June 13, 2008
Well, school is out! (insert falsely bright, slightly maniacal grin here) Now I have to make all of these annoying adjustments to my schedule. For instance: during school my morning consists of getting The Buddha out of bed. This takes thirty minutes. Exactly thirty minutes. No more, no less. He takes five-five more minutes-es. Then one five minute long “I AM UP.” After that he emerges from his room and begins his morning ritual that ends with “OMG we have to go or I’ll miss the bus!!!!!” followed by a mad dash for the door.
Fifteen minutes into his getting ready time Princess Bella gets up. Before her feet hit the floor she is arguing about what kind of cereal she wants. She doesn’t necessarily argue with anyone in particular, it is mostly directed into the cosmos. However if you are unfortunate enough to align yourself with her eyes, she will focus on you and you will then become the recipient of her morning venom. Too bad for you today!
Bella’s morning routine consists of being displeased, argumentative, and surly about everything and anything that she can possibly conceive of regardless of whether it has any bearing on school, getting ready for school, on herself, her clothing, her city, state, country, hemisphere, or even her region of the Milky Way. By the time her bus leaves she is usually screaming bloody murder that she absolutely MUST HAVE THAT AXE HANDLE FOR SCHOOL HER TEACHER SAID SO!!!!
And so we begin another lovely before school day! 🙂
By the time they are both safely on the bus, exactly one and one half hours have gone by and it is time for my nap!
Oh, but now school is out. They will not be getting on a bus. They will be performing all of the above and then………*sob*……… STAYING HERE ALL DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scream. I’m trying very hard to maintain an aura of calm. I mean it’s only been two days, right? It can’t be all that bad! And The Buddha spent both days with friends. I’ve only had Princess Bella since school let out.
Yesterday I decided that it would be okay to just lay down and rest my eyes for a bit. That’s what we call a nap down here in the south. We rest our eyes. So, I found Bella a good TV show, ( I know, TV isn’t a babysitter, it IS however a great diversionary technique, so yall just shush up!) and I lay down to “rest my eyes” for a few minutes. After a bit I felt her giving me sweet little kisses. Awwww! That was so sweet. Especially since just a little while earlier she had been screaming at a glass shattering decibel about how she had to put mascara on the puppies.
I relaxed into a nice soothing eye rest. Oh yall! It was so nice. After about twenty minutes a knock came on the door. This creates an earth shattering hell cracking chaos in my house that you would not believe. DeeDee goes apeshit, which makes the puppies go apeshit, which makes Bella start hollering at them and at me, which makes me start yelling at them all to shut the hell up, which makes them all redouble their efforts because they sense my distress. It’s annoying to say the least.
It was the mailman. After getting all the cutthroat varmints out of the vicinity of the door, I opened it to see what he wanted. He looked at me in a mighty odd way. I figured my eye resting must have made my eyes puffy or something. I smiled and his eyes got all round and he kinda stuttered and said I had a package too big for the box. He handed me all my stuff, I thanked him, he backed up and still staring at me all wierd, he left. I was thinking that I must look really bad, I went to look in the mirror.
WTF???? Princess Bella……Dear Dear Princess Satan’s Spawn Bella. Those were NOT sweet little kisses. Those were skull, froggie, princess, ect,ect, stickers all over my face! Holy crap! She had plastered my freakin face with stickers while I slept…….er…….I mean while I was resting my eyes!
And here I am standing at the damn door with the mailman like it’s normal as apple pie to have stickers all over my face while I take the mail from him! ROFLMAO. And I’m wondering why HE is looking so funny at ME!!!!!!!!
So the moral of this story is…….summer is long. They are younger than you. Never turn your back on them!
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Posted by thought4food
September 22, 2007
Okay, that’s it for the sappy emotion.
I’ve moved. I’m now living in a house on top of a hill. It’s harder than I thought it would be, this not being a slob and all. When you have a nice house you sorta feel like you should keep it nice. My own expectations are exhausting me.
But it’s all bright and white and neat and shit. And it’s out in the open and the sun shines on me all the time. Except when the sun doesn’t shine on me. Then it’s only partly light. Or else it’s dark. That happens at some point every day. Go figger. Still, it’s very……(I’m searching for an appropriate word here)…..happifying! That’s a word, right?
