Spartanism. The perfect psychiatric disorder.

I have been officially diagnosed.  Yes it's true.  My kids sat around the kitchen table and discussed my shortcomings and mostly one in particular. They then they googled my symptoms and came up with my diagnosis.  I have Spartanism.  

I was not present for this discussion and subsequent diagnosis so I was informed of it when I returned home.  When they pronounced my disease upon me the only response that I could come up with was, "Good to know.  So?"

Let me explain what Spartanism is.  I also Googled Spartanism and found that it is a form of OCD.  It is the opposite of hoarding.  People with this type of OCD hate clutter and junk.  That's a good thing isn't it?

People, such as myself, have a tendency to throw or give away items that they feel clutter their life.  I read a case about a lady that gave away all of the chairs in her house...........hummmmm........she might be a genius.......no chairs..... no guests for dinner......no cooking......less dishes......need I go on? 

Those of us with Spartanism feel a need to rid ourselves of things we deem unnecessary in our lives.  It gives us a sense of satisfaction and we feel more in control of our environment.......DUH!  Have you not read my previous blogs!  Obviously from reading about what my life is like, it's a given that I have absolutely no control of anything and way too many people and things clutter my life.   I can't get rid of the people so I get rid of the things. It all makes sense to me.

    Spartan

When one of my daughters explained that I absolutely have Spartanism I thought, "Oh goody, I'm like those fighter guys from Greece that are sometimes mascots of schools because they are hero's and athletes and great fighters."

"Um NO mom!", she said.  "Not even close."  She then went on to explain my psychiatric problems and the symptoms of Spartanism.  (The good news is that the American Psychiatric Association has NOT declared Spartanism as a psychiatric disorder............yet.)  She also said that people with Spartanism think that other people who have a lot of junk are the ones with the problem and not them.  Well no kidding.

I then admitted to the family that I may have a tich of Spartanism but it's not that bad.  That's when they began to go back over every past incidence of junk purging that I have comitted.

One small particular event that they brought to light was the time when my husband Mickey came home and walked into our bedroom to find everything gone but the mattress which was sitting directly on the floor. The look on his face was priceless and it made me tingly to see him like that.  No matter the disease my kids diagnosed me with the look on his face made it all worth it.  (Is that a different disease?) Let me explain my side because when you hear it, you won't think I'm all that odd.

We HAD a king sized bed that HAD a big ornate headboard, footboard and sides on it that you set your mattress in.  Our bed sat about 5 feet off the floor (which made for difficult TV viewing at that height and also one time I fell out of it and nearly broke my arm.   My elbow has never been quite right since then).  But that's not why I gave the bedroom set away.  

This bedroom set also had two ornate nightstands, a matching dresser and a mirror, all very ornate and hard to dust..........but that's still not the reason I gave it away.  

My kids viewed this bed as a landing pad for tricks.  They would regularly run from our bedroom door, leap into the air, do a forward flip and land spread eagle onto the bed.  This bed was also used as the family wrestling mat.  All important wrestling matches took place on this bed.  You lost when you fell off (mostly because at that point you got hurt from falling 5 feet).  That's still not the reason I gave it away.

Needless to say, the bottom of the bed, which was supported by wood slats, broke.  No, not once or twice while we had it but once or twice a week.  We added more slats but to no avail.  

Then the joints that connected all of the bed together became loose and started to creek.  It became a loud bed. 

I now had a loud bed and this is where the real problem came in.  Let me explain the mattress.  

In case none of you know this, I now sleep on Queen Elizabeth's mattress.  Yes, it's true.  But a few short years ago I didn't sleep on the Queen's mattress. I slept on an old, dumpy mattress.  

One night while sleeping on old dumpy, I was in a deep slumber when I was jolted awake by a hard popping thing that stabbed into my brain.  It was a spring from our mattress so I bought a memory foam and covered the whole mattress up and then I slept on a memory foam with a spring stabbing my brain.  I then fussed at my mom and she decided she needed a new mattress too.  She decided that she and my dad needed one of those fancy beds that have the two mattresses and their own controls to lower and raise their heads and knees and such.  My mom said that I could have their old mattress.  She then told me that it was the exact same mattress that Queen Elizabeth sleeps on.  I was thrilled because I am known around here as the Queen Bee and it just had to be better than old dumpy mattress with memory foam and springs stabbing my brain.  

