Another activity we won't be doing together.

Looking out into our backyard from the breakfast table.

Bill:  What are you laughing at?



Another case of one working and one pretending.



Me: The silly argument those robins are having.

Bill:  Robins are arguing?

Me:  Well one of them is.  Fred is not happy that Shirley won't share her worm hunting techniques.  And Fred is just lazy.  I don't think Shirley is going to put up with it very long.  She's already shown him how and where.  He just stands there and complains that she's getting all the good worms and she's not sharing at all.  Fred is getting on my last nerve.

Bill:  Well maybe they're married and everytime Fred brings his own worm she's all " Where did you get that? That's not what I told you to get? You never listen to me!?  Fred is getting the short worm here.

Me:  What?!  Clearly he's acting like he doesn't know where the worms are EVEN after seeing Shirley get worms over and over.  Fred likes being on worm welfare.  Why should he work if Shirley can just give him one of her worms? He pretends to be looking for worms while Shirley is a worm workaholic.  DON'T GIVE HIM YOUR WORM SHIRLEY!!!

Bill: Oh good grief.  I'm going to the golf course. 

Me: On your way back will you stop by the store and get some hamburger?

I don't think he heard me.     Birdwatching is not as relaxing as I thought.

Cleanliness will get you killed.



A couple of summers ago we were preparing to leave town for a beach vacation.  By prepare I mean my focused husband had scheduled our car for it's pre-trip checkup which he does even if we're just going downtown for dinner. He's thorough that way. 

That morning before work, when roosters will peck your eyes out for disturbing them, Bill asked if I would drive the van to the car checker guy and he would pick me up and drive me to work.  

I think I said, "mmfmffmmffmf"  .  I begrudgingly drug myself into the shower wishing we could just teleport ourselves to the beach and skip the whole trip part, especially if it interrupts MY SLEEP.  As I got out of the shower I thought "crap, it's cold out here" because I like the air conditioner set at dead body morgue temps in June.   So I grabbed my towel and stepped back into the shower to dry off.

Here's where things got ugly.

Death awaits.  But at least I'll be clean for the funeral.

As I stepped back in my left foot hit the wet tile and shot out from under me and I did the Fred Flintstone foot dance in slow motion. I came crashing down landing on my backside - with a sickening crunch and pop followed by a prolonged inhaling set to the most profane lyrics I could muster.  The soundtrack had an eerie similarity to the scene in Psycho .  I felt like someone had stabbed me all over.   And to make matters worse  I had apparently contracted  Tourette's syndrome.

Why is it that anyone ( read spouse here....Bill specifically) would think you'd do this intentionally? Like I thought to myself " I really don't want to drive the car in this morning so I think I'll kill myself - death by bathroom tile."  Of course I actually did have thoughts of killing someone when he asked why I fell, but it wasn't myself.

I kind of remember him jerking open the shower stall door and yelling over my screams asking if he needed to call 911, or was I dying, or was I hurt, which I thought was fairly self-explanatory seeing that I was in a pretzel position and it was NOT sex related even though I was naked and wet and heaving with deep breathing and yelling his name in a cursing fashion.  I could not even catch my breath.  Or I would have related this fact more clearly. 

He hooked his arms under my arms and slipped me out of the shower onto the bathroom floor. Not as sexy as it sounds. Still unable to convey the depth of my pain other than "shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit" which is perfectly acceptable especially if you've just contracted Tourette's.  He asked me the most important question of the day. 

"Can you still drive the car to the garage?"   No one can accuse him of losing focus on the task at hand. 

I think I used the "f" word in perfect context when I said "F _ _ _   NO" .   My English teacher would have been so proud.    Not my religion teacher,  or my minister.  My dad , maybe.  

He stood there conflicted.  911 or garage, or maybe he could drop me at the emergency room on the way.   I managed to take a deep breath asking him NOT to touch me, just let me gather my thoughts.   I thought maybe I was okay just shaken.  Except for the little problem of being shaped like a question mark.  You know .....this > ?.       I could not stand up straight.   And I was still , well, unclothed.  

I could see he was deeply concerned .....about the car and meeting a deadline of some kind and to avoid being touched I thought if he'll just go and let me assess my mangled body in peace maybe I can figure out if I need to go to the hospital.  He said "Do you need anything before I go?" to which I replied as I was standing there in the shape of a naked question mark....."Underwear would be nice" .  As he walked toward me with my underwear I implored him to just drop them on the floor where I proceeded to play a game of "pick up the undies" with my toe and will them up up up my mishapened body by shear mind power.  I was awesome.  But still in remarkable pain. And still shaped like a question mark. 

