E.T. Where's the #*@& Phone!?

So, my sister Haley, who is infamous for her rather bizarre gifts to me... exhibit A: the Golden Poop ... got me the Alien Gnome Bandits for Christmas. Actually, I opened it over Thanksgiving, because she wanted to be able to see my face when I opened it. I was easily persuaded to not have to wait until Christmas. I found them charming and learned that their names were Eldon and Tarak, or "E.T." collectively. Unfortunately, due to all the Christmas craziness, the little dudes were pretty much left to entertain themselves. I didn't have time to deal with them over the holidays, so I put them up on the piano until after Christmas.

But then it started happening... things started disappearing and reappearing in different areas of the house. The cats professed innocence.. at least I think that's what they were saying. My skills in speaking feline are still growing. So we set up the ol'nanny cam.

Lo and behold, we were not prepared for what we saw. The pictures that follow are explicit, but for anyone who is contemplating inviting Alien Gnome Bandits into their home, well, you need to be prepared, it's shocking.

This photo was found the morning after I herd (haha) a strange moo'ing sound in the middle of the night. Turns out Moontgomery the cow was being abducted. He later reappeared in the dining room in a bowl of fruit.

E.T. played it cool for a couple of days before nabbing their next victim - a member of our considerable collection of snowmen. From the photo, it doesn't appear that the snowman had an snowball's chance in hell of avoiding the horror in store for him. About a week later, the snowman's hat and scarf were found floating in the cat's water bowl.

From the next photo, it would appear that E.T. had been taking advantage of our three months of free HBO and had found a new hero. The Scream duck disappeared one night and was not seen again until he reappeared floating in the seat of honor in the pink bathroom.

As the days drew closer to Christmas, E.T. must have needed some decorations for their lair. A Christmas tree was absconded with... not yet to reappear. It'll probably show up on the curbside for the first trash day after the New Year.The most threatening photo was the last straw. It would appear that the cats, Sophie, Gizmo and Winifred, had made vain attempts to prevent E.T. from making off with their ill-gotten booty (or ill-booten gotty) because this photo can be interpreted as nothing short of a threat to them to leave the Aliens to their thievery.

It was shortly after this photo was taken that I had to make the hard decision to remove E.T. from our household. After all, Sophie, Gizmo and Winifred don't have opposable thumbs and thus aren't able to defend themselves from this deviltry.

E.T. are now at my office where my co-workers naively call them "cute" and "adorable". But already a strange stapler has appeared on my desk and one co-worker continually roams around the office in a daze always saying the same thing...

... Where Shall I Go, What Shall I Do? - Scarlett O'Hara

My aunt drives me crazy! She travels all over the world as a part of her job and feels free to email me pics of her travels when she daw-gone knows that I want to travel too. My current goal in life is to get a stamp in my new (but as of yet not used) passport!

The other day, she e-mailed me pictures from her current vacation on the beach in Florida. She tried to downplay how wonderful it was by saying it was cold and damp, but I could tell she was having a good time. And since it was 32 degrees here, I'm pretty sure I'd have swapped with her in a heartbeat despite how "cold" it was there.

Sometime this spring, she and mom are contemplating going out to San Diego to visit one of their sisters. I've been invited along, but I don't think I'll go because 1) Been there, done that (refer to my as of yet mental blog regarding the infamous train trip with Grandma Hollis out to San Diego); second, someone really ought to hang at home and take care of the livestock; and C) I have my own vacation plans in mind. (mwa-ah-ah-ah!)

I, Rosemary, am going to go somewhere this year. I have suggested to my fiend Jennifer who has not really had a vacation in several years, that she leave her hubby for a week or so and go on a Thelma and Louise-style trip with me (only without the driving off a cliff part - unless we get a rental... hmm.. mental note: investigate car rental rates) preferrably to the beach because we're both in need of some rest and relaxation. I don't know if she'll actually do it, but I've decided that since I'm now living rent-free and putting considerable bucks in my savings account, either way, Rose is going to take a vacation.

So where would I like to go? Well, the following list is my list of ideal vacations:

1) Egypt. Somewhere in the middle of reading Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody series, I decided that if I had to do it all again, I'd become an archeologist. Now, I readily admit that I don't like bugs, dirt, sweat, heat, mud, snakes, spiders, or the idea of working in a country where there are those who might be ideologically opposed to me, but I'm pretty sure that I'd have been a great archeologist. Probably would have found a tomb that would put ol'King Tut's to shame by now. But I digress. Since I can't do it all over and since I don't like bugs, dirt, sweat, etc, I'll have to go as a tourist. I'd love to see the Pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx. Just think of the blogs about that trip! Holly has told me she'd go with me, as she enjoys those books, too. Ah, excuse me while I Google the price of pith helmets!

2) The Beach. I came to the epiphany a while ago that I was meant to be born to sea-faring folk, or at a minimum to folk who live by the sea. Not that I'm saying the good Lord messed up by giving me to my current fam, but I'm just saying that somewhere along the line my ancestors moved west when they should have stayed closer to the water. There is nothing more wonderful to me than slowly wandering up and down the beach, with the water coming in and wabbling over my footies. I can't swim and I don't like seafood, except for Captain D's or Long John Sliver's, but I just need to return to the beach every so often. After certain amount of time passes, something deep in my soul starts yearning to sit in the sand and listen to the waves as then crash in and then go back out. Sigh...

3) England. I want to go to Europe, but I only speak English. I took French my freshman year in high school, but then the teacher quit and they hired a Spanish teacher and I cheesed, so I was NOT going to take Spanish even if it killed me! Humpf! So then in college, I took two semesters of Italian with my roommate Janna. But I didn't take anymore because 1) that's all DePauw offered and B) I transferred to University of Evansville, which didn't offer it at all. Unfortunately now, 26 and 21 years later, respectively, I can't speak either French or Italian... although I can generally hold my own with a menu at the Olive Garden. So I guess my point is that for my first trek to Europe, I think I ought to go to a country where we speak the same language, relatively speaking. That and I do love history, so I would enjoy going to the Tower of London and go see where the Battle of Hastings was fought! If I went in August, I could go see the island where Princess Diana is buried! (Do they still open it up for tours in August?) Oh, and I could go to Mrs. Miggins' coffee shop! And of course, since I'd be that close, I'd have to run over to see Scotland (the birth place of my beloved Gerard Butler) and Ireland.

Christmas Time is Here

Well, really Christmas time is over, and we’re patiently waiting for the New Year! It was another success and here is the wrap (hahahaha!) up of the events... After Thanksgiving, we got the tree and other decorations up. I’m happy to say that Sophie and Gizmo (especially Gizmo) weren’t even remotely interested in the tree. I say this because a couple of years ago I had to take my tree down 5 days after putting it up because my handsome guy was terrorizing it. This year, the tree (yup, same tree) was terrorized by someone else…

Winifred enjoyed her first Christmas tree despite the soakings she got from the evil purple spray bottle. Hardly a day went by without her crawling up the tree, knocking off and playing with ornaments, and just generally bothering the tree limbs. By Saturday, December 19th, when mom’s sisters’ families came over, I had to redecorate the tree with all the ornaments the little Turd had knocked off!

