The Last Wish

Ham and Macaroni~A Love Story

Once upon a time there was a Ham and Ham was lonely. he wanted a side dish to be his constant companion. Suddenly Ham was struck with an idea and a light in the oven went on. He said to himself, "I'll hold auditions to find me the best of all side dishes." He saw many a side dish such as candied yams, baked green bean casserole and even something called mashed potatoes but none seemed to be the one for him.

Ham was about to give up and dry out, but just then the oven door opened and in slid the accompaniment of his dreams. She was lumpy in all the right places and cheesy all over. Ham asked for her name and she said she was called Macaroni and Cheese. Not the phony mac and cheese picked up on the way home from work but the kind made with real class. Ham was smitten and so was Macaroni. Together they cooked and simmered until they were perfected. They moved in with each other on the same plate, their flavors melting together creating sweet heavenly bliss until they were devoured. The End...guess what we had for dinner?? ha ha

Dear Sir,

I have made up my mind to run away. I have had it up to here with you constantly pushing my buttons. You push and poke and never give me any rest. Right when I think you will give up and go away you push some more and I just can't take it any more.
I know I left before when you kept letting your kids wipe their greasy hands on me. I especially didn't like it when you let the baby chew on me just so you could have a few minutes of peace and quiet. I STILL have the scars from that. This time Sir, you will not find me so don't even try to look. You can even make your children search for me but it will be to no avail. No matter how long you search or how loud you call I shall remain mute.

Sincerely,
Your remote

~Don't turn that channel, the conclusion of Run-a-way Remote will be back after these messages.

My Fly Guy

<-- This is a picture of the ceiling in our bathroom. Do you see the little black dot above the shower? That was my fly guy and this is our story.

Snuggled beneath the down comforter on a wintery January morning, I drifted in and out of sleep half dreaming about kids screaming and playing and waking up to a louder version of kids screaming and playing. As the fighting ensued and Daddy's voice became more stressed I decided I best get out of bed and start the day before all the kids ended up grounded for life or starved. Rolling to my back I tucked the covers under my chin as I eyed the bathroom thinking of how cold it was going to be. Working my way up to a sitting position I plunged my arms under the covers and inwardly groaned at the thought of leaving my warm spot. It takes a lot of time and complaining to get me out of bed on cold mornings. Finally I threw back the covers and swung my legs out of bed.

"Thank God for carpet!" I thought as my feet touched ground. A few anckel cracks later I was at the shower turning the knob to HOT, just to get the bathroom nice and steamy and then I'd turn it back a little. I collected my things and shut myself in the bathroom. Fast forward to washing the shampoo out of my hair -> -> -> I leaned my head back under the water to scrub out the bubbles and to my sickening surprise I saw a black spot on the ceiling directly in front of me.

"Ohmygosh, WHAT IS IT?" I screamed in my head but squeaked out loud. I didn't move. It didn't move. I still didn't move. It still didn't move. I squinted my eyeballs to try and squeeze some clarity on the thing. I ruled out a spider cuz I saw, "Wings?" That was strange. It was a fly and it looked rather dead and hanging. I was very much relieved that it wasn't a spider and that the fly wasn't going to land on me, "Unless the steam from the shower loosens it and it falls down on me." I thought. Then as I conditioned, I thought some more about this fly. Where did it come from? It was the middle of winter. How did it die? How did it get stuck on the ceiling? Why didn't it fall? Was it a guy fly or a gal fly? The only answer I came up with was that it must be a guy fly, cuz only a guy fly would choose to die on the ceiling of a shower. I turned the water off and got out at the other end. The last thing I wanted was to have a dead fly fall on me...bleck.

After getting dressed and going downstairs I asked my dear hubby if he had noticed the fly in the bathroom. Yes, he had and no, he didn't know when it got there or how. I asked if he could get it down and throw it away at some point during the day. Well as the day went on we both forgot about the fly. The next day...same shower, same fly and so it went for over a month, then two months. Every shower I wondered about that fly and every day I would forget about him until the next shower. Every shower I was guessing when he might fall. It got to the point that I was actually looking for him every time I turned the water on and smiled when I saw him. I thought about how he must be all hollow inside and couldn't get over the question, "How is he sticking to the ceiling?"