We pitched old dumpy and hauled the Queen's mattress down to our bedroom and placed it into our loud and tall bed frame and waaa laaaa.  Now we were the proud owners of the queen's bed that now stood 6 feet off the floor.  The queen's mattress is about 3 feet thick, not including the box springs.  

In order for me to go to bed I had to start running at the bedroom door take a flying leap and pray I high jumped onto the bed.  If I missed or fell out of the bed at night, it was not a pretty sight. 

This still was not the reason for my giving away the bedroom furniture.  The reason I gave it away was this.......my husband rolls over frequently at night. (girls, you know what I'm talking about).  Let me explain just how he rolls over.  First, he fidgets for a minute or two, then launches himself into the air, levitates for a couple of seconds and lands in another position.  This, in turn, bounced me out the other side (which was not good because my bed was six feet off the ground).  Here is why I got rid of the bed...the bed started to creek the minute Mickey would fidget but when he landed after levitation, this bed would literally groan and creek and crack upon his landing.  

I would wake to this special event at least 17 times a night.  What with my night sweats and Mickey's levitation's, I would get about 3 minutes of sound sleep a night.  Well, after one particularly challenging night I woke and exclaimed that there would be changes.

After getting everyone off to school and work I began to take the bed apart.  I lifted the queen's mattress out of the frame, a feat that literally makes me a Greek Spartan.  Then I  hauled the entire, gianormous bed frame up the stairs and out the door to the garage by myself.  I then hauled out the two night stands, mirror and the dresser with the marble top that weighed 500 pounds, up the stairs and out to the garage.  I called my daughter who loved this bedroom set and told her that it was all hers and to come and get it.

The Nest

After removing all said bedroom furniture from the room I then returned to my bedroom.  All that remained was the queens mattress, just laying there quietly on the floor and oddly, I LOVED it!  I flung myself spread eagle onto the mattress and guess what happened...nothing.......silence.  I was a genius!  My bedroom had become my comfy, silent, simple, lovely, sleeping NEST.  

That's the room my husband walked into that night...the comfy, silent, simple, lovely sleeping nest.  He looked shocked and then asked, "What happened?"  I told him I made improvements.  

Since this incidence, I have to say that have I improved the room a tiny bit more.  I purchased two, easier to dust, night stands and actually painted a noise and dust proof headboard onto the wall.  Some of my kids still think the headboard is real. 

I love it!  I sleep like a baby! If I fall out of bed it doesn't even hurt.  I don't have to dust, not even UNDER the bed and when Mickey levitates I don't even know it.  He can launch himself 4 feet if he likes and the queens mattress doesn't even budge.  God Bless the Queen!

Spartanism?....the perfect psychiatric disorder to have.     

Hum.....does anyone want a big sectional couch and the husband sitting on it?    I'll throw in the big screen as a package deal.



*Thanks to Shauna, Pat, and Lynn for the inspiration for this blog  (All closet Spartans)

Fishing, Diaper Rash, Laffy Taffy and Mostly Crying

22 years ago my husband Mickey and I got married.  I would love to write about our wedded bliss but just read my other blogs and you will have a good idea about our marriage.  I think it's only appropriate to start at the very beginning.  

I'm talking about the time when Mickey decided to ask my dad for my hand in marriage.  

Mickey went over to see my dad and the marriage conversation went something like this:

Mickey: Marvin, I would like to ask your permission to marry your daughter Shari

Marvin:  It's time for a fishing trip Mickey.  Get your fishing things together and be at my house this Thursday at 6:00 a.m.  We'll go fishing up in the Uintas and take the horses.

Mickey:  That would be great!  I love to fish!  

(I guess the fact that he wanted to get married to me was put on the back burner now that he was going on his fantasy fishing trip with my dad) 

Mickey came waltzing into my house later that night and said excitedly, "I'm going fishing with your dad this week.  This is going to be great."

This is not Mickey fishing with my dad cause
are no chairs allowed when you fish with him.