I’ve started walking in the mornings after I put Miss Bella and His Highness the Buddha on the bus for school. *giggle* School. I love school. Anyway, I’ve been trying to get some exercise. It seems to be working pretty well. If you don’t count the fact that for the past 3 or 4 days I haven’t really been able to walk. My hip ballooned up and my jaw on the same side did the same thing. I had a tooth cut out there recently. Seriously, you’ve missed a lot. But I seem to be um, infected. EW! I KNOW! It’s all gross sounding to me too.
I’m thinking that I might just be allergic to all that healthy crap. Honest. See, I wasn’t brought up that way. We were brought up to be filthy dirty little heathens! That’s right, Mom! I’m tellin all the family secrets right here! We didn’t use hand sanitizer! We drank sodas ALL THE TIME! We ate the fat on our meat! OH YES WE DID! We ate bacon OFTEN! I SMOKE! We drank! And…..you might want to sit down for this one….sometimes we still do! We used copious amounts of salt on our food. We played in dirt. We played with our friends when they had colds. We did not know our physicians and their office personnel on a first name basis because we went so often. As a matter of fact, we went to the doctor’s office so seldom, that a visit there frightened us to bits! Uh huh that’s right.
I had my first X-ray when I was 14 years old! And I was so terrified that I thought I would puke! I have had many broken bones that were not set. I have had broken bones that I never went to the doctor for at all. We ate burgers from Louie’s! We followed the 5 second rule. We drank from water fountains, not water bottles. Sometimes we drank from water hoses too. If our ice cream fell out of the cone, we picked it up, scraped off whatever trash we could see, and plopped that bad boy back on the cone and ate away! No sense wasting the perfectly good part of a cone over a little bit of trash! Sheesh!
We ate food handled by people who never wore gloves except in the winter when it was really really cold. But never when they were touching our food. We sometimes faked washing our hands before we ate. We walked barefoot from the first snow until the first thaw. And truth be told, if it wasn’t for caffeine and nicotine I would be in a coma.
But until I started trying to be more “healthy” I was in fact healthy as the proverbial horse. The healthier I tried to live, the unhealthier I became.
I developed……….(insert doomsday music here) MS. My theory is this. As I started to live a more healthy lifestyle, my hyped up immune system had less and less legitimate work to do. Being an honest hard working system, it couldn’t bring itself to just lay around and do nothing. So it decided to attack something, anything. Knowing me like it did, it had a meeting and came to the conclusion that it would attack the most useless part of me……my brain. (wink) So it rolled on up in there and went to work.
But, being MY immune system, it couldn’t just attack like normal. Oh no! It had to do it in a bizarre fashion. So it went for my cognitive centers. My memory centers and pathways. Smart-ass immune system. On the other hand, it sometimes goes after me in the normal ways too.
As a result of all this I have decided to go back to my unhealthy ways. I’m back to eating the fat on my meat. I’m gonna go barefoot in the summer until it’s just too darn cold to do it anymore. I’m drinking water out of the faucet and if I’m in the yard I’m drinking it out of the hose. Maybe I won’t eat the ice cream off the ground though. I mean, I am almost 50, after all.
Do you see what happens when I’m away too long? I babble. I start on one topic and end on something not even remotely related. But I have this really cool built in excuse. I have drain bamage. Yeah baby! That’s what I’m talkin bout! *sigh* Unfortunately, everyone I know, knows better. *giggle* Oh well, it was a nice try.
But it’s good to be back. I’ll fill you in on what you missed later. Not allof it. Don’t be so nosey! Sheesh!
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Posted by thought4food
July 11, 2007
Global Warming Sucks.
What’s UP with the people in the van in Texas who gave the little girl X, then put a video of her tripping on the internet? It takes a special kind of stupid to do that! But it is more and more common to find video of idiots doing idiotic things on the net, isn’t it? Sad, sad, sad. On the other hand it makes the job of law enforcement so much easier doesn’t it? And it was ever so helpful of them to include the Christian radio call letters, too! Kinda made me want to spit up on that one. Criminy!?@#
Nancy Grace cracks me up every time! She’s a spunky little broad, that one.
Pedophiles should get an automatic death sentence. No parole, no second chance, no life sentence, no nothing. They are unable to be rehabilitated by their own admission as well as statistically, not to mention by proof of all the previous sex offenders who are out there offending again. We don’t have to go into all the names. You know them. Automatic death sentence. Just add water and Poof! Problem solved.
