Archive for June 8, 2012

My Plans Are Not Exactly Coming Together

Well.  I had actual plans for this summer.  Oh, sure, I have  the usual goals like “lose weight and become beautiful” but, since I’m middle-aged and holding on for dear life, that weight loss might not be such a good idea after all.  You know.  Gravity and wrinkles.   So, part b of that goal would have to be to see a famous plastic surgeon in a burning building or being menaced by a surly middle schooler, rescue him or her and, when said miracle worker of the flesh pledged undying gratitude, to say “Okay, we’re going to start that undying gratitude with a full body lift to put things back to where they used to be.”  How likely would that be? 

Unfortunately, I don’t have any cash to pay said plastic sag eraser, so I decided that maybe I better move on to the next item on my list, which would be to have a squeaky clean house with my clutter all conquered and everything so neatly arranged that a complete stranger could burgle the house and be able to put his hands on all the valuables immediately because they were where they were supposed to be and not on the shelf with the gluten-free cake mixes.  But I don’t really have any valuables, and why would I want to make it easy for some damn burglar anyway?   Well, I suppose the gluten-free cake mixes are valuables.   And if a burglar breaks into my house, I’m gonna hand him (or her) the tools of the cleaning trade and set back and supervise their work and be real bitchy about it. 

Unfortunately, no burglars have broken into my house (Hey, I’ve got valuables!  Really!) and I find that somehow I’m not all that enthusiastic about doing the whole organization thing all by myself.  I’d rather have somebody else do it at gunpoint while I make suggestions and criticize their work. 

So, the next item on the list is landing another job on account of I’ve got about two or three weeks’ worth of money to buy animal feed and groceries before I run out of cash.  I spoke with a friend and coworker about this earlier in the week.  She wanted to know what I was looking for.  “Another job!” I explained.  “No, doing what?”  Good question.  “Anything that pays money, although I think Hooters is out of the question because of the age thing.  Maybe I could sue for age discrimination?”  Being a Walmart greeter would probably be out of the question, too.  “Welcome to Walmart.  Now take this stupid cart before I shove it up your…” “SWAMPIE!” “Uh, have a nice shopping experience today and thank you for shopping at Walmart.”  The bad thing about looking for a job today is that there are other actual people out there looking for jobs, too, that are young, attractive, cheap, pleasant, and have actual qualifications like being a NASA scientist which kinda sucks for the rest of us.

I wouldn’t mind a job which entails flying around the world and pissing off people, reading speeches off a teleprompter, screwing up city traffic during rush hour, and blaming the previous employee for all the screw ups that have happened while I’ve been on the job, but that one is already taken.


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SwampDaughter and children were visiting the house when SwampMan returned from visiting his hospitalized mother in Georgia where she was recovering from emergency quadruple bypass surgery. I was half listening as SwampMan was trying to explain the bypass surgery to Dylan. I heard him talking about taking veins out of legs and sewing them onto the heart to make alternate pathways for blood flow, and I was thinking that I’d have simply said that her heart was sick and the doctors are trying to make it better. Both of us understand that children (and adults) learn by integrating new information with older, already understood information. Both of us occasionally go overboard with information that is over the head of the person asking the question. He asked Dylan if he understood.

“Oh, Papa”, said Dylan. “Does Nana have heartworms?”

SwampMan picked up that telephone and called his dad right then. When SwampBigPapa answered the phone, SwampMan told him “Dylan has a very important question about Nana. He wants to know if she has heartworms.” SwampBigPapa was able to assure Dylan that no, Nana did not have heartworms.

Now you just know that every time somebody from the family goes into the hospital, they’re going to ask Nana about how her heartworms are doing.

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