Considering the fact that my dad raised five daughters and I knew my dad well, I was thinking "OH MY............THIS GUY HAS NO CLUE!  What I said was.....Well Mickey, have you ever cried fishing?

Mickey looked at me with a blank stare and said, "No.  Why?"

Oh the poor naive fool.  If I was him I would just look at me and say, "Sorry, you are so not worth it."  Instead he just said, "Fishing is one of my favorite things to do and we are going to have the best time ever!  I can't wait!"

I felt sorry for Mickey because he had known my dad for years and knew that my dad was the ultimate grinder and competitor. My dad is not a normal human being.  He feels no pain.  He knows no fear.  He never says die.   Mickey knew this and yet he couldn't see what was coming. My dad was testing his manhood!  Mickey actually thought Marvin was being his friend.  

Perhaps if Mickey was so stupid then he SHOULD go fishing.  I told Mickey,  "Have a good time fishing but you are going to cry."

Let's jump ahead to the morning of the fishing trip.  Mickey pulled up to my dad's house, got out of the car, unloaded his schnife and before my dad would load Mickey's fishing gear he said, "Let's see what you've got."

That's a bad sign.  

My dad plowed through Mickey's stuff.  He threw his sleeping bag into the truck saying, I guess you'll need this, then his rain gear.......I suppose you'll need this, then ONE fishing pole.  

Mickey looked at his mountain of "fun fishing gear" left sitting in the driveway and said, "Hey Marv, what about the rest of my stuff."  

My dad walked off to load the horses and just said, "My horses aren't packing all that stuff up there."  

Mickey was toast.  Understand that Mickey loves fishing and camping but it's not Marvin fishing and camping.  For Mickey it's all about the comfort and food.  He DOES NOT FISH without his laffy taffy, pork rinds, hard tack candy, grape soda and that stinky, cheesy fish bait and fish eggs to lure in the fish.

So off they went....my dad, Bill who is one of my dads former Olympic friends who competed in the biathlon (this means that this guy is a hard core athlete  who has stamina not like regular human beings) and Mr. Laffy Taffy (my future husband......if he survived)

Now I will do a quick summary of the trip.  Mickey said that when they got to the base of the Uintas, they unloaded the horses, saddled the horses and began the journey to get to the place where they would fish.  

Marv fishing.  This is not as fun as it looks.

What Mickey didn't understand is that fishing with my dad is not just fishing but it's survival.  You have to go hundreds of miles to get to where you fish and getting there ISN'T all the fun.  You can't eat (you only eat what you catch with a fly or your bare hands) or drink or go potty or you will show signs of weakness.  (My dad skis with these rules too).

As Mickey tells it, within 20 minutes after starting the horse ride, he found out he was violently allergic to horses.  He started sneezing, then coughing, and then his eyes started to swell shut.  Of course he didn't have any benedryl because my dad's horses aren't packing that stuff.  

Mickey said he rode on in misery.  Then he said he started to get saddle sore.  Now Mickey had never ridden a horse before unless it was at a fair, in a circle for 10 minutes.  This was a whole new ballgame.  He said he was so saddle sore that after a few hours he decided to walk.  As he describes it, it was more than 20 miles that he walked before they stopped without resting but it was still better than sitting in that saddle.  

Mickey said he then got diaper rash from being in the saddle so long and that there was entirely too much chaffing going on.  

I said,  "All this happened in the first couple of hours and you were gone for three days?"  I really don't know how he survived.

Mickey said that he kept looking at my dad and Bill to see if they were drinking because he was dying of thirst and he said that they never even took a sip.  So he decided he would lag behind and sneak a sip of water.  

How pathetic.  

The first night he said they camped out under the stars which means you throw your bad out on the dirt.  He said as he was snuggling down into his bag and just about to fall asleep from exhaustion that he felt a hard little lump in his bag and dove down to get it.  It was a miracle but he found a Laffy Taffy from a previous camping trip.  He said that he couldn't even eat it because he was afraid that Marv and Bill would smell the banana Laffy Taffy on his breath.  

Coward!

I asked Mickey what they ate and he said that Marv brought onions and potatoes and they ate the fish they caught.  That was it.  

