Smudge

This is Smudge. A kind of cranky persian cat that belongs to one of my neighbors. He doesn't come to eat at my back door like the other cats.

His owner is moving. I think they are going this week at some point and poor little Smudge is still here. Every evening he is crying at their door, begging to be let in and no one is there. He sort of mopes around, just out of reach so you can't even try to comfort him.

This morning I opened my front door and I could hear him crying. I went over to see what was wrong and he ran up to me and let me pet him. He ran over to his door and looked at me like, "Please lady, open the door for me!" My other neighbor Brenda was out there with her dog and I asked her what was going on with Smudge. Brenda is also concerned that Smudge is getting left behind. About six months ago his owners bought a pure bred golden retriever puppy. Smudge was replaced and now looks like he has been forgotten.

I have left food out for Smudge but he won't eat it. If his owner doesn't come get him this week, I don't know what I'll do.

A Visitor

Fifteen minutes can save you 15% or more!

Guess what Misha found in our house tonight? This little guy! We were sitting here watching T.V. when Misha went running in between the sliding glass door and behind the blinds. He doesn't usually do that. Then I saw something dart out and under the end table away from Misha. I told Tim to look because he was closest to the action. Misha was still very interested when Tim said,"what's that?" He shined his flashlight, he always has one at his fingertips, and reached down to touch whatever it was and it squirmed away at the speed of light and Tim let out a SCREECH!

A LIZARD IS IN THE HOUSE!!!!

When I was on the phone earlier with my mom, I thought I saw something dart across the floor but I chalked it up to a reflection from my reading glasses. But no, here he was, the poor little tiny Geico spokes person's California cousin, in my house.

Tim was on one side of the table and I was on the other. "I"ll scoot him towards you" he said to me. "What am I supposed to do with him when he comes at me like a bat out of hell". So I went and got some tupperware and a lid. One minute the little guy would scoot towards me, then he would scoot towards Tim, EEEEK! Finally the lizard made a break for it and ran towards Tim. He screamed, I yelled, "You big baby!" Now the lizard was under the stairs where the computer is. I wiggled a few things and poof, there he was right in front of me. I carefully moved a few things and trapped him under the tupperware. Then I had to get the top on without him jumping out at me. I went and got one of those stiff thin plastic cutting boards and slid it under. I had him!

Tim was already to release the little guy but I told him no, we need to take a picture of him.

So there he is, our little visitor in a tupperware. He had his photo shoot and I let him go in the bushes outside. Misha is still sitting post near the blinds just in case the lizard reappears.

I Blame the Wasp

It's the worst storm in October since 1960 something. It has rained all day long which is unusual around here. Today I worried about Emily driving to school in the torrential rain in Santa Cruz . I worried about Elizabeth taking Jim's class to Alcatraz for a field trip.

Emily came home early from school because of a power outage and Elizabeth and the kids got soaked but they had a wonderful time.

I was home just about to put Graham Cracker Brownies in the oven when my neighbor Brenda came to the door. I was talking to her when suddenly a wasp flew from behind me, past my head and was on the door. EEEK! Clever me decided to open the screen and pull the other door almost closed so the wasp would just fly away to the outside world and bother someone else. I pulled the door a bit to fast and it shut. CLICK....I was locked OUT. No one else was home, Emily has a key but she is in Santa Cruz. Elizabeth has a key but she is probably not back from Alcatraz yet. I was locked out. I started to freak out a little bit. I had changed my clothes when I got home and had flannel PJ bottoms on and a long sleeved t-shirt. I had Judy's knitted socks on and no shoes. No way back inside and it is raining, nay shall I say...POURING outside. The other thing that had me worried was the oven was on in the kitchen. My only hope for getting back in was my bedroom window on the other side of the house and on the second floor. Brenda went to get me some shoes at her house for me to wear and asked a neighbor if he had a ladder.

Brenda is little and has equally little feet. I, on the other hand, am tall and have huge feet. She brought me some of those Nike slip on sandals and they quit at about half way through the arch of my foot. The neighbor had a ladder but it wasn't tall enough. Another neighbor, Gary, had a big ladder but we needed to get it in the back patio. I couldn't open the gate because it was also locked. You have to understand that the whole time I am shuffling around because it is so hard for me to walk in the teeny tiny Nike sandals.

My neighbors put one ladder on the outside of the fence and another on the inside of the fence. Brenda climbed over and into the back patio. Then they put the big ladder up to the window and "Presto" she was in. She came downstairs and let me in through the sliding glass door to the patio. I was going to go in to get the key for the gate to make removing the ladders easier. The back patio had a HUGE puddle that stretched the whole length of the cement. I stepped in it and Gary said, "Watch out Peggy, your foot is going to get all wet!" I turned to him and said, "Look at me, do you really think it matters now if my foot gets wet? My hair is dripping like I just got out of the shower!" He laughed and said," Yeah, you're right!"

Tomorrow I am going to get a spare key made for Brenda to keep.

Painting is never as easy as it seems

Painting the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom.

Neither one is very big and shouldn't be a problem but, it's never as easy as you think it's going to be.

The walls in the kitchen need to be cleaned first. As I'm looking at what needs to be done, I know that the hood over the stove is disgusting and needs to go away. I went outside and turned the electricity to the kitchen off, at least I'm not a total moron. The hood looks easy enough to take down, so I loosen the four screws and wiggle it free. Damn, it's electrically wired. I know nothing about that so I guess I better put it back. Easier said then done. Of course I can't see well enough because my 53 yr. old eyes have betrayed me. I can't see where to line it up in all four corners at the same time. After about 20 mins of struggling and getting increasingly angry, I decided to ask Emily to help me. She comes downstairs and I tell her to put on gloves because the hood is gross and greasy. She lines it up and I hold it while she screws it back in.