So come Christmas Eve, mom and I packed our toys into our little red (actually it’s tan-ish) wagon and prepared to go up to Indy to spend the holiday with the Sibs and what did we have to do BEFORE we could leave? Yup, we had to take down the tree. Sort of a bummer, but it was nice to come home and not have to worry about doing it afterwards.

As usual, I think my gifts were hits. I got each of the Sibs’ families the The Office Clue game. We played a couple of rounds – I won both, thank you very much, mostly due to my perspicacity (look it up). Hollian’s belated 21st birthday gift, a bottle of Bailey’s :), was a hit, too! I’ve already received a request from Natalie that I get her the same thing next year for her 21st!

Of the gifts I received, I got money for clothes from mom (BTW, the new bras fit great!), some gift cards, some DVD’s. But the prize for best present from this season goes to Haley. This adorable set of aliens making off with a gnome! I actually found the bigger yard version of this in a catalog a year or so ago, and I thought about getting it for Dad. But it was too expensive for me to get and I guess I never got around to suggesting a group gift from the three of us, so… Anyway, Haley found a smaller version and it’s perfect! It is currently sitting on the ledge of my desk at work. I had it at home, but the little critters kept making off with various things around the house. I figure they can run amok at work for a while.

The runner up in the fun gift category is Phil (see pic) from my Secret Santa, Shawn. The best part is when I opened it up and read the directions to add water to the dirt pellet and “fluff the dirt with a fork”! I loved it. Less than a week later, I come in to work and Phil has sprouted a head of hair, ur.. grass! I’m not sure how long the thrill of watching grass grow will entertain me, but for now, Phil is hanging with Bob, Ted, and Jareth the African violets.

Christmas did end up with a big uh-oh, though. Mom got sick and instead of getting better up in Indy, she got worse. I brought her back home and took her to the convenient care center and she was diagnosed with pneumonia. The doctor shot her up with some high-powered antibiotics and gave her an Rx for a Z-pac, but she wasn’t bad enough off to have to be hospitalized (I said ‘refrigerated’ at one point when I was talking to Boss #2 at work about it, don’t know where that came from). Unfortunately, I don’t have any paid time off until the new year due to my having sprained my neck muscles while hanging up my coat (don’t ask, it’s a short, un-interesting, and very painful story) earlier this month. And my aunt who lives less than a football field length down the road, well, let's just say it would never occur to her to volunteer to come over and hang with mom, her sister, while I was at work. Fortunately, Holly, who is off work until next week sometime, came down to nurse the sickee.

Ch-ch-ch-Changes!

I moved in with my mother this past month. (Hence the lack of updates during November – all of my free time has been spent either packing/unpacking, toting, lifting, etc. or playing Treasure Mania (now Treasure Madness) on Facebook. BTW, I'm SO happy to have Columbus's underpants!)

We both had to get rid of some of my furniture. My big thing was my couch. I loved that couch. I got it about 10 years ago for $250 and the cats and I would snuggle together on it. I’m a big girl, and the couch was big girl sized. I’ve never been all that comfortable (physically, not mentally or emotionally) on mom’s couch. But it has the matching love seat and is newer, so my couch went. It took four men from my church 30-45 minutes to figure out how to get the behemouth out thru three consecutive 90-degree turns and outside the house. (It took four men over an hour four years ago to get it in the apartment, but this time we already knew that it wouldn’t go out the backdoor and that the front window was too small, so they didn’t have to waste time testing those options. While we waited for one of the men to go get his truck, so he could take it to Goodwill for me, some frat guys came walking down the street and one of the men yelled and asked if they needed a couch. They said they could use it, so off trotted my couch. Sniff.. I loved that couch. I wonder if they would have noticed, being frat guys, if I’d left the petrified hairball in it.

Quite some time has been spent getting the room ready. Mom and I went to Lowes one Sunday after lunch on a fact finding mission and in less than an hour, I’d picked out paint, carpet and the border. Of course the underlying theme was “purple,” duh! and once it was all put together, I think it looks pretty stinkin’ good! Martha Stewart, eat your heart out! Tom and other Bro-in-Law Ed helped hang pics and a dragon and a wizard and the bi-plane dad made me this past weekend, so now once I get rid of a couple of more boxes, it’s all done! Here's a pic of the final product.

The border is my piece de resistance – is that spelled right? I opened a wallpaper/border book for kids rooms and chose it within minutes. It was $36/roll, but then I found the exact same border online for $15.99 per roll!! What a coup! (What’s with all the French all of a sudden??)

The cats and I moved in the weekend of November 7th, and the furniture followed us on the next weekend. It has been an adjustment for all concerned. Sophie and Gizmo had to leave the only home they’ve really ever known AND get used to there being another cat in the mix. Winifred had to get used to going from being Queen of the Castle to smallest and youngest of three. Giz and Wini made friends pretty quickly. I understand they even play together at night while I’m asleep. But Sophie and Wini are still not completely sure of each other. Although things have improved. This past weekend (Thanksgiving) there were 8 extra adults in the house for 2 days and 2 extra adults for 2 more days. We didn’t see much of Soph or Giz, and Wini accidentally got shut in the basement and spent one entire night downstairs, but everyone survived. Now the Christmas tree is up and assuming young Winifred doesn’t decimate it, we should have a happy holiday season.

There have been adjustments for me and mom, too. My normal routine was to come home, heat up some Easy Mac or a bag of frozen veggies, sprinkled with shredded cheese and go play on Facebook (Farmville, Mafia Wars, Treasure Mania, you know, the usual) and watch some TV until the old carpal tunnel acted up, and then hop into bed with whichever cat was still awake. Other than the occasional comment to a cat, I didn’t have to talk, no one wanted anything from me. I lived alone. Now I get home, mom generally has dinner made – BTW, she thinks vegetables are for every night! – or in the process, and although she says I don’t have too, I feel like I have to hang out and chat with her. I’ll adjust. I don’t have a problem hanging and chatting with mom, but it’s not my natural inclination, so until I get acclimated to being a roommate, I have to remind myself to do it.

Biscuits and Gravy

Well, yet again, my biscuits and gravy are a hit at KDDK's Bosses' Day breakfast.  One of the attorney's told me that he's been looking forward to them all week (as his assistant had the sign up sheet and he'd been nosing around to see what we were having), and another attorney told me that he'd never considered himself a biscuits and gravy type of guy, but mine are making him rethink his entire existence.