When Mickey returned home his mother told me that he walked funny into the house and kept muttering under his breath....."I don't want to be Marvin's friend.  I don't want to be Marvin's friend."

When I saw Mickey the next day he was still walking funny and he relayed the story above.  All I said to him was, "Did you cry?"

He just looked at me and muttered, "I may have teared a bit but I had every right to what with starvation, dehydration, death defying allergic reactions, saddle sores, diaper rash and do you know they don't even stop to rest or go to the bathroom!

Needless to say, Mickey survived the test and this week we celebrated our 22 wedding anniversary.  

I think my dad was just preparing Mickey for our married life.....(refer to all previous posts)

Mickey was getting prepared for fishing with this!

  

Skipping Perfection

One day my oldest daughter Sid, who was in third grade at the time, came home from school completely frustrated and upset.  She dropped her backpack and looked at me through those angry eyebrows of hers and said, "MOM! YOU HAVE TO TALK TO TYLER!

"OK," I said and asked, "So what's the problem now?"  Tyler, at this point in his life was 5 years old and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely in his Kindergarten year. (Refer to the blog called Kindergarten and Brain Recesses.)  If you have read any of my other blogs about Tyler then you will know what I'm talking about.  If not, you might want to do some homework and read the blog called Hamster from Hell, Holiday Headspin Number One, 2 Tuh, Amazing Fluidity of Movement or Two Lost Kids.  Any of those previous blogs will give you insight into the life of Tyler.

The following is our conversation:

Me: So what's bugging you about Ty?  

Sid: "You have to stop Tyler!  You can't believe what he does every day at recess!"

I looked at Sid and could see that she truly couldn't take it anymore, whatever it was.  

Me: "What does he do that can be that bad?" (I'm thinking, good gravy what is it this time?)

Sid: "Tyler skips around the dodgeball circles during the whole recess and doesn't stop."

Me:  "If it bugs you so much don't look."

Sid:  "The dodgeball circles are right outside our class windows and the WHOLE class can see and they watch him the whole recess.  They want to know what he's doing."

Me:  "Duh.  Tell them he's skipping.  They should know because they are in third grade.  Don't they ever skip?"

Sid:  "Not ALL recess around the circles the WHOLE time.  They skip to somewhere just sometimes."

Me:  "Does Ty stop skipping when recess is over and go inside?"

Sid:  "I guess."

Me:  "That's progress."  (Refer back to Kindergarten and Brain recesses)

Sid:  "Mom you should see him skip.  He does this!" and Sid starts skipping around the room.  

Let me briefly describe the skip that Tyler does.  He has very unique technique and grace.

First, his vertical hop from one foot to another is unparalleled.   He has a 21 inch vertical hop.  (Most good athletes are in the 40 inch range and that's jumping off two feet and they're not 5 years old.)

Next, as he SPRINGS off one foot he bends the opposite leg at the knee and points that toe like the best of the Nutcracker dancers.  Each skip has amazing height and his toes, as he hops off the ground, are perfectly pointed.  It is a sight of beauty.  He has this skip practiced to perfection.  Apparently, he practices a lot according to Sid.

I told Sid I would talk to Ty or maybe buy him a hoppy taw since the hopscotches are on the opposite side of the school.  (I would pay to see him hop on those scotches!)

Later that day when Ty came home:

Me:  Ty, so how was school today?

Ty: OK

Me: What did you do at recess today?

Ty: Shrug

Me:  Do you like to skip?

Ty:  Yep.  (He's busy not paying attention to me at this point)

Me:  Do you skip at recess?

Ty: Yep

Me:  Show me how you skip.

Tyler takes off skipping.  I cannot tell you how amazing this was to watch.  Not only does he attain maximum height and point but he covers a lot of ground.  I truly have never seen a skip like this kid can do.  

I praised Ty on his technique and told him he was definitely the best skipper I've ever seen and I wasn't kidding.  

I just couldn't discourage Ty from his skipping.  It was just so darn entertaining.    I bought him a hoppy taw instead. 

I'm pretty sure he has never stopped his skipping.  

