Pictures of Pandas Painting

You know those TV shows where the episodes are related, but not technically a two-parter?  This is one of those.

You will recall the fun that was to be had in my bathroom the day before Thanksgiving?  Well, we left this story line with a big hole in my ceiling.  The plumber had come and fixed the leak, but we hadn't received the bill yet.  Also, the contractor hadn't come yet to give us an estimate. 

Flash forward about a month later, the contractor came and estimated, the insurance had been contacted and they were going to cover everything but the deductible which, BTW, turns out we have a sliding deductible and since we've not submitted any claims in the 9 years we've lived here, our deductible was $250 instead of $500!

The contractor also included in his estimate what it would take if they painted my bathroom, too.  It was $500 more, and my niece, Natalie who just so happened to be coming to visit Mom and me for Christmas, "love[s] painting!"  Also she's got some decorating savant-ness going on, so I figured maybe I could bribe her into helping me paint.  Plus, she can help me pick the color bein's as I want to keep my shower curtain - with Monet's "Water Lilies" - only I'm not big on my bathroom being blue... or pink.

I never realized it, but there's a whole series of these Water Lilies paintings.  Just try Googling it in the store when you realize you forgot to take a photo of the thing you are trying to match!  Nat's performed her magic and we got paint, and all the assorted accoutrements.  We also got new LED light bulbs for the fixtures.

We returned to the condo with our purchases in tow and prepared to prep the bathroom.  Winifred was all ready to assist.  (She does love the ladder.)

First thing we notice was that we'd got the wrong light bulbs.  I was really sure that the lights in my bathroom took the bulbs with the bigger bottoms.  Well, when Natalie got up on the sink to switch them out, it didn't take her long to see the difference.  So she went back to Lowe's for the exchange while I stayed back and cleared out the rest of the room and cleaned off the baseboards.

We started about 2 p.m.   In these pics you can see the brownish beige the walls originally were and Natalie, high on paint fumes! 

At some point during the process, the feline foreperson felt that she could leave the whole thing in our paint-spattered hands, so she wandered off for a nap.

We took a short break for dinner about 5-ish, then the room was finished about 7 p.m.  By the next morning, it was dry and stuff could go back in place.

Problem Child

(Legal warning: there are pictures in this post that might gross you out.)

I'm not sure how a creature that only weighs 7 1/2 pounds could cause so much trouble, but Sophie has struck yet again.  

About a month ago, it was time for her annual trek to the vet for shots.  Plus she's a "geriatric" kitty at this point - although "we" do not speak of her actual age, let's put it this way, her litter mate, Gizmo, will be 14 years old this coming April.  

To recap, she's lived quite a bit of her fluffy life on the precipice of danger.  She was the runt of the litter and almost didn't survive being bottle fed after their mother abandoned her, Gizmo, and their three brothers after two days.  In 2010, she almost died of liver failure, had to be fed through a feeding tube, and drove me to the edge.  I figured that those two instances alone cost her at least two of her nine lives!

A few years later, 2015, she developed a hot spot on her tummy which resulted in her having what I like to call her "tummy tuck" - longtime readers will remember the pics of her in a Onesie!  

As we drove to the vet's office that Saturday morning, Sophie loudly singing the song of her people, I reassured her that she was fine and so the worst thing that would probably happen would be a shot or two.  I promised her that she wouldn't have to have her temperature taken.  (I silently crossed my fingers on that last one, but as it turns out, I was okay on that one.)

As always, the vet pried open her mouth to take a look at her choppers - which are gorgeous (my word, not his, but I'm sure that was the gist of his opinion.)  Now let me point out here that she was marvelous.  If my dentist had stood there with my mouth pried wide open while he calmly discussed it with someone else, I'd have bit him.  But no, she was a good little girl.  He pointed out that she had a sore on the roof of her mouth that wasn't normal.  He also pointed out how fast she was breathing - as though something were "up in there" making normal breathing difficult.  He said that the sore needed to be cauterized and maybe a biopsy done.

Well, you know that to me the word "biopsy" means I start looking for another cat.  I'm generally a positive person, and maybe that initial fear is normal, and it's how I deal with it that shows I'm positive.  But of course, I tried to assume the best.  We scheduled her surgery for the Monday after Thanksgiving (at that time, 10 days away).  During the interval, I did my best ostrich imitation, and tried to ignore the whole situation and just love my baby girl. 

Neither of us got much sleep the night before, since she couldn't eat or drink for X and Y hours, respectively, before the surgery, she and I went upstairs to sleep in the guest room.

Dropping her off was fun because I had to sit there through all the legal mumbo jumbo (and yes, I believe that's the technical name for it - I should know, as I work in the wonderful legal world!) and authorize them to do this or that, if necessary.   And yes, speaking as a legal professional, I freely admit that I did not read it - just skimmed for the highlights and where I had to sign and/or initial.

Post-op, I was called and told she was out and fine and I could come pick her up at 4:30.  So I went and got to see the Doctor - and he had pictures!!

So this picture is of her little mouth and weird thing in the middle is the tumor - they were able to take it out (and it would be sent off for biopsy).  Then they zapped the skin around the hole with a laser and it looked like this.

Keeping in mind that her entire head is about the size of a grapefruit, he telling me that now there is basically this tunnel between her mouth and her brain-box.  He said the edges might eventually sort of close in, but it wasn't likely to just heal up.  And his main concern is food getting stuffed up there, and then they'd have to put her out to go in and clean it out.  Yuck!  But he said that since she only eats dry food, that makes the chances of this happening much less.... and he'd like to see her again in two days.