As Emily heads back upstairs she says," by the way, the Internet is out." I said,"that's because I turned the electricity off when I took that hood down." She slumps her shoulders and says, "Ughhhhh." "Don't fret my dear, I will turn it back on now that the hood is back in place. You can chat away merrily in a minute."

I feel better now that I have sat here for a minute in front of a fan. Back to the cleaning of walls. I will do the hood another time when I find out how to do the electrical stuff.

More frustration awaits me I'm sure so stay tuned.

I moved the stove to clean the floor and wall behind it. Yeah, that took more than an hour to scrub that mess clean. I'm so totally frustrated at all of the work that's going into getting ready to paint, that I don't think I will even get paint on the wall before my vacation is over.

Sweat is pouring in my eyes and I have a big hatred for being sweaty. Every time I sit down to pout over my problem Misha jumps in my lap and wants to be snuggled.

more to come after I remove this kitty cat and take a shower.

Many days have passed since I last posted about my painting trails and tribulations. Little did I know that at that time things weren't as bad as they would be.
My first ambition was to get the kitchen and downstairs bathroom painted during my week off. HA, HA, HA! I must have lost my mind! I came no where near finishing either room while I was on my vacation. I decided to tile the wall that runs behind the stove. My cousin Mark thought it would be a good idea and would look nice. I agreed and went out to get the stuff needed to tile. I went to LOWE'S, the store is newer and nicer then Home Depot. I picked out tile and the tools I needed. The first few blocks of tile were simple. They were clean shots at the wall, nothing to go around or cause much trouble. Then I ran into a problem. A four plug outlet, this is where I wondered to myself why I let my cousin, who lives in OHIO, suggest that I tile a wall! Where was Mark when I needed him? In OHIO for God's sake! Too flippin far away for me. My brother Jeff then suggested that I go back to LOWE'S and ask them if they cut tile for their customers. Brilliant, yes! I called LOWE'S and I was assured that someone could cut it for me. I measured, marked the tile and headed for LOWE'S. A very nice young guy took the tile from me and cut it, for free no less. I was thrilled, not very often do things like this go my way. I finished that section of the wall and decided to tackle the wall to the right of the stove. That section of wall had another four plug outlet and a phone plate to deal with. I tiled as close as I could to the outlet. I measured and marked the tile that needed to go around the outlet and also the part that needed to go around the phone plate. Went to LOWE'S and started looking for the nice tile cutting kid. I didn't see him and I started to get a bad feeling. Another guy offered to help me. When I told him what to do he said, " I can only do eight cuts." "Pardon Me" actually I said "What?" Pardon me just sounds nicer. "Yeah, I can only do eight cuts". I told him the guy that did it the day before never mention anything about eight cuts. "Yeah, eight cuts and each cut is 25 cents". Another thing not mentioned to me when the first guy cut the tile. I argued a bit about the number of cuts. Kid #2 cuts some of the tile for me, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. He handed me the cut tiles and a slip saying how much I owed. I was angry, he didn't do all the cuts I wanted. He stuck to his eight cuts so I thought screw you and I left with out paying for my eight cuts. I know, I'm evil! I decided at that point that I would buy a tile cutting contraption. They were many different ones to pick from. I of course chose the cheapest one. I took it home and followed the directions and it promptly ruined a sheet of tile. I took back the tile cutter and told them it ruined my tile so they gave me a new sheet. I went to the tile section hoping against hope that I would find my original tile cutting saint of a kid. Nope, no where in sight and I cursed myself for not noticing his name when he helped me that first day. I found another kid from the tile section and asked him if he could cut some tile for me. He looked at my marked tile and bugged his eyes out. "Wow, that's a lot of angles. I can't do all these angles". I asked him why it was a problem when the other kid cut them with no complaint or problem. "He shouldn't have cut the tile because we aren't supposed to do all these angles". Good Gravy kid, can you do it or not? I didn't say good gravy but I did ask him if he could cut it or what. He said he would try. He started cutting and then shows me that it isn't working very well. He was scoring into the tile past the mark for some reason. He claimed it was because he had a 4 inch blade and needed a bigger number blade. I don't remember the bigger number right now. When I left LOWE'S the kid had pretty much ruined the sheet of tile I gave him. There was no way I could use it. I called around to places in the yellow pages, trying to find some place that would cut this damn tile for me. After calling about ten places I found one that would do it. I dropped it off and they said I could get it the next day. I went to get the tile the next day and it was nicely cut just like I had marked it. The operative words are JUST LIKE I MARKED IT. When I got it home and held it up to the wall around the outlet, it didn't fit. I was a tiny bit off, just enough off to make it impossible to get the outlet cover to fit. My mind started scrambling. Why am I so stupid? Why can't I ever do anything the right way the first time?
After much agonizing over the tile and the outlet it was decided that the easiest way to fix it would be to cut the bottom of the outlet plate just a bit. So that is what was done. The toaster goes in front of that outlet anyway, no one will see it, and if you are ever at my house you are not allowed to look and see if it is noticeable or not.
I tiled the whole wall and was going to go over it with more grout like the instructions said to. I pulled out the stove, applied the grout and went to push the stove back in and it wouldn't fit. It was like I had entered the twilight zone or something. The stove was in its spot when I pulled it out, but it would physically not go back in its spot. I tried and I tried and got increaslingly angry and started to yell. Emily came down and thought she could magically make it fit. Nope, it just didn't line up anymore and the worst part is that my kitchen is so small that I couldnt even step back far enough to get a good look at it to see what was wrong. I had an idea that maybe the feet on the stove needed to be turned. I tilted the stove and had Emily try and turn the feet. "Ewww this is gross under here!" "Be Quiet and Turn the Feet Em!" I cleaned the floor under the stove, but I can't clean the underneath of the stove. The feet got turned and like a small miracle, the stove slid back in. Another crisis adverted.