What is the matter with Robert Kennedy Jr.’s voice, anyway? Dude always sounds like he’s about to cry or hack up a lung or something. Ick.
Those dang ol Lowes stores have way too much cool stuff for your house. I get all discombobulated in there. I get way too many ideas in my head at one time. My ADHD gets all hyped up and it kick starts my MS and that aggravates my ectopic cerebellar tonsils which leads me to suddenly go stupid. I went in there with My Dearest Husband to get a hook to hang up a wooden thingie with our name on it, on the front of our house. This is going to take the place of him pissing off the back porch. *wink* So, since we’re there, I take Bella and go look for some pretty Portulaca’s to hang on the front porch, you know, to accentuate the wooden name plate. On our way to meet up with My Dearest Husband, we pass a really cool garden tub, which would fit perfectly in the bathroom. But, hey! Look! There are the perfect shelves right over there that we need to put in Bella’s closet to kinda keep her overflow of stuffcrapjunkpaperscrapsbitspuffswhispswhatsitswhositsyouknowwhatsthingies in check. And….right over there is a great deal on a counter top that someone special ordered and returned that would fit perfectly in the new kitchen! Woo Hoo! Whoa! Lookit that! It’s that great chalkboard paint that I wanted for the kids rooms! How cool would it be for me to paint their walls so that they COULD write on em? Eh? I’d be the coolest, right? Oh no it isn’t! Yes it is! It’s erasable marker paint! Holy Crap! AND Magnetic paint too! OMG! I’m gonna be the best mom in town! Hmmm I’m starting to feel kinda dizzy. I hate checkerboard floors. My heart is beating really really fast now. How come everything seems to be moving in and out like a zoom lens is on my eyes? Ok, time to go. What? Oh, no, I don’t want to buy anything. I just wanna go home. Suddenly I don’t feel so good. Dang ol Lowes store.
Iced Tiger Spiced Chai is the best drink in the world when it’s hot outside.
You should always marry your best friend. However, if your best friend is the same sex as you and you are heterosexual, disregard this advice. Also, if your best friend is of the opposite sex, and you are gay, disregard this advice. Otherwise, take it. And if I forgot any other exceptions, use yer noggin and figure them out. I have brain damage, don’t let me do your thinking for you!
I’m sleepy and I’m going to bed.
Oh! And I’m sending His Highness the Buddha and Miss Bella back to day camp for the rest of the week. It’s only three days but by golly I’ll take what I can get! I’m giddy with anticipation! Be happy for me!
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Posted by thought4food
July 9, 2007
Yes, thaaaaat’s right. School is STILL out. DAMN SCHOOL! These kids are driving me crazy!
Typical Day
Where are all the popcicles?????
Yall ate 43 of them yesterday. They’re gone.
I didn’t eat them! HE/SHE ate them! (various amounts of violent discord ensues)
That is what they’re there for, you both ate them. Now go play.
Pig!
Hog! (more discord)
Cut that out and go play before I send you to your rooms. (riiiiight! then they will be locked up in here with ME! Fat chance! )
Well when are we going to get some more popcicles? We need some more popcicles. It’s hot, we need popcicles!
tick tick tick hours pass with the incessant questions of popcicles. Finally I cave. We go get popcicles.
Are they frozen yet? No Are they frozen yet? No Are they frozen yet? NO Are they frozen yet? NONONO Are they frozen yet?
*sigh* Yes, thank all the Gods in the Universe! They are frozen!!!!!!!!!!! Hello? Where are you? The popcicles are frozen! Ya want one?
(In unison with a nice four part harmony..) No, I’m tired of popcicles. Do we have any ice cream? *SOB*
Does anyone know when school starts again? Haven’t they been out for a really long time? It starts again soon, right? RIGHT??????????????
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Posted by thought4food
June 9, 2007
Yippee!!!!! School is out! Last day of getting up at 6:00 am. Last day of getting surly children out of a comfy bed way too early in the morning. Last day of picking out clothes the night before. Last day of homework! Woo hoo! Last day of sick day notes. Last day of lunch money.
First day of sleeping in. First day of play clothes. First day of sandwiches for lunch. First day of time at the lake. First day of cartoon marathons. First day of lazy time.