And then he left.  Because he needed to get the car checked off that "be proactive list" .  I listed to the side of the bed and leaned into it until I was now a question mark shaped lump under the duvet.  As I lay there thinking "oh crap don't die, we'll never get the deposit back on the vacation rental" , I heard a set of golf clubs coming down the hall.   Oh, oh, one of my children coming to check on me!!   No, wait, he's passing my door.  I shouted " Andrew". I'm not sure it was a shout, more like a sad moan.   Andrew opened the door and said 'What's wrong with you?" 

I see Mr. Keep on Schedule didn't bother to get one of the kids up to stare at me until he got back home.  And knowing Andrew was on his way out to help at the children's golf clinic I asked if he'd go get his sister and prop her up in the chair next to me in case I croaked or something. 

So now I'm laying there still in a question mark shape being stared at by my daughter.  Bill calls to check on me.  Yes, you've guessed that he's dropped off the car and checking to make sure I'm not dead.  Answering the phone was a good sign.   He returns and decides that I do need to see a doctor and offers to take me to.................his chiropractor.  WTF? I think I made it pretty clear I did NOT want to be touched.  But he's convinced I need something.  I'm thinking a hammer or gun perhaps, or pit bull.  But I only have an icy stare,  at the carpet.  Somehow I make it downstairs and into his car.  The mustang.  It's a standard shift.  That car has always hated me and now was it's chance to finish me off.  I was painfully aware of every bump and dip to the doctor's office.  It was horrible. 

Dr. Larry takes one look at my face ( which he had to bend over to see ) and declares much to my relief that he is not touching me.  He says this before I have to threaten him or his tile floor which is what it would have looked like from his perspective.  But he does take an x-ray.  It reveals several compression fractures which may or may not have happened in the shower.  I'm thinking "may".  But no one listens to a woman who stares at the floor mumbling obscenities.  He says there's really nothing to do until the inflammation settles down not to mention the Tourette's.    At this point my loving spouse asks " Can she still go to Florida?" , so I can stare at the sand I guess.  Dr. Larry says I might as well. No lifting, no walking through the sand to the beach, just rest and sitting.  And he suggests getting me muscle relaxers and pain killers so the trip is as comfortable as possible. 

May I just say I think I have great potential in being a drug addict.  Bill loaded me into the car and gave me pills.  I closed my eyes and was magically transported to the beach.  Also I never heard one argument in the car, I don't remember stopping for the bathroom or eating.  I think I achieved teleportation.  I sat for two weeks on a balcony facing the ocean.  I read books undisturbed.  I never put on sunscreen.  It was heaven.

Heaven.

I'm thinking of throwing myself down the stairs this year. Wish me luck. 

Jane Stories

I had the mother-in-law to beat all mother-in-laws. Although the relationship started on shakey ground it eventually blossumed into something wonderful...............ly different and challenging.  I had so many strikes against me going into this it wasn't even funny.
1. I was from a divorced family

what number is this?



2. I had no formal education beyond high school. ( Bill has enough for the entire state of Rhode Island but I still have to connect him to the internet. Go figure.)

3. I was (catholic).

4. I did not have a sorority to reference. ( something that at one time intimitated me and now I just find amusing)

5. I ate hamburgers. ( something she did not consider a meal)

6. I had never been to a five star restaraunt.

7. I worn jeans. ( Bill still doesn't own a pair of jeans, I live in them)

8. I wore the wrong size bra ( covered in previous post)

9. I once referred to the big "O" on the flag over the fireplace as a zero.  ( I had no idea) ( Good thing I had "superpowers")

Over time I held 2 very important trump cards.  I had her grandchildren, and they held her heart. As is in most cases half of the blame for the early disharmony was squarely on my own shoulders. We both grew wiser and more forgiving and completely accepting of each other.  Like good wine our relationship aged well over the years. Mostly because we couldn't remember half the crap we argued about the next day. Yay for wine. 

Still there were some funny moments. And so I bring you Jane Stories. 

Jane loved animals. LOVED ANIMALS. Over the years I lost count of the number of pets that filtered through her house.  I was just seventeen the first time I met Jane.  They had 2 dogs named Peppy and Mickey, and a cat named Midnight whose fur was as white as the driven snow. I called them all by one name  " Mangey".  She loved that.    In turn she called me every one of the pet's names once asking me if I need water in my bowl.  Touche.  In the 27 years that followed there was a constant parade of pets. Peppy, Mickey, Gilette ( because he'd had a close shave with death), Lady, Sissy, McBarker.  There were gerbils and turtles and dogs and cats ,and horses.  and cows. and chickens. and goats.  Some I called "Lunch".