It was now a game to me. When was Fly guy going to fall? Would he fall during someones shower? Would he fall into a bath with the kids? ( I surely hoped not cuz I could see Gabe eating him.) or would he simply vanish? A mysterious ending to match his mysterious beginning. A few days later I decided to take pictures of him so I could share him with you guys..thinking we could place bets on how he might fall and when. (Come on, you know it would have been fun)

Sadly, the next time I went upstairs I looked up and my fly guy wasn't there.

"What?" I said out loud. "Where did he go?" I asked myself as I pulled back the shower curtain. I scanned the bathtub. No Fly guy. I scanned the walls and bathroom floor. Still no Fly guy. I ran downstairs and asked my hubby, "Did you get the fly off the bathroom ceiling?" I wondered if my disappointment showed.

"Yeah, I got it this morning." he said without a care.

"Oh." I said and then asked, "Did you flush him? Throw him in the trash?"

"Huh? Yeah, I threw him away" he said as he read e-mails. I didn't want to ask again because it was silly that not knowing exactly how he went was bothering me, but I asked anyway, "So did you flush him then?"

"Yeah, No I put it in the trash."

So that settled it then. Fly guy was gone. I was totally disappointed that he didn't fall naturally and that we didn't get to play our little game. I still think of him from time to time, wondering what his life was like before he died. This might sound nuts to you, but I hope that at some point during eternity in Heaven, God will tell me the fly's story. You know...after I learn all the important answers, of course.

<--- Close up of my Fly Guy before his unnatural removal.

I wonder, do you have any silly questions that only God would know the answer to?

Relay for Life

It's that time of year again. Relay for Life is Friday May 15 and I hope that any and all family and friends can make it out. Thank you to all who have said they will be coming out and to all those who have donated. It's an important cause that means a lot to so many. I will post the exact time when I know for sure but it is in the evening around 5 or 6. One great way to donate is by purchasing a luminaria in honor/memory of someone you love to be placed and lit around the track for the luminaria service. If you can't make it to the relay, your luminaria will still be there and placed near my camp and will be lit by me or someone on my team. The cost of a luminaria is $10 and this year they have a new caregiver luminaria that is $15. Instead of it being white like the other ones it's a golden color.

For more information about the event go to www.relayforlife.org/westminster
You can make donations on line, at the event, or contact me by calling or go to my web page by clicking on the link above, go to 2009 teams, click on GIRLFRIENDS FOR LIFE and then click on my name to donate and read my story. THANKS! :)

A Good-Bye Letter

Dear Matt,

This weekend is a big day for sales, being that it is Presidents Day weekend, so I think our time is up. You and I have lain around together for 15 years now and I’ve been perfectly content sleeping with you. You have not caused me one ache or pain, so you see I’m not dumping you for either of our sakes but rather for my husbands. You know, he’s that guy that sleeps with us. He’s not too fond of you because you tend to be a pain in his neck... and back…and side. I’ve stalled this day for almost 10 years now but his suffering is wearing me down and he’s moved to the couch. I have been forced with the choice between you Matt and my dear husband and I’ve chosen my husband. I’m sure you understand and I’m sure some chick or rat as it may be, will get perfectly good use out of you.

Thank you for all of your support over the years and for all of the wonderful memories. I never would have been able to sleep as well as I did with out you in my life.

With much respect and best wishes,

Swoozy

Hoover

"Let go of it Hoover! Let...it...GO!" with one last yank the sock gave way and shot out of Hoover's mouth over Swoozy's head and landed on the living room floor in tatters. She had asked the kids to make sure there were no toys or socks on the floor so Hoover wouldn't eat them but she forgot to mention looking under the furniture. Sure enough Hoover found it for them.

"Oh, another sock for the trash," Swoozy said with a sigh. "Bad Hoover," She said as she shook her finger at Hoover. Sometimes Hoover could eat up things that were not good for him like lego's, pennies, book bag straps, scarves, nails and one time a ping pong ball. The ping pong ball was shoved into him by a child and Swoozy didn't even notice until Hoover started to act funny the next day. Her husband wanted to get rid of Hoover but Swoozy was clever and used a hammer to extract the ball after it was deemed unremovable. It worked out just fine and Hoover wasn't harmed in the process.

Hoover, unlike the ones before him was proved to be reliable and fit very nicely in the household. He stayed in his various corners never complaining and when asked to perform he performed his best. He did well when the children played with him, never biting or running them over. Yes, he was a good little Hoover.

