Code Blue - Vehicle Down!

If my van was a dog, it would be 88 years old! That explains a lot of things!

I have a 2002 GMC Savannah conversion van, fully loaded. Because we have a large family, and travel with our children and their sports, it’s ideal. The luxury of our van has made life, the long trips, and the regular riding around more comfortable.

As a young van, it had a few hiccups, nothing I call major.

In the past few years, as the vehicle has matured, we’ve had to visit the mechanic for a little maintenance. Lately, I’ve wanted to kick it in the gas tank! I’ve also had thoughts of driving it over a cliff. Oh wait; there are NO cliffs where I live. There aren’t even hills, unless you count over passes. I don’t!

Last summer, we had to replace the engine. That was a major blow to the pocket. This year, the fourth week of March, the day before our Spring Break trip, it stopped! It caused me a tow from my road side assistance. It needed a distributor cap. About a $200+ blow. It didn’t stop our trip!

Two weeks later, second week of April, Mr. Husband drove it around all day running errands and such. Later in the day, it WOULDN’T START! This time it was the fuel pump! DANG! That was a $600+ blow. I had to use tow number two.

The very next week and a half, fourth week in April, my son warmed up the van, I jump in to take him to school. I put it in reverse, give it a little gas, and it goes dead, and not to be started again! I could have SCREAMED!

The third time, within a month that van has let me down. This time I used one of my daughter’s tows on her roadside assistance. When it got to the garage, it started! It would not act up for them. I picked it up the next morning and drove it for two days. You guessed it. That van refused to start again. Good thing, it was at home in the driveway.

The second week of May, we had it towed again, this time to a dealership. That’s three of four of my tows! The dealership said, it needs a fuel pump.

Fuel pump? I know they didn’t say fuel pump. The mechanic that put the fuel pump on picked it up. Not causing me, my last tow. He put another NEW fuel pump on. That was the end of May!

June 2, I drove it an hour away to my parent’s house, all over the city, and back home. Picked up my son, his friend and dropped them off at the gym. I then stopped by Sally’s beauty supply, and was inside for two minutes. You guessed it. It wouldn’t start AGAIN! That’s where it stayed for two days; the mechanic was out of town. I visited it periodically, trying to start it. Finally the mechanic did look at it, checked it and looked some more. This time, it needed a distributor. Remember, we put a distributor cap on in March. Now it needed the rest! This was a $300+ blow.

I picked it up last Friday, June 18. I told the mechanic, I didn’t want to see him for a very long time. I got in my van and drove the hell off. The next day we drove an hour away with the church, an outing for the youth. I had a van load of kids. Everything was just fine. Sunday, we drove the van to church, and after service we get in, and you guessed it. IT WOULDN’T START!!!!!

Monday, I went back to check on it. It started, and I drove it right back to the mechanic. He couldn’t believe it! I went home and got ready for work. Leaving in the Cadillac, I realized the air wasn’t on. I pull over to make sure I have coolant. That’s what I think Mr. Husband would do. There was plenty. I jumped back in the car, and tried to air again. There was a thump, and white smoke rolled from the vents. This can NOT be happening. I turned around, stopped and got a cream soda, and took me, BACK HOME!

Monday evening the mechanic called. “I’ve got you ready. This should be it!” He changed coils, something else, and replaced the crank shaft sensor. I got me keys, hopped into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. IT WOULDN’T START!!!

With a crooked smile on my face, I walked back inside. “Did I give you the wrong key?” he asked.

“Nope, it wouldn’t start!” He almost fell on the counter. He then says we’ve changed everything but the computer. OMG NOOOOOOOOOO! As of today, Thursday, I’ve not heard from him.

My kids said get a new one. Are you kidding me! As we get older we take medicine for our ailments, and when needed we transfuse, and transplant, and remove. We will continue to patch, transplant and transfuse whatever is needed on that vehicle! It’s practically brand new, again!

Mama's Little Helper

With a family as large as mine, there is not a day set aside for washing clothes. We wash EVERY DAY.