 

Tee Hee!

What's Up with Rose? - "The Working Years"

I know my long time fans have been thinking, "Rose celebrates her 100^th blog and disappears from the face of the earth!  I wonder what she's up to now!" for the past several weeks.  Well the answer isn't pretty.

 

First, there's work.  Let me state at the beginning that there is nothing that I do as a part of my job that I don't like doing… with the slight exception of calling people.  I just don't like calling people.  I don't mind talking to people who call me (which is odd because one would assume that the aspect about not knowing WHO is calling or WHAT they want might be something I wouldn't like), but I HATE calling people.  If I have only one work-related flaw (and I'm not saying I ONLY have one, I said IF there were only one), it would be that phone calls that I need to make tend to be put off.  I'm very bad about that.  Non-work-related case in point: I'd love to talk to my old college roommate, Janna.  I have her phone number.  I have a cell phone and a cell plan with free long distance.  There is NO reason not to call Janna.  I just hate calling people so I don't.  But you know, if she called me, I could talk to her for hours.  I'm weird, I know.

 

Where was I??  Sigh… Work.  Steve (Boss #1) is the partner in charge of the collection department at the firm.  He does a lot of administrative stuff regarding the department and, consequently, has me running all sorts of reports and working up spreadsheets, etc for him.  Oh, that reminds me.  When I was last looking for a job, back in August 2000 (not a pretty time in the history of Rose, BTW), I had an interview with a company for a job that I probably would have really enjoyed.  But they needed someone who had a strong working knowledge of Excel and who could jump into the job with both feet and run with the Excel stuff.  At that time, Rose didn't know Excel and although we had a nice time talking, I had to tell the interviewer that I just wasn't the girl for him.  Fast forward to now, or even 5 years ago, and Rose is very proficient in Excel.  Mostly self-taught, although there have been plenty of urgent phone calls to first my friend Kathy, then later Dad, before he retired, and now Haley with Excel questions.  I know there's tons that I don't know about Excel, but on my last review I requested advanced training in Excel.  Of course I specified training from someplace other than our illustrious IT department, but that's a whole other blog!

 

I really am wandering today aren't I?  WORK.  Back in June we got a placement of 3,600+ new collection accounts from a local business that in a big month normally only sends about 250-300 accounts.  So decisions had to be made.  Do we hire new people? If so, how many?  Steve has had me running all sorts of fun reports and whipping up all sorts of fun spreadsheets.  Very exciting, but all on top of my normal duties.  So Rose has been very busy in that regard.

 

And then, about two, (three?) weeks ago, two of the new hires started and guess who got the job of training them on entering all these new accounts.  Yup, Rose.  I know the girls in collections are busy, and none of them are busier than the supervising paralegal, so I'm really not bitching that it was ME instead of THEM doing the training.  I realize that it is a comment regarding my abilities and Steve's faith in me that he gives me these things.  Occasionally, though, I could do with a little less faith in me!  I don't like strangers (although I am better with the aid of my precious pink pills than I used to be – again, not a pretty time in the history of Rose) and having to sit in there one on one, or two as the case may be/is, with them was probably more stressful for me than them!  And although the two of them have really caught on like a house a fire, Steve still is having me review their work until they have the FDCPA training.  Did I mention that my life was good until I met the FDCPA?  And did I mention that I didn't really meet the FDCPA until I started here, despite doing collections/subro at the other firm?  J  hahaha!  Reviewing their work turned out to be quite an undertaking, and boring, since they were doing well enough that I wasn't finding many mistakes.  So generally it was after Noon before I was done with their previous day's work and I could start on my work.   Fortunately, they did their FDCPA training today so I'm free!!  Fun fact!  The third (and hopefully final) new girl starts on Monday, so the whole training thing starts again!  (yeah.)

 

Meanwhile on the other work front:  (and here, I'll sketch in some background since I don't' recall if I previously wrote about this,) last October the sh&! hit the fan in our subrogation department and the woman who was responsible for the work, well let's just say that she's no longer working here.  I had worked in … well, really, me and my secretary Becky WERE the subrogation department at my old law firm, but I'd managed to live a subro-free life for the bulk of 8 years.  Unfortunately the partner in charge of the subro department worked with me at the old firm (BTW, he adores me) and he knew that I am a Subro Diva and he asked me to help out until things could get back under control.  Now, a year later, I'm still helping out because they didn't hire a replacement for her.  In fact, we've split the job up and we have one person opening all of the new subro files and a variety of other duties, one person (me) filing suit on all of the files when the time comes and handling settlements, and a third person handling the litigation aspect of those files that I hated having to do, such as discovery, trial prep, etc.  And the files just keep pouring in.  I worked a big bunch of OT from last October until this past April at which point I just couldn't take it any longer.  Of course, then Dad started getting worse and I spent more of my time out with the 'Rents, so work wasn't my main priority.  Although I must say, the OT fundage was very nice.  Things on my end started piling up again, especially since the collection aspect had increased considerably (see above), so the OT has slowly weedled its claws back into me, and the fundage is still nice, especially after my recent review/raise. 

 

I'm thinking that this is enough for now.  Part Deux of "What's Up with Rose" will be devoted to her personal existence and possible medical/emotional issues.  Or maybe that'll be Part Theux.  Either way, it may have the subtitle of "Too Much Information" so be forewarned. 

Sept 19 - Talk Like a Pirate Day

Ahoy Mateys! September 19th is Talk Like a Pirate Day it is my favorite bizarre holiday (with Sneak a Zucchini on Your Neighbor’s Porch Night - August 8th coming in as a close second.) I’ve known about, yet not really observed Pirate Day for several years now, but this year it seemed like the right time to show my pirate-y side. My mateys and I decided to talk pirate-y all day at work for a short while there, we thought Pirate Day was 9-17, which is a Thursday. But we found out the actual day was a Saturday! Shiver me timbers!

While contemplating my future as a lily-livered landlubber, I found a treasure map that led the way to truly celebrating the holiday. Just follow the steps, X marks the spot …

Step 1 - Ducks
Deborah (“Deborarrr”), a saucy wench who I work with has been showcasing my rubber ducks each month at her desk here at KDDK because #1) she enjoys it and B) my desk has too many toys on it as it is, so the ducks tend to get lost in the process. (I will, however, maintain custody of the nativity ducks because I like having my nativity scene and I have a bunch of other scurvy dogs that sit in and watch the baby Jesus, including Batman, who protects Him from the Joker, a gnome, Darth Vader duels with Yoda over Him, a bobble-head penguin, and a stuffed vulture. But I digress.) When I asked her what type of ducks she wanted for September, since there’s no big holiday, she pointed out Talk Like a Pirate Day so on September 1st, pirate ducks showed up around her desk.

