June 26, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 2 Comments
As I do every year, I began fretting about a Father’s Day gift for the Big Irishman in early March. What do you get a man who has everything. More important, what do you get a man who has saved everything he’s ever touched. (including a big toe nail that fell off at scout camp when he was seven) I poured over sporting goods catalogs, walked the aisles at “guy” stores, and even considered purchasing some “adult toys” but decided against it because I didn’t want to embarrass the children. Finally, I had an inspiration while browsing the various nooks and crannies of amazon.com. I decided that he might really enjoy one of those Kindle digital book things because he is a voracious reader. I felt that this would be a flashy gift that makes a strong statement of our love for the Tall Guy. I polled the kids and they all agreed to throw some money into the Kindle kitty. Then I made the mistake of mentioning my great idea to one of Tom’s friends, who shall remain nameless. He questioned my gift choice, and I must say he had some good insights. He said that he wasn’t sure Tom could “handle” a Kindle. He reminded me that Tom is still unable to retrieve messages from his cell phone. And another good point - the “state-of-the-art” IPOD (a previous flashy gift that makes a strong statement) remains in its sealed case on my desk. BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD.
Then it hit me, like a bolt of lightening, in the middle of the night - A NIGHT BLOOMING CEREUS, QUEEN OF THE NIGHT. Tom has always wanted one of these cacti, but they are extremely rare. They just bloom one night each year and their fragrance has been called, “the perfume of the angels.” So I made it my mission to find the elusive NBC,QOTN. I made 34,982 calls and nothing. People either had not a clue what I was talking about or they just laughed and mumbled words that sounded like, “fat chance.” With each dial I became more and more despondent and more and more determined. I would find one of these biatch cacti or die trying. Finally, as my button-punching finger began showing signs of paralysis, a dude who calls himself the “Cactus King” said those magic words, “Ya, I got one, but it’s gonna cost ya.”
I had a niggling feeling that Tom had once said something about the Cactus King, but I just couldn’t remember specifics. Anyway I rushed out picked up this beautiful lady, and I won’t even discuss what I paid for her.
Isn’t she a beauty. And she’s ready to
bloom - just imagine my delight.
Unfortunately, this is what a Night Blooming Cereus,
Queen of the Night is supposed to look like. I’d been had.
Apparently what I bought is a Flippin’ Fat Cactus, Joker of
the Day.
It’s starting to come back to me - I’m beginning to remember what Tom said about the Cactus King. And just for the record, Flippin’ Fat Cactus, Joker of the Days bloom only in the daylight and several times each summer.Ttheir fragrance would remind one of butt.
June 19, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 2 Comments
Maybe some of you remember the post I did about the gigantic spike that grew out of a yucca plant in our front yard. I have some new information regarding this unusual phenom that many of you will be interested in. Before I begin, I would like to ask that we all pause for a moment of silence. The yucca plant that produced this amazing 30 foot appendage has now passed away. It’s decrepit skeleton remains in the yard because the “thing” is still attached to it. It lays there as a symbol for the whole world to see - the symbol of a mother’s sacrifice for her child. Sniff, Sniff.
Anyway, enough sadness. We have finally decided on a name for this rare, towering column. You may remember that several names have been suggested - Spike, Yellah Fellah, and yes, even Dick because of its phallic nature. The name is (drum roll) Dickette. Yes, she’s a girl - Dickette Marie Brennanyard.
This is a current portrait of the amazing young lady.
All of her beautiful yellow flowers are being replaced by baby yuccas. This is how the determination of her true gender was finalized. Everyone knows that male spikes don’t have babies. And they certainly don’t have thousands of babies.
A close-up of just a few of Dickette’s offspring suckling at her ample breast.
Well, maybe not exactly suckling.
A small portion of the nursery that the proud grandpa made for the new babies.
I just have one question. Who is the father of these babies and how did the impregnation happen? I guess these questions will be answered at a later date.
June 18, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 3 Comments
Nothing is ever simple. I’ve been experiencing diminished sight in my right eye for several months. At my last eye appointment, the doctor confirmed that I do indeed have cataracts. It is my understanding that these were probably caused by taking Prednisone. So I can add cataracts (on both eyes) to all the other wonderful things this drug has added to my life - hump back, hair-loss, facial hair, big belly, ugly red marks all over my arms, and also a bad attitude. Or so Tom says. Can you tell I’m pissed and a little discouraged. Monday I went for a pre-surgery cataract evaluation. The young girl who was doing most of the tests kept doing one test over and over. I kept asking if there was a problem and she kept assuring me that there was no problem. She finally announced that she couldn’t put dilation drops in my eyes until the doctor had checked something. I started to get a real strange feeling, so I went to the waiting room and asked Tom to join me in the examination room.