My Uncle Jim

My Uncle Jim passed away on June 21, 2009. He was a few weeks shy of his 88th birthday. It was Father's Day.

The picture above was taken in 1926. It is of my mother Mary and my Uncle Jim. She was 4 and he was 5. Tomorrow is the memorial service for Uncle Jim. My mom can't go. The traveling would just be too hard.

Kathy, my cousin and Jim's daughter, asked us to write something for the memorial, to maybe be read since we won't be there. Here is what I wrote.

There are so many Jim’s in my family and now we have lost a great one.

My Uncle Jim was a brilliant man. When I look at all of his accomplishments, it makes it very clear to me why I always thought I never had anything good enough to say to him.

I have to make it very clear that this was something I thought, but it wasn’t true.

Uncle Jim and Aunt Bette stopped to see us in California quite often on their way to or from Hawaii. Aunt Bette is a barrel full of fun. She can talk to anyone about anything. Uncle Jim always seemed more reserved to me.

Once, maybe 20 years ago when Jim and Bette were visiting, I brought my daughter Elizabeth over so they could meet her. Elizabeth, who was 3 or 4, had a passion for a book called "Are you my Mother" by Dr. Seuss. Elizabeth took her book to Uncle Jim and asked him to read it to her. I thought, Oh NO, NO, NO he won’t want to do that! I was wrong. He took the book, sat Elizabeth on his lap and read the whole story to her. He endured her many questions and funny little comments about the bird looking for its mother.

Right then my opinion was forever changed about Uncle Jim. He wasn’t unapproachable, he just needed to be approached.

I am sad to know he’s gone, but I am very proud to say he was a part of my family.

Photo by Rick Zaidan

Just Like Marcel.

Here we are again with another Misha story. This one took place this morning. It all started when I stepped on his tail in the middle of the night because he has changed all of his sleeping places. I never know where he is going to be anymore. He is usually smack dab in front of the bathroom door, so I was planning on stepping over him at that point. He fooled me by laying about six feet away from that door. Of course he was upset and I was sorry.

Ever since the poo incident last week, I always think I smell poo. I looked around but didn't see any when I got up this morning. I took my shower and Misha was waiting for me to open the bathroom door like normal when I was done. I went downstairs, turned on the kitchen light and right next to the litter box was a piece of poop. Sighhhhhhhh..... Well, I thought, this can happen. He could have knocked it out while he was furiously trying to bury it. I clean it up and do all the things I usually do in the morning before work.

I went upstairs and got my clothes, brushed my teeth and went back into my room to get my shoes and go. I was going to wear my black flats, bare feet in back flats. I slip my foot into the right shoe, lower my heel and ... I feel something under my heel. I quickly yank my foot up and out flies three pieces of poo.

The HORROR... and IN MY SHOE! All I could think about was that episode of Friends where Marcel poops in Monica's shoe. Funny thing is that episode was on the other night. NO...no, no, no...not funny, IN MY SHOE, ON MY HEEL...GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Why, why in my shoe? Is Misha smart enough to have gotten even with me for washing his butt the other day? For having Judy clip his nails on Mother's Day? For me stepping on his tail in the middle of the night?

I tip toed to the bathroom, cleaned off my foot and picked up the poo, again. It seems like that's all I do anymore is pick up poo.

I'm sure what happened was the poo stuck to his fur again and just happened to drop off as he probably sat on my shoes.

So disgusting!

Please, no more poop.

Like trying to handle a small mountain lion.

Look at Misha in this picture. Isn't he cute with his little bunny paws all folded up on his chest? Most of the time he is a nice kitty. He has his moments of madness where he attacks you in the middle of the night because your arm is coming out from under a pillow. He seems to think it doesn't belong to anyone. Your arm is now some kind of small creature that needs to be dealt with ferociously.

This morning he was in his usual place when I got up. Right smack in front of the bathroom door. I have learned to always look down when I walk around my house just to make sure I don't step on him. I took my shower and thought when I opened the door he would be still laying there, waiting for me to go downstairs and feed him. He wasn't, strange I thought. Then I noticed a little ball of something on the floor. Poop, yes a single ball of poop. I looked towards Emily's room and there was Misha, with his head close to the floor looking very guilty. I got a tissue, picked up the yucky thing and flushed it. Misha doesn't randomly poop in my house. He is a good boy and has always used the litter box from the first moment we brought him home at the age of two months. He kept slinking around casting guilty looks left and right. Great, this means it isn't over, there is more somewhere for me to find.

**** Emily, don't read this part****

I walked towards Emily's room and there I saw more poo just inside the door. I got more tissue, picked it up and flushed again. Misha was still slinking around. Not a good sign. He could possibly be in need of a "clean up" and if I make a move towards him at the wrong time, I could be trying to get him out from underneath a bed or something. I went downstairs thinking that his stomach will get the better of him and he will come down on his own to eat.