He also told me that her white blood cell count was really high - turns out lil'puddin's tonsils (who knew cats had tonsils!?) were inflamed and out of their "crypt" - this reminds me I wanted to Google all of this - but he gave her a shot of antibiotics, so that should go away.  I'm guessing having uber inflamed tonsils may have played a major part in her not eating as well.

I got my sweetie home, and she hopped out of the carrier and wandered around the condo like she was drunk off her gourd.  Her front half seemed to be capable of going where her brain wanted it to, but her back half, if it worked, was NOT on the same wavelength.  If I were one to worry (hahahahaha!) I'd have been scared they'd nicked her spinal cord or something, but I chose to assume it was the remnants of the anesthesia and it would get better (and it did.)  The entire evening, she refused to lay down and rest, she wandered constantly from food bowl, to litter box, to water fountain, and back.  Later, my fiend, Jennifer, said this was probably her fight or flight instinct, and that made sense.  I was just too pooped from lack of sleep and worry that I couldn't stay up to watch her.

In the morning, she was fine, pretty much back to her usual queenly self.  I had obtained the okay to work from home so I could stay by her side, but she didn't need me, so I went to the office.  At that point, my main concern was having to park in the boonies, but the Lord blessed me with a parking spot very close to the door, so I was able to trek up to my office (four flights of stairs, remember?), and relax and work.

The doctor had told me that there was no need to get my hopes up about getting the biopsy results back any time soon - it normally takes 7-10 days.  So imagine my joy when, at our follow-up appointment two days later, they'd come in!!  Praise God!  They were normal - no cancer.  It was just some oddball (imagine that) allergic reaction that usually presents itself on the hind flanks - it's odd that it would appear in the mouth.  And it's not something that they can test for.  So my baby, like her mother, is just allergic to where she lives.

The final follow-up appointment, two weeks later, was this past Saturday.  Doctor opened her little mouth - she wasn't as much of an angel this time - and he said, "well, I'll be!"  And I was all, "WHAA??"  He turned her mouth so I could see - the hole was gone - there is a wee bit of scarring but other than that, there is no evidence in her mouth that this happened.

So to recap, the miracles that God performed in the past month just for this little 7 1/2 pound (well, 8 now, she'd gained a half pound at the 2nd FU appointment) ball of fluff and bones:

• Tumor wasn't cancer
• Test results back quickly so I wouldn't get an ulcer whilst dwelling morosely on the worst possibility for two weeks
• The hole healed up so no worries about food in her brain-box
• Parking spot (you might think I jest, but if so, you've never tried to find a parking spot at Berry.)

Now my little curmudgeon is all well and back to her normal self.  We both appreciate everyone's kind prayers, thoughts, and inquiries about her status - you just can't tell from her expression in this picture.

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

Thanksgiving has come and is long gone and only now have I had a chance to sit and contemplate....

The Wednesday before T-day, I woke up, earlier than my normal 5:30, at about 4:20 am.  I could hear water being slurped at the cats water fountain and was considering throttling whoever it was that was so thirsty.  I turned over, grumbled into my pillow, and tried to go back to sleep.  But the slurping sound continued.

And continued...

And...  argh!  At this point, I'm willing to sell state secrets if only it will stop!  The Chinese water torture works on me, just FYI.  And now I have to go wee!  Sigh..

So I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom.  I figured I'd refill the fountain (because generally that sound gets worse the lower the water level) while I was in there.  One step into the room (fine), second step into the room (squish).  Ugh, did someone hurl on my bathroom floor?  I mean, points for Gryffindor for hoarking on the linolium, but yuck...

So I turned on the light and looked down.  No hoark on the floor.  Just water.  My brain slowly percolates...  the water fountain doesn't hold THAT much water and it's 10 feet away!  How did this water get here?  DRIP!  The light bulb in my head comes on as my head receives a drop of water on it.

Yep, there's a leak in my bathroom ceiling.  In fact, it looks like a boob on my ceiling... a B-cup maybe.  Of course, my mind immediately leaps to the hot water heater in the utility closet upstairs so after first putting a bowl under the drip to catch future H2O, I trotted upstairs to confirm the worst.  But no.  The floor upstairs was a dry as a bone and the utility closet was warm and dry as well.  Hmmm...  With my limited construction experience (i.e., none), it occurs to me that there are probably pipes leading from the hot water heater to the bathrooms below, and I'm guessing one of them has sprung a leak.

All of this probably took 5 minutes, during which I managed to wake Mom up.  After explaining what was going on, and assuring her the bowl was in place, I took my blankie, pillow, and cat posse to my lazy-boy and tried to go back to sleep.

After a barely successful attempt at more sleep, I got up and started working out a plan of attack.  First, obviously, I'd be staying home that day... and depending on whether or not we could find a plumber who would come on the day before a long holiday weekend, our trip to Indy to have Thanksgiving with Haley's family was in flux.  Our former next door neighbor at the 'Do runs a plumbing business, so we called them and got the ol' "our schedule is full for the day, but we'll try to fit you in" routine.

Meanwhile, I'm envisioning that State Farm commercial where the person is asking his/her agent in a variety of situations whether they're covered, and one of them is a bathtub from the ceiling falling through to the floor below.  Not that there was that much water or a bathtub above it, but still... so I decided I would pop the B-cup and drain the water out, so as to lessen the possibility of something similar.  After poking the bubble, the water drained out and then it looked like a DD.

Of course, since I don't wait well, and I really wanted to see how far the wet went, I ripped the loose stuff off the ceiling to see how extensive the damage was.  The plumber was able to fit us in and the diagnosis was a pin-prick leak in one of the pipes.  So they cut a hole, replaced the leaky pipe and left.  We haven't received the bill yet, but we have our fingers crossed that we won't have to mortgage the 'Do.