YOU MAY TAKE MY LIFE BUT YOU'LL NEVER TAKE MY FREEDOM!



Jane was always in a hurry.  Usually to stop and pee somewhere.  Something I became sympathetic to after children.  ( stupid kids).  This particular day she was in a hurry to take one of her cats to the vet. She grabbed the cat carrier, threw it in the car and then decided to"go" before heading to the vet's office. She jumped in the car and drove like a demon to an appointment that she was already late for.  She pulled in to the vets office and ran inside explaining ( yelling) from the door all the reasons she was late.  Traffic, locusts, yada, yada, yada. 

The receptionist looked at Jane and said, " Mrs. Burriss  it's okay, your cat's appointment isn't today it's tomorrow.  And besides there's no cat in your carrier."   She called me from the vet's office and told this story on herself all the while trying to convince me that the cat had opposable thumbs and had to have let itself out of the carrier.       I just love this story.  It's Jane. 

Another favorite of mine really shows how stupid we were.  Jane and Don ( my father-in-law) had flown in from some trip and we ( the three boys and the girls) had driven to the airport to meet them.  Jane always traveled dressed to the nines.  High heels, gorgeous dress, long fake nails and a mink coat.  Usually a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.   Obviously the early 80's.   We were walking several yards behind  her down one of the long parts of the airport.  Now Jane was.......frugal.  We noticed she had stopped midway and was perched forward trying to pick a dime up off the linoleum with her fake nails.  No small feat. Plus the added height of the heels and the dangerous forward tilt of the 44DDs, cigarette and drink.  She was a magician.  And determined.   Not one to miss an opportunity to bait his mother her youngest son who shall remain nameless (BOB) started intermittedly rolling quarters and dimes and nickels past Jane all the way out of the airport , rolling them to opposite sides of the concourse while Jane chased them down unaware that he was doing that.  We were overcome with laughter trying NOT to reveal ourselves while watching her teetered to and fro so close to falling. CLICK CLICK CLICK  her heels ran to the next coin, then CLICK CLICK CLICK went the fake nails as she fought with each coin.  At some point she caught on but continued to pick up the coins as Bob kept rolling them past her.  We were now feeding Bob the coins to roll.  Laughing and laughing - while she loudly lectured us on our lack of appreciation for hard earned money.  

Then we got in the car.  And had no money to pay to get out of the airport parking garage.  

And she laughed and laughed and laughed.  

I miss her.

Average Size



I don't know.

 When I was a junior in high school I acquired my first super power.  Boobs.  Well, maybe not my first but certainly my most powerful at the time.  However having a superpower coupled with low self-esteem can make for a certain amount of conflict.   Wear a horizontal stripes or not.  These were the big issues.  One of the problems I faced being a latch-key teenager with "interesting" parents was that I was often left to my own decision making.   My mother loved me but lacked any focus on guiding me in certain areas.  One of these areas was how to find the right bra.  On my own I managed to pick a size and wear it.  However it somehow never occurred to me that I might eventually change.  And so I kept a size.  Also it never occurred to me you could own more than one.   

Let's advance several years.  I'm in my early twenties. Enter my mother-in-law Jane.  Born without a mouth filter or shame.  Mother of three rowdy boys/men. Raised with a younger brother. Modesty wasn't even in her vocabulary.  She was outspoken and direct.  Qualities I had never been exposed to from any women in my own family who operated on avoidance behavior and massive amounts of guilt.   Jane took me to a clothing sample sale where some fashion vendor had samples that had been shown to department store buyers and now the vendor was selling the samples to the public.  It was held in a private home.  It was for woman only.  The reason became apparent as they just ripped their own clothes off where they stood and tried on the samples.  I nearly died.  And then I thought what the heck and joined them.  Jane took one look at my bra and pronounced I was an idiot.  That clearly I was wearing the wrong size/wrong style/wrong/wrong/wrong. I'm sure I turned red and stayed that color the rest of the day.  She then decided SHE would take me shopping.  To add to my horror she took me to a specialty shop where a strange woman was going to actually measure me.   Now Jane was easily a 44 DD with a 24 in waist.  So I was intimidated on more than one level. 

