bin they went, me thinking they looked beat to hell and furthermore haven't been worn once since I've known her. I also tossed some boots that I figured the heels were out of style, and why wait for the style to come back when I know she'd just go out and buy new ones! So out those went into the bin.

I had so much stuff I needed two bins. I got another one and un-crammed the first bin and put the really junky old coats in the first one and the ones I thought I could donate to Goodwill in the second one.  Out into the garage goes the first one and then the second in the trunk.

Of course the next day, Tonya asks "Where's my black rabbit coat?" Mind you the woman hasn't worn that thing in years. Then I hear, "Where is my purple coat?" This from me Mam, and the woman be colour blind and it is really a dark brown coat so half the time I don't know what the hell she's looking for. I said, "I don't know in the closet maybe?"

"It's not here, you threw my good coat out Gabriel!" Me mam accused as Tonya stopped and listened to this exchange.

"Oh no, I put them in the mudroom closet to make room." I said which I did put the remaining three out of zillions that I thought were in good condition. I also did not know that I threw me own grey haired apple cheeked mam's coats too!

"Why'd you do that?" Tonya asked on her way to the mudroom. Before I could open me gob hole she was at the mudroom closet inhaling loudly at the shock. There were the three coats of hers, mine and Dragon's Jon Snow cape and nothing for me mam.

Knowing I was about to be in hot water up to me eyeballs I said, "I likely put them in the basement to make more space, I thought spring might be coming and took the winter coats to the cedar closet."

"What cedar closet we don't have a cedar closet in this house." Tonya said coming towards me. And you know I am thinking GEES I've been caught! Did I put those coats in the trunk or in the garage?

Now when I was growing up me mam always maintained the one year rule - she'd take things out of your closet and save them in the basement for one year. If you never notice they were missing, out they went! Like most men, I get accused of tossing things all the time.

For 20 years I heard about the British Literature books me mam supposedly threw out because me da couldn't find them. One day me sissy walks in with a box of books that her husband found that belonged to me da. Yeah men loose more things than we throw out. Anyway . . . the mad rush of opening every closet in the house and finding not the desired garments but a lot of empty space begged the question where did the kiddo's toys disappear to and where are the snowsuits and boots, hats, gloves, scarfs, you name it it was asked about.

Lucky for me it wasn't trash day until the next afternoon. All I had to do was check the trunk, check the garage, but who is in the garage, but the Dragon, looking for a rag to dust with. And you know me, I be too stubborn to tell the truth that maybe I did toss the purple but really brown coat and the black rabbit to boot!

I tried to sneak in to the garage by crunching meself in half so Dragon couldn't see me on the other side of the car. But I got caught because me phone rang and I popped up in surprise at the sound and she seeing movement turned to catch the popping up and says, "Your friend isn't a weasel, YOU are! What you mean popping up like that? Are you trying to frighten me?" So lost opportunity. Before I can do anything more, the wife and mother are wrapped in shawls and getting in the car that has the one bin in the trunk! Me mam had an appointment and there was nothing I could do.

Yup bin gone to the doctors and all I can think of is please don't stop for anything and pop that trunk. Now I be frantic, well not really, me mam's is her old working coat as she calls it, had it forever, and it comes from a long line of the same coat bought every few years one wears out, the exact same one is bought again. I be thinking of buying her a new one, but then realise they are made in Ireland and that's not gonna fly.

I decided to take a walk in the yard to get away from Dragon so I can think what to do. I need to get in the garage to check the one bin but she's in there reorganising the paint cans. Oi!

About thirty minutes later I return thinking she's out of the garage and she is, BUT the bin is gone! The car though is back! Quick I go to pop the trunk, and I go through the bin and nothing! Neither coat. There is one looks like Tonya's rabbit, it's black but it's not fur. I think maybe I can get the cat to roll on it and get some fur stuck on it and well . . . no. Who wants to be caught in a lie! Even a small one ( and of course it isn't the end of the world in my mind - maybe the end of me life, but not the world just my world).

I go in the basement instead of up the stairs to the kitchen where I be guessing the women are all discussing me and what they will do to me should they get a hold of me. I walk in the basement door and there's the bin! Low and behold, there are both coats! I had such a guilty conscious, I drove meself nearly silly for no good reason. Well, that's not true, I had reason.

I suspect this is one of those common events that others have also fallen prey to. You get tired of tripping over something like a Dragon lady and you end up cleaning closets and taking things that belong to your mam or worse, wife, and say that's it! Out it goes! I be throwing THIS out! and as soon as you do, the spouse asks where it is, so you make up some story. SIGH.