Mostly because now we have a hole in my bathroom ceiling which will have to be fixed.  The funny thing is that just the day before, I had been thinking to myself that I'd like to paint my bathroom a pretty color instead of the beige that it and the rest of the condo is (with the exception of mine and mom's bedrooms).  I don't know if insurance would cover that, but a girl could hope, right?

 Of course, being a first-time homeowner, I don't know what insurance will cover or not.  And the final bill may come to $5 over our deductible!  I haven't had good luck with deductibles lately, but that's another story for later.

Can someone remind me why home-ownership is preferable to renting?

Luck of the Draw

'Tis that season again....  caroling, packages with bows, the annual fighting Winifred to get out of the tree.  You know, Christmas! 

And the same goes for life at Berry.  This past week has been touted as a week of holiday fun and surprises.  Monday, there was some local coffee shop set up in the "Hibachi" where we could buy special coffee.  Tuesday, there was lunch provided from Spudz 'n Stuff and giveaways.  Today (Wednesday) is popcorn for free munching in the Hibachi.  Thursday is free donuts (if you bring in a new toy for Toys for Tots in exchange).  And I'm hoping that the week will end with us receiving our semi-annual bonus.

I'm all for free food, but you have to put it into context.  First, all the fun stuff will be in what I lovingly call "the big house," i.e., the main new building on First Avenue and Franklin Street.  Now, Berry is BIG and I work, as discussed before, in the old cigar factory building behind Willard Library.  There is no really convenient way to get from one building to the other - there is a very circuitous route up/down stairs, through the factory OR there's the outside route..  The building I'm in has no elevator, only four LONG flights of stairs which I have to go up/down every time I need to go out.  So in order for me to leave my bat cave on the third floor, the reason has to be "stair-worthy."

Reminding me of a Seinfeld episode (Season 7, Ep. 9) where Elaine's preferred form of birth control, the sponge, is discontinued so she stocks up, buying all that are left, and consequently has to decided from then on out whether or not the guy she's dating is "sponge-worthy." 

Each day, if I'm not required to be there (e.g., our monthly legal team meeting), whether or not I leave my cave to do something/go somewhere totally depends on whether or not it is stair-worthy. So the few of you for whom I am willing to leave my perch to go to lunch with, feel honored.  Yesterday, being the first Tuesday of the month, was our monthly meeting, so I'd already had to be in the big house once that day, making my desire to go back over, even for free food, plummet.

But I decided to go, mostly because one of the giveaways was a "winter parking spot."  The parking at Berry is, shall we say, less than ideal.  I get to work each morning at about 6:30 am because I want a decent parking spot and not to have to walk multiple city blocks to get to/from my building.  On good days, I get a spot in the parking lot in front of the Big House.  On bad days, I could be parking re-e-a-l-l-l-y far away.

I was lucky enough to win a parking spot a couple of years ago and let's just say that April of 2017 was a very good month!

When the time came, I and a co-worker (Jennifer) made the trek over, taking the outside way.  It was in the low 40's outside (or high 30's), and it was more preferable to us to go out in the cold and take the elevator at the Big House than to take the rather circuitous route through the buildings and have to take all the stairs. 

Once we arrived, we got and fully decked out our baked potatoes - ugh, it was so good!  (And I ate far too much of mine - I didn't even take a cookie, if that tells you...)  And when the line got relatively short, I went over to put my name in the hat for the parking spot.  They were also giving away a day off, a TV set, and something having to do with the Purple Aces (U of E's basketball team.)  My preferences, in order (1 being the most desirous to Rose and 4 being "ugh" and not in a good way):
1. Parking spot
2. Day off
3. TV - although I don't really need one, the one in the living room is 10 yrs old and could possibly die any minute
4. Purple Aces thing - I attended U of E for three years and never, not once, attended a basketball game.  Therefore, if I won something, THIS would be what I won.

After lunch, I made the long trek back home to my cubbie and never gave the drawing another thought.  After all, the odds were probably not "ever in [my] favor."

About 3:30 pm, we got an email announcing the winners.  First thing - parking spot - dagnabit either they spelled my name really wrong or I didn't win.  On to the days off... bummer, no.  I almost closed the email at that point because, well I think you know why, but I stayed the course and looked further - Purple Aces thing - nope.  Whew!  Dodged a bullet there!  Then just for shits and giggles, the TV - "Rosemary Barger"  - Wha?? 

Yes, I won a 40-inch TV set.  For a heart beat, and only a heartbeat, I considered contacting the guy whose name looks nothing like mine who won the parking spot to see if he'd like to trade, but then I remembered that the TV at home is 10 yrs old and decided it wouldn't hurt to have a new one waiting in the wings.

So I'm looking forward to the upcoming Doctor Who marathon for Christmas - it'll look great on the new TV! 

Ghosts 'n' Stuff

“Darkness falls across the land

The midnight hour is close at hand

Creatures crawl in search of blood

To terrorize [your] neighborhood

Where I work is just a few feet from the Willard Library in Evansville.  The Willard is notorious for being haunted by the "Grey Lady." 

I've spent many hours of my life in that library and I've never seen her.  That's not to say that she isn't there.  I could always watch the ghost cam, or I could go on a ghost tour, but for either of those, I might have to stay up past my bedtime, and, well, I have my priorities.

Now, the Willard is like way over a 100 years old, and at some time during those years, the building I work in - the old Fendrich Cigar Factory building in Evansville, which is next door to the Willard - provided extra storage for the Library on its fourth floor.  The story goes that some of the workers at Berry have seen the Grey Lady in our building, too.  Maybe she just likes to get out.