  

Sushi Sauce Anatomy Lessons

We just had a wedding in our family.  Weddings are an interesting event.  I have learned that many people LOVE weddings, others not so much.  I'm in the not so much category.  I must say that my daughter's recent wedding turned out to be a wonderful event but I'm ever so grateful that most weddings are a once in a lifetime deal.

I mean, who invented all this wedding stuff anyway?  I just can't love weddings and all that goes with them. 

First, I don't like showers and I really don't like the shower games.  I don't understand or enjoy bridesmaids, wedding dresses, bouquet throwing, groomsmen, garter flinging, face cake smashing, and standing around telling people for hours how it's been a wonderful day.  I believe I said beautiful a lot on the day of the wedding too.  Wonderful and beautiful are not my favorite words.  I have other favorite words that just roll off my tongue and are short.

What ever happened to two people getting married by jumping over a broom.  That seems fast and cheap.

On a more positive note, I did particularly enjoy a wedding event that my daughters and I planned.  We decided we would have a last girls night out with all of the sisters to celebrate the oldest sisters upcoming marriage.  

So, my four daughters (my two daughters in law were unable to attend) and myself all met at a local sushi place for dinner.  I have one daughter already married who we will call M for married, two not married who we will label as S1 and S2 for single 1 and single 2 and the bride who we will refer to as B for bride.

We ordered our sushi and began to eat when M asked B if she had any questions about her upcoming nuptials and especially her wedding night.  B said, "I don't think so.  Should I?"

M said, "Yes, because I know you know nothing about these things."  

I, of course kept my eyes on the sushi.  

Next thing I know, M is giving B an anatomy lesson and drawing pictures of parts in the sushi sauce with her chopstick.  

I glanced at those drawings and must say they were anatomically correct as far as I could tell.

B seemed a bit surprised at some of the drawings.  S1 made corrections on some of the sauce drawings and S2 was silent probably because she is the youngest sister and was not quite prepared for this type of sushi sauce lesson at dinner.  

At one point I was actually asked a question by M which was promptly dismissed by S2 who said, "Mom, for the love of all that is Holy, please do not answer that question and say anything right now."  

I stayed silent knowing that anything that would come out of my mouth would be deemed entirely gross by everyone at the table.  I just shut my yap and pretended to be intrigued by tiny fish eggs on the top of the sushi. 

Once M got B straightened out about male and female anatomy and gave a few words of advice, the lesson ended.  I breathed a sigh of relief and realized that even I learned some new things.  S1 seemed satisfied with the explanations and advice.    S2 was in shock and sat quietly starring straight ahead at nothing and B was thinking that she was now sufficiently knowledgeable in most matters of anatomy and her upcoming wedding night.  

With the lesson completed, B picked up her chopsticks and plucked the last remaining piece of sushi sitting in the middle of the anatomy sushi sauce and popped it into her mouth. 

Well, you should have seen M at this juncture.  Her jaw dropped open and her eyes bugged out.   She put on her most disgusted face and said,  "I can't believe you would eat that piece of sushi after what I just drew in that sauce!"

Yes, this was my most favorite of the wedding events.  Who needs a reception when you can have sushi, a sushi sauce anatomy lesson and your four daughters there to teach it.

Get Giddy, Be Perky, Don't Daffy

Some people find themselves a bit melancholy knowing that the lazy days of summer are almost over. I, on the other hand, find myself starting to perk right up.  Deep down inside I feel downright giddy.  End of summer = Back to school = Giddiness.   


I mean lets think about this.  Summer can be rough. Us moms are fully aware that we have just spent about 90 hot days of summer with kids in our personal space 24/7.  In the summer I run the  "Taylor 24 hour a day food buffet". It's better than Vegas around here.  Of course it's all you can eat ya know.   Because of this buffet I'm constantly preparing food, putting food away and cleaning up from the feeding frenzies of summer.  One morning this summer I got up to the aftermath of one of the feeding frenzies.  There were 2 huge T-bones stripped clean, sitting on the counter laying in a pile of 20 plus empty burger boxes from McD's, remnants of fries, ketchup packets, numerous drink cups and hundreds Reeses peanut butter cup wrappers.  I stood there staring when my 18 year old son, who will be a senior, came in and I quietly asked, "What happened in here?  He replied, "Me and my friends just couldn't afford to get hungry.  It's 2 a day's you know."   (That's a football practice twice a day)


Smells from kids are worse in the summer.  Heat drives kids crazy and makes kids want to be inside by their mom more where we can smell their smells even better.  Kid's get up at the crack of noon in the summer, then rev up to 100% by 3 in the afternoon and stay up driving us nuts until well after midnight (and every parent knows that NOTHING good ever happens after midnight). 