Step 2 – Chest o’ Booty
As I mentioned in a previous blog, I found the pirate chest/lunch box at Factory Card Outlet. The plan was to buy some chocolate dubloons to have spilling out of the chest but Deborarrr couldn’t find any when she went looking, and I never got back to Factory Card Outlet. But still the treasure chest full of candy has been quite a hit. Deborarrr makes anyone who comes for candy “arrr” for their candy or she forces them to walk the plank!

Step 3 – Inspiration
Then another matey, Kelly, told me that her sister loves Talk Like a Pirate Day and blogs about it every year. As she said this, a light bulb went on in my skull and crossbones. I needed to BLOG about Talk Like a Pirate Day! I had (at that time) 19 days to come up with my high-seas swashbucklin' adventure. But of course I’d need to be able to speak the lingo, so...

Step 4 - I found a website (http://www.talklikeapirateday.com/translate/) that translates anything into pirate-speak. I started my blog and translated it. So the blog was perfect. It only needed one more thing.

Step 5 – The Photograph
Like all truly talented photographers, I had to set the scene. Oh, I could have just posted a quick pic of the treasure chest and the ducks, but how bland.. If only I had a pirate costume.. Hmm… but wait! Do I not have an eye patch from my prior eye-goo problem? Does not a handsome young gnome of my acquaintance who generally dresses up as a pirate for Halloween have a hook? I mentioned my evil scheme to Deborarrr and then all we needed was for someone (me) to remember to bring in my birthday booty, er.. camera.

So long story short, below is photographic evidence of two hot, hip, happenin' pirates protectin' their loot. Happy Talk Like a Pirate Day!

100 Blogs Down... ??? to Go

This is my 100th blog entry and I thought I'd take this moment to take stock. I began my blogging in September 2007. In the past two years, I have lost a total of seven fish, not including all unnumbered fish progeny. And my father. I don't mean to sound flip, there, it's been a main topic. I've taken Sophie to the vet at least five times for hairballs. I've reviewed more than ten movies and correctly chosen one Oscar winner. I have solemnly shared with the world my addiction to both Webkinz (which has been beat, by the way) and to Farm Town (the jury's still out on that one).

I read a book about a woman who got fired and then got divorced and started a blog for 40-something women starting over in life and subsequently solved a couple of murders (my lifelong goal, BTW). And I went to see Julie and Julia (see my review) about this woman who writes a blog while cooking her way thru Julia Child's book. What I took from these two blog-related items was that I really want to become a famous blogger... and to solve a murder.

However, I'm not sure that my blog is famous blog fodder. After all, I don't see that my blog topics are generally very deep. In fact, I take pride in my general shallowness. I don't read books that have redeeming value - I go more for mysteries with some smut (although there has been a slight detour into vampire romances). I don't enjoy movies with a "point," I go more for movies with explosions and Gerard Butler's abs. I don't enjoy educational television, I tend to watch The Simpsons and music videos. I don't enjoy conversations about the economy or politics or, well, I think you get my point.

So what is my point? Well, I can't promise that my next 100 blogs will be filled with perspicacious insights regarding the economy, religion or politics. But I can promise more stories about me, my cats, my researching a decision to buy a new car in the next year or so, and my move back to W-ville. I'll also try to watch and review as many movies as I can afford to go see and Gerard Butler can make. Also, as Mom and I intend to travel some (once she gets her passport), I will attempt to regale you with stories of my travels and show lots of pictures along the way.

I promise you, my faithful readers, that this will NOT be a blog where I dig deep into my inner emotional thoughts. Instead, I will strive to merely scrape the scabby surface. I will not whine about the things I don't have, or try to figure out what could make me happier with my life. I'm generally a glass is half-full person and I try not to cry over spilt milk. And if there are cookies available to go with that glass of milk, and if I'm wearing my fuzzy bunny slippers with a warm cat by my side, my life is as good as it gets. And I'll be ok with that. My friends, this is the dawn of part deux of Rose's Ramblings. This is.. well, this is going on too long.

Thanks for staying with me this far and feel free to join me for future adventures. Feel free to leave comments - where are you from? how did you find my blog? Nothing thrills my shallow little heart like when I find a comment! And does anyone but me feed the fish?? What's up with that?

"You Can't Go Home Again" - Thomas Wolfe

You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right. ~Maya Angelou

Back in February, when Dad got out of the hospital one time. He and I sat down and talked. I've mentioned it before. He told me a variety of things, but one of them was that he thought mom and I should sell the house in Wadesville and buy a condo or something in town and live together. I just sort of assumed that that's what would happen.

Mom and I have discussed it. With the current tax break to first time homeowners (and I would qualify) and the fact that it supposedly is a buyers market, it seemed like maybe this was the time to proceed. Now, I'm not going to say that we've looked hard. The house I grew up in has big rooms, a big backyard, a lot of peace and quiet. I drive around town seeing houses for sale that are so small and right up against its neighbor. Mom has a house full of stuff and I have an apartment full of stuff and collectively we have three cats which are NOT going to want to be close to each other, so a larger, roomier place is going to be necessary.

Mom knew that one of my main reasons for thinking condo was not having to be responsible for yardwork and house maintenance. I admit it, I'm generally lazy. I don't like to sweat or get dirty. I praise God for inventing air-conditioning and I firmly believe in taking advantage of His creation! So Monday, Labor Day, Mom and I went out to dinner at the new Feed Mill Restaurant in Poseyville. We talked about a variety of things, centering on Dad. There were tears, of course, and at one point we got to the topic of living plans and she pointed out that since the house is paid for, if I moved back home, I wouldn't be paying rent; and if I'm not paying rent, I can save up enough money that we could afford to hire someone to take care of the yard and other such things. It was like a lightning bolt hit me. DUH!

I've always been the type of person that I can make certain decisions easily. When I know what feels right, I go with it. What's the point of shilly-shallying? It just hit me that this was the right decision. I even talked it over with Dad on the drive back into the apartment. Mom doesn't want to leave her home.

Mom pointed out that I've been on my own now for 14+ years. Would I be able to handle moving back home. I told her that as long as she understood that the satellite dish and a black cat that sheds like nobody's business and yacks up the occasional hairballs come with me, and that I'm not a good housekeeper, and I am grumpy in the mornings and sometimes I might come home and grunt at her and then hide away on the computer/Facebook (Farm Town Rocks!) with the TV and my cats and not talk to her because I've had to talk to too many people and had too many people wanting too much from me all day and I just need some quiet, sane alone time, then I could handle moving back home.