Hmmm….last day of Dr. Phil. Last day of peace and quiet. Last day of time to myself. Last day of no fighting. Last day without non-stop screaming through the house all day long. Last day without MomMomMomMomMomMomMomMomMOMMOMMOMMOM.
DAMN! Last day of school! *sob* 😦
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Posted by thought4food
June 8, 2007
Teenagers ………….. *sigh* …………….. nuf said.
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Posted by thought4food
June 6, 2007
Buddha came wandering in the room Sunday evening about 7:00 pm with the news that he had been throwing up all day and his legs were cramping and his stomach hurt. You may think that the fact that I was so far behind on this information means that I don’t pay attention. Let me disabuse you of this notion.
First of all, Buddha is secretive in his personal habits in the extreme. He got this way when he was living at home. I’m not sure exactly what survival instinct led him to that particular behavior, but you will almost never catch him doing anything in the way of personal habits at all. He does do all those things like brush his teeth, take a bath, use the toilet, etc. He just does it all on the sly.
Second, his sister is the twin of the Tasmanian Devil. Being in her proximity is like being inside of a tornado that consists of blond hair and tiny bits of paper and chap stick and fingernail polish and puppies and shards of glass and blue eyes and bug juice and questions and clothes and makeup and arguments and chewing gum and an incessant stream of words and movement. It’s hard to see past her sometimes.
Also, on the weekend, His Highness The Buddha, does not like to be disturbed when he is resting. So I leave him to his own resources to decompress and do as he pleases unless I hear screaming or see blood pooling underneath his bedroom door. Flames, smoke, the sound of breaking glass……these will also capture my attention.
So, he tells me that he had been throwing up since morning. *sigh* I figure he’s dehydrated. I give him water with a few grains of salt. It all comes up immediately. I smell a trip to the ER coming up. I pack up the Tasmanian Devil, a few waiting room supplies, and Buddha. Off we go to the ER for a quick IV of fluids to re-hydrate him and then we’ll be home and that will be that.
Not so much.
After about a gallon of drawn blood, about three gallons of IV fluids drained into him, a multitude of tests, and a CAT scan, we find out that he has appendicitis. Wow. Into the hospital he is admitted. The surgeon will be there in the morning to talk about what we will do.
(insert ominous music here) The surgeon comes in and tells Buddha that he must have the appendix out. The instant Buddha realizes what the means he says, “Cut me?!! OH NO! I’m outta here!” It’s everything we can do to keep him in the bed. We talk and cajole and do everything but chase him down the hall and tie him to the bed. By this time his belly is hurting him considerably. We convince him that having the surgery will make his belly feel better and he finally agrees. Whew!
It all happens quite quickly. He’s in surgery in a matter of minutes. They tell us he’ll be back in an hour and a half, be in the room. When they bring him back up, he’s awake. I ask how he’s feeling. He rares up on the bed and yells, “THEY CUT ME AND IT HURTS!!” We kinda forgot in all the excitement to tell him that the surgery was going to hurt pretty bad right at first. Our bad. *grimace*
Once he was in bed and settled and the morphine set in, he informed me that people who were in the hospital get presents. He would accept a video game, thank you. Then whenever anyone called or came by, he would dutifully inform them of the same thing complete with his order. I figure that he’s already calculated what his appendix was worth.
By the time he’s fully recovered, I’m going to have to watch out on eBay because he’ll be trying to sell his kidney for a Volkswagen. A cornea for the downpayment on his college tuition. 😦 *sigh*
He’s home and feeling fine. He disappeared from the couch about two hours after we got him home. My Dearest Husband went looking for him, he wasn’t in the house. Bella said he was up the drive. Um…….up the drive??? Yeah, she says, riding his bike. We walk out on the porch and sure enough, he comes slowly riding back down the driveway. Just over twenty-four hours after his surgery. We’re standing there with our bottom jaws resting on the tops of our shoes, staring at him. He says, “What?”
Kids, ya gotta love em.
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Posted by thought4food
April 10, 2007
My dearest husband and I have the best friends. Wow! This one is going to be harder than I thought. See, it’s really hard to say exactly how great our friends are. It’s easy to tell about the kind of friends who come over on Saturday and drink a beer and hang out. Or the kind of friends who watch the Superbowl with you.
But our friends are so much more than that. If you’ve read much of this site you might know that last September our house burned down. In the minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months since then we have been firmly in the palm of our friends’ hands. They have kept us with them, safe and sane.