The measuring lady confiscated my ratty bra and informed me I was wearing a 34B when I should have been wearing a 32DD.  This seemed to account for the lumpy sweaters and uneven stripes.  When Jane asked me what possessed me to wear the wrong size all my young life I explained that I was an average person and that was an average size.     In my head that's how I saw myself - just average so that's how I dressed myself.  Jane freed me from being average.  She still thought I was an idiot but she helped to give me courage and not just in the bra department.

So if you're feeling average or maybe you're suffering from low self-esteem check to see what size bra your wearing because maybe you're just stuck in a 34B rut.   Also buy more than one, it's okay.

Stupid things we've fought about

Maddie's smelly bed

Replacing the dog bed .   I'm for it.   He's against it.  ( still in progress)

That everyone knows you're suppose to use the upper plug on an electrical outlet first , leaving space for someone with one of those big-ass plugs to go on the bottom.      I'd never heard that particular rule. So I guess NOT everybody knows.       I fixed this by putting a power strip on MY upper plug and renting him space. 

Always use ALL your change first when purchasing fast food.   A rule I violated when Bill gave me his wallet at a McDonald's and when I  gave him back 10lbs in change because I gave the clerk a twenty for a 59 cent item  it led to one of our biggest fights ever.   Unfortunately for me I chose an enclosed car and a remaining 5 hour car ride to make my point that I didn't care about his rule.  It wasn't pretty. 

That there is never gas in the car on Sunday morning.  I don't know how that happens.  Frankly I think the dog is driving herself to the park and back.

Giving him all the receipts for the credit card.  This one is sadly a reoccuring offense that I can not seem to master.  I set an alarm every day that literally says "GIVE BILL ALL YOUR DAMN RECEIPTS NOW".   but it goes off too close to "Grab a snack so you  don't die ".   I think I ate the receipts yesterday.   

That any noise made in the bathroom you don't have to say excuse me for.  Well ONE of us needs a soundproof bathroom. 

The GPS is not God.  Lamar Avenue will get you killed.     Just guess...............

Saying "who's there?" EVERYTIME he knocks on the bathroom door is not funny.  Now it's just a challenge. 

Screaming when he walks out of the shower.  ( also not funny)

Asking the dog when she's going to die.   ( and also not funny)

Asking my children if they'd like a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.  ( still not funny)

Because I accidently donated all his sweaters to Goodwill one year ( yes, all of them - they were in the attic in a black bag next to all the used toys that were being weeded out ) that everytime he can't find something I've given it to Goodwill.   You can not imagine the things I've supposedly gotten rid of.

Being asked to write a "Policy and Procedure" for writing a "Policy and Procedure".   I think you can see why 1. I don't get paid to work for him.  2. You couldn't pay me to work for him.  3.  I work for food. 

I have a bad habit of assigning people celebrity look-a-likes at the most inconvenient times.  Like during a church event when one of the speakers reminded me of  Phil Dumfy from Modern Family.  This gets me in more trouble than I care to admit.

Apparently its not a good idea to turn up your radio to drown out annoying clicking sounds.  And then ask the automotive repair people will it take more than an hour to get you a new engine and rod thingys because you've got things to do.   I'll never forget the look on the auto guy face. OR Bill's face.  That was a difficult phonecall.

Also not a good idea to turn up your radio when there are annoying thumping sounds while driving thru the not so nice part of Louisville or St. Louis or wherever and your husband is trying to sleep and he wakes up and asks what the hell am I doing driving on a flat tire.  THEN sees there is also no gas . AND we're in the projects with 2 infants.  AND my only answer was I didn't want to bother him.   Talk about cranky.  

Looking out the window to see him using my brand new cake spatula to clean the grill grate.  I knocked on the window and asked if it was okay if I hammered in a few loose nails with one of his golf clubs. ( you'll be shocked to know this also got a "not funny")

(the early years - before children)

Asking your wife who just walked in from working all day while you were at school "what's for dinner?" before you asked "How was your day?"  Resulting in your wife walking into the kitchen and cooking everything in it.  Mashing all the potatoes, boiling all the eggs, opening every can.  Then announcing dinner was served for the month.     ( I almost threw all of it in the garbage just to be spiteful then decided we were broke and stupid - don't add hungry to the list)

( the really early years )

While applying for our marriage liscense the kindly old lady clerk who asked him to sign the register and then told me my name wasn't important THEN handed me a bag with feminine protection products in it.  When I walked back up to the counter and asked where his condoms  and jock itch powder was at a decible louder than was comfortable for all the other happily engaged couples and then told him I'd walk home when he tried to defend the kindly old lady.  I wonder how many couples do that?!    I was strung a little tight.  Everytime he slowed the car down I got out.  It was a long drive/walk home.   Young and dumb days.