So once I make a decision, I'm ready to make a plan and put it into action. So the first step of the grand plan is that Mom is going to move from the larger front bedroom where she's been sleeping for the past couple of years into the back bedroom where Dad had been sleeping and where had been their combined room for years before that. Then there's the extraneous furniture, including an organ (if anyone is interested), that needs to be sold or given away. Once the front bedroom is empty we'll have the 40-year old carpet taken up and replaced with something from this century. Meanwhile, mom will be taking her desk from the front room and moving her geneaology research into the computer room. Then I can start taking things out to Wadesville. Maybe if we keep our momentum going, we can get this all done by the end of the year. Sounds exhausting, doesn't it?

Anyway, long blog short, anyone want to help me move?

New Zoo Review or How I Revisited My Youth in 8 Hours

My Aunt Chris came up with her grandson Jaden Saturday to see the Zoo and the Children's Museum and she invited me to go with. I will be honest here (and if you're reading this, Chris, I'm sorry), I was NOT enthused with the idea because I'm not keen on children. Well, most children. There are the odd few who I can tolerate. Chris promised that Jaden was well-behaved. And I had not been to the Zoo since Brynn was about a year or so and we took the neices/nephew (as there was only one at the time) to Easter at the zoo. And I have this adorable pic of the kids attacking the Easter Bunny. My point is that it's been a while since I've been there, and they just opened this new Amazonia exhibit of the rainforest. And I've been interested in going. And then, despite the fact that it is in the building NEXT DOOR to my office, I've never been to the Children's Museum (CMOE). The building used to be the Central Library and I was there all the time. Maybe it's a subconscious boycott for moving my library, but I've also wanted to check it out. So I agreed to go with Chris and Jaden. And I will say that #1) Jaden is a very well-behaved kid; B) I did have a very good day; and finally, I looked adorable with my face painted. But I digress.

The weather Saturday was beautiful. The sun was shining and it was in the low 80's. In AUGUST! First things first, we hit the gift shop! Well, ostensibly, we went to get Jaden an hat and sunscreen as his mom had not packed any. I, however, was looking at the gift shop, since shopping is my avocation. But then, we were off like a herd of turtles to the Amazon! The Amazonia exhibit was nice, but small. I was very impressed with these pretty birds - Scarlett Ibises, I think - and they just roamed all over the rhino's rhoom. We saw the baby zebra, although we weren't sure which one it was. And several monkeys and big cats and a bunch of ducks/geese. The zoo had been a success although I don't know if it's just because I'm looking through 41 year old eyes or because it's been 17 or so years since I've been there, but I seem to recall there being more animals in the zoo. Of course I also recall there being a noxious effluvium all over the place and I only smelled that once Saturday!

Now what? Well, it was lunch time and my footies wanted a break, and my throat wanted some iced tea, so I suggested we go to Turoni's for lunch as pizza was one of the 4 things that Jaden will eat. (Don't ask.) We filled our tums and rested our footies and then we were off to the Children's Museum.

As I previously said, the building used to be the Central Library of the Evansville Vanderburgh County public library system, but it opened up when they built a new building and moved. The building is a big ol' art deco style behemoth. We started out on the second floor in the Live Big exhibit. This is the room that I can see into from the copy room at work and I've often wondered what this odd reddish thing hanging from the ceiling that looks like a bunch of puffed up plastic bags. In case you want to know, it's supposed to be a brain. And as you walk into the room there's a big nose shaped thing in the floor. I'm not sure what the point is, but we got Jaden to crawl in it and hang out one of the nostrils to look like a blond booger! In another room, they had a bunch of art-y type activities for the kids. That's where Jaden and I painted our faces! Aren't I adorable?

After the obligatory visit to the gift shop, where I purchased a dragon keychain for my dragon collection, and a few other areas, we left to go out to Wadesville for dinner. Jaden and I played with Winifred while Mom and Chris chatted. Then Rose, being pooped, left to go home. Speaking of poop, in the restroom at the Children's Museum, they had this sign entitled "Feces Facts" and I couldn't resist getting a picture. (I hope you can read it.) Enjoy!

To Be (Blonde) or Not to Be (Blonde)

Ok, for those who have known me for a while, you know that during the last seven months, I stopped coloring my hair. It wasn't a conscious decision, it was just that since Dad was sick, I didn't take the time, or it just didn't occur to me, to color my hair. I've been very ambivalent about the change. Frankly, once I realized what was happening, I could have done something to halt it, but I was intrigued to see what my natural hair color would be, since I'd been a Garnier Nutresse #100 for the past 15 years.

I had to get my driver's license renewed in July, and when the woman at the BMV asked if anything had changed in the hair, eyes, height, and weight categories, I spent more time considering my answer to the hair question than on the weight question - where my answer was a lie in 1985 when I first gave it. Is my hair blonde?

I think it looks ok the way it currently looks. There is definite gray/silver in there, and that doesn't bother me. It's the underlying tone of ... what? Is it dark blonde? or light brown? My friend Becky thinks that the color of her hair affects how people perceive her mood to be. Maybe Bonnie would stop making thinly-veiled comments about my mood if I went back to being a blonde. (I'm not in a bad mood, damn it!)

Last night, I went to Factory Card Outlet and bought me a pirate treasure chest lunch box to set on my desk and use as a candy dish for September - as September 17th is Talk Like a Pirate Day - and the cashier gave me a senior citizen discount! Again, for those who know me, my age doesn't bother me, never has. But I'm guessing she wasn't sure and their policy is probably when in doubt give the discount. And since it saved me $1.35 on my lunchbox, I was ok with it in general. But in specific, I'm thinking it was the hair. So I need some feedback - do I go back to being a blonde? I've put two pictures of me in here - one as my hair is currently and one from when it was definitely blonde. Can I have some input?

Now, Where Was I?

It’s happened. I think I’ve officially hit that age where forgetfulness is setting in. When I turned the Big 4-0 last year, I thought it was just the warranty on the physical parts that had expired, but it turns out my hard drive is going, too. Either that or I have too much stress in my life at the moment. I’ve been having problems with the English language or at least remembering words. I’ll be talking to someone and my mind will completely reboot and I have no clue what I was talking about. Or I’ll be talking to someone and try to remember a person’s name and it’s totally blank.

Not that it’s ever easy for me – especially in times of high stress, people’s names have always been the first thing to go. I liken the phenomenon to an episode of one of my favorite TV shows, Married … With Children. In this particular episode, Bud was tutoring dullard Kelly so she could pass her finals, so she could graduate high school. Unlike one of my other favorite episodes, where Bud was tutoring her in history by teaching her TV show theme songs (Thomas Jefferson => theme to “The Jeffersons”), he was taking this task seriously and she was actually learning the stuff. But they were finding out that as she learned more advanced information, the other info in her brain was dribbling out to the point where when the doorbell rang she had no clue what it was.