Okay, here he comes. I am sweet talking him trying not to startle him. As he walks away from me, there it is. Stuck to his butt! Oh no!

It's 6:15 a.m. and I have to be at work at 7 a.m. I grab a bunch of paper towels hoping it is just and easy removal with no actual water clean up involved. I hold on to his tail and lift it up, he instantly starts to complain and I can see that there is no hope of an easy removal. This is going to require me holding him under the tub faucet while I hope he doesn't make Swiss cheese out of me.

I put him in the "scruff of the neck hold" with one hand and grab the two front legs with my other hand. I tuck him under my arm so I don't hurt his neck and I head for the stairs as fast as I can. I put him in the bathroom and shut the door. I yell for help because this is not easily done by one person. If I let go of him or loosen my grip once the cleaning process starts all hell could break loose. I grab a towel from the closet, which is outside of the bathroom. As I slowly open the door with my foot blocking the opening, he is too fast and makes a break for it. Noooooooo! Now I have to find him and he will probably go under something and I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS!

We find him in Emily's room, luckily not under anything. I swoop him up again and head for the bathroom, turn on the water and start to wrangle the wild animal's rear end under the stream of water. I am telling him that if he bites me, I will not be responsible for what will happen. Misha is moaning and groaning and I am getting more and more upset because it feels like loads of time has gone by. Finally, he is rinsed clean but I want a tiny bit of shampoo squirted on the "area" so I can make sure he is really clean. Mission accomplished, get the towel and wrap him in it trying to dry him off as fast as possible. "Stop complaining Misha, you are the one with poo stuck to your butt." I let him go from the towel and he disappears out the bathroom door. I look at the clock and the whole event only took 7 minutes. Pretty good!

If Misha were a short haired cat, I don't think he would have this problem, at least four times a year.

Oh Wilbur.... (I think that's from Mr. Ed)

Older Gentleman: I THINK I HAVE SWINE FLU

Me: Ok Sir, Who is your Doctor?

O.G.: I THINK I HAVE SWINE FLU!! I HAVE PACIFIC CARE!!

Me: Alright, Who is your Doctor sir?

O.G.: I HAVE PACIFIC CARE!!! I NEED TO BE SEEN FOR SWINE FLU!!!

Me: I still need to know who your Doctor is. Do you have a Doctor here sir?

O.G.: YES, I HAVE PACIFIC CARE!!!!

Me: SIR ...WHO IS YOUR DOCTOR? YOU HAVE TO TALK TO YOUR DOCTOR ABOUT SWINE FLU!!!!!

O.G.: My Doctor is Dr. Blah Blah...

Me: Thank you

Say Please!

I'm sitting here looking at my chat list.
Emily's status says, "homework, don't bother me".
I can't pass that up so I "IM" her.

Peggy: then get off Ichat
Emily: lol
Emily: then dont bother me =P
Peggy: say please
Emily: pleaseeee
Peggy: ok
Emily: ttyl
Peggy: "open your mouth a little WIDER when you say PLEASE"
Emily: lol
Peggy: name that movie and I will leave you alone
Emily: Alice in Wonderland
Peggy: ok bye!
Emily: byee

Daisy

Last Saturday, my sister Judy had to put her beautiful, sweet kitty cat Daisy to sleep. It was a very hard decision, and I know it haunts Judy, but she did the right thing. Poor Daisy just couldn't go on like that.

Judy and her husband Jim are cat lovers to the max. No cat on earth could ask for a better life then to be part of their family. They will never be able to replace Daisy, but someday they might be able to make room for another very lucky kitty.

At last the sentencing is done.

Friday, April 3rd, 2009

8:37 pm - At last the sentencing is done.