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

15 March, 2015

Wouf! Near disaster for dog and dragon

15 March 2015

R. Linda:

I don't know what to do with me mother-in-law Lady Dragon. She refuses to give us a heads up when she visits, so to come home from work and open the door to her ample self sitting in me favourite chair, annoys me more than I can articulate.

For someone who has had both eyes rid of cataracts you'd never know it. This surprise visit I wasn't in the door more than two seconds she turns to me, folding the newspaper she had been perusing and says to me, "You moved to Clowntown."

"What?" I asked without greeting her since she didn't greet me but with a stupid observation.

"It says in your town newspaper that Clown Hall is now open. The renovations are complete."

I stood there with me coat half on a hanger and half off trying to discern what on earth she was talking about. Then it dawned on me, she meant the town hall was open after three months of renovations. Gees the woman!

No, I did not correct her, I let her think there was a Clown Hall because it be such a waste of me time trying to enlighten someone who refuses to believe she could be in the wrong.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of THIS visit?" I asked hanging me coat in the closet.

"Big Tony is on a business trip to Japan. I didn't want to be home alone, so I flew up here."

"Oh the broom be working again is it?" I said as Tonya told me to be nice. She had come in with tea for her and Dragon. I was told if I wanted some the kettle was still hot. I don't get served, but Dragon does. Ruffles me feathers that. I went in and thought to have me tea in the kitchen where I could steal a few cookies while I was at it and be happy out of the company of the Dragon lady. But no, no, I was summoned in to sit down and tell Dragon about me day which would bore her to the back teeth if I actually did that. Instead, I asked HER about her day thinking to tune her out as she went on and on and on.

I was elbowed by me wife when I did not give a sympathetic response to whatever the Dragon had been going on about. Turned out she has thyroid trouble and has to take a pill a day to make her feel like moving around. Seems she feels very sluggish and fatigued. I did daydream about hiding the pills and stressing her out to where she went belly up, all depressed and unwilling to move or run her mouth, but I know that wasn't kind of me, so I let it go.

"I understand your dog is sick?" Dragon asked me.

"Oh yes, she's got doggy overactive thyroid, the opposite of what you have, so we give her a pill a day too!" I said brightly, but both women caught the sarcasm. They started talking amongst themselves, ignoring me like that was a punishment, so I was able after 15 minutes to slip away.

The next morning I was in a fog as I usually am in the mornings. I started coffee and as I waited for it to brew, I gave the dog her pill. As soon as the coffee was brewed, the Dragon floated down in her usual haze and poured herself a cup before I could even get me cup down. She popped her pills open and took one and seemed to go into a slight coma which made me glad the pills had that effect, I would not have to put up with Dragon nonsense so early in the morning.

I was off for the week to unpack, so this morning routine became the norm. No matter how much I tried to beat Dragon to the first cup of joe, I just wasn't fast enough. The only good thing was the coma she seemed to lapse into didn't wear off until dinner was served.

By that Friday, I had a veterinary appointment with the dog. I noticed she was acting like she was a puppy, bounding all over the place, running around like a flash and more animated than I'd ever seen her. Very happy dog, adjusting to the new surroundings at last was all I could think. Her thyroid meds seems to have slowed her way down at first, but suddenly it was like a new dog was in the house.

I told the vet about this change and he asked to see the pills. I handed them over and he put his glasses on and inspected the label.

"Uh Gabe, you sure these are the pills you are giving your dog?"

I glanced at the pill bottle and nodded.

"Well, these pills are for one Mrs. . . ." and that is as far as he got as I grabbed the bottle and yes, there it was, the Dragons name! I had been dosing me dog with under active thyroid medication and Dragon had been taking the dog's pills!

Me first concern to the doctor was, "Will me dog be okay?"

"Oh yes, she's fine."

I explained what happened that both pill bottles were on the table and me being in a fog well, you know the rest.

I took Fido home and was pretty sheepish around me wife. She noticed right off and took me aside and asked me what was up. I told her.

"This morning you found this out? You mean for a week both of them have been on the others medication? We have to get my mother to a hospital!"

"No, no, the vet told me it was okay, just switch the pills back. Gees Tonya, they look the same, they are both black and white, the bottles are the same."

"The names are different!" She pointed out annoyed at yours truly.

"We will keep an eye on her if that makes you feel better," I suggested.

"No, we have to tell her."

"Oh no we don't. The vet said both of them would be fine, just make sure she gets the right meds." I protested. "You know what Ton? If we tell your mother she will never come here again nor speak to me, even though it wasn't me fault totally. SHE should have looked at the bottle she had and . . . "

"Gabriel, she can't read as it is. She thought town hall was clown hall. Remember?" Tonya pointed out.

