meandering simply

Friday, November 16, 2007

What Says Love

These are some answers from 4-8 year old kids asked to define love. There's some good insight here.

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too."

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."

"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him to make sure the taste is OK."

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore. "

"My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."

"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."

"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you."

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."

And a few from closer to home:

When Gordon was in grade 5 or 6 he had a pair of purple plaid pants that he loved. A drop of bleach hit them turning them white in that little dot. With a marker Gordon's mother colored that spot purple every time she washed those pants.

When I was sick, I had to sit in a vaporizer mist. I sat in Daddy's lap and he sat in the mist with me because it scared me.

Once I got really sick at the hospital at night. Mama came to the hospital and as she was running in she dropped her keys. She couldn't find them immediately so she just kept running. I was more important than her keys. I found out about it when a man who witnessed it brought the keys to my room.

Once when Gordon's family was on a camping trip things went from bad to worse to worser. After a couple days of rain, Gordon's dad told everyone to get in the car. He packed them up by himself in the rain while everyone else got to sit in the dry car.

Gordon feels loved when I touch him during an argument.

Hannah feels loved when I sew for her.

Rachael feels loved when she know she deserves a bigger discipline than she gets.

Deborah feels loved when she gets taken on dates.

When do you feel loved? or what says love to you?

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Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Some Saturday Sentiments

~~My favorite magazine is Mother Earth News.
~~Our fostering journey should begin in a couple weeks.
~~Did you know that a US citizen not living in the US is still supposed to file a US tax return? I didn't. How long have I been out of the US? 15 years. I've been catching up on US tax returns this week.
~~Yesterday I wore I shirt that I haven't worn since I was in Arkansas. It still smelled like Stephanie's laundry detergent which for me smelled like Roman. I smelled Romie Boy all day yesterday. I miss him so much.
~~The Canadian dollar is at $1.10 to the US dollar. I bought $555 in US bank drafts yesterday and it cost me less than $555. That has never happened to me before.

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War Eagle

Last night I was cleaning out my purse and came across the last of my US money from my trip down there.

When I went there I had a small wad of traveler's cheques. About 1 1/2 weeks before I came back home, I used the last one. I had a Visa and a bank card with me, so I had access to more money, but the money I planned for spending money was used up.

When I gave the cashier lady my last $50 traveler's cheque, she gave me $2.83 in change. For some reason I got terribly tickled right there. Stephanie was beside me and I showed her my wealth and said, "This has to do me till I get back to Canada." I laughed at my remark till I couldn't hardly stand myself.

The next day Stephanie and I headed out to the middle of nowhere to a gigantic craft sale called War Eagle. It's like really really big, but Stephanie and I didn't know just how big it was. We drove and drove sure we had the wrong directions. Then seriously in the middle of nowhere we came to this huge mass of tents, cars, parking directors and the like. We surely weren't expecting such a big deal. We had assumed that the place we were going would have ATM machines and be closer to civilization. We were mildly stressed by the overwhelm of being so much farther from home than we anticipated, the huge crowd, no money, and getting there just an hour before closing time.

We quickly shot through the big tents. We knew it closed soon and we had no desire to get stuck in the traffic leaving. Thus we rushed through the tents. War Eagle was amazing, way too amazing for one hour of shopping. But we were committed to not getting caught in the traffic of hundreds of cars leaving the middle of nowhere.

We were starving too. There was roasted corn-on-the-cob and I wanted one. I was shocked to learn one ear of corn was $4. I don't remember what Stephanie was thinking about getting, but it didn't matter. She had $1 in cash. I still had my $2.83.

Once we saw that our money would buy us nothing and confirmed that the concessions didn't take bank cards I said, "Well if we pool our money, maybe we can buy a tootsie roll."

We were in and out of Arkansas's biggest craft sale in 43 minutes.

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Anger Management

You've probably seen this. It's good for a little pick-me-up.

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?"

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right number!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.

When I tracked down Robyn's correct number, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.

When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an a$$ole !" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word ' a$$ole ' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an a$$ole!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic ' a$$ole ' calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?" He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an a$$ole !" and hung up.

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale " sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first a$$ole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the BMW a$$ole, too. I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?" He said, "Yes, it is." I asked, "Can you tell me where I can see it?" He said, "Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax . It's a yellow rambler, and the car's parked right out in front." I asked, "What's your name?" He said, "My name is Don Hansen." I asked, "When's a good time to catch you, Don?" He said, "I'm home every evening after five." I said, "Listen, Don, can I tell you something?" He said, "Yes?" I said, "Don, you 're an a$$ole !" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two a$$oles to call.

Then I came up with an idea. I called a$$ole #1. He said, "Hello." I said, "You're an a$$ole !" (But I didn't hang up.) He asked, "Are you still there?" I said, "Yeah." He screamed, "Stop calling me!" I said, "Make me." He asked, "Who are you?" I said, "My name is Don Hansen." He said, "Yeah? Where do you live?" I said, " I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax , a yellow rambler, I have a black Beamer parked in front." He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers." I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared," and hung up.

Then I called a$$ole 2. He said, "Hello?"I said, "Hello, a$$ole ."He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..." I said, "You'll what?" He exclaimed, "I'll kick your ###." I answered, "Well here's your chance. I'm coming over right now." Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax , and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover. Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd. in Fairfax .