Of course I do 99.999% of the washing. I do encourage my children to occasionally put a load of towels in the washer. At the least bring towels down stairs when the pile next to the 2-foot basket for dirty towels is as tall as the basket. We do not re-use towels. Once you use it, it goes into the basket. (I have this phobia about someone using my towel.)

Last week, I received a call from my baby girl; she’s nine years old. “Mama, how do you wash clothes?” she asked.

Awwww, she wanted to help her me out.

(Screeching of sound of a train trying to stop!!!) “I want to wear my purple shorts, and they’re dirty,” she says.

To the best of my ability, I tried to explain to her how to sort the colors to go along with her shorts. I then instructed her to tell the 13 year old (the middle child), to put the load in the washer for her. Middle child knows how to operate the washer.

When I got home, those clothes were still in the machine, and I started putting them in the dryer. That washing machine was PACKED with clothes. There were not just purple, and like colors. It was jam packed with clothes, of all colors. Dark clothes, colored clothes, along with the mostly white shirts, with screen-printed designs, had all been washed together. GASP! (Check out the picture.) There was a little bit of EVERYTHING. Three loads full, in that one washer!!!

When the clothes came out of the dryer, she asked, “Did I do a good Mama?”

“You did a lot, but yes you did good,” I told her.

I need to do a How to sort clothes 101, for my folks!

The next morning I got a call from baby girl… “Mama, how do you cook bacon in the microwave?”

A Tale Of A Fish

Saturday, my three youngest children "the girls," and I attended a fishing derby. We were late. Baby girl and I were ready on time, and had to wait on sleepy heads, then stop for gas. When we finally arrived, it was 15 minutes left for youth fishing. Baby girl, and the middle daughter were determined to fish, even for just a few minutes.

Armed with a pole, hook and bait, baby girl dropped her line and watched as a boy near by pulled fish after fish, in that very short time. I guess he found "The Sweet Spot."

Just before time was called, baby girls bobber started dancing on the water. OMG, she caught a fish! She pulled that pole out of the water... and it was not that mammoth legend of a cat fish that might have been living, eating, and growing on the bottom of the pond for two decades. In fact it was just the opposite. It had to be THE smallest fish in that pond. For real! The picture makes it look bigger!

I had no plans of leaving with ANY fish! Unless... it was a mammoth, and only after taking pictures for all the major newspapers, interviews with major networks, and accepting an interview the Good Morning America. Oh yeah, and making arrangements for its display in the Smithsonian. Oh well!

Time was called. It was time to weigh in. I thought we would release the itty-bitty fish right then. Baby girl had other ideas. She wanted to have her fish weighed, like everyone else. So she got in line. I asked her, how much she thought her fish weighed. "About 10 or 15 pounds," she said with confidence.

There were kids who's catch weighed in at 9, 10, 15, and 19 pounds being the most. My baby stepped up, proud as she could be, and stuck out her line, with that little fish STILL dangling. Instead of putting her fish in the bucket, to be weighed, the guy just put it on his finger and said, "Three ounces."

While watching as the others had their fish weighed, she realized just how much 10 or 15 pounds, Aint'! For her catch, she won (Yes she won something), fish bait. She'll have the right food to catch that mammoth fish this summer, in one body of water or another.

Ma To The D - E - A

Yes! "Madea Goes To Jail," will be available on DVD, Tuesday, June 16!

My family loves movies. With five kids, we don't go to the movies very often, instead we buy them when released on DVD. In fact our DVD library is upwards of 400, no joke!

I had every intention of going to the theatre to see this movie. My children saw it, but I refused to listen to their accounts. All I know is that it's very good, and very funny! Tuesday, morning, before I go do work, I will stop by Wal-Mart, and buy my copy of "Madea Goes To Jail." Tuesday evening, IT'S ON!

I absolutely love Tyler Perry, his movies, and TV shows. Meet the Browns TV show is the best. The first season, I watched week 1, week 2, 3, 4, and 5, two episodes back to back. That was 10. Week 6, I rushed home from choir rehearsal, (forgive me Lord), and sat down in the nick of time, and NO Meet The Browns. I WAS H-O-T, HOT!