This explains why Hoover was so confused and sad when placed out on the curb one late Sunday night. He sat out there all night on the cold curb. In the morning a hand grabbed him off the curb and took him away. Hoover never saw his replacement brought in because it was small and round and named Roomba.

Roomba was a newer version of himself and boasted less work for the homeowner. So, out with the old and in with the new. Swoozy was sad to see Hoover go but was happy to see a passerby take Hoover home with him, instead of the Monday morning collector taking him away as trash. She would also be happy to know that Hoover was taken to a happy home filled with children that liked to sit on him as he was running around atop the carpets.


**In reality Hoover still lives with Swoozy and Swoozy would never dream of owning Roomba**

A Short Story (it's fiction I swear)

Mrs. Refrigerator



Swoozy opens her refrigerator door and scouts out the creamer, there it is on the top shelf behind the sticky jar of strawberry jelly and beside the empty pickle jar. She pushes the unwanted objects out of the way with one hand and grabs the creamer with the other. Anxious for her cup of coffee this chilly morning she shakes the creamer. What’s this? No sloshing? No nothing? She lifts the carton up and down feeling its weight. It certainly was not empty. Swoozy sighed heavily and turned a scowling glare towards the refrigerator, for it has done it again!

“Listen Mrs. Refigerator and listen carefully.” Swoozy demanded.
“I am sick and tired of you changing your own temperature! I’ve had to deal with frozen milk, creamer, juices and you’ve even started cracking my eggs. Why are you doing this to me?” Swoozy asked this not expecting an answer, after all she wasn’t crazy and she didn’t really think a refrigerator could talk, but perhaps for this reason or because she gave her refrigerator a name; the refrigerator talked back.

“You don’t have to shout at me you know, I’m right here and if I were you I would be careful of how you talk to me. I do hold all of your food you know,” chortled Mrs. Refrigerator.
Swoozy’s mouth dropped and she looked around the kitchen and found she was the only one there. Before she could say anything the refrigerator talked again or more like rattled.
“Perhaps I wouldn’t freeze your food if you wouldn’t slam my doors so much, I’ve actually come up with a list of things you should do to keep me running smoothly and not freezing your creamer and such. I’m sorry it had to come to this but you weren’t listening to me, but now I see I have your attention.”

Before Swoozy’s eyes the magnetic alphabet letters began to move and formed a list on Mrs. Refrigerator’s door. It read as follows:

Don’t leave sticky jars on my shelving, that’s disgusting.
Do not stand with door’s open searching for snacks. It lets all the cold air out which makes me work harder and I’m too old for that.
Do not shove and squeeze frozen foods up top, I happen to know you have a perfectly good freezer in the basement.
Keep your children out because they constantly turn my knobs. It might help if you didn’t tell them there was a little man turning the light on and off.
There really is NO little man turning the lights on and off.
Check the crispers (those are the things that hold your fruits and veggies) for moldy grapes and spills.
I would like an open box of Baking Powder on my shelf.
Finally, don’t let your leftovers become “suspicious” it smells awful.

Swoozy managed to say, “Okay, Mrs. Refrigerator I will keep all of those things in mind, I’ll even get the baking powder out for you right now.” Swoozy took the baking powder out of the baking cabinet, half expecting it to tell her to give it back, and slowly opened the refrigerator’s door. She quickly placed it on the top shelf and pulled her arm out even faster.
“For goodness sakes I’m not going to bite,” said Mrs. Refrigerator.
“Sorry,” said Swoozy
After a moment of thought Swoozy worked up enough nerve to ask Mrs. Refrigerator a question, “So does this mean we’ll be talking from now on or….” Swoozy trailed off not knowing exactly what to ask a refrigerator.
There was nothing but the humming of the refrigerator to answer her. She waited for a few minutes before turning her back to the counter and pouring her creamer. “That’s strange it’s not frozen anymore,” She thought.

Swoozy spent all day keeping what happened to herself and thinking maybe it had all been a dream, but those pesky letters were still arranged into that list. When her husband came home he read the list out loud and laughed. With some hope she asked, “Did you make that list hunny?”
“Don’t be silly Swoozy, I know you did it. I think it’s great you want to take better care of our Fridge” He said.
Swoozy sunk back down into her chair and said, “Oh yeah, silly me. I was just teasing.”