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax I got there just in time to watch two a$$oles beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better. Anger management works

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Tuesday, November 13, 2007

panties

When I was with Stephanie I was looking at panties at the store. I picked up a set of 5 thongs that all had a phrase on them. One pair said "kiss me," another said "love me," and that was the idea. I pretended that I was buying them for Stephanie. She knew I wasn't really buying them so she enlightened me on her ideas on the pantie subject.

"I don't do panties with messages," she said. When I asked why she said, "Well if my panties are on that's where they're staying. If they're off, well, that's the message."

PS I'm sure some of you wonder if I destroy all my relationships with some of my blog entries. But for the record I clear most of my topics with whoever they're about. And since it's mostly family who reads this, I usually get the go ahead. Stephanie and I have a running understanding that when she says something personal she ends it with "don't blog that one." And another for the record, you wouldn't believe the stories that haven't got the "all clear." Now those are the really good stories. :-)))))

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Saturday, November 10, 2007

to the bank

Have you ever been broke and gone to the bank for help? The experience is hard on the self-esteem. I remember once I was collecting door prizes for an event and a loan officer at my local bank had agreed to donate. So I went to the bank to collect on promised donation. I sat in the waiting area and watched as the loan officer (let's call him Tom) went to the secretary and saw my name on his appointment list. He put on his most professional look and came to me with an outstretched arm. He escorted me into his office and I got the feeling he thought he was about to save my soul. He motioned for me to sit and as he got comfortably situated behind the big mahogany desk, he put on his most sympathetic, compassionate face and said, "Valerie, what can I do for you today?"

I realized at that moment that he thought I was there for financial help. I stammered a bit but finally said, "I'm here for a door prize." He had an epiphany at that moment, jumped up and said, "Well slap my face. I forgot all about that."

My point is this: It seems to me that loan officers at "lending institutions" come in two flavors; arrogant asses or syrupy saps. My Tom was a syrupy sap. But I've heard some pretty good stories about the arrogant ass kind of loan officer who acts as if he's lending out his own personal money.

I think we can all identify with the humiliation of being young and desperately in need of the bank's assistant, whether buying the first house or car, or borrowing to pay off the baby.

When Michael (my brother) and Lawana were just starting out they went to the bank and unfortunately got arrogant ass for a loan officer. (We'll call him Alan). I can't remember why they needed money, but we'll assume it was for their first house. After some discussion, Alan left the office to see what he could do for them. He came back and said, "Mr Callahan, are you aware that your bank balance is 15 cents?"

Michael is well versed in turning a horrible and humiliating situation into a comic show. Assuming the ass would enjoy a laugh as well, Michael said, "Do you mean to tell me we've not gained 1 cent in interest?" The loan officer didn't laugh. Michael then turned to Lawana and said, "Lawana I think we should get our money and take it somewhere where it'll work for us."

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Friday, November 9, 2007

Motherly Lucy

As you all know, I love my sweet dogs very much. Lucy is a beloved Basset Hound cross and has a most wonderful disposition. She has never had puppies, but certainly she would have been a great mother.

Hannah recently bought an expensive ($35) fake dog. It's a Rottweiler puppy that "breaths." It is very realistic looking, rolled up in a little ball sleeping, steadily breathing. She named him Hoot.

Hoot has a little bed that he sleeps in on Hannah's bed. On Hoot's first day here, Hannah put him to bed on her bed. Later when she went to check on him, he was gone. She mildly panicked afraid the real dogs had destroyed him. (The dogs have destroyed their share of people toys.)

She got on her knees to look under the bed. (Lucy's "private place" is under Hannah's bed.) There she found Lucy and Hoot. Motherly Lucy had Hoot in a protected spot by her chest lovingly licking him.

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pregnant thoughts

Stephanie recently told me about some of her unrealistic desires and expectations prior to Roman's arrival. I was amused by these as I did the exact same thing with every single pregnancy. I got these grandiose ideas of things that had to be done before I could possibly have a baby. Before Stephanie's birth I had to get above the kitchen cupboards wall-papered. So at 41 weeks pregnant (she came at 42 weeks) I lumbered up and down the kitchen counters wall-papering.

I was so tickled to learn that others, Stephanie namely, got these same weird ways of thinking during the last days of pregnancy.

For one, Stephanie insisted that her back yard be fenced before Roman came. She fretted and spoke openly about this need. Her father-in-law saw the obvious flaw and eloquently suggested that Roman wouldn't be playing in the backyard for a while.

Another thing that Stephanie insisted on was looking good for delivery. This tickled me too, as I rolled my hair in hot rollers and put on makeup before I went to the hospital for Stephanie and Christopher's births.

Stephanie told me about getting a new hair cut "for delivery." Post-birth she saw how silly this was. She said, "I don't know what I was thinking. I knew he wasn't going to come out and say 'Woe, are you ever cute!'"

I was amused.

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Mangy Doll

When my sister Diane was little, she had a doll that she was attached to and carried everywhere with her. Unfortunately the doll was quite ugly, clumps of hair having fallen out. Once a mangy dog appeared on the scene and my Uncle Corky observed aloud, "That dog looks like Diane's doll."

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