Now, my VERY favorite episode (“Hot Off the Grill” Season 4, Episode 1) is the one where Peg accidentally knocks over Al’s grill and loses all the ashes from previous grillings (which is the secret to his famous –if only in his mind- Bundy Burgers) and she sends the kids around the neighborhood to steal ashes from the people’s homes. And the dippy kids come back with the ashes of Marcy’s dead aunt Toonie… Wait, what was my point? Oh, yeah, so in times of stress, people’s names tend to be the first tidbit of info to dribble out of my brain. And although things are super busy at work, and there is still probably some residual stress from Dad’s death and being there for Mom, I don’t feel overly stressed, so I wouldn’t think that’s what’s going on.

But, see..Sunday morning, I woke up about 7:30 (Sophie let me sleep in, I suppose) and watched Vh-1’s weekend Top 20 Countdown while working on my farm. I was playing hooky from Sunday School class, but church started at 10:45, so I had plenty of time. About 9:30, I left my place, went to Walgreens, bought some shampoo and a monster bag of Tootsie Rolls and a bat Halloweenie Beanie from Ty. Then I hit a McD’s for a couple of Sausage Burritos (a big thank you to Haley for THAT addiction) – BTW, they got my order wrong and gave me a Sausage Egg McMuffin, but I ate it anyway – and then I drove to church. I got to the parking lot about 10am, but having plenty of time, I sat in the parking lot in the car for about 15 minutes reading my book. But then nature called, so I decided I could easily go on in, go, and then stake out a prime pew and read until Sunday School was over. Let me repeat that I KNEW church starts at 10:45… I firmly believed this, but when I walked in, I noticed that my Sunday School classroom was empty. Then I realized that I heard Pastor Dave’s voice on the sound system. I saw one of the deacons in the entryway and I asked him, “exactly when does church start?” He told me that it started at 10am. Whoops!

The thing is, this is not the first time this has happened. A couple of months ago, I arrived for Sunday School, and I figured I’d be late (as is my usual modus operandi) but when I plopped down in my seat, I received a look from my mother and she whispered that I was 45 minutes late! Whoops!

But the problem is that for at least 35 of my 41 years, Sunday School started at 9:30 and church started at 10:45. And then they go and change things on me? I’m not a big fan of change, unless it has pictures of presidents on it, but I can usually deal. So is it age, stress, or something else?

Wait.. now what was I talking about? hmmm...

Ode to a Peeper – by Rosemary and The Victim

Ok, so now that you’ve recovered from reading our first joint masterpiece... It took another year or so before Jennifer (a/k/a “the Victim”) and I were inspired to write another epic. It was entitled “Ode to a Peeper.” And again, some background begs to be sketched in, but I’m going to give you the poem first this time, and the background after:

Ode to a Peeper

BFOH has a sixth floor peeper.
He resorted to getting thrills cheaper.
He schemed and planned as he hid in the stall.
No feet could be seen, he was crunched in a ball.
So the innocent prey had not a hunch.
Soon to be spied, they returned from lunch.
The Victim’s behind was up in the air,
While Rose stood at a mirror and played with her hair.
Rose turned around, and what did she see?

But a sneaky male face watching The Victim pee.
Just then the perverted face disappears
When The Victim heard, she turned red to her ears.
The sight made Rose let out a screech
And the Peeper slithered out like a slug or a leech.
The moral of this story is plain to see
CHECK FOR MALE FEET BEFORE YOU GO PEE!!!!

So obviously, we returned from lunch one day and went to the restroom. Now, you have to understand that there were 4 stalls in that restroom, left to right, let’s call them A, B, C and D. B was open and that is the stall that Jennifer entered. C was closed and, it turned out, housed the aforementioned Peeper. D was open, but it had no paper. A was open, but it was what I lovingly referred to as the "mutant stall" because it was 2/3’s the size of the regular stalls and, while that might be ok for most people, I was not comfortable squeezed in there. So after whining, “Oh, man! That leaves me the mutant stall..,” I decided I could wait for one of the other two stalls and stood at the mirror by the door checking my hair. At this point, the Peeper must have figured it was safe to stand up and peep. I, looking in the mirror, saw this decidedly male head go up over the stalls behind me and I turned to see him peeping on Jenny-poo. I let out a squeak (it was more mouse-like than a screech, but for poetic license, we used ‘screech’) and he looked up, saw me, and smoothly hopped down (as he must’ve been standing on the toilet) and calmly exited the ladies room. The Victim knew only that I’d squeaked, so upon exiting her stall, she asked what was wrong. Obviously I told her and she was not pleased. But boy, was I happy that stall D had been out of paper and that I decided against using the mutant stall. In fact, I don’t think I ever used it again!

Around the same time, Georgeann had an encounter with possibly the same person. She was on the 9th floor and walked to the elevators. There was a “man” sitting in one of the guest chairs. He asked George if she had the time. Upon looking at him, George realized that his, uh… shall I say, "unit" was out flapping in the breeze. Poor George just looked at her watch and said, “Uh, 1:15” and then she used the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

Upon hearing of these events, Mr. Hahn (the “H” in BFOH), asked Jennifer and I to provide him with a written report regarding our encounter. (I assume he had George write one up, too.) So again, we trotted off to Grandy’s and instead of coming up with a serious report, we came up with the “Ode to a Peeper.” We did write an actual report, containing a diagram of the stalls in the ladies room as we assumed Mr. H had never had the pleasure of seeing it, and provided both it and the Ode to Mr. H for his review. Come to think about it, I don’t recall ever hearing anything more about the report or the Ode. Poor Mr. Hahn was probably speechless! Although I think the lock on the restroom door was repaired soon thereafter. Now that I write this, though, I solemnly vow to NEVER complain about the ladies room here at KDDK being locked ever again.

This was the final poem Jennifer and I wrote together. After this incident, we decided to aim our creativity toward writing a best-selling murder mystery, with the heroine being a cute paralegal, taking place in a law firm. Hey, they say write what you know, right? We used as our inspiration the various characters at BFOH. But before we got too far, our murder victim (who has since been suspended from the practice of law) left BFOH and our murderous feelings toward him (which had been our muse, of course) ebbed. Ah, good times...

So there you have it, them, my brushes with poetry. I truly think my talents lie more toward rambling prose. But I may still try to come up with a haiku for that one blog's contest... assuming I can find it again. That's all for now.

Ode to Kevin – by Jennifer and Rosemary

Continuing my brushes with poetry in my humble 40+ years....