For years afterward Swoozy fussed over Mrs. Refrigerator. There was never a cleaner refrigerator than Mrs. Refrigerator. Swoozy’s husband and children were reprimanded many a time for disobeying the list that never moved off of the Refrigerator door. If a child rearranged the letters it wasn’t long after they left the kitchen that the letters moved themselves back in order. Everyone assumed it was Swoozy that put them back but only she and Mrs. Refrigerator knew the truth of it. Family often wondered why Swoozy never wanted to replace her refrigerator for a new one. It was partly out of fear and partly because she reasoned that Mrs. Refrigerator was decent enough and who knew what a new refrigerator might be like. It wasn’t until Swoozy was an old woman living in a retirement home (Where there were no refrigerator’s except in the cafeteria kitchen) when she finally told her secret. Her family laughed it off as a silly joke from an old bored woman, but Swoozy knew the truth and was happy to finally tell her tale.

The Roman Army

Do you know what a Recon mission is? Well I had no clue until today when my dad stopped over and one of my sons was talking to him about a "shoot 'em up" (as my son calls it) video game. I learned that a recon is a group of soldiers that scout out an area looking for the enemy.

I liked that Dad knew this and was able to enlighten my son (and me) on this fact.

I have come to feel a very strange happiness about my sons getting into army games, guns, and interactive play where they are army men looking for bad guys. I didn't used to feel this way. In fact when my oldest first showed interest in a toy gun I felt "icky" about it and a little guilty that he would play with it. Part of it is because I'm a woman and tend to feel cautious of things that can kill someone. I thought of guns more as an instrument for killing rather than something used for protection. In today's society most people would love to rid the world of them but trust me that is not the answer! But I won't go there today :)

Well I'm way over that cautious feeling towards guns. This year for Christmas was the year of the Nerf. Every kid got one and some adults too. I get a proud "that's my boy" attitude when I see them taking aim or posing with their gun. If we lived 200 years ago I would be proud to see them pose with their lead canon or 2000 years ago their wooden spear. My boys are boys and I want them to act like boys. I believe they have a natural instinct to protect and be rough and tough so I don't want to hamper that. I have no doubt that God has a plan for my boys to be warriors for his Kingdom and that is going to take lots of courage on their part. I also understand they need self control and lots of guidance from mom and dad so don't worry about my new enthusiasm for weaponry.

A Childhood regret

As a child I could get pretty moody when things didn't go my way and I would become...oh what's the word?....Bratty. That's what happened on the night I created my own childhood regret.

I was at a girlfriends house for her 7th birthday and we were playing a game that involved clues. She probably had about 6 or 7 friends running around finding them along with me. Her mom would read the clue and we would have to figure out where this clue was leading us to and that's where we would find a prize. EVERYONE found one but me. I was so upset by it that I hid under her dining room table and pouted until her mom found me and tried something to make me happy again but I had made up my mind to be mad, so that's what I was for the rest of the time there. If not outwardly then inwardly.

When it was time to leave I climbed into the back seat of our station wagon where Mom, Jeff and Becky were waiting. Mom saw that I was pouting so she tried to make me happy by giving me a stuffed monkey she had bought at the store for me. I took it grumpily and didn't say a word. No thank you, no I love it, just grab and pout. Seeing her disappointment with me made me regret my attitude right away however, there were no apologies from my mouth and no cuddles for the monkey. I had started this foul attitude and I was going to finish it out for the rest of the night.

Ever since that night I've felt bad for my selfishness and wished I could take that moment back. If I could I would lovingly take the monkey from Mom's hands and give it a big squeeze telling her thank you and that it made my day all better. But I can't do that so I guess I'll keep wishing I had done the right thing. I still have that monkey packed away somewhere to remind me of that night. I think I named him Tony after a boy from elementary school.

I guess my point would be, be nice to others even when you're in a funk because you just might regret it later.

On the Bright Side of a Rainy Day

some good things about rainy days....ahem....rain puddles, rain drops falling in rain puddles, beads of rain on tree branches, birds flying in the rain, the sound rain makes on umbrellas or old tin roofs, running from the car to inside (something fun about that), complaining about the rain, ooooh rain storms in the summer on a sunny day are so cool, rain in winter cuz that means it's not too cold, snuggling under a blanket w/or w/out someone, being inside, watching a rain drop race on your car window (when you're not driving), you know that kind of stuff.