The doctor came in and the following are exact quotes - from his lips to my keyboard. “The cataract on your right eye has become dangerously large.” As my heart started beating dangerously fast, he added, “If I dilated your eyes right now you could go into a glaucoma attack and be blind in less than 24 hours.” Tom and I sat there open-mouthed - simply stunned. He asked the receptionist to get me an appointment with a glaucoma specialist a.s.a.p. We came home and I spent two days trying to process this information. I just kept picturing myself feeling the faces of my grandchildren as they grow because I will be blind. I know it sounds like I’m having a pity party, but keep in mind that I’m the lady who went under the knife for “simple” bypass surgery and came out of said surgery having lost 65% of my healthy heart tissue. So - my track record ain’t the greatest.
My appointment was at 9:30 a.m. this morning and at 11:00 a.m. I was still seated in the waiting room. Pissed doesn’t even begin to describe my anger. The good news is that I really liked the doctor. He will be doing laser surgery on both my eyes. The laser will burn a small hole in each eyeball to create a new drain and thus relieve the pressure behind my eyes. We will attack the cataracts when the laser surgeries are over. He said that after surgery, I will no longer have Glaucoma and will be as good as new. I’ve heard that old song and dance before, but I do have confidence in this guy.
When I checked out I was told that my copay was $60.00. I promptly wrote a check for $35.00. Then the money taker lady said that I had misunderstood the amount I owed. I quietly explained that I charge $25.00 for waiting, and that I had waited for over an hour-and-a-half. I told her she should be happy that I gave her a half-hour freebie. She didn’t say one word. I also wrote “Paid in full” on my check. As I was gathering my things to leave, it did dawn on me that I had just refused to pay the guy who would soon be cutting holes in my eyeball with a laser.
He must have over heard the whole exchange, because as I opened the door to leave he approached me, gave me a small hug, and said, “Don’t worry about a thing. I appreciate a woman with attitude.” Phewwwwww.
June 15, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 2 Comments
I have a few more pictures from my trip to San Bruno that I want to share with my Dear Readers. These babies are growing up fast and I want to capture every moment. I really don’t think that 63,520 pictures for a four-day weekend is exorbanent. After all, taking pictures is harmless. I could have spent all my time drinking and scaring the neighbor children by chasing them with my teeth out.
Weezy is sitting in her BUMBO chair. It is designed to help
children learn to sit up. Please notice the blue
dotted Swiss dress that she is wearing. Another vintage dress.
We have pics of Katie wearing this at about the same age.
My guy and doll. That delightfully attractive women behind
the children is “yours truly.”
Eloise Grewe is smiling now. When Movy makes snorting pig noises,
she cracks up. Roscoe also loved snorting pig noises at this age.
Roscoe doesn’t miss a chance to hold his baby cousin.
In this picture, he is teaching her proper bink behavior.
One of those magic moments that last in a memory forever.
Thank you Perpetua.
Very poignant. This makes me cry.
“Mom, take this stinkin’ bow. Chicks who roll with the Roscoenator
don’t wear no bows.”
Every mother’s dream. Enough said.
Party duds for our Perfect, Pretty Princess.
The shoes kill me.
I thank you again, Perpetua - with all our heart.
June 12, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 3 Comments
For those who have not seen the movie, let me explain the concept of a “Bucket List.” This is a compilation of wishes or adventures that an individual hopes to experience before he/she “kicks the bucket.” (I’m impressed with myself. That was a tremendous pun.) By way of illustration, I’m going to share with you ten of my Bucket List entries. Just let me reach in and grab a few.
Okay, here we go. Remember - these are just samples. Also the following are not arranged in any particular order.
#1
Someday I want to flag down a car that contains a passenger who I have witnessed throwing trash out the window. I want to drag said passenger out of the car by his/her ear. Once removed from the vehicle, I shall scream, “I don’t want to live in your trash.” I’ll follow this statement with a spray of spit aimed at the eye of the offender.
#2
I want to spend some time in Darfur and Gaza easing pain and letting these people know that Americans do care.
#3
I want to live one week as a thin person - eating whatever I want without being riddled with guilt.
#4
I want to have “a little something” done to my eyes so that my eyelids are once again visible instead of being hidden in the folds between my wrinkles.
#5
I want to take my whole family on a cruise for at least a week - just eating, drinking and spending quality time together.
#6
I want to go on the Oprah show and talk about organ donation.
#7
I want to meet my donor family so I can share with them some pictures of me doing things that would have been impossible without their wonderful gift. For example dancing at my daughter’s weddings, watching my son graduate and hugging my grandchildren.
#8
I want to go on a photo safari.
#9
I want to put my tongue in Tom Selleck’s ear.
#10
I want to apologize to Georgia Kirksey for putting a dead mouse down her shirt when I was seven years old.
That’s enough for now. Why don’t you use the “comment” option on this blog and share a few of your bucket list dreams with my dear readers.