"More reason why we should say nothing because then she'll be embarrassed."

A big sigh from the wife on me last try to not have the Dragon any wiser.

"You know," Tonya said, "she mentioned to me just yesterday she was feeling more herself than she has in a long while."

"See there!" I shouted as she shushed me. "Its fine Tonya both of them are good."

"Still . . ." she countered mulling it over.

"Not to worry, I'll keep an eye on her," I said as Tonya nodded and walked away. "Yeah, I'll keep an eye on her in case she starts barking."

Copyright © 2015 All rights reserved

14 March, 2015

Just gargle with chicken soup and you'll be just fine

14 March 2015

R. Linda,

I can tell you about this now, because it is finally fading from me memory, and that be a good thing. Being a not so good segment of time, I have been reluctant to revisit the whole fiasco, but you were pounding me about being sick so I think it only fair to give you a dissertation on just how sick I was, and how ill treated I became.

It started before we moved into the new abode. The kiddies were sick, Tonya was sick, me Mam -- not so much but getting there, and me just fine and dandy. Then the night of me being attacked by me mattress (see 16 Feb. 2015 - Don't Try This At Home -- for that matter don't try it PERIOD!) happened and soon after as we started the move, both me and Mam got the bacterial infection that wasn't a bacterial infection, but a virus, that turned back into a bacterial infection . . . you'll see what I mean.

So me Mam was doing better than meself. I felt the thing coming on I did, and made haste to call me physician's office to head the illness off because I KNEW from Tonya and the boyos what could be coming. THEY had gone to their doctor and were told they had a bacterial infection, here's a Z-Pack (steroids) and cough syrup, go home get plenty of rest and fluids and all will be well. And that be what happened. Meanwhile, I get nurse Ratchet on the phone from the same medical office, and she TELLS me, that coming in solely for a Z-Pack was out of the question. I got a lecture on antibiotics and how if I did not need them, then I shouldn't have them. Now all I did was mention me family had the sickness and I knew I was coming down with it as well. They were on Z-Packs so I SAID I know this will be bad. I did not say put me on steroids! I said I was coming down with the same thing, could I get an appointment? NO I could not get an appointment because I wasn't freaking far enough along in the sickness to need to see a doctor!

I tell ya!

I was told to drink plenty of liquids, get rest and eat light but sustaining foods like chicken soup. If my throat was scratchy tea with honey (sipping only, no chugging) would soothe the raw tissue. So this I did and I got worse and worse until I was coughing up phlegm and looking a right and sad mess. I was told by all "Call your doctor!" For all the good it would do me, I did not. I had been told by nurse Ratchet that all would disappear in a weeks time. I was now on week number three.

Then on Sunday morning (of week number 3), while breakfast was being prepared (at least I was told it was. I could smell nothing I was that stuffed up that when I rubbed the area between me eyebrows and bridge of me nose you could hear SQUISH! Oh yeah pleasant), I was in the upstairs bathroom blowing me nose while all were downstairs when suddenly a great dry and hard piece of phlegm came honking up to the back of me throat and I started choking. Literally it was blocking me airways and I could not breathe. I had me big fingers in me throat gagging me more as I tried to reach in to pull it out. I know gross, but . . . I was in a right panic I was, and somehow I managed to choke and hack me way down the stairs to the kitchen where everyone stopped and looked at me in horror.

I pointed to me throat and put me hands around it like I was choking meself to signal what was going on when they jumped into motion, and started chattering at me asking me things. Like did I want them to call an ambulance OR, did I want to be driven to the ER? Like I could answer them! I pointed to me coat and choked me way to the car with Tonya getting the keys, coat of her own and telling me Mam to finish off breakfast for the kiddos, she was taking me to the Casualty.

We made it to the hospital where by that time, I had stopped choking but could feel the obstruction still at the back of me throat which was making me gag. I don't know which is worse, choking or gagging. Anyway, me face was blueish and the receptionist told me to take a seat in the waiting room. Tonya told her I was suffocating, but she didn't care, it was take a seat! 

The waiting room was packed to the rafters and there was a notice that said: PATIENTS WILL BE TAKEN IN THE ORDER THEY COME IN UNLESS URGENT CARE IS NEEDED.

I was gobsmacked I was. Suffocation wasn't urgent? Apparently not. So as I walked in everyone was staring at me, and I was trying to keep the choking and gagging to a minimum. But some got up and looked at me aghast and moved away. They'd rather stand against the far wall than sit in me vicinity. This perplexed me terribly that they thought I looked that bad. At least that is what I thought. 