I'm serious. I was mad at Tyler Perry, for real. Got me all hooked, and cut me off like that. After a couple of weeks of complaining, I realized a season can run 10 episodes. And he did that all in five weeks instead of ten. Luckily, I DVR'd all 10 episodes, so that I can get my Brown fix on when ever I wanted. And I'm doing the same with the new season, while I'm waiting on the boxed DVD set!

When I get the urge, I pull out the Meet The Browns, stage play. I love the original version of "This is Yo Grand Daddy!" The very first time I saw it, I almost needed depends, and a defibrillator! Check it out! Warning: If you've never seen it before, it's VERY FUNNY!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YeNh3gbeEI

Sexy vs. Comfort

Had this dilemma – I was all dressed for work, and looking for a pair of shoes to finish of the look. Pulling on one box a strappy black sandal, (with a two inch heel), fell out. I had forgotten about those. Perfect, this sandal adds a hint of SEXY. Initially, I was looking for my casual black Clark (three quarter inch rubber sole) sandals. Cute and comfortable, not sexy! The choice of sandal changes the look from an outfit, to an ensemble. My hair is done, pedicure on point, and feeling pretty good about myself this morning. It was a no brainer, sexy of course.

But there was a problem. Last night, all out of the blue, my hip and knee started hurting. My hip or knee has never hurt, and I did nothing to cause it. There was no prelude to the pain, just a headache in my hip and knee. It hurt so, that I was not just walking, but hopping. We had to run to Wal-Mart to pick up eggs, and Mr. Husband asked if I needed a cart.

NO!

I put the strappy sandal on, while I finished lining my eyes, putting on lip gloss, and fixing my lunch. All morning, I had been limping a little. My knee was no longer hurting, but the hip was still bothering me. I rubbed it down with alcohol, just like my Grand daddy when he’d say those Arthur boys were riding him (arthritis, for the slow folks). I walked around with those heels on, and I refused limp! I even did my model walk for my daughter and her friend.

Reasoning started setting in. What if I get to work and my hip starts to hurt like HELL? What if I have to take my shoes off and walk bare foot across the parking lot this evening? What if… Okay, I got tired of what if-ing and decided to take the comfortable shoes with me. Problem solved.

Then wisdom set in. I might as well put on the casual sandal and be comfortable. Sometimes I hate when sensibility kicks in. You better know, I will be sexy another day!

Another First In My 40s

Yahoooooooooooooo - I have finger nails!!!

For Mother's Day, Mr. Husband gifted me a mani-pedi. And of course I blogged about it. At 40, it was my very first pedicure.

After wearing a set of acrylic nails for the past month, my own have grown! In all my 41 years, I have NEVER had my very own finger nails. NEVER!

As young as I can remember, until about 12 years ago, I bit my nails. I wanted finger nails, but I could not control the habit of biting them. Even after trying a few unorthodox methods, that I care not to divulge, I continued to bite them. Once as a kid, my mother painted my nails with a bitter polish that was designed to detour kids from biting their nails, and sucking their thumbs. My aunt was also using it on my thumb sucking cousin. Needless to say, he kept sucking, and I kept bittting, carefully. I made sure my lips and tongue never touched my fingers. It was all teeth! The mental picture of it now, cracks - me - up!

Moving into my teens years, I wanted polished finger nails like the other girls. I thought, if I painted my nails, they'd be pretty, and it would keep me from biting them. That didn't happen either. Fact: finger nail polish DOES NOT look good on nubs! And the habit was still greater than the want! Not only did I not have nails, my hands are wrinkly. My kids say I have "Grandma" hands. Even as a kid, my hands were wrinkled.

Over the years, I'd try again, and again to grow nails. It never lasted more than two or three days. Without thinking about it, I'd bite my nails. For my wedding, I had nubby nails, with a coat of clear polish. I didn't want to call any attention to my nubby nails, and wrinkled hands.

Once someone told me "If you had nails, your ugly hands wouldn't look so bad." Whatever! The truth hurts, stings, and kicks major ass!

In my twenties, I was working on a television show. Having to do some background work, I interview a lady who was a hypnotist. She talked about how most of our behaviors, like nail biting, is learned behavior. All we have to do is unlearn them.