Now it's all just funny.  Except for the dog bed.   

 

 

My Trip to The Masters





I don't even know where to start.  How about how I even got there.



Foster Brook's natural habitat



Our son applied for tickets in The Masters lottery because you either have to be Bobby Jones or Davy Jones ( I always get them mixed up) or wait until a member of Augusta dies before any tickets become available to actually purchase.  Judging from the median age of most members I foresee some slots becoming available real soon.



 Now one would think hooray for tickets to The Masters, hope father and son have the time of their lives. That is what one thought. And then she thought , woohoo- long week to herself. But she thought wrong. The son is in grad school so he's out.  I suggested the dog who would have loved all the open green spaces but I guess there's some silly rule about dogs not being invited unless they're service dogs or can at least break even and although I offered to poke Bill in the eye he just wouldn't go for it.  I think it was all the lengthy paperwork you have to fill out to bring the dog.  Plus Maddie's more of a tennis fan. So seizing the opportunity to parlay this into a visit with some old friends that live not far from Augusta I thought what the heck.  I love green lush landscapes with lots of people that whisper and point at men in strange hats and pants. Or Foster Brooks who was not green but was a lush.   So off we went. The calm before the storm. Literally.



We drove to the hotel in Augusta.  It was easy to tell there was some kind of golf tournament in town as there was not ONE (not one!)person in the lobby that was not in appropriate golf attire.  As we were getting checked in at the desk a 15 passenger van pulled up outside and 45 Japanese people popped out with full sets of luggage AND golf clubs. It was like a Hello Kitty convention. Bill tried sending a mind melt message prompting me not to stare but it was impossible.  I felt like an Amazon on the elevator. It was difficult to corral my inner Godzilla.

We checked in and Bill asked all the "when" "where" and "how" questions.  The hotel clerk explained  that the best way to get to the course was to take their shuttle and save us the hassle, I was all like yay! Then she blew it by saying even though the course was less than 5 minutes away the traffic was so bad it took about 45 minutes to get there. SHUT UP LADY!!! Just let us be surprised. I inwardly groaned.  Well, not really inwardly I think I said some bad things in Japanese as there was an immediate scurrying of people out of the lobby.  This meant we were going it alone.

As we (I) trudged to the car for the practice run Bill dropped HIS ONLY SET OF CAR KEYS on the pavement where they exploded into parts and pieces.  His only comment was "This is not funny".  Which I took as a warning, because sometimes I'm smart that way.  Plus he was my only ride home. Eventually.  When we put the keys back together.  We did.  I laughed inside. Where it was safer.

We made a dry run to the course and it really was only 5 minutes away. So fine, that meant getting up at 5 am to shower and do the hair and makeup dance and leave by 6.  I had bought a cotton dress especially for the occasion.  Failing to note that there were sailboats on it but thankfully my son pointed that out after I had removed the tags by asking what yachting event I was planning on attending.  I'm so proud.  

Smiling while bleeding to death

Now all we needed was a good night's sleep.  Which did not happen because God tried to wipe Augusta off the map about midnight and I know this because I was listening to the hail come down and the winds whip around with great gusto.   At the same time the storm was raging my friend  had texted me wanting to know where we were planning on staying in Columbia the next night.  When I texted her that if the hail was not followed by locusts, frogs, and fire and we lived thru the night we'd be staying at the hotel  over by the zoo. I could actually hear panic in her text as she answered back " I don't think that's a good idea! Why did you pick that hotel?  You're going to get car-jacked".  I texted back that I'm married to a man with Michael Scott like qualities when it comes to trusting his GPS system or a stock photo of a hotel on the computer. Unless there is a picture of someone being car-jacked on the hotel website he's good to go.  At 1am I made the executive decision to change hotels.  However I'm not much of an executive, and I don't have the credit card that grants access to hotel points and fairies. ( It's a special card, mine has a picture of Tinkerbell on it, it makes me feel happy when I spend money needlessly - which according to the real executive is all the time)  So it wasn't so much an executive decision as it was an executive size panic attack discussing the many ways we would be gutted and left to die that convinced my loving husband to change the reservations.  He was more than thrilled to be called into the decision making process at such a divine hour.