San Jose Mercury Photo I arrived at Jack's house at 1:15pm today. Jack lives about four blocks from the courthouse in San Jose so we walked. The closer we got to the courthouse, the more smarmy the surroundings became. Bail bondsmen handing out their cards, coked out looking freaks everywhere. Criminals as far as the eye could see. Jim and Kathleen arrived just as we did. We went in together and took the elevator down to the courtroom. When we walked into the courtroom it was fairly crowded. Public defenders, lawyers and a bunch of very guilty looking people. Some of the guilty were sitting among us waiting for their names to be called. That was creepy. The more serious offenders were led into where the jury usually would sit. You could hear them before you saw them. Their shackled legs jingling with every foot step. Every one of them looked guilty as hell. One man's bail was set at one million dollars. He had been threatening witnesses in his case. Good Lord people, don't ever break the law because the people waiting on the other side of the law are frightening! We were told to be there at 2:00pm. We watched fifty some people get sentenced, but our case never seemed to be called. At around 4:00pm finally the judge said something concerning the Mayfield case. The whole time we were waiting, none of us saw Mayfield anywhere. His high priced lawyer was there, but no Mayfield. All I could think was they are probably going to ask for another continuance for some unknown reason. Then the judge left and came back about 15 minutes later. The Bailiff shouted, "All rise. court is now in session." Then Mayfield was brought into court. I guess they had him stored somewhere to protect him from us. The last court date, things got ugly when Mayfield's sister walked up to my niece Christine and said," It was just an accident you know." That did it, all kinds of people on our side started yelling at her, Christine was wailing and crying and the Bailiffs had to escort people from the building to their cars. We were asked who wanted to address Mr. Mayfield. I wrote my name on the paper and proceeded to listen to my heart pumping so hard I thought it was hitting my ribs. Jack said he would go up with me, I told him I would be ok. Jim was called first. Kathleen went with him. Jim started to talk, his voice broke and I instantly felt the tears rushing to my eyes. Then I said, NO to myself, You have waited all this time to let this guy know how much he has hurt your family. You are not going to start crying now. Jim managed to talk in a Clint Eastwood sounding voice. Whatever works is good enough. He told Mayfield that when Robert was born, his life was changed. Robert had made him a better person. Now a big chunk of his life was gone forever. He told Mayfield he had done a stupid thing. Kathleen spoke and said "When we lost Robert, it was as if the gravitational field on the earth changed. We can't find our balance anymore." Kathleen was great and got her feelings across. After the Blaylock's (Kathleen's mother and her sister Diane) talked it was my turn. The judge called my name and it was surreal. I saw the floor and felt myself moving to the microphone. I said my name and spelled it like they asked us all to. I was maybe 6 ft. away from Mayfield. I looked directly into his eyes. I told myself you are only talking to him. No one else matters. I had tried my best to memorize my speech, but I had to look at the paper a few times. I thought of William Hurt in Broadcast News telling Albert Brooks that he could not just read the news. He had to punch a word in each line to get his point across. So there I was, punching my one word, getting my point across. As I spoke, it seemed like my voice was getting louder and angrier. It felt good. I felt in control and I stared into that man's eyes as hard as I could. He looked upset and beaten. If he had looked any other way, I would have punched him. About half way through my speech, I caught a glimpse of Jack standing next to me. He had come to support me and I didn't even know he was there I was so consumed. When I was done, I grabbed my paper and walked back to my seat. Jack was saying you were great. All I could say was I am so mad. I guess I was pumped up at that point. I could have lectured that man for hours. When it was all over with, Jack wanted to get the hell out of there. I told him I wanted to say good-bye to Jim and Kathleen. Jim grabbed my hand and said I was great. That made me feel so good. I wanted to do it for Jim, Kathleen and Christine. I did it for my whole family. One other thing, in the courtroom there was a young girl that I recognized. Robert had been in her wedding about three weeks before he died. There was Adrienne, holding a tiny baby. That just broke my heart. There she was, living her life, having a baby. Robert would never do that because he is forever stuck at the age of 20. His friends have moved on, grown up and even had babies. That really hurt. Adrienne and Andy (blurry, sorry) (comment on this)

10:54 am - Summoning Courage

Today is the sentencing hearing for Mr. Mayfield. I am going and hoping that I will get a chance to say how I feel to him. Here is what I wrote: Mr. Mayfield, My name is Peggy Conway. I am Jim Conway’s sister and Robert Conway’s aunt. I am here today to finally say how I feel directly to you. Because of your actions on July 10th 2006, you forever changed my family’s lives and the lives of hundreds of our friends. Jim, Kathleen and Christine are not the happy people they used to be. You crushed that family with your thoughtless decision. None of us will ever hear another story about some funny thing Robert did or how well he is doing in college. We won’t get to see him mature or go to his wedding. Jim and Kathleen won’t hold his children. Robert is eternally 20 years old thanks to you. I don’t care if what I am saying is making you uncomfortable, or if you feel that it was just an accident. You made a choice to drive even though it was wrong. You stole Robert away from us and I will NEVER forgive you or forget what you did. Just writing that made my hands all shaky. I hope I can pull it off.

Emily goes to college

Sunday, September 21st, 2008

9:30 am - Emily goes to college

Yesterday Emily left for college. She didn't go to the other side of the country, she went to Santa Cruz. It's maybe 45 mins away, not far but far enough that she isn't here anymore. Just typing those last few words makes me cry. I honestly didn't think I would feel like this. When Elizabeth went to college, I was sad but I still had Emily. Emily has been subconsciously preparing me for this all summer long. She always had somewhere to go every single day. She also spent hundreds of nights at Erica's house. Probably an exaggeration, but it felt like that many. I think I can count on one hand the number of days she stayed home and didn't get in her car and drive off. I pretty much let her do whatever she wanted this summer, within reason. I remember being 17 was just about the best time of my life and I didn't have half of the opportunities or things that she has. Or maybe I just don't remember them all now 35 years later. I'm sure she will remember every little detail of her life. Everything is so well documented now. I took 20 pictures yesterday of Emily moving into her dorm room and I know Elizabeth probably took just as many. Here she is walking up to the check-in area of College Eight with Elizabeth and Stewart. I should have had Stewart hold her hand then I would have had a shot like the one of him taking Elizabeth to preschool ages ago. Waiting in line to get her room assignment. Thankfully we got there early when it was still overcast and cool. The girl in front of her is Cassie, one of her roommates. She has her I.D. card! Even though we got there early, Emily was the last of the three roommates to get to their room. Three girls in a room only barely big enough for two. She was hoping to get the single bed. Hurray! She got the single loft bed. Underneath is her desk and an armoire for her clothes. It is very close quarters in there though. I hope they can work out a way to move the desks around and make more room. A very daunting task to put all that stuff into drawers that are only half as deep as they appear to be and a tiny closet. Trying to make your bed while you are on it is not fun. I bet those sheets never get washed till she comes home on her first break. Finally success!! Phewwww, that was hard. Here are the new roommates: Nikole, Emily and Cassie. I hope it works out. They seem like nice girls. The view from the hall window. College Eight quad area where we waited in line for room assignments. Time to say good-bye. When she came to hug me, she looked like she could have cried. I know if she had I would have lost it for sure. It took all my strength to not openly bawl. I waited till I got home and looked at the pictures from the day before I cried. Oh my little Emily-Memily... You grew up... Way too fast... I wish... You were about this big still. I love you.