I've always disregarded these stories.  But lately, I'm beginning to wonder.  Several times in the past several months, I would resume typing at my computer only to find that my keyboard had been unplugged from the USB port.  The first couple of times, the cord just seemed as though it had just wiggled loose.  But the last several times, it has been totally unplugged.  Frankly, I just assumed that someone was playing tricks on me.  If I still worked with a certain attorney who may or may not remain nameless... it will depend on where this post ends up going, then I would certainly believe he was just trying to gaslight me.  During the 10+ years I worked with him, he was constantly up to something, moving things around on people's desks, putting empty sardine cans in another attorney's desk drawers, placing framed photos of himself on other people's desks just to see how long it took for them to notice.  Many of you KNOW who I'm talking about.  However, unfortunately I no longer work with him.  Sniff...

That doesn't mean that there might not be someone here at Berry who could be playing with my mind.  After all, one of the attorneys here at Berry is his friend.

And whosoever shall be found

Without the soul for getting down

Must stand and face the hounds of hell

And rot inside a corpse’s shell

But just the other day, I was sitting at my desk working, minding my own business, USING THE KEYBOARD with no issues.  My phone rang, and I stopped, picked up the phone, and talked with the woman who called - all the while, sitting at my desk, with my keyboard and the USB cord/port in my sight.  When the call was over, I hung up, and started typing again.  But the keyboard wasn't working.  I looked and saw this

Photograph of reenactment of the crime



Note that the USB cord (circled in red) is a good 1-2 inches from the USB slot.  Let me repeat that the general area contained in this picture was within my sight the ENTIRE TIME, so no actual person unplugged it!

The foulest stench is in the air

The funk of forty thousand years

And grizzly ghouls from every tomb

Are closing in to share your doom

Frankly, this all reminds me of about twenty years ago (OMG, I'm getting old!), when I had a VCR (again, evidence of age, I suppose) that seemed to be possessed - it would turn on and off by itself.  Seriously, I'd be sitting on the couch, reading a book - back in the good old days when I could actually see to read - and all of a sudden the VCR would turn on.  I didn't have cats back in those days, so I couldn't blame it on a furry paw stepping on the remote.

I don't think I believe in ghosts, although assuming no malicious intent on their part, ghosts might be fun to have around.  There are several mystery series where the main character and his/her ghost companion go around solving the murder.  Of course, why the ghost can't just ask the ghost of the murder victim who killed him is beyond me. 

Anyway, Happy Halloween!

And though you fight to stay alive

Your body starts to shiver

For no mere mortal can resist

The evil of the thriller”

- Rob Temperton

Voting Booth Cafe

Don't worry.  Surely you know from experience with this blog that this will not be a political diatribe.  I keep all of those comments private and obviously I keep in contact with you no matter how wrong your views are.  Plus, remember, I'm shallow.

No, the topic here today is only vaguely related to any election.  Here goes...

Like sometime in the past 10 years or so, Vanderburgh County (where I live) started having early voting.  Possibly it's the whole state, I don't know, but it definitely is in Vand Co.  You could always vote an absentee ballot; that's how I voted back in my days at DPU.  But for those of us who have no legit reason to obtain an absentee ballot, early voting was a God-send!  Instead of getting up early on Election Day and risking being late to work, and having to stand in line with a bunch of other idiots who couldn't get an absentee ballot, now, I can go any day I like (obviously during the 2 weeks of early voting, duh..), to my local library, after work, generally there's no line, or if there is, it isn't bad.  Rose likes early voting.

Exercising my right to vote is one of the only forms of exercise I get, so I do it regularly.  Of course, back in the days when I lived in Posey County and there were rarely any contested races in the primary, I would sometimes skip the primary, but...

Anywho, a month or so ago, my friend Erin posted on her Facebook page a link where Hoosiers could go to confirm they were registered to vote lest they go to the polls and be turned away.  However, as I have previously stated, I have voted in every election they've held since I turned 18, lo those many years ago.  Therefore, I poo-poo'ed Erin's post and disregarded it.  I'm obviously registered to vote.  After all, I just voted in the primary in May!

I hereby officially apologize to Erin for poo-poo-ing her.

Monday, Oct 22nd, was the first day we could early vote at the library.  After work, I drove home, picked up the Mom-bot, and drove us to the Red Bank Library.  The parking lot was full and the line to vote was out the door (of the room where the voting was happening, not the Library) and into the hallway.  But it moved relatively quickly.

Since I'm on drugs, I happily chatted with the people in line around me.  (I was standing for two - Mom sat while I held her place in line.)  Once I got in the room, I could see that one of the two women behind the table where we check in was the same wonderful woman who I entertained back in May when I came to vote in the primary.  See I couldn't find my ID. 
My wallet isn't all that big, but like the Doctor's TARDIS, it's bigger on the inside.  Plus I had just returned from a conference in Chicago, so it was full of receipts and other stuff that I hadn't cleaned out.  There certainly was no cash in it.

We get to the front of the line, and Mom goes first to the other lady, then I go up to the woman from May.  I hand her my license, she zaps it with her scanner gun thingee.... and nothing.  She pauses... "hmm, I'm going to have to type it in."  She types in my birthday - nothing.  My last name...Barger.. nope, nothing (except Mom, presumably, because by now she has moved on to the line waiting for an open machine.) 

So by now, the wonderful lady... who I'm going to call Linda - she looked like a Linda.  Linda calls someplace governmenty - so Vand Co Voting Headquarters, say.  We go through my name, date of birth, finally the guy on the other end tells her I'm registered to vote in Posey County.

For those of you paying attention, Mom and I have lived at the 'do for nigh onto 9 years now (in November, 9 official years).  And I've already pointed out that I vote regularly... and that I talked to Linda in May when I voted, in Vanderburgh County.

Linda was very sorry, but there was nothing she could do.  So I was like, cool, no problem.  Not her fault.  And besides, by now, Mom is finished voting, so we can leave.