In all honesty, I can’t take 100% credit for these next two epics. My fiend Jennifer and I would go to lunch at Grandy’s, and our creative juices, as well as the grease from the chicken, would start flowing. So she is co-author of both “Ode to Kevin” and “Ode to a Peeper.” The first one is regarding Kevin our supervisor. First, I will sketch in a little background:

In May of 1990, I started my paralegal internship at Bamberger, Foreman, Oswald, and Hahn in Evansville. My supervisor was an attorney named Kevin and I had to work with the asbestos files. Well, fortunately, Jennifer (the aforementioned fiend) had started there in April of 1990, and Kevin was her supervisor as well, and she needed help in the collection/subrogation work; so after my internship was over, BFOH hired me full-time while I continued my 5th/6th year of college (depending on how you look at it) part-time at night. I started working with Jennifer in that work. Thus my life story was changed irreparably, in many ways. Anywho, Jennifer and I loved working with Kevin. Heck! We loved Kevin. He was a good supervisor, a good attorney, and a good person. He was so fun to work with. Therefore, we were horribly saddened when he told us that he’d accepted a position with West Publishing Company as a salesman and was leaving us.

So off to Grandy’s we went. I can’t recreate the conversation where we came up with the idea of writing an ode to the man, but once we started, it soon turned into a six-verse ode. We printed it on nice paper and framed it and gave it to him as a going away present. Over the next several years, we’d see Kevin occasionally, and he’d assure us that the framed Ode was hanging in his office. Oh, and as a note, Georganne (George) was his secretary, and we added her name in because we needed another syllable. Now, without further ado:

Ode to Kevin

There once was a lawyer named Kevin,
Who stood about five foot seven.
He’s going into sales
Where the Liberty Bell hails
He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

He’s leaving BFOH for a job with West.
As a salesman, he’ll be the best.
Soon he’ll be rich.
(Ain’t that a bitch?)
Remember us in the will with the rest.

And so to Philly goes Bev,
To be with her husband, Kev.
The children will foller
Although they may holler.
So let’s help them load up the Chev’..

We’ve worked with this man about a year.
He never joined us for lunch and a beer.
We like him a lot.
(Would we write this did we not?)
When he leaves, we’ll all shed a tear.

He encouraged us in times of despair.
He still has a full head of hair.
Much like a brother,
He compares to no other.
Where will we turn when he’s not there?

So off to lunch we goes,
This limerick to compose.
Congrats on the news!
You’re the master of schmooze.
From George, Jennifer and Rose.

I Have a Buddy, My Buddy's a . . .

I was bopping around on someone else’s blog the other day, and they are having a haiku contest (which I’m waffling about entering, BTW), and I was reminded of my own poetic experiences in life. So I got into my drawer of memories and dug them up. I will discuss them chronologically. Therefore, the first ones would be the “My Buddy” poems.

Growing up, I adored Garfield, the cat, the comic strip. In fact for years, I would receive some very odd presents from family – all having Garfield on them. To this day, I still use my Garfield trash can, and if I could pry them from my mother, I’d take back my Garfield pillow case(s). But that’s neither here nor there.

Also growing up, I was in a church group called “Guild Girls” along with my friends Debra and Shannon. It was a missions group and generally we did mission-oriented things, but each summer the leader (a wonderful woman named Thelma Shaw), would drive us to Santa Claus Land (now Holiday World) for a day of fun. I don’t know how old Thelma was, but I’m sure that she could have listed plenty of things she’d have rather done than take a group of pre-teens on a road trip, but she did it every year… until Debra got her license and she was able to drive us! Stay with me, now, these two items will collide in a minute.

One year, in Thelma’s backseat, I recited for Deb and Shannon a poem that would impact my life for years to come. I can type it now from memory. It was in a Garfield strip. I can’t recall exactly the point of the strip, but I loved the poem. Here goes (with apologies to Jim Davis)…

My Buddy – by Garfield the cat
I have a buddy
My buddy’s a toad.
He’s kind of muddy
He’s flat on the road.

But he’s my buddy,
My buddy to stay.
‘Til he’s peeled up
And sailed away.

The three of us started reciting it over and over to the point that I’m sure Thelma was ready to abandon every Christian teaching she’d ever learned and hurt all of us. But then at some point we decided to each come up with a new verse. Honestly, as I’m writing this, I cannot remember any of them, but again, I dug them out of my memory drawer and here is the one I wrote (I’ll not reprint the others out of respect to my friends):

I have a buddy
My buddy’s a rabbit.
I have his foot
‘Cause he don’t have it.
People run from him,
He’s kind of scary.
He’s missing an arm,
His name’s Two-Legged Harry.
But he’s my buddy,
My buddy to stay.
‘Cause without that foot,
He can’t run away.

So I know you’re thinking what an odd life I must’ve had for this stupid poem to effect it, right? Well, when I got into high school, Mrs. Hunt, one of the English teachers (she taught Creative Writing – which, ironically, I did NOT take because I did not consider myself creative) somehow found out about the poems. Again, memories here are slightly fuzzy as to the how, but she fell in love with them and during my freshman year at DePauw, she wrote me to tell me that she’d inaugurated the First Annual (or it might have been Semi-Annual, I seem to recall that that class was just one semester) Rose Barger My Buddy Contest – she was having her Creative Writing classes write new verses to the My Buddy poem and she’d mail them to me to judge the winner. The first time, I was surprised and honored. But by the, I don’t know, 10th year, I was beginning to dread back to school time because I knew the kids would have to write those poems and I’d have to judge them. In retrospect, I should have stayed honored. That was really nice of her and I hope she never got the feeling from me of my disdain (although I’m afraid she must have because they finished coming at some point… but then that might have been just because she retired.) But in case she did, and despite the fact that I have NO reason whatsoever to think she reads this blog, I apologize to her. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, you know I’m going to have to print this out and mail it to her. Dang me!

Mrs. Hunt, that was really a very sweet thing and although I don’t think your students ever really got the true “my buddy” feeling, (because, you know, sometimes they had the buddy surviving the poem!) it was fun to read them. So I truly apologize for my ill feelings toward the whole contest/judging thing.

Well, that's it for my first poetic remembrances. Tomorrow... an Ode to a Hoosier Attorney

Review - Julie & Julia

Mom and I went to go see Julie & Julia yesterday afternoon. Mom has wanted to go see it ever since we saw the preview during Angels and Demons back in May. It looked cute, but I've never considered myself a Meryl Streep person. Again, I generally go see movies that involve explosions and/or fart jokes. But this movie looked good, so we marked it on our calendars and planned on going.

Let me just say that this movie is EXCELLENT. Mom fully believes that it will be nominated for Best Picture this coming Oscar season, and what with their changing the rules and allowing more nominees this year, that may well happen. At a minimum, Meryl Streep should be nominated for Best Actress! I don't recall watching much Julia Child on TV growing up, although I know that I occasionally saw her on PBS at the 'Rents' house. My strongest and earliest memory of Julia Child involve the Dan Ackroyd sketch on Saturday Night Live. BTW, the movie showed this scene and that just was the icing on the cake to me! Having seen this movie, though, I may never picture her in my mind again without seeing Meryl Streep's face.