My home also becomes a "hang out".  I have worked this math equation over in my mind a bunch of times and it just doesn't figure.  It's like a little math story problem and I challenge any math professor to work this one out......If there are 30 kids (one kid is mine) at my house for 18 hours a day and then the 29 kids go home to sleep (or whatever) for 8 hours then shouldn't I have 29 day's when my kids are at the other 29 kids houses for 18 hours a day thus giving me a month off?  The answer is simple........No.   All 29 kids will return to my house the following day for 18 hours.  The thing is, is that if you talked to the other 29 kids parents they have the same thing going on at their houses.  Do kid's have multiple stinking, eating bodies, roaming the hood and bugging moms all summer?   


So after hearing my take on summer I feel I need to dwell more on the positive and that's the fact that every summer ends with a happy ending and that ending is THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!


The first day of school has always been one of the most exciting days of my year.  I love it like I love Christmas.


I'm the mom skipping down the school supply isle, like the ad on TV, while singing "It's the most wonderful time of the year"  as I  click my heals together behind my cart.  I love school supplies and I love smelling them.  This time of year you will find me secretly sniffing new pencils.  It is the elixir of my end of summer life.

My jump from the top stair as I begin.
the perfect Daffy. You
can see my forward lean is just not right.

I love the first day of school so much that one year when my twins (the last of 8 kids) went to their first day of Kindergarten, I got so excited that I ran out of the school and jumped off of the front steps. 


In a moment of pure joy I lost my head, forgot I wasn't 19 anymore and jumped into the air to perform the perfect daffy (that's where you kick both legs to the side).  My height on the jump was excellent, my execution of the daffy was a 10.  My landing, I didn't nail.  I must have thought I had gotten a lot more air than I did and my forward tilt was off kilter. I looked down at my landing spot just in time to see my right knee smack into the cement. Apparently I was still performing my daffy when I landed.  This does not make for the perfect landing.


I went to stand up and felt a tich woozy and decided that it was best I sit down for a bit.  Now not wanting to be a wuss, I sat on some concrete in the front of the school and laughed with friends about my mishap while trying not to spew.

Me being a sport for the camera

I sat there laughing about my fall when I started feeling tingly and then cold and sweaty.  I decided it best to tip over onto the concrete for a minute.  I get this feeling when I break body parts not when I bruise body parts.

Note my pasty white pallor

After allowing a minute for blood to flow back into my brain, I decided it was best to head home.  I still wasn't feeling normal but a crowd was gathering round, asking questions so I decided to cross the street. I hobbled across the crosswalk and was realizing it wasn't so easy to walk when next thing I know I'm seeing tunnels and down I went on a neighbors lawn.

 This picture is real and I'm trying to smile, ever the sport

At this point I realize I don't think I'm going to get home on my own (which is about 100 yards around the corner) so I called my husband and said that I had a bit of an accident (I could hear his mind saying, So what's new) and that I needed assistance getting home.  


Next thing I know, my youngest son is standing over me and telling me, "Daddy sent me to bring you home.   What's wrong?"

 

Now not to point out the obvious but really?  This little kid is supposed to help me home?  If I lean on him I could squish him like a bug. I practically just gave birth to this child.  Will you just look at his toothpick sized legs.    

Needless to say I finished hobbling home with the support an infant while my husband patiently waited my arrival. 

Two weeks later when I realized that I just couldn't really bend my knee  I went in for surgery to  fix my knee.  I especially loved the part of surgery when the Dr's ask you to tell them exactly how you hurt yourself.

I guess the lesson to be learned here is get giddy, be perky, don't daffy.