So the next day, I called Voting HQ to see what was up.  I spoke with a lovely, friendly woman named Connie (her real name).  She looked me up and confirmed that yes, I'm registered in Posey Count, but she can tell from my "voting history" that I've voted in Vand Co 2010, 2012, 2014, 2016... "you even voted here in May for the primary!"   To which I responded, "I know!!" 

She said she was going to have to call Posey County to see what was up and that she would get back to me.  AND SHE DID!  She called me back a few minutes later to tell me that the "computer guy" in Posey Co merged my record back to Po Co for some unknown reason, but that he was going to un-merge me back to Vand Co and he was going to call her when it was done, and she would call me.

AND SHE DID!!  She called me back to say it was done, and that Rick said "hi," and she was going to walk a "Certificate of Error" down to ??? (another governmenty, voting-related office) as soon as we hung up.  I asked who was Rick?  She said that he's the computer guy from Posey County and he said to tell me hi.  (Oh, that Rick!) (??)  Anyway, I confirmed with her that I could go to the library on my way home that night and vote.  She said yes.

Note:  Working in the legal field, as I have, for these last 28 years, I've dealt with a lot of governmenty types, and Connie wins the prize for being a) helpful and b) doing what she promised - i.e., calling me back!  TWICE!  Yay! Connie!

After work, back to the Library.  Oddly enough, there was no line, so when I walked into the room, I gave Linda a big ol'wave and smile!  Linda scanned my license - nope.  She typed in my info - nope.  She called HQ and told my story of woe - the person she was talking to confirmed that yep, they had a Certificate of Error about me and that I could vote.   (I repeat, "Yay!  Connie!)

I had to fill out a form, but finally, I was able to vote and go home. 

One preachy note, if you're reading this and are eligible to vote.... get your furry butt to the polls and vote.  I could have just said "F*** it!" and not pursued it, but the right to vote is something my ancestors fought for (literally) and shouldn't be taken lightly.  I don't care who you vote for ... well, that's not true, I'd prefer you vote for the people I'd like to win, but...  as long as you vote.

Of course, if you are able to do early voting, like me, then you'll spend the next two weeks wondering why you still have to watch all these freakin' campaign ads!  Argghhh!!!

conjunction junction, watts youre funktion

As I believe I've mentioned before, Mom, the twins, and I are members of the DAR.  This basically means that we have an ancestor (or in our case, we're going on 10 on Mom's side of the family and at least 3 on Dad's side!) who participated in some way with the Revolutionary War.  Now, Rose is not a joiner so I don't attend many meetings and am happy to just pay my dues.  Mom, however, is a joiner and she goes to meetings and a couple of years ago, she agreed to be the American History Chair.  She was in charge of the American History Essay Contest open to all middle school kids in Vanderburgh County AND the Christopher Columbus Essay Contest open to all high school kids.  Mom being the Chair, of course, meant that I was her de facto co-chair. 

The possibilities made my inner nerd tingle with excitement! I created a spreadsheet of all the schools in Vand Co, both public and private, with contact info.  Oh! It was (and still is,) a  work of art!  Mom was thinking about mailing stuff to the schools, and I was like, "Join the 21st Century!  We're doing this by email, baby!"  Obviously, it was all fun and games until the essays came in and we had to actually read them.  Each essay had to be judged by two DAR members and one non-member.  Again, between me, Mom and the twins, we had the members down and Mom was able to finagle a couple of her friends into being the non-member judges.

The first year was the 100th anniversary of the National Park System, so the essays were supposed to be a diary of a trip to a National Park. The next year was the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I, so they were supposed to imagine it was 1918 and it was the end of the War and such.

Aside from the obvious plagiarism from Wikipedia (they didn't even change the font when they cut/pasted!), and the Nazi's in the essays about WWI, we survived and managed to find "winners" each year.  After Mom's two-year term, she was happy to step down.  My thoughts were that we had the operation down to a fine art now and it seems a shame not to continue, but there you go.

In May or so, when the new Chapter Regent (like a President) called me and asked me to be the new American History Chair, I must have been having a fit of insanity because I said yes.  After all, Mom and I had done very well the previous two years.

No less than three separate women called me, during the next several months, to offer their advice on how to conduct the essay contest.  (Note that when Mom took over, NO ONE gave her any guidance - we hoed that row alone!) 

AT this point, I have to point out that I am a member of Generation X and one of the personality quirks of Gen X'ers is that, since we were the first generation of latch key kids and had to learn how to fend for ourselves, we do not like people to take it upon themselves to "help" us.  I never realized this about myself until I attended a seminar about the different generations and how their personalities differed.  When the speaker was describing the Gen X'ers, I was like "Oh my Gosh!, that's ME!"  One of the few things about my mother that drives me nuts is that I'll be telling her something and her immediate response is to suggest ways to solve the situation.  I don't want help, I just want her to listen to my story.  I never knew why, but it always made me angry when she would do that.  Now when she does it, I just shake my head and smile at my inner Gen X.  But I digress....

One of the ladies who called me even felt compelled to tell me all the things that had been wrong about the contest the previous year.  First, one of the speaker's essay was too long... (see each February, the Chapter holds a tea and all of the essay winners are invited to come read their winning essays and get recognized.)  Back to the complaint... and was I aware that I could get online and get a list of the rules and there are word count min/max for each grade...?  Mom would be so proud of me, I kept my cool (I was at work, mind you) and kindly said that yes, I knew about the requirements and we used the guidelines and any essays that did not have the correct number of words were disqualified, and none of the winning essays were "too long."