While Bella was in the hospital, our friends kept Buddha and Possum with them, bought them clothes, school supplies, etc. They bought us clothes. They taught the grand-kids that when bad things happen, their world will pull together instead of explode apart like it had always done in the past. Our friends changed the way they looked at their world and its possibilities. They changed the kind of world our grandkids live in.
We are their grandparents, giving them a safe place to land comes with the job description. Our friends are a different story. They didn’t have to do that. They didn’t have to do any of the things they did and they would have still been our friends and we would have still loved them just the same. But they did do it. They made a circle around our kids, all three of them, that made them feel safe and secure in a way that we could never have done because we were in the same boat they were in and at the time we couldn’t do it.
Now, our friends are the most eclectic group of people you could ever hope to meet. No two of them are even remotely alike. We couldn’t have gone out with the intention of picking completely different people for friends and done as good a job. And yet, they are all remarkably alike in several respects. They are all fantastic people. They are all interesting. They are all interested. They are all intelligent in the extreme. They are all fun and funny. They are all thoughtful and kind. They all have remarkably different personalities. Some are shy, some are extroverted, some are hyper, some are laid back, some are psycho, (ok, I’m in that category) some are insanely sane.
But when push comes to shove, we move like a well oiled machine. We have gone from single, to married, job to job, dating to parents, and now to grandparents. And we are still here, still together, still a unit. Sometimes we see each other more often, sometimes less, but we are always in each others thoughts and we are always in each others hearts.
We all have our faults and our quirks. We like that about each other. It’s those very things that make us all unique and intriguing to each other. We have differences of opinion. That’s what makes a horse-race. We like that too. We’ve all made mistakes. That’s why they put erasers on pencils. That’s just one more way we’re all alike. We learn from each other. I can learn more from one night with my friends than I can from 6 days on the Internet. And that’s saying something. I’ve been to the end of the Internet and back several times now.
I’m the oldest of everyone. The youngest of our friends is about 30 years younger than me. That gives a pretty broad range of perspectives.
I wouldn’t trade our friends for anything on the face of this earth. Not one thing. Because as long as we have them and each other, there is nothing else we need, and nothing we need that we won’t have. And as long as they have us and each other, if we have a dime, they have a nickel.
There needs to be a word between friend and family. Framily. That’s what they are. Our Framily. And if I had tried to invent them I wouldn’t have done as good a job.
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Posted by thought4food
April 7, 2007
I remember the first time I realized that I was me. That I was a real person. That I was separate from everyone else.
I was about 5 years old. I woke up in my bed with the sun shining just like every morning. I was coming downstairs to find my mom, just like every morning. When I got to the bottom of the stairs and started across the living room, I saw my shadow on the wall.
It hit me then. I was a person. You can’t have a shadow if you aren’t a person. I stopped. My shadow stopped. I moved. My shadowed moved. I looked at my hands. They moved, they opened, closed. They did everything I told them to do. I was a real person. All by myself. Totally enclosed and complete! I was somebody!
When I looked up from my hands the entire room looked different. The sun was brighter. It almost blinded me. It was very hot. I couldn’t remember feeling it so hot on my skin before. I could see a bajillion dusties floating around in it. I wondered why they never made me sneeze and if they could clog up my new lungs. That was how I felt. New.
I had just been made into a real person. I had just been made into me and turned on. I said my name to myself over and over. I danced in the living room, I danced in the dining room, I danced in the kitchen where my mom was at. I wondered if she knew that I was a person.
She didn’t seem to notice. I thought that maybe she was too busy to see it. I would just keep it a secret for now. I wanted it for myself for a while. I wanted to be me all to myself just for now. I would tell her I was me later. It might hurt her feelings to find out that I wasn’t her anymore. I didn’t want to hurt momma’s feelings. I was too happy right then.
I spent that whole day watching my feet walk, my hands make mud pies, my mouth chew, my hair fly in the wind, my eyes move in my head. I saw me running in other peoples’ windows. I felt the sidewalk hit my feet. I concentrated all day long on what it felt like to be me. It was pretty heady stuff, that being me all by myself.
And, I kinda liked the secret. I decided to keep it for a while longer. I giggled to myself for days. I watched everyone with my secret self eyes. No one else would know but me, because I was the only one who was me, now.