First day of school is tomorrow. I will take my annual first day of school pictures.  I will be joyful and I will celebrate but if I jump off anything it will be from the rug on the hardwood floor to the hardwood floor.  I hope I land it.

Close up of my injury.
The white part is most likely bone!

The Folks

I have a fascination with old folks.  What is it about them that fascinates me?  Well, let me tell you.  

First I prefer to call older people "folks" therefore I will refer to them as "The Folks".  

We all age and I have noticed that as my parents age, I age.  Weird.  Therefore, we are all turning into our parents.  

Grandma sitting on her special bench at her burial plot.
She's OK sitting at her own burial plot.  This is why we love
grandma!

One of the oldest people I know is my grandma Verna.  She is 98.  She is really old and I noticed that when "folks" age they hate telling anyone how old they are and so they lie about their age or just don't tell. Once these folks get beyond age 90 they no longer lie about their age but they brag about it.  I don't blame them because it takes a lot of effort to reach your 90's.  As for my grandma, she is about as perky as any 98 year old I know.  She will be sitting on her couch and pop up and run into the other room to grab something to show you.  I should put a clock on her sometime.  

Invariably grandma will return from her sprint to the next room with some type of scrapbook or diary.  Folks love to reminisce.  They love to talk about the good ol' days when they walked all those miles to school in sub zero temps and would come home to work on the farm shoveling horse manure and cleaning eggs.  I loved those stories the first 80 times but now I just lip sync the words while standing behind the folks as they tell these stories for the umpteenth time.  (umpteenth is a word I learned from the folks.)

Grandma saying "Oh Laws!"

Which brings me to my next old folk-ism.  They say strange words.  For instance, when a younger person will say "oh my gosh"  my grandma loves to say "Oh laws".  What is a laws?  I love it when she says this word.  She also calls her family room the "amusement room".  I love that name so much that from now on I'm going to start calling my family room the amusement room. 

When my mom talks about things that she considers "risque" she uses a different tone of voice and changes the words just enough to let you know that she is now speaking of something VERY RISQUE.   


For instance, she refers to her uterus as her "U Triss"  and when she says sexual she pronounces it "sex-yull".  When she says the "N" word which is 'nipple' in her house it is pronounced like NYP-PULL (really enunciate the Y in the first syllable and make a huge round O with your lips in the second syllable when pronouncing the U).  I still can't say the N word.


About my mom's "special words", I hate it when she says those words and when she does I promptly stand up and leave the room because the topic that is sure to follow is not something I want to discuss. 

One of the folks wearing my son's hunting
hat.  Now picture this folk saying  the above
mentioned "N" word.

My mom loves to tell you about the birth of her children IN DETAIL.  This is also not a topic I want hear about but she loves to tell the stories.  When she gets to the parts about "bearing down"  or is it "baring down (I'm not sure how to spell it because if I were to define what she is saying, the first "bearing down" definition is: A bear who is growling while birthing a rather large baby; and the second definition of "baring down" is: Having to do with bare naked parts used for birthing.)  Both are topics that should never be discussed between my mom and myself.

The next thing I've noticed about old folks is their need to discuss their bodily functions and in particular their bathroom habits.  This is also a subject I prefer to not discuss.

Moving on...... Folks always and eventually lose their hearing.  Have you noticed that when THEY can't hear they accuse you of mumbling when you are enunciating each word and yelling at the same time.  That is not an easy thing to do.  

At our church we have a lot of "folks" that attend.  The other day in a sunday school class one of the folks turned to her neighbor and said in a LOUD voice, "What in the world is she talking about?"  referring to the teacher.  The neighbor said,  "She's talking about you!"  

Folk: "About who?"

Neighbor:  "About you!" 

Folk:  (fiddles with her hearing aid)  "About who?"

Neighbor: (Fiddles with her own hearing aid)  "I said she's talking about you."

Folk:  "Well for heavens sake, what is she saying?"

Neighbor: "That you are a good example."

Folk:  "I'm ample?  Well, what's that supposed to mean?"

This went on for a couple of very entertaining minutes.