Her second complaint was that all of the winners last year were home-schooled.  She went on to point out that the essay was meant to encourage public school students... not that homeschoolers weren't welcome to participate.  She could provide me with a list of all the schools in the County if I would like....   I respectfully advised her that every school in the County, public, private, parochial, etc, received the same invitation to participate as the homeschoolers received.  I withheld the fact that only one school sent in any essays and that they were all... sub-par.

The final comment was that she knew someone who knew a teacher at Evansville Day School and she really felt like they'd want to participate, so she would get me a name of the teacher.  Again, I respectfully advised that EVERY school in the County had received an invite, and that even though Evansville Day School had already received the information, if she wanted to provide me with an email address, I would send it to that teacher as well.

Somewhere in all of this, the woman also told me that she had been in charge of the AH essay contest in the past, and there was always very good participation by the schools.  I'm not sure what she expected me to do, go to each school and force the children to write essays?  I'm pretty sure that the fear of upsetting Mom was the only thing preventing me from telling the old crone that if she got such good participation, maybe she should the job take over.

Now, here we are, the essays are in, and out of the whopping 42 schools invited, I received essays from three, let me say that again... THREE schools. 

Now, in case you're wondering about the title of this post, here's where that comes in...

For three years now, each time I read these essays, I am continually aghast at the ....grrr... are these children not taught about punctuation?  Capitalization? GRAMMAR?  I've always been a proponent of the Oxford comma, but am used to the wide-spread failure for it to be used properly.  And I'm not perfect.  I'm pretty sure that if Mrs. Hunt or Mrs. Hewig (high school English - good ol' NPHS!) were to read any of my posts here, they would be equally horrified. 

But I'm talking no punctuation at all! And the run-on sentences.   On the bright side, nary a Nazi has been found in any of the essays I've read, so far.  Oh, you'd probably like to know the topic - it's the 100th anniversary of the passage of the 19th Amendment to the Constitution.  So the essays are supposed to be about the pros and cons of the women's suffrage movement.

I think as a essay topic, it's a good one.  There have been some very interesting and original essays.  One of the major problems is that very few of the essays have ANY pros or cons.  Also, a lot of the kids seem to mistake "suffrage" for "suffering" and the authors comment that "the passage of the 19th Amendment and the subsequent end to women's suffrage was a good thing!"*

*NOTE: Obviously this comment is in my words because had most of these written it, Amendment would not have been capitalized and it would have likely read "woman's suffrage" and not "women's suffrage."

This past Friday evening, I lured a few of my friends over to the 'do for pizza, cookies, and spicy pretzels (note my use of the Oxford comma, there) in exchange for their reading/judging essays.  The essays are definitely a case of having to laugh or else having to cry.  I think a good time was had by all of my vict... er.. judges; and I hope they might be willing to come back next year, after all, this is a two-year term.  Sigh.

And now, for a couple of grammar-related comics that make me chuckle.

Na Na, Na Na Na Na, Hey, Hey, Hey, Goodbye!!

Growing up in the 1970’s in the boonies of Posey County (Indiana, for those who don’t know), there were exactly four (4) television networks – ABC, CBS, NBC, and PBS.  At the time, cable didn’t exist, but even after it did, it didn’t for us because the cable didn’t run out to where we lived.  However, Dad worked for RCA doing television repair, so we always had tv’s and we had a good antenna.  It was this tall tower thing which Dad would have to climb up, to get to the roof, whenever he needed to fiddle with the antenna.  In the later years, it held a birdhouse.

TV has always been an important part of my life.  Mr. Rogers started shortly around the time I was born, and there was Sesame Street and the Electric Company.  Then I “advanced” to reruns of the Brady Bunch and Batman afterschool.  Some might argue this was not good for young Rose, but meh..  

Before the day of VCR’s and their progeny, we could watch one thing, and being the youngest in a house of five, I’m pretty sure my vote counted less.  So I was exposed to what everyone else watched.  I’m not talking bad stuff – in the 70’s, I’m not even sure bad stuff existed.  But for example, Saturday nights, my sisters watched Doctor Who (not bad) and Monty Python (questionable, considering my age) on PBS.

Then along came cable and Rose was devastated that we couldn’t get cable where we lived even if I were successful in talking the ‘Rents into getting it.  Somewhere along in there came Fox with the Simpsons and Married With Children, and the CW and UPN (R.I.P.)   I survived.

In the mid-90’s I moved away from home…. Three miles away from home!  But those three miles were important because they put Rose in the range of cable.  Since then, some 23 years, Rose has had cable.  I’ll go without food, but I’ve had cable, or satellite.  In fact, after Dad passed away, and I moved back home with Mom, it was based upon the conditions that A) my cats came with me; and 2) we would have Dish.  (Cable wasn’t and still isn’t an option for the occupants of that house.)

When Mom and I moved to the ‘Do in Evansville, we learned that when the buildings were built, they were wired for Sigecom (now WOW!) and the other cable providers in town couldn’t use their wires.  I don’t know if that’s true, I would think not – wire is wire, but I honestly never investigated.  I’d had WOW! before and had no problem with them.   The cable bill included internet too, and since they were bundled, I had no idea of how the cost broke down, but the cost wasn’t too bad.  I think it was like $90 a month.

Over the years, I’ve read about all the ways and options people had to “cut the cord” and not have to have cable.  I was very interested and would read the articles putting the info away for the future (hopefully far off) after Mom was gone.  What did Mom’s presence have to do with it?   Well, being at home all day, she probably watches more TV (timewise) than I do; and as she’s gotten older, electronic stuff has become a little, er.. shall we say, daunting?  She can handle it all, but it can be confusing, so I didn’t want to make her have to go through learning something new.