June 11, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 0 Comments
When I’m out-of-town, the Big Irishman can barely cope with his loneliness. He wanders around the house aimlessly, mumbling to himself - totally despondent because Esther isn’t much of a conversationalist. That’s why I was thrilled when he planned a guy getaway for last weekend while I was in San Bruno with the girls. He invited several friends for a fishing, drinking, camping, drinking, eating, drinking, talking politics, drinking, playing poker and drinking trip. They spent most of the two weeks prior to departure discussing location, planning menus and shopping for new fishing stuff. I didn’t realize that a fisherman needs new “stuff” for every trip. I must say I was quite impressed with their organization.
Tom was in a real quandary about whether or not to take his loyal companion, Esther. She dearly loves to spend time outside with her dad, but can also be a real pain in the ass on camping trips. She throws up from eating unidentified yuk. She rolls in foul-smelling wild animal dung. And she insists on being a lap dog around the campfire and sharing a sleeping bag. But after gentle cajoling from Mama, he decided to risk it and Esther was officially on the guest list. This decision presented a whole new set of problems. ESTHER HAD NEVER BEEN IN A CANOE. Scroll down to see how Tom solved this problem.
Esther seems perfectly relaxed sitting in the canoe on a local lake
Esther watches as Daddy maneuvers around a dangerous
outcropping of rock.
Notice the dam coming up and the dangerous snakes in the
rocks. Are they rattlers? Esther is prepared to take over
the oars if necessary.
A panoramic visual of Lake Brennan. I wonder
what the neighbors thought.
June 11, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 2 Comments
On Monday I returned from five days in San Bruno. Meghann’s company scheduled some business meetings for her on Thursday and Friday mornings. We all decided that I should come too, and make it a girl’s weekend. Or I should say, a girl’s weekend with Henry and Roscoe as the male guests of honor. We spent our time together playing and playing and playing. I was able to rock both my babies to sleep. It just doesn’t get any better than rocking precious angels. Eloise has developed an adorable personality and Roscoe continues to delight all those around him.
One evening we went to Fiddler’s Green for dinner. It’s an authentic Irish Pub, and it seemed as though we had been magically transported to downtown Dublin. I’m part Irish so that makes my grandchildren also part Irish. I take my responsibilities as an Irish grandmother very seriously. Our trip to the Irish Pub afforded Movy (the grandma name Meghann has selected for me) a wonderful opportunity to begin Irish lessons with the kids.
IRISH LESSON #1: PUB CRAWLIN’
As I began my instruction, Roscoe didn’t seem terribly interested,
but Weezy was hanging on my every word.
Roscoe was unable to finish his Guinness, but sure slammed down those
shots of Irish Whiskey. (Just kidding - he was a tired little guy after a very
full day of playing with Cousin Weezy.)
Weezy quickly grasped all the finer points of Pub Crawlin’ -
especially “Don’t be wasteful. Drink every last drop.”
Weezy can’t believe she drank the whole thing.
She didn’t - her mama did.
I must say - my grandchildren caused quite a stir. People kept stopping by the table to comment on how gorgeous they are. Roscoe with his blond curls and huge blue eyes, and Weezy with her olive skin and black hair are a striking contrast. I just sat there smugly, nodding my head in agreement.
NEXT IRISH LESSON: SHAMROCK PICKING
June 2, 2009 - Posted by amazingzipperedwoman- 0 Comments
On Saturday, Judy (of jam fame) and I hosted a bridal shower for little Maren. I arrived at Judy’s house Friday afternoon for party preparation followed by an old-fashioned girlie overnight. (Yes, we talked about boys and made crank calls.) Judy is a gourmet cook and no culinary delight is too much for her to tackle. I, on the other hand, am not a gourmet cook. During the past thirty years I have been able to provide adequate nutrition to grow three children to adulthood. I’ve been able to throw together enough meals to cause stoutness in both myself and the Big Irishman. But “GOURMET” I’m not. I might add that baking is out of the question. My idea of “baking” is picking up the phone and ordering baked goods from bakers who actually know how to bake.
You can imagine my dismay when Judy suggested that we make cream puffs and chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert. I was under the impression that there are bushes that grow chocolate-dipped strawberries. After several glasses of wine, I reluctantly agreed.
We assembled the necessary ingredients and settled in for an afternoon of cream puffing. I expected Judy to pull pre-formed puffies out of her cupboard, but was sadly disappointed when she started dumping stuff into two pans on the stove. All I can say about the first stage of the process is that it is absolutely essential to stir the hell out of the dough as it’s cooking. It resembled concrete and I’m positive that my right breast is now twice the size of my left breast because my right hand was used to stir said concrete.
I call this pic, “puff dough splops.”
Pre-pudding puffs.
Perfect puffs surrounded by beautiful berries.
I can now say that I, Shanlee, have truly given birth to cream puffs. I don’t remember ever being so proud.