Am I the only one that cares?

Thursday, August 21st, 2008 1:53 pm - Am I the only one that cares? OMG! I swear that I am just about ready to BURST with anger! Where I live there has been construction on the outside of the houses. There was a company hired to replace rotten wood. They were there from May till just last week, so that is three months. For three months they were parked in front of my house with a truck, a dumpster, assorted wood, a port-a-potty (that stunk to high heaven)and a very unattractive chain length fence that was covered with a green tarp. Finally they left, a piece at a time. First the fence, then the truck, then the port-a-potty and at last the dumpster. When these geniuses left, they just pulled out of there and never looked back. They of course left behind, in our parking lot, dozens of nails, pieces of aluminum, strips of wood and general garbage. The parking situation where I live is bad on a good day and the construction had tied up half of the parking for three months. As soon as residents saw that they could park there again, they would blindly pull into the spaces and puncture their tires on all the nails that were left behind. I took my push broom and went out there and swept up all the nails and small garbage. The mailman came up to me and asked me why I was doing that? The men will clean up their stuff. I said,"Oh, really? Do you see any of the men here offering to do that? They aren't going to clean it up because they would have done it right away if they were going to." A few days later, the painters were scheduled to come but first they were going to power wash the buildings to get them ready for the new paint. The windows of my house are old and not water tight. I started to think...if those power washer guys happen to hit the windows with a blast of water, it could very well fill the window sill and go who knows where. I called the company in charge and told them about the window situation. Not everyone has new windows and I am afraid it could be a bad thing if the sprayed the windows. The lady on the phone was very surprised to hear this... Come on woman, think about it! She then informs me that no other homeowner ,from where I live, has called about this potential problem. I told her I have turned the garden hose on my own windows before and the water just runs in the window. She told me that maybe I should put plastic up on the outside of my windows. I said no, maybe your men should do that. I am not going to climb onto the 2nd story of my house. So they came and powered washed on August 14th. Nothing bad happened except that Emily was supposed to go help Elizabeth with their dad's house. We were sealed into the house with plastic over the doors, and couldn't get out. Elizabeth called on her cell and said,"how are you supposed to get out?" Emily was secretly pleased that she was trapped, she didn't really want to go clean the new house. As I was talking to Elizabeth, began to sound like her voice was coming to me in stereo. "Where are you?", I said. "Outside your front door", she said. Elizabeth managed to peel the tape back and let Emily out of the house. The power washing was fine, no floods occurred and on the following monday, they were going to start to paint. On monday the 18th, the painters came and taped off the windows and doors again and started to spray the house it's new peachy beige color. The next day they started on the trim. I figured they were going to paint the trim an ugly brick red color that I didn't like, but oh well. When I pulled up in front of my house, I was a bit worried. Seems they had only painted around the windows and not the trim that runs up and down the building. They had left that part painted beige. I was thinking, no way could they be leaving it like that! It look stupid! I asked one of the painters, and all he said was that he was painting it the way they told him. I called the company in charge. The painter was right, he was not to paint all of the trim, just the part around the windows and doors. Wow, I told her that it looked like crap. She said the HOA was trying to "modernize" the look of the buildings. I tried to explain to her that the painting around the windows was never going to look right. It is always going to give the appearance that it is crooked because the paint goes over a raised piece of wood. Talking to her was a waste of time, because she was only having the painters do what the orders said. So I then called the management company for the HOA. The man in charge of my complex is a raging jackass. I told him that I wanted to talk to someone about the painting and in one long bored breath he told me the name of the man over seeing the project and what his phone number was. Ugh, I hate that man. Then I called the the man in charge of the painters. I told him that I was very unhappy about the paint colors and the general job that the painters were doing. That visually it will never look right and all that. All he kept saying to me was that he was sorry I felt that way about it. He said I should wait till they are all done with the touch ups before I pass judgement. That it really was going to modernise it in an artistic way. Now wait a minute buddy, stop right there! I didn't say that exactly, but I did stop him and tell him that I come from a very artistic family and that I know something about perspective, colors and the fact that you can not "modernize" a building by slapping some paint on it. All that does is change the color. These buildings are at least 30 years old and to make them look remarkably different you would have to strip the outside stucture and change it physically. I mean please, I watch Jeff Lewis's Flipping Out!!! I didn't say that. The conversation with him went no where. I'm sure he thinks I am a raving lunatic, but what can I say. Then on Aug 23rd, I looked out my window to see two of the board members looking at my house from the parking lot. Ahhh Haaaa! Here is my chance to speak to the people that are responsible for this monstrosity. I walked outside and said to goofball #1,"are you pleased with the way this paint looks?" #1 said,"well, it looks a bit different then we thought it would." That was my cue to go off on them so to speak. "Really?, I think it looks like crap." They both looked at me a bit horrified. #1 asked me why I felt that way. So I told her and told her and told her some more. Goofball #2 stood there with her arms folded across her chest and looked at me like I was the devil or something. I walked them over to my house so I could point out the crazy paint job in detail. I showed them how the paint would never look straight around the windows. I then showed them how the post that supports the roof was painted two colors, beige and chocolate brown. #1 agreed with me that the post had to be painted wrong, there was no way that was right. Then I showed them how the painters only painted the face of the trim and didn't go around the edge of the trim to the wall. I said that is just bad painting and wrong. #2 said,"not necessarily." I said,"yes necessarily. Are the door frames in your house only painted on the face of the wood or do you paint all the way around? Those are the rules of painting. You do it right or not at all." I showed them that the painters even painted over spider webs. I will admit that I was not very nice and didn't give them a chance to say much, but this painting thing has made me angry and I was not going to let my chance slip by without pointing out to them all of the things that bothered me. I also told them how unhappy we all were having to put up with the construction junk for three months. Then when they finally left, they left the place in a huge mess. Nails and aluminum garbage everywhere. I told them I had to clean it up myself. Then I pointed out that they had not replaced the cement stops in the parking places. Blah blah blah, that's horrible, they will come back and fix that. Whatever, I asked why there were three colors being painted on the house. #2 spouts up and said she had picked them and that she had not held them next to each other, she just thought they would look good together. WOW...oh my goodness. NO ONE with half a brain would do that! Turns out the #2 is the "president" of the HOA. I told them that I was sure that they were thinking that I should have gone to the HOA meetings before these decisions were made. I don't remember getting any flyer about a pick the paint meeting. I have more to say about this, but will do it at another time. Too many other things are happening to dwell on this right now.