Some years later, I received my cable bill one day - it was $201.  Also around that same time, I had lunch with my friend Amy (hey, you've been mentioned in the blog for a second time!!) and she was telling me all about how she uses Sling.  Now, TV is not as important to Amy, so I figured if she was doing it, it meant she’d investigated and confirmed it was a good way to go.  My brain started percolating… Mom can learn something new… and we had to get a new air conditioner (which I’m doing my best to pay for – i.e., not Mom), and a good portion of the money spent on cable could go to that.  (AC is another very important thing to Rose, maybe another blog sometime.)

So I signed up for Sling.  Bonus:  They have BBC America!!!!!  Several years ago, my cable company provided BBC America, although I had to pay extra for it.  I was okay with that - BBC America was my access to Doctor Who.  Then one day, I came home from a rough day at work, where I earned the cash to pay for cable, I turned on my television only to discover that I no longer had that channel.  Of course, I called – now, Rose does NOT like using the telephone, so the fact that I immediately picked up the phone and called should demonstrate the importance here.  I was told that BBC America had upped what they charged the cable company to broadcast and it was so much more that the cable company decided to no longer offer it.  Needless to say, I was bummed.

All totaled, I now pay a grand total of $85 for "cable" and internet.   When I received my first reduced bill from the cable company (because I had to stay with them for internet), it was the grand total of $38!!!  I did have to buy some antennas for the network channels, and a Roku for each TV, but those are one time investments.  Rose is now very happy - especially since BBC America has been showing "13 Days of Who" running up to the premiere of the new season!

Only in Miami...

Praise God, our flight to Miami from Chicago was totes uneventful.  And the very nice ladies from the night before (not the two bimbos), put me, Mom, and Annette together so we were able to chat with each other.  We arrived in Miami about 10 am, and our appointment to board the ship was at 11 am, so I never even got to see the hotel room I'd paid for.  Grumble.  Once we got through the airport, our plan was to go straight to the port.

However, getting through the airport was a feat.  First let me say that there is only one way to travel through Miami International Airport, and that is with an elderly person.

We found our luggage, turns out it was Annette's suitcase that went to DFW and then arrived in Miami the afternoon before.  Also, and I'm not sure how this worked out, the other three suitcases made it from Miami to Chicago before we did, too.  With luggage in tow, we checked in with Carnival and boarded the shuttle to the port.  It probably took a lot longer than just Ubering to the port, but it was very convenient.

Of course, in my concern about Mom getting off the shuttle bus safely, I managed to trip and fall.  Frankly, there was a woman in the row behind us who was able to catch and hold me, preventing me from falling all the way - it was either adrenaline or she was very strong - but if it hadn't been for her, I'm pretty sure I'd have broken or, more likely due to my density, sprained something.  Here's a lovely pic of the bruise on my thigh taken that evening.   Only now, as I'm writing almost three weeks later, is the bruise totally gone.  

Again, the way to go on a cruise is with someone elderly or disabled - Kevin, the friendly young man who was toodling Mom around in her wheelchair zoomed us straight past long lines containing tired, grumpy people who were seething with jealousy (mwahahaha!!).

The ship took off at 5 pm and at 6 pm our little group gathered for dinner in our assigned dining room.  We had a long table that held all 12 of us and Mom had suggested that no matter what everyone does during the day, that we all meet for dinner to catch up/check in.   Frankly, I wasn't too excited, mostly because my only experience was the one night during the cat cruise when Annette and I joined the cat people - but we decided that the difference was that we were two introverts among a group of strangers; whereas on this trip, is was a smaller group and everyone knew someone other than just me.  Each evening's dinner was great as we sat and were able chat with different people.

That first night, though, at at table near us, the waiters delivered a dessert and sang "Happy Anniversary" to a couple.  Of course, my loved ones started suggesting they let the waiters know that we were there to celebrate my birthday.  I was like, please, no.  So imagine my shock and dismay when they deliver a dessert to me and start singing "Happy Birthday" - everyone was denying responsibility.  We finally decided that the guilty party was most likely ... ME!  After all, I'd set up the group as celebrating my 50th birthday.  It was a small price to pay, so I didn't disown myself.

After dinner, I was plum tuckered, and remember the day started early for Rose, so I wasn't among the group who went and hung out in the hot tubs - I went to bed.

Tuesday morning, we arrived into Key West.  Now my only personal plan for Key West was to see the polydactyl cats at the Ernest Hemingway house.  Nothing in that sentence should give you the impression that I was remotely interested in Hemingway.  I had to read Old Man and the Sea one year in high school and it has to be one of the worst books I've ever been forced to read.  But there were a couple from the group who were interested in going with me, so we set out.

So we Uber'ed there and were able to scritch and photograph a bunch of adorable cats.  Natalie had no problem rearranging the cats or their feet/toes for art's sake.  One of my favorites was the cat snoozing on the dining table right next to the sign that clearly said NOT to sit on the table.  Well, I guess that technically he wasn't sitting, so...





I felt that if the inhabitants of the place could totally disregard the signs, then we should have been able to disregard the "Do not pick up cats" sign at the door.  I tried to get Natalie and/or Erin to smuggle a cat out in their bras, but neither of them were willing to try it.  Personally, I thought that was rather selfish of them.

Erin's wish for Key West was to try a Cuban sandwich.  After describing it to me, and since it was lunch time, it became one of my wishes as well.  While we waited for Natalie to get a drink, so we could leave, one of the tour guides at the Hemingway house overheard our discussion and mentioned that the best Cuban on the island was at a restaurant just a block down the street.  So we trotted down the street and had lunch.  It was very good and I see no reason why I couldn't make them at home.

That afternoon, the ship took off again, headed for Cozumel.  After dinner, Janna (my college roomie who of course had to explain to all why she calls me "Bunz!") wanted to do Karaoke, so the whole gang headed down there.  I'd never seen Karaoke, except for on TV, so it was fun - several of the performers, including Janna and Erin, were very good.

