A1A South

Heh. SwampMan made me turn off the all 70s weekend radio station. Said something about grounds for divorce! Well, his grumpy butt can just sit there while I dance around my computer listening to old dance music! Okay, maybe THAT’S grounds for divorce, too!

The grandboys were here again visiting early Tuesday morning until this afternoon. We would have liked to have kept them Friday, too, but they didn’t think they could stay away from the Wii for another day. Oh, well. They’ll be here again in a couple of weeks.

I had my 4th set of mammograms this year today, and a very nice lady gave me the good news that the suspicious areas that they had been watching had had no changes and therefore I get to go back on the yearly mammogram schedule. Yay! I never thought that I would consider a yearly mammogram to be cause for celebration until I had to get multiple mammograms and then worry between them.

A fire alarm went off while I was in the reception area dressed in my stylish green hospital gown waiting to be squished. There were about 15 of us chatting and reading outdated magazines, not counting the ones who were actually in the procedure rooms being sonogrammed or mammogrammed at that particular time. The loud, harsh alarm and flashing lights were somewhat annoying and interruptive of conversation. The ladies, black, white, Asian, young, middle aged, retired, southernors and Yankees, decided as one that there was no way that we were going outside braless in our scanty garments in the cold. And we didn’t.

When we got home, I ran out to get my feeding done for I had a memorial service to attend this evening. It was a very sad funeral for the very nice man that had passed from cancer was just a couple years older than my son in law. He was years away from the time when the recommended screenings for that type of cancer were to begin.

When the daughter got here to pick up the grandkids and generously loan me some of her Kindle books, I was yelling things like “Does anybody know if I have black shoes?” and hopping around like a transvestite Easter bunny trying to pull on panty hose. I didn’t even get to say goodbye on account of having to actually get dressed because the service started in 15 minutes.

I got there late (surprise!) and so had to park really illegally and stand in the back, for the church was packed. It was a Catholic church. I’d never been inside a Catholic church before, so didn’t really know what that entailed. It was a nice service, but there wasn’t really anyplace for the Baptists in attendance to shout out “Praise the Lord!” or “Hallelujia” or even “Thank you Jesus!”

The Catholics didn’t seem to notice this glaring omission.

H/T Bonz at GCP

Wishing all of you a Merry Christmas, joyous new year, and may you and your families be blessed with good health and prosperity.

A few of the grandnieces and granddaughter.

They’re not blurry in real life; it’s just hard to keep them still long enough for a photo! Well, it was my niece’s cell phone. Maybe the camera pics turned out better.

No, the ginormous feet in the background do NOT belong to me.

I’m tired! The grandsons were here for a couple days, and I have been running around like a, well, like something that runs around real crazy like. Maybe like one of those little annoying hyper dogs that race around mindlessly in all directions, the kind that when your friends coo over them and talk baby talk to them, you say “oh, how cuuuuute!” but what you’d really like to do is sneaky kick them into the neighbor’s yard with the pit bull. Or wait for that little dog to grab hold of its shreds of dignity and tear your friend’s lips off. Yeah. Now THAT would be cute. Anyway, think of me as running around and accomplishing nothing just like some little dog chasing its tail, only in a much, MUCH larger package. It ain’t a pretty sight.

I woke up this morning after about 2 hours sleep with a TO DO list for today the size of Kansas. I gotta run up to Georgia to see my mom, bearing gifts as I go, but I won’t be able to go inside because my grandsons have thoughtfully provided me with a respiratory infection, and I could kill my stepdad that has COPD if I in turn gift it to him. I have to completely clean the house, because it didn’t seem to make a lot of sense to do it while the grandkids were here, although they’re going to be here again on Sunday and next week. Hunh. Maybe I should reconsider my TO DO list. I had to catch and sell some sheep. I have several pens of newly hatched bantams to look after. And I still haven’t decorated for Christmas or put up a tree yet. I, uh, still have some Christmas shopping to do, too, along with grocery shopping.

I haven’t baked the first cookie or made the first bit of candy because of bein’ on a freakin’ diet and now I’m sufferin’ remorse because what if the kids and grandkids will need to enter intensive psychiatric therapy because there are no sugar laden empty carbohydrates of diet doom this year at MeeMaw’s house? I don’t think pies should count as carbohydrates of doom, though. By Gawd, there WILL be pie. And maybe dressing will sneaky make an appearance, too.

Our neighbor from across the street, a wonderful, wonderful lady, made Christmas cookies for us and brought them over in a gift bag. SwampMan has made the rule that carbohydrate gifts may be eaten because it isn’t like we went hunting for them, and it would be ungrateful to NOT eat them. I decided that this morning, after getting those aforementioned two hours of sleep last night because I was busily engaged in shampooing carpets until 2 a.m., which maybe woke SwampMan, who in retaliation turned on the History Channel to deafening at 4 a.m. I decided that for today only I would adopt SwampMan’s Rule of Carbohydrates and attack that bag of forbidden delights. I wouldn’t be quite so tired but a customer needed some sheep, and I needed some money very, very badly, so I was outside at dawn chasing (and catching) sheep. I figured I’d worked off the calories in advance, like. I grabbed the bag of cookies. It was empty. CURSE YOU, SWAMPMAN! It is a good thing that SwampMan had to make an emergency run to Home Depot (or so he said), or else he probably woulda gotten whacked with a frying pan of the cast iron variety.

Eh, well, back to cleaning my poor neglected house, then off to Georgia. I’ll have to get my pick me up through some music thoughtfully left on the doorstep by no2liberals.

A couple of the grandkids find that having a cousin who’s a fireman in Georgia is kinda cool!

So maybe y’all can join my dance party:

Well, at least we know where he be now!

This song was popular in my high school days. By the time I was a senior, I had a fiance in the army, a boyfriend at Cornell who assumed we were gonna get married when he graduated, the man that I was really head over heels in love with who didn’t care about me at all, and another man who was head over heels about me that I didn’t care about at all!

When my kids were in high school, I just couldn’t understand them. “Why do you only date one person at a time? How are you gonna figure out what sort of person is right for you if you only date one at a time?” It just seemed to be an inefficient use of time to me. I always was a multi-tasker.

Well, one thing stayed the same. Daughter complained that everybody she dated wanted to get married while all she wanted was just to go out and have fun!