What I did today...

Saturday, July 26th, 2008

7:52 pm - What I did today...

I did nothing today, and then I thought I would do this. A Zebra Cake. It was a messy process and I don't know if it is going to turn out. The batter was so thick I had to add milk to it. They look ok...but we will see when it cools off and someone eats it.

Kelsey

Wednesday, July 16th, 2008

9:47 am - Kelsey

I had ten whole days off from work. From July 3rd to July 13th. I took it off mostly because of Robert. It was going to be two years since he died on the 10th, and I wanted to be off in case something like a memorial for him came up. I also just didn't feel like being at work during that time. The days leading up to the 10th were uncomfortable. Highly emotional and a feeling of dread that was very strong. When I came back to work on the 14th, I noticed my co-worker Kelsey was limping. Kelsey is the daughter of another co-worker named Susan. I have known Susan for 20 some years and she has two daughters, Dani and Kelsey. Dani is the same age as Elizabeth and Kelsey is maybe two years younger then they are. Susan stopped working at the clinic, but Dani and Kelsey are working here. Annette, my supervisor, was in the room and said to me, "Kelsey was in an accident last week and is quite frankly lucky to be alive!" So Kelsey started to tell me what happened. "Last Thursday, my dad and I were driving on Altamont Pass when someone a few cars in front of us slammed on their brakes. My dad slammed on our brakes and we swerved, the car rolled over and almost went off the "cliff"." Luckily, they both had on seat belts and were only bruised and beaten. I was of course horrified and started thinking about last Thursday, that was July 10th. Damned July 10th! My throat got immediately tight, I felt like I was going to cry. "Kelsey", I said, "July 10th is the day my nephew Robert died, two years ago." Then Dani showed me a picture of their car on her cell phone. It was an Explorer and it was demolished. Windshield smashed in and the roof looked like it was coming off. "Do you know how lucky you and your dad are?", I said. She of course knows how lucky they are. I told her she better be careful. Never go anywhere or do anything on July 10th, anyone!!!! Kelsey escaped with her life that day. July 10th sucks big time, I despise it more then I ever did before.

It's July again.

Thursday, July 10th, 2008

5:27 pm - It's July again.

It's July again. Hot weather and that horrible feeling. I hate July with all my heart. July means only heartbreak, sadness and tears. Lots of people love July because it all about summer vacations, barbecues, parties and fireworks. To me it is the month my family lost Jackie and Robert. Two of my nephews. Jackie was 18 and Robert was 20 when their lives ended tragically. Jackie died 19 years ago July 3rd. He has been gone longer then he was alive. Today is the 2nd anniversary of the day we lost Robert, but we didn't find out till July 11th. I was called at about 4:15 am and I swear to you, every time the phone rings now I still have a bit of dread. I still have to remind myself that they are gone. When I look at pictures of them, for a split second I forget and then bang, there it is again. How can it be true? It's crap, I don't like this but it will never go away. This is a bad month. I hate you July

That just irritates me, and other things...

Friday, August 25th, 2006

10:40 am - That just irritates me, and other things...