Haley had this overwhelming urge to sing "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen, but wanted someone to sing with her.  Natalie Googled and discovered that the first rule of performing Karaoke is to NOT perform "Bohemian Rhapsody," so it was decided to go with "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night.

I will close now with a video of the performance.  (Left to right - Holly, Natalie, Rose, Erin, and Haley)

Leaving Las Veg...err.. Evansville

A couple of years ago, I went on a "Cat Cruise" with my friend Annette. At one point, while wandering the hallways, looking for our cabin, I passed a door adorned with "Happy 50th Anniversary" decorations and thought how great of an idea.  Then it occurred to me that the earliest possible time I could take a cruise for my 50th anniversary would be 50 years, and that assumed I got married that evening.  Since a wedding wasn't on my itinerary any time soon, despite that Facebook quiz I took, I thought a cruise to celebrate my 50th birthday which was, at that time, 2 years away would be a fun alternative!

I wrote an email to a variety of my friends and family giving them two years' notice and after a bunch of emails, the date was set and a group totaling 12 people were ready to fly to Miami to board the Carnival Victory to sail to Key West and then Cozumel and back.

I've always been hesitant to co-mingle my friends.  Mixing school friends with church friends; or work friends with..., well, you get my drift.  I think my main concern was always whether or not the people I liked would like each other or not. 

But I said to heck with that and sent out an email giving everyone two years’ notice and two quick years later, we were packing our bags for a cruise!  There were 12 of us in all - me, Mom, my aunt and uncle (the token male), the sibs, three nieces, my college roommate, and two other friends.

Now, the good Lord knows that I have a love/hate, or maybe more hate/hate, relationship with the¿ TSA, so when our boarding passes printed off in Evansville with “TSA Pre-check” printed on them, I was cautiously optimistic.  Not only was I not violated by a stranger, I didn’t even have to take my shoes off!

Our flight was scheduled to leave at 6:30 am for Dallas/Fort Worth.  About 6 am, they announce that the flight would be delayed and would leave at 8am.  Now normally, that would have been ok because the way I originally booked the flights, we had like a 3+ hour layover in DFW, but American Airlines took it upon themselves to change that flight to an earlier one and now we only had an hour, and consequently, we were going to miss that connection.

So they rebook us on a 1:00 pm flight to Chicago, and instead of arriving in Miami in the afternoon, we would be arriving at 10:30 pm.  The makings of a long day for Mom, but, ok.  We were assured that Annette’s and my luggage would be rerouted to Chicago, we left the airport and went to Denny’s for breakfast and then went to hang at the condo until time to return to the airport.

Then, every so often, I’d get an update advising that our flight was delayed to 1:30, then 2, 2:30, 3, 3:30, and finally 4.  It looked like it would be 4, since there weren’t anymore alerts, so we returned to the airport, of course new boarding passes meant no more pre-check, but only my left ankle had to be frisked, so it was ok.

Now, all of these rando facts are relevant so bear with.  As I’m up at the counter checking mom and Annette’s carry on luggage, my phone beeps, flight rescheduled to 4:30. Since I’m there, I take the opportunity to point out that the delay gets us in Chicago dangerously close to our connection flight's takeoff time.  She assures me it’ll be ok.  This flight is leaving on time.  Then, since I hadn’t made a big enough nuisance of myself, I said that according to their app, it appeared that one of our previously checked bags was in Dallas.  She confirmed that it was in fact on a plane to Miami but it would wait for us there.  Before that conversation ends, another alert, "plane leaving at 5," so we will now officially miss our connection.  The very nice woman assures me that the plane is leaving at 4:30 and to ignore that alert.

The flight left Evansville at exactly 5 pm and landed in Chicago 2 minutes after the flight to Miami left.  Once again, I’m stuck in Chicago overnight.  But all’s cool, by now I’m old hat at this.  I make a beeline to a girl behind a counter- let me point out that she doesn’t look like she is very busy, or else I would have waited, because I am kind and respectful that way.  She looks at me and tells me, “I’m busy, you'll need to ask someone else."  I'm thinking, ok, you're a great ad for American Airlines.... and I go to the other girl at the counter.  She's helpful, gets our flights rebooked for the next morning.  Then, I asked about what they were going to do about a hotel.  She looked something up and told me that the reason for the delay was "traffic-related" and the airlines weren't responsible for that and wouldn't get us a room.

At this point, "Assertive Rosemary" (as Annette called her) came out to play.  I said, "no, that's unacceptable" and pointed out that if American had left my flights the way I'd booked them, we'd be in Miami with our luggage.  She said she couldn't do anything about it, so I told her I wanted to speak with someone who could.  She said I'd need to go to to customer service at gate blah-blah.  I said, great, and that I wanted a wheelchair for my 77 year old mother because she was exhausted, and I'd wait right there at her counter until it got there.  I was livid.  I could hear Annette whispering to Mom that she'd never seen Assertive Rosemary before, and I turned around and said it was because she rarely comes out to play.

When we got to where she was directing me, I took a deep breath and started out nice - after all, I ought to give these ladies a chance to fail me first... but the ladies behind that counter were outraged on my behalf, looked up who the two bimbos were and, as it turns out, one of the nice ladies was the bimbos' supervisor!  Hah!  They looked it up and said that there should have been no question, yes, we get rooms, so we got rooms, meal vouchers, etc., and found the shuttle to the hotel.  The hotel had a nice restaurant where Mom got the incredibly nutritious meal of an apple tart with ice cream.  Annette and I shared a cheeseburger and homemade hummus - our vouchers covered it totally.  We get to our rooms, set our alarms for 3:30 am, and pass out.