In the end, I’m not sure I ever did tell momma that I wasn’t her anymore. My daughter never told me that she wasn’t me anymore either. Maybe we all end up being kind enough not to tell our momma’s that.
The older I get, and the more I talk to my momma, I sometimes wonder if not being your momma is something that gets reversed as we age. Because, unbeknownst to any of us at the time, my mom, I, and my daughter all taught ourselves to tie our shoes with our left hand, you know, just in case we should ever need to know how to do that. (insert innocent “what????” face here)
Y’all all do that too, right?………….RIGHT????????
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Posted by thought4food
April 6, 2007
I used to live on a very busy corner in town. (see Great Quest For The Head Of The Possum post) The house was at the bottom of a very steep hill, ” A very steep hill”. When it snowed, all you had to do was look at that bit of road and you could tell how much because no one would drive up it.
One nice summer day I was sitting on the couch in my living room reading, while my dearest husband was sleeping. He worked night shift then and he slept during the day. It was a normal day. As much as you can call any day with me in it normal.
It slowly came to me that something wasn’t right. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. I looked up, I looked around. I didn’t see anything wrong in the house. I looked back down and started to read again. Then it seemed like the couch was beginning to vibrate…..but no, it was the house that was beginning to vibrate. Now that was odd.
I got up, pulled aside the curtain on the door and looked out just in time to see a steam roller knock one of the brick supports out from under my porch roof, ride up onto the porch, hit the house, and then fall through the porch floor into the hole underneath it.
Well howdy! I turned and walked halfway into the bedroom, turned and walked back to the door to look again, walked halfway back to the bedroom again, back to the door. I realize that I have absolutely NO “a steamroller just hit my house” etiquette. I have no idea what to do. I am saved by my dearest husband’s voice calling from the bedroom inquiring as to what the !@#$%^ just occurred.
I walked into the bedroom to explain and he is halfway out of bed and halfway into his pants. I told him a steamroller hit the house. He asked if I was OK. I said yes. He said OK. He then proceeded to add to my already vociferous bad word vocabulary by leaps and bounds. I was impressed! And pleased. You can never have too many bad words to choose from. Especially in a situation like this.
We went back to the door and gingerly went outside. Not easy since the door bumped the part of the steamroller that was still above the porch floor when we opened it. As we came off the porch a very pale, agitated, wet and odoriferous gentleman scampered up to me asking if I was OK. Not quite in full grip of all my faculties yet, and not realizing who he was, I simply told him that I was fine. Turns out he was the man driving the steamroller.
People began showing up fairly quickly. As I said in a previous post, the entire world passed our door 3 times a day at this house. A steam roller sitting where the porch used to be drew a fair amount of attention.
It just so happened that our landlord had a business just across the street and he saw the whole thing. Bless his heart, I believe he nearly had apoplexy on the spot. Everyone was very excited. Especially that poor smelly fella that was driving the thing. Eventually he began to explain to my dearest husband what happened.
He had driven the steam roller to the top of the very steep hill to use it paving a parking lot that was located just below the top. As he got near the driveway to the parking lot, the brakes gave way on the steam roller. He tried the emergency brake, but that gave way as well. By that time, the steam roller was well on its’ way down the hill. He decided that he would turn the roller towards the curb, with the idea that rubbing against the curb would stop it, or at least slow it down. No such luck.
By the time he realized that it was getting away from him and he wasn’t going to be able to stop it, he was fast approaching the intersection. He couldn’t see beyond our house to see what was coming andhe was very frightened, so he bailed out. The odoriferousness came from the fact that after he bailed out, he realized that what could have been coming was a bus load of children. The imagery was too much for his bowels.
When the steam roller was rolling down the hill scraping against the curb, I felt it shaking the house. When it reached our driveway, it turned slightly and ran up into our yard, crushed a bush, abolished the brick porch post, broke through the brand new 2 x 6 flooring of the porch right before my eyes, hit the house about 3 feet to the left of me and the rest is history.
We made the front page of the paper. The insurance put a new porch on the house and bought us a new table and chairs to put on it. And we were known for years afterwards as the people who’s house got hit by the steam roller.
I ask people this all the time……….Is it just me, or do things like this happen to you too?
The answer is always………No, Red, It’s Just YOU!!!!!
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Thought For Food 