Clean or Dirty?

I'm folding laundry and right as I'm done I notice a pair of kid underwear lying on the floor by my feet. I didn't notice it there before, does that mean it fell out of the basket or could it be dirty? I stand and ponder the possibilities. It could have crawled out from under the bed, maybe it had been there all along, maybe one of the kids took it off and threw it there or it really could have fallen out of the basket. I pinch it by the band to inspect it. It looks clean. One more test to determine its fate. I say a prayer as I slowly lift it towards my nose, "Dear God, please let them be clean, please let them be clean". I scrunch up my nose, suck in my lips and take a quick sniff (the quick test sniff). It smelled alright, one more longer sniff.
I say out loud to myself, to God and the pair of underwear, "Thank the Lord they are clean!" I then throw them in the correct pile and merrily go on with my laundry business.

Potty Humor

I have a phobia that haunts me in my sleep and it isn’t pretty. I’m not sure when this phobia began and I’m not sure what has made me so phobic in the first place. If I tell you what it is you have to promise not to haunt me with it. Did you promise yet? Well you better.

Alright, I’m afraid of public restrooms. By the way RESTroom is SUCH a HORRIBLE name for what it really is. I would call it as dirty a name as it really is but I don’t think most parents would take there kids there. (Big sigh here) I know we need to have places along the way while we are out to relieve ourselves but, can’t we all behave ourselves while we are in there and clean up after ourselves?? I fear this is impossible.

OH! The disgustingness that I have to go through any time I can’t hold it and trust me I can hold it pretty good. Anyway so these dreams that I have are very stressful to me when I have them but are wonderful for a good laugh when I wake up. I have a bunch that I can remember so I’ll give you a glimpse of what goes on in my sleep.

Last nights dream I do believe came about due to our recent bouts with the flu. Three nights ago one of the kids woke up and had to spew junk out of both ends. What a decision he had to make. “Sit? Stand? Sit? Stand?” So he sorta did both but didn’t quite make it to a sit. Well let’s just say I had some art to clean off the walls. Yeah. Sooooo gross! So gross that it gave me nightmares.

So it starts out like all my other dreams. I’m out in public and I’m searching for a “Restroom” but I can’t seem to find any. Then I find one at last and I HAVE to use it. I go in to find a square room dimly lit. Tile floor like in any restroom is covered with a clear liquid and puddles in some areas. Some of the doors are missing as are toilets. My dream forces me to walk past the big dirty puddle to get to the last stall with the door. As I’m stepping over the puddle I think to myself, “What if I slip and fall in it?” Chills ran up my spine and I quickly dismissed the thought as I clung to the stall door. I made it over one nasty obstacle only to land in an equally grotesque one. All over the walls, encrusted on the flusher and seat and even on the inside stall door was splattered blood!!!
My mind in defense of shutting down due to fear woke me up at last. Okay, that dream was more gross than funny so here’s a funny one.

In this dream I had been searching and searching (as is always the case) for a restroom. My first find was a high school locker room (???) There were girls everywhere walking in and out like it was a train station. All I could find were showers and when I finally found the toilets they were in a deserted dark corner which was a bit scary but not as scary as the fact that ALL of the toilets were formed in a circle with absolutely no walls and therefore no doors. Like King Arthur and the knights of the round table, these poor girls were expected to sit and “Go”. I’m in a panic and ponder if I should go real quick since no one was around but decided I just CAN’T do it. I leave and eventually through my wonderings find someone who directs me to a toilet. They open a door and I see a GIGANTIC King sized bed that almost touched the ceiling. Guess where the toilet was??
It was in the middle of that bed. I had to climb the bed and when I did I saw a toilet seat sunk into the middle and nothing but a black hole down below. Needless to say I didn’t go here either. One more dream that I’ve had a few times is finding a restroom with stalls, but the stalls only go up to seat level. They even have doors which I find so curious and I always end up with a stall mate in these dreams.

The thing with restroom dreams is that I NEVER find a clean private place to go which I do believe is a good thing or else I might wake up with wet sheets.

Hope you were able to “bare” reading all this potty humor. You might want to go wash your hands or clean your bathroom or something. I think that’s what I’m going to do now.