After two hours I was called to the receptionist's desk. By that time the "thing" in me throat had either gone into me lungs or into me stomach, or I was getting used to it lodged in me throat. I had no idea what it was, just knew that I was pissed off and knackered. 

I was asked why I was there, I told the woman. I even said, "I be suffocating slowly, it be hard to breathe, can't catch me breath without having a choking spasm." 

She typed it in, took me insurance information and told me to go back out and have a seat. I tell ya! 

So out I go and everyone who had sat back down after I left, flew to the wall when I came back. I was truly feeling like I had cooties. I had no clue what the feck was the matter. Finally, I was called after 45 more minutes of trying not to have a choking fit which was torture!

I walked into the cubicle and the nurse told me not to worry me eye will be just fine. MY EYE? Then she asked me what was wrong and I told her, all the time wondering what she meant about me eye. So she told me usually what they do for choking like mine, is turned the person upside down like you do a baby, you know hold them by the heels and pound their back to bring up whatever be choking them. I be over 6 feet and weight a good 13 stones, so really? I don't think so. That procedure did not happen so no cause for me concern. Instead, she went on about the eye. That the breakage of blood vessels would heal in two to three weeks time. Did I happen to see an article in some magazine about eye tattoos? Well, no I hadn't and I had no clue what she meant. She said I could tell people I got one. Again, REALLY?

I still didn't know what she was going on about. She left me assuring me doctor would be in soon. Soon was 10 minutes later this squeaky clean type comes in. He was about me age maybe a little older, and he tells me his name and shakes me hand and says, "That eye is nothing. Is that why you are here?"

I told him I didn't know anything about an eye, I was choking and explained it all again for the umpteenth time. He seemed pretty unconcerned and dismissed what I told him. I told him me whole family had a bacterial infection and that I had got it worse than the rest and here I was. He said, nah it wasn't bacterial, it was a virus going around. He said everyone in the waiting room was there for the same thing. He didn't feel inclined to hurry any of them in or out because he's been seeing this "cold" for a few weeks. Great. So he looks in me ears and down me throat and he says, me Ph isn't balanced and to go home and . . . are you ready (because I wasn't)? I should go home and gargle with chicken soup! Why not just eat it? I could gargle with warm water and salt and get the PH balanced, why chicken soup? For the throat I was to take a jar of honey and spoon it in slowly letting it "glide down your throat to soothe and hydrate" and THAT would help with the soreness. But that eye, now that eye needs no attention, the blood can't go anywhere so it will absorb back into the body on its own. Give this all another week and I'd be much better. Yeah right, I had enough. 

What kind of meds do I need? Well, not antibiotics and then came another lecture on how antibiotics worked, followed by a dissertation on the human immune system, followed by ph unbalancing acts caused by illness, what to look for if I should choke so hard I break a rib (oh thank you doctor for that warning), and water was the best remedy for what ails ya. Yes indeed. Oh, and chicken soup too!

I got straight to the point. This homoeopathic stuff was for the birds when feeling as sick as I did. I knew none of it would work fast or help right away. Maybe in a year after a straight diet of chicken soup with spoonfuls of honey I might improve a little, or I might be walking and clucking like a chicken and buzzing like a bee.

Don't take NyQuil it be all alcohol and will do nothing for you, he told me. Just chicken soup and honey. Tylenol only if you have aches. Well, I had that too! Gees. Mucinex? Oh no, that stuff doesn't work. Really? QUACK QUACK QUACK!

When I got to the car I looked in the mirror and was shocked. Me left eye was completely blown out. The white was red! No wonder the waiting room full of patients took flight. I was one scary looking dude, with a red eye and a blueish face! I tell ya! I had choked so hard I blew the blood vessels to Kingdom come and back. 

So I told Tonya all this, we stopped and got Mucinex and guess what it DID work. Not completely but it was some relief. I ATE the chicken soup I did not gargle it, I tried the freaking honey and I have to tell you the combination of the two be YUCKY. 

I ended up calling a new doctor, I got an appointment right away. I went in, was thoroughly examined, it was found I had a BACTERIAL INFECTION. I was given a Z-Pack and for the cough (which had developed as a result of the choking), cough syrup with codeine. Within the week I was much improved. But it was five weeks of this! It wasn't until that fifth week I had come to me wits end and called that new physician. Me only problem was the codeine in the cough suppressant put me to sleep and made me major sleepy, thus no stories on the blog.

That's the story and now you have all the bizarre details.

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