When I am at work, sometimes I get irritated with the people that call there. It all ranges from people that don't know what they want, people that say crazy things, and people that don't have any clue how to speak english, even though english is their native tongue. I am surrounded by people that say," where are you at?" and other things that make my skin crawl. Double negatives and poor grammar are everywhere and I am not saying that I am perfect, but come on! Recently, I have noticed a new word that has been created by the masses. I just want to scream every time I hear it. I don't even know how to spell it, because it isn't even a word. "You-guys-ses or Your-guys-ses" is how it sounds. I suppose it is being used instead of saying "yours", I just hate it. People that work in this clinic say it, people that work at Stanford say it. It is all around me and it is so tempting to correct them, but I am afraid I will get in trouble if I do. Speaking of getting in trouble, I just had a caller tell me that I am rude. Funny thing is, I wasn't being rude. I answered and the caller asked me if I was Lizette. "No, this is the operator, who are you trying to reach?", I said. "I'm just trying to reach the front desk", she said. I was writing something as I was talking, so I hadn't looked at the screen to see where the call had come from. As far as I was concerned it was a patient calling in. As I was clicking on the directory screen, the girl on the line said to someone on her end,"she is rude!" Then I noticed that the call was from inside the clinic. I said,"I was not being rude, I was asking you who you were trying to reach." "No", she says, "you are rude, what is your name?" I hate this exchange, It is always so tempting to say another name or to really show them what rude is. "My name is Peggy", I said. Then she tells me again that I am rude and that she can dial what she needs herself. "Fine", I said. Oops, I guess that was rude. I had am amusing call the other day. A father called in and said that his child had just eaten kitty litter. GAHHHH! He said the name of his child's Dr. and I rang the office. YUCK...kitty litter?!? Do you watch your child at all? What would possess a child or anyone for that matter, to put their hand in "there", pull out some "litter" and eat it? You know the odds of that litter box being brand new, and the litter clean as a whistle, are slim to none. Litter expands and clumps when it gets wet, UGH, the whole thing is just gross. I know you can't watch your child every second. When Emily was small, I don't think she could even talk, she stuck TIC TACS up her nose. I remember she was crying and I was trying to figure out what was wrong. I knelt on the floor to ask her what was the matter, and every time she exhaled, I could smell mint. Strange I thought. What did she do, eat the tube of toothpaste? Tears were streaming down her face and I couldn't see what the problem was. Suddenly she coughed and little white things shot out of her mouth. I asked her where did she put these things and she pointed to her nose. Elizabeth never stuck anything up her nose. She cut her hair one time though. She was about kindergarten age, and I was cleaning up her coloring books and things one day. As I was gathering the assorted stuff, I saw a paper towel or kleenex neatly laying on the floor. I lifted it up and there was a big bunch of pretty blond hair. I called Elizabeth's name and didn't know what to expect when she walked in the room. It was a lot of hair, I hoped that she hadn't chopped it from the top of her head or something. She walked up to me, and I could see where she had cut it. It was right where her bangs stopped and her hair was long. "What happened to your hair?", I asked her. "It was in the way, so I cut it off", she said. I still have that clump of hair in a ziploc bag. My sister Judy bought Elizabeth a beautiful doll when she was about 5. It was like a fancy rag doll with a cloth face and body. She had button eyes and yellow yarn for her hair. Her dress was white eyelet. One day I noticed the dolls legs kind of sticking out from under a mound of Elizabeth's toys. As I was putting the toys away, I could see that the doll's head was in a brown paper bag, like a lunch bag. I took the bag off the doll's head, and the doll had make up all over her face. Oh Crap, I thought, this doll was expensive I'm sure, and she had lipstick and who knows what all over her face. It wasn't just randomly on her face though. It looked like Elizabeth was trying to put make up on the doll. When I asked Elizabeth about the doll, her first response was, don't tell Judy. She put the make up on and thought she could take it off. We didn't tell Judy about that for a long time. We still have the doll. The 23rd was my Mom's birthday, the 22nd was Kevin's, the 17th was Jim B's, uncle Abe's was the 13th, cousin Rick's was the 3rd, Ben's was the 15th, cousin John's was Aug 4th, cousin Morganna's was the 16th, my Grandma King's was Aug. 17 and she would have been 111! In other words, birthday season has begun in our family. I am not in the mood at all this year. Robert's death has changed everything, and I just don't see any point in birthdays anymore. I am still upset, still crying about Robert. It's not a steady stream of tears, but it is a feeling that is always there. I think about all that happened and I have to remind myself that it is real and then the tears start. It is like a gnawing feeling, or a rush of reality that sweeps over me. It is strange and I hate it. I look at his pictures on my computer and I can't believe it. Ever since all this happened, I have had a lump on the lower left side of my head. When my Dad died in 1980, I had the same thing and I was told by a Dr. that it was from stress. Lymph nodes that had gone crazy due to grief. This current lump has been getting bigger and my scalp has been all broken out too. I decided to go to the Dr. the other day, to see what was going on with my head. I started to wonder if maybe I had some kind of infection or maybe something worse. I don't remember my head hurting like this when my Dad died. The Dr. felt my head and when she got to the spot where the big lump was she said, "Wow, that IS a big lump!" Yeah , I know!!! She knew about Robert already because she is my Mom's Dr. too and we called about Mom's blood pressure the day we found out about Robert. I started to tell the Dr. that I thought this was all do to grief over Robert, and I started to cry. "See", I told her, "look at me, I can cry at the drop of a hat!" She gave me some amoxicillin because she thought that maybe there was an infection going on. She told me that grief is hard on a persons body and the way that Robert died was so horrible that it is hard for us to cope. It is such a shock. So I have been trying to not cry so much to see if my head bump will recede and not explode. I can't not cry, I just can't. I look at Robert's Legacy book online everyday. On the 23rd Kathleen wrote in it and what she wrote made me sob. I just don't know how Jim and Kathleen can go on day to day. I am heartbroken, crying, filled with grief and I am Robert's aunt, not his mother, his sister or his father. I can not imagine how horrible it is for them. Emily has gone back to school, Elizabeth went to Canada, people are having birthdays. Life keeps going on. Judy and Jim had a BBQ at their house on the 19th. My first thought was of Robert. Robert won't be there, even if he had nothing else to do, he won't be there. I gave Jim the stuff I got from the Giants for him, it made him cry when he saw the Giants hat. Robert had one like it. The BBQ was nice, it was good to see everyone and the food was great. I just miss Robert.