Some of the folks that attend our church really love to crank up their hearing aids so they can hear the speakers better, not that cranking up the volume helps because then the aids start a buzzing.  The sound they make is a high pitched shrill tone that then becomes the background noise for the whole congregation.  My question is...."Can they not hear this buzz?"   Apparently not thus the aids.  What a vicious cycle.


My daughter in law told me that one day her grandma asked her grandpa, "Where's Bob?"  Grandpa IS Bob and also grandma's husband.  

This is precisely why I love the folks.  They can say things like this and it's no big deal.


The folks can clack their dentures, pass gas in public places, go to the front of 2 hour lines in their jazzy's, say swears, wear their clothes inside out, smell funny, talk about their bowels,  yell into cell phones, sleep at any hour of the day,  get handicapped stickers even though they can golf 18 holes, and wear socks with their sandals (dress or athletic) and it's OK because they don't care what anyone thinks.  


Ahhh, the beauty of age and what a fascinating crowd.  I love them all!

5 Generations and I'm in the middle which means I'm as close to
being one of the "Folks" as not.

Oh! Just what I wanted?

I've always been curious as to why people give the presents they do.  When I look back at pictures of past birthdays and Christmases, I am amazed at some of the gifts we have given each other over the years. 


Here are some examples of our gift giving over the years...........

 This is Maggey's birthday piñata that she loved and was devastated when the kids bashed it up.  She thought it was her new special friend.

The battery powered cars were always a huge hit with the kids but they'd last for about five minutes then one of the big kids would decide to borrow it and drive it off a three foot jump and into a wall. It would explode upon landing, the present would be destroyed and I would end up trying to talk the birthday kid into thinking a battery powered car was a stupid present anyway.
  
In retrospect the best gift is the driving hat I gave Mickey shown in the picture on the right.

Rocky got this fishing vest for his 7th birthday.  Was he naked under there?  He loved this vest but it came with a Little Mermaid book which I assumed would be the cherry on the cake of his birthday.  Ariel is a babe after all.  Apparently, that was a bad call on my part.  The book spurred on a crying jag that ended his 7th birthday.
  

Santa gave Mickey Marvin this awesome hunting hat which he loved but........

Grandma liked the hat so much she wore it all Christmas day.

One of my personal favorite gifts was the breakfast themed apron my sister gave me one year.  Besides the fact that it makes me look voluptuous and like I'm holding a chicken, the eggs squeak when you squeeze them.  Great, now not only do I get to cook but I get to try to cook while Mickey chases me and tries to squeeze my apron eggs. 

This special gift I purchased for my daughter in law because I liked the name.  It's called the "Crock O Dial"  It's like a little baby crock that you hang around your neck and put your cell phone in.  What was I thinking?  Crocks are ugly enough on someones feet but can you imagine wearing one as a cell phone necklace.  Amy deserves better than this. I did embellish her "crock o dial" with some real nice giblets (those are the things you poke through the crock holes to decorate the already ugly shoes)

When I was a kid my sister and I got a what was called a peg board.  It had different colored pegs that you hammered through little holes.  That was our X Box of the '60's'.  Wow: we were entertained easily.

One year we gave my husband's cousin some goggles.  The best part of this gift was the way he modeled the goggles and his Christmas sweater he wore with them.  The perfect ensemble.

Then there was the Christmas when grandma gave some of the grand daughters a scary ass puppet.  This is Maggey and every time she would play with this puppet she would just get weird so we had to give it to some other child before Maggey acquired multiple personality disorder.

The Rollerblades and hockey helmets were a hit with the kids.  It kept them outside and busy all day and I loved the fact that the helmets made them look "special".

My husband gives the kids countless weapons for gifts.  They are my least favorite of all presents given.  The BB guns, air soft guns, bows and arrows and other various weapons always keep the kids busy but these weapons inevitably end up in the wrong hands (Mickey Sr.'s)  He then spends hours on the weekends hiding in weird places so he can shoot unsuspecting kids.

Ahh the days when a cupcake and a balloon were all they wanted and needed..............






Lastly, my favorite all time present that has been given in our family is .......




The present Sid gave Jensine for her 14th birthday.

It was the perfect gift..........

Sid signed an 8x10 picture of herself and gave it to Jensine.  What every sister would want.