Okay, that mades a lot of sense. I was skipping along, as if she was the Pied Piper. Then she gave me an exercise to UNLEARN nail biting.

Per her instructions, I put a rubber band around my wrists, (the thick ones that come on the newspapers.) Every time I caught myself biting my nails, I popped myself with that rubber band. THAT HURT LIKE HELL!!! The inside of your wrist is sensitive!

Thinking back, I'm sure I looked crazy. A grown @#$ woman walking around with thick rubber bands on her wrist. And it wasn't the style then either. Now every one is wearing rubber bands around their wrist with one message or another. NOT ME! Stupid me. I tried that for maybe two weeks. Of course my husband thought it was carzy.

I finally stopped biting my nails, (no thanks to the rubber bands), and started pulling them off instead, and have been doing so since.

I've had acrylic finger nails before, maybe twice. And as soon as they came off, so did the thin nails that grew underneath. What's different this time? I have no idea. They're not long, just barely clearing the skin, and I like them. I ran out and bought emery boards, a nail buffer, clear polish, and polish remover.

My middle daughter asked what's wrong with me, and what did I do with her mother? She says I'm trying to be cute and hip. There is nothing wrong, and I'm the same person. I guess this caterpillar is finally getting her wings.

Things My Son Needs To Know

Trying to get a hose for my car, the young man in the parts department needed my VIN ( Vehicle Identification Number). I called my 16 year old son, who is at home because it's summer break you know, and told him where to look for the VIN.

Of course he didn't see it. I tried my best to explain, it's the barcodey looking thing in the door jam. Still, he didn't see it. Instead, we had to go with the insurance information in the car. It has the VIN number on it, you know.

The wheels on the bus started going round and round, (That's me thinking). That's something a guy should know. Why a guy??? I don't know, I just figured so. The wheels started really turning... What a great idea for a post, a list of things my son, or any other guy in general should know. Here goes.

Guys should know or learn:

1. Where to find the VIN number on any vehicle they're driving. Did you know in newer vehicles it's on the dash board???

2. Pump gas, check the oil, and change a flat tire. Hey, pumping gas sounds elementary, but you'd be surprised. I'm not talking about pumping until it turns off. Stopping it yourself can be a little tricky. You'll end up pumping more than you have money for. Then what do you do???

3. Wash his own clothes!!! I mean seperate the colors, from the whites, and delicates. And that suit that says dry clean only means, TAKE IT TO THE CLEANERS!!!

4. Make at least 5 basic meals, including his favorite. Microwaving noodles doesn't count!

5. Unclog a sink.

6. Unstop a toilet, and change out the ball and chain dealy inside.

7. Clean a bathroom, especially the toilet.

8. Change out a light switch.

9. Shake hands. This should actually be number ONE. I hate it when a man shakes your hand and gives you the cold fish! Makes me want to hit him in the throat!!!

10. How to hold a conversation. Again, I know this one sounds basic. But texting has ruined our kids! Every thing is abbreviated, short and to the point. They can't verbally tell you what's on their minds, but they can text it!

So far he's eight for ten, on this list. That means we've got some work to do. And of course I'll be adding to this list all summer. I realize one of these days, he'll take care of a family of his own, and calling the repair man for everything is costly. Every man should have a little McGyver in him. Mr. Husband saves us a lot of money, with his McGyver skills.

Drive By Shooting - Whistle Stop Cafe

Whistle Stop Cafe

After dropping off our oldest daughter at her summer intern, we were headed home, through the same little towns that led us there. Seemingly out of nowhere appeared a sign that read, Whistle Stop Café <--.

I was so excited I almost hung myself with the seat belt trying to get to my camera. I’ve wanted to do a drive by shooting, since I saw Margaret’s at www.nannygoatsinpanties.com. I’ve searched high and low for the perfect opportunity. And there it was. Finally!

The Whistle Stop Café is the center one of my favorite movies, “Fried Green Tomatoes,” starring Jessica Tandy, Kathy Bates, Cicely Tyson… It was located in a small southern town, next to the railroad tracks, just like this one sitting on Hwy 49, in Fair Oaks, Arkansas. It might not be the best picture, but hey we WERE driving, and cars were behind us.