Not one woman in a yachting dress





No sleep.  The alarm goes off at 5 am and all my joy has evaporated being replaced by contempt and all out rage.  But I get in the shower and don my lovely yatching dress.  I decide that since we had enough rain to float the ark I would wear my sporty sandals not tennis shoes since my feet would be wet all day.  That was my first bad decision.  My second was purchasing a sleeveless yachting dress. My third was believing the weatherman when he said it would be 90 degrees that day.

We drove to the course. In 5 minutes.  There are no lines at 6:15 am.  There might have been crowds somewhere but the fog was so damn thick you couldn't see a thing.  We did get parked and in usual Burriss timing were among the first in line.......to find out the the opening of the course which "someone" originally thought was 7 am was actually 8 am AND had been delayed another hour.  Hooray for being punctual. 

 

Now I'm tired, cold, hungry and look like I was smacked by the Shirley Temple Hair fairy but not in a cute way. More like the woman that ran the orphanage in "Annie". I  had a similar attitude.  We walked to the nearest food establishment which seems a hell of lot closer when you drive past it in the fog on the way in. I've already slung enough mud up the back of my legs and lovely yachting dress plus the addition of pine needles stuck in my sandals between each toe.  Perfect, just the look I was going for.  Homeless yachtster.    We grabbed breakfast at a Kroger's  where I made fun of all the other wormless early birds.





Angel Somebody





Then suddenly we were there. The mecca of the golf world.  The Masters.  It was beautiful.  It was perfect.  It was .........hilly.  We walked in and stared. Bill was soaking it all in.  I was wondering who the little man in the green jacket was standing right behind me.  I thought wow, they have leprechauns in Augusta.  He sounded familiar.  He looked familiar. "Hey Bill, I think that's Jack(Nicklaus) standing right behind me"

Bill "where?"

Me "there" ( pointing over my shoulder and whispering like an idiot)

Bill" I think you're right"

and it was.  He was so polite.  I was so awestruck I couldn't get my camera out at all. Rats.



Hunter's bag



Bill lapsed into a golf coma telling me all kinds of interesting facts about the course, the players, the hole designs ----which sounded a lot like this 'wah wah wah wah wah wah wah "  I took lots of pictures of people I don't know , couldn't identify, wouldn't recognize again if my life depended on it.  In one photo I showed Andrew I said "Here's a couple of kids putting on this green, they were so funny".  Andrew said " Mom , you just called the number one golfer in the world a kid."  He looked twelve.







No Triage?



Seven and a half hours later my calves seized up. I was afraid to take off my shoes because they were the only thing between life and hemorrhaging to death. We walked every hole and then some.  I'm not real sure we were still in Augusta.   I was the only idiot in a yachting dress but I didn't really care anymore.   Bill mentioned staying for the Par-Three contest and I said "Please dear God, just leave me to die at the concession stands"  For a moment he considered it.   Then he took pity on me and we left.



Things I LIKE to take pictures of but have to explain later



We drove to Columbia.  There were no car-jackers at our hotel.  We checked in , turned on the TV where the sports announcer said "Oh , there are the warning sirens, a storm is on its way, everyone is directed off the course immediately.  The rest of the Par-three contest is cancelled."   I turned to Bill and said "You're welcome."





 FORE............









 





Rewards Cards.

I've decided to start my own personal rewards card system. And I earn points for all kinds of things that my regular rewards cards have failed to recognize. For instance tonight I get to watch the basketball game with a disgruntled Ohio State Alumni while he balances my checkbook. I think he decided if he was going to be in a bad mood anyway .................20 points

For only eating ONE sleeve of Girl Scout Thin Mints after being forced to accompany said disgruntled alumni to the gym where I did the Bataan Death March on the treadmill while listening/watching episodes of Arrested Development on my iPhone................10 points for the death march..........20 points for clever use of time.  I'm almost caught up to the third season.

For not drinking on the job after spending an hour on the phone with the automated system of an insurance company, screaming "VERIFYING BENEFITS" " V E R I F Y ....oh shit, forget it" .....'SALES PLEASE'  (someone ALWAYS answers sales...)  8 points. 

For NOT setting verbal fire to the facebook police. ( jeesh, get a life)   only 2 points ( because the week isn't over)

For not killing off any of my pets or anyone else's THAT I'M AWARE OF. 20 points

Finding a 5 leaf clover.       100 points.    just because.

and with all those points I rewarded myself with....................


To cute for words. so "ahhhhhhh"



Robin topped knitting needles. Useful for knitting AND defending oneself from disgruntled check balancing OSU alumni. If need be.             but mostly knitting.