The movie spans the years of Julia Child's life, starting in 1948 when she and her husband moved to Paris until the 60's when her famous cookbook was published. Interspersed in with Julia's life is a year in the life of Julie Powell, of a modern day New York woman as she cooks/blogs her way through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year. I found this juxtaposition very effective from the beginning, as we see the Childs arriving in Paris, driving past the Eiffel Tower, and arriving at their new home, and then we see the Powells driving through New York, past a water tower-type thing, and then arriving at their new apartment, over a pizzeria. As Julia encountered road blocks first in her quest to learn French cooking and then in the publication of the book, so would Julie in her attempts to stuff a duck or boil a lobster. Likewise, we saw the ladies' celebrations in either Julia's finally forcing the woman in charge of the Cordon Bleu to allow her to graduate or in Julie's learning that she has actual readers who aren't her friends or family. (BTW, I can appreciate that joy!)

Late in the movie, after Julie's blog becomes well-known enough for there to be an article in the New York Times about her, she received a call from a reporter asking for a comment on the fact that Julia Child was not happy about the blog. While this may have been true to life, both Mom and I agreed that this was a bit that could have been glossed over or even left out of the movie. Odds are that Julia Child, being close to 90 at that time, didn't understand the concept of blogs and had not read it. I couldn't see any reason for her to have had problems with it.

So finally, as I've already said, I loved this movie. Turns out that maybe I am a Meryl Streep person. After all, I've loved two of her last three movies - the other being Mamma Mia. I've googled the real blogs that Julie Powell wrote - I may have to read through them. Although I may just truck myself and my Borders gift card to ... well, Borders, and get her book. I would consider getting Julia Child's book, but let's face it, I'm not going to learn French cooking... after all, I'm more an Easy Mac girl.

Now When He Was a Young Man, He Never Thought He’d See, People Stand in Line to See the Boy King!

I recently trekked to Indianapolis to see King Tut. (Cue Steve Martin..) Tut is currently on exhibit at the Indianapolis Children’s Museum until October (BTW, Haley, you’re welcome for the plug).

I had seen a Tut exhibit several years ago in Kansas City, but the items we saw there were replications, (or so I’ve been told – I don’t consciously recall that.) This exhibit, however, was the real stuff and it’s a real honor for Indy to have this exhibit, because normally it only goes to bigger cities/museums.

The exhibit opened with a short video narrated by Indiana Jones himself, Harrison Ford, explaining what we’d be seeing. Then the doors opened into several rooms with non-Tut-related artifacts. It was in one of these rooms that I found my favorite item: the sarcophagus for Crown Prince Thutmose’s pet cat. See, due to my father’s recent passing, I think of these things more often, so I had been discussing with Holly what would happen to my beloved cats, Sophie and Gizmo, if I were to go before them. But here the light bulb popped on in my head that if they go first, I could just have them mummified and put in a cute little sarcophagus just like Thutmose did! It was in this room, for this item, that I was sorely tempted to risk Security’s wrath and take a picture, but I chickened out. Fortunately, I was able to get a postcard of it. (See the picture)

After seeing several rooms of non-Tut stuff, you entered Tut’s tomb!! (mwahahaha) From here on, the exhibit was set out like the actual tomb was when Howard Carter found it in 1920-something. Of course, there was a lot more stuff packed into the actual tomb and it was rather haphazardly shoved in there, from what I’ve read about it. But the items that were on display were pretty interesting. We got to see Haley’s favorite item: a beautiful mini-sarcophagus, about 15 inches high and inlayed with gold and jewels, which held the body parts (brain, stomach, etc.) removed in mummification and went into canopic jars. We got to see toys for Tut to play with in the afterlife. There was a solid gold earring that must’ve weighed 30 pounds! And there were a bunch of shabti – little statuettes that were buried with the mummy and would do any hard labor that the deceased might be expected to do in the afterlife. (Even in death he got to have minions – why can’t I have just one?!)

Finally, as with all respectable exhibits, the tour ended in the gift shop. There was something for everyone, young and old, in the gift shop – from the usual cheap crap to incredibly expensive nice stuff. I purchased the aforementioned postcard of Prince Thutmose’s cat’s sarcophagus and the Egyptian addition to the United Nations. The United Nations being my growing collection of stuffed animals representing the countries I, or members of my family, have visited. (Yes, I think this counts!) (See the picture)



The night before we went to see the Tut exhibit, Haley’s boss was able to get Mom, Holly, and I tickets to attend a talk at Butler University by Dr. Zahi Hawass, the noted Egyptian archaeologist. He is the Secretary General of the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities and he is a hoot! He spoke of the DNA studies that are being done on various mummies, including two infants buried with Tut, and anticipated discoveries of new tombs. Unfortunately, though, the man was maddening in his refusal to give details on the results; saying only that there will be news conferences in a month and later in the year.

Review - Guys and Dolls

Mom and I went to go see the New Harmony Theatre's production of "Guys and Dolls" on Friday. Guys and Dolls is one of my favorite musicals. I think it's because I have a minor crush on Marlon Brando, or at least him as Sky Masterson. I don't think I've ever seen him in anything else.

I've never seen Guys and Dolls live - only watched the movie, but this was very good. The New Harmony Theatre performed in Murphy Auditorium which is a cozy little place. The performances were all very good, however, the woman who played Adelaide stole the show in my book. She was funny, and she belted out her tunes just as good as the woman in the movie did! :)

The Evansville Courier also reviewed the production here: http://www.courierpress.com/news/2009/aug/02/guys-and-dolls-production-top-notch/

Now two things about the show. #1) I went to Borders the next morning to buy the DVD of the movie because I only had the VHS version, and I had a coupon good for $5 off any DVD, and $5 in Border bucks, and I had a gift card from Steve (boss #1) from my birthday, so I got it for free. But the guy who rang me up asked if I'd been to see the show in New Harmony and I said, yes, last night!! He asked if I'd seen him? I looked at him consideringly... hmm... He said that it was a trick question because he was in the orchestra and they were hidden behind the scenery on stage. Well, I hadn't realized there was an actual orchestra. I assumed the music was canned - it sounded good enough to be recorded.

#2) in the booklet, there was an ad that said that if you took your ticket stub to the Firefly Grille on the east side of Evansville, you would get a complimentary dessert. So Sunday after church, mom and I went with two of the ladies that we saw the show with for Sunday brunch. I had never been there before, but it was very good. I got the ______ and Eggs. You could fill the _____ in with your choice of a variety of items. I chose the fried green tomatoes. Everything was delicious, but the fried green tomatoes were not as good as mom's. They were dipped in batter and the tomatoes inside were wafer thin.

The complimentary dessert that I chose was the "Something Very Chocolatey" - which was basically chocolate mousse. YUM! Mom got "Glazed Donut Bread Pudding" and it was YUMMERS! Amy got Red Velvet Cake and her mom, Mary Lou got Southern Tiramisu. We all shared bites and they were all delicious!