School's OUT!!!

The unofficial start of summer is not Memorial Day, (heard that on TV), it’s actually the last day of school. Yahoo, school is out! (SCREAMING)

Friday, the bell rang the very last time of the school year, for most of the children in my neck of the woods. I’m sure they are excited to be free from school for the next two and a half months.

So long hall passes, recess, cafeteria ladies and teachers. School day pictures, orchestra concerts, parent teacher conferences, detention and the like.

Not only are the kids and teachers taking a break, parents are as well. No more waking up at 5:30am to get (drag) the bus riders in our house out of the bed. Running to school, with left behind lunch money, instruments, books, and home work is on hold.

I’m excited right now, knowing after the first two weeks of summer break, my lovely children will become, The Monsters. They will eat everything, and look for more like scavengers. After receiving the first water and electricity bill of the summer, and viewing the increase by 20%, I’ll be ready for school to start. Shoot, I’ll be counting down the days.

I can hear my mother’s voice, “Pay back is hell.” Yes it is, Mama. Yes it is.

I’ve made a list of things “to do” and places “to go” on my “No work Friday’s.” So far 12 things have made The List. We have 10 or 11 weeks of summer ahead of us. While we (I) can, we’re going to enjoy the summer.

Busted Brain

Before cell phones, (Do you remember when?), I committed everyone’s, well the numbers I called the most, to memory. The ones that weren’t etched in my brain were recorded in a phone book. It used to be, everyone had a phone book, and or an address book.

Those treasured books of valuable information were replaced by cell phones. I have everyone I know phone numbers, along with the numbers of anyone who calls me, stored in my phone for later, or never.

Cell phones have become our brains, the central nervous system of our lives. And we all know how important the brain is.

Not only do we store phone numbers and address, but other valuable information, dates, plans, itineraries and so on. Often, we NEVER back that information up. I should speak for myself. Surely, everyone else has a hard copy somewhere. Yeah right!

Thursday, after making my rounds dropping off the two who ride the bus, (you figure it out), I came back home to pick up the other three. Retrieving something from the back of the van, with my arms full and… “KA SPLAT.” I dropped my cell phone, yet again!

Code Blue! Man down! May Day – May Day! And all the distress signals you can think of. This time my Palm Centro didn’t make it. It made the transition from this life to, let’s just say… It bit the dust, literally. The face, and touch screen was cracked. It turned black, with a hint of color. For a while I could answer it, and then that played out.

I almost cried, thinking about all the numbers I have stored. I don’t have dates, schedules and such. I’m old fashioned; I still use a planner with a calendar.

Immediately, I called AT&T about the insurance. They sent me a brand new phone. Yes!
Friday morning I received an email, with the tracking information for my new phone. It was in my home town. I couldn’t work around the house for hearing, or thought I heard, the Fed Ex truck. Finally, he came with my phone.

I was so excited to see the Fed Ex man at the door; you would have thought it was Ed Mc Mann and the Publishing Clearing House prize team with the balloons and that big check. “I’ve been waiting for you,” I screamed.

Of course he was tickled by my enthusiasm. I’m back in commission baby! One day without my cell phone was like… like… I can’t describe it. Not that I talk on it THAT much, but I thought of people I needed to contact for this or that, and couldn’t! That information was buried in my busted phone, like lost treasure. Arg! (In my best pirate voice).

I went foraging for my cell phone before last. It was nowhere to be found. I forgot, my son the cell phone terminator, used it. He is the absolute WORST when it comes to keeping a phone in good condition. He has run through about 10 in a year and a half. Seriously! Then I went scavenging for my old phone book. Arg! Another buried treasure, with no map! I’m screwed.

Great idea alert, ding, ding, ding. Email everyone, explain my situation, and have them email me their phone numbers quicker than right now, and faster than right away. My mission is to buy, and record all the numbers I collect, store it a safe place, and leave a map to it!

If you are a friend, or family member, or someone who has called me in the past year-and- a-half, and you are reading this post, please email me your numbers, or call me. I need your number!