Nick, The Painter?

This is way to good to keep to myself. Every time I think about this I laugh out loud, I even shared it with my 10 year old grandson; however he didn't really get the humor in the story. Hope you will!

I have to preface the funny part with a little soap opera history. When I was a young stay at home mom I watched a couple of different soap operas but my very favorite was All My Children. It was totally different than I imagine it is today. Erica was a young, newly married woman. Now the story is about who her first husband was, Nick. If I remember correctly (and I wouldn't place any bets) Nick and Erica were high school sweethearts. Sometime after graduation Nick became a police officer. I can't remember what happened to him but like all of Erica's other husbands, she divorced Nick.

Nick must have been totally devastated because he ended up here in Tehachapi. Now he obviously didn't retire on his earnings from the soaps because here in real land he is a house painter. Don't get me wrong, I love house painters. My husband is a house painter (the best ever, I might add).

We would see Nick The Painter (that was the name I gave him when he first came to town and I saw and recognized him) around town, mostly at Home For Less, our local discount paint and hardware store. Well, I was in Home For Less doing a errand for my Husband The Painter.
Nick was in the store buying a very small artists brush. When the clerk asked him what he needed it for, because we all know it would take a little long to paint a house with that, he showed a mixture of embarrassment and pride. He replied that he had just finished painting a woman's house and she wanted him to autograph it for her. Funny, right? That's not even the story that I'm getting to, although I do think that is pretty hilarious.

So here's the story. I'm at home today cleaning floors and doing all that fun house stuff when the phone rings. It is Steve. I'm not surprised because he calls me several times throughout the day, sometimes just to tell me how his day is going, sometimes to complain about a couple of certain workers who are fodder for a whole other blog and sometimes just to say hi. This time he is laughing as I pick up the phone so I know this is going to be good.

He tells me that there are a lot of guys around who are wearing shirts that say Nick the Painter on them. Now that is a little odd because Nick works alone. Here's where it gets good, maybe only to me because I feel like I am the reality TV queen....love it!! Nick is doing a reality TV show. Guess what it's called. Yup, Nick the Painter. Is that great or what?

I told Steve that I think I'm going to call Nick and ask for an estimate on painting our house so I can be on TV. So watch for me next season, I'm guessing, on Spike TV maybe. Who knows.

No More Facebook For Me

Yup, that's what I said. NO MORE FACEBOOK FOR ME! It's not that I think that facebook is bad, at least maybe not for other people. But I have come to the conclusions that my life is unexciting enough without reading about what someone is doing every second of their day. No offense to anyone on Facebook, but I really don't care that you are sitting in your car at the stop light on the corner of Green St. and Maple Ave. I can go out and do that all day long and it still fails to excite me, sorry.

It seems that all of my old high school friends who were once on Facebook have come to the same conclusion that I have; we have better things to do with our time than to live vicariously through your lives, astounding as they may be. Maybe we are just getting to that stage in life where we are realizing that our time is limited and maybe we should go and do instead of sit and look through the windows of your facebook postings.

The other thing is, and my grown children will attest to this, the computer is not my friend. We are merely acquaintances with a love-hate relationship. I do love my email even though most of it comes in the form of offers for weight loss pills or offers to share a newly acquired fortune if I would just send them $1,ooo.00. All of these emails I simply delete because it's much easier than figuring out how to block it. I told you.....love-hate.

Shopping is another thing I did really well on the computer. But in recent years my pocketbook dictated a change in my spending habits, I've had to curb my enthusiasm for internet shopping. It's too bad too because the UPS guy, Phil, and I had become good friends. Now he doesn't call, he doesn't write, he doesn't even stop by anymore; all because he has no packages for me. Talk about fair weather friends, huh?

Oh yeah, back to Facebook. Like I said, you won't find me there anymore. I am trying to get a revival going of letter writing. So far no one has written me back, oh well. So, if you have need to get a hold of me, yes, you can write me a letter, or you can email me (I promise not to delete you). And, you will love this one, there is the coolest little thing that you can hold in your hand, and if you punch in the correct sequence of numbers you will hear me say "hello", that is if caller ID tells me that it's someone I want to talk to.

"See Janie Say a Bad Word"

Rachel had an appointment in Bakersfield yesterday so I went along for the ride and to keep Janie company while Rachel was taking care of her appointment. I'm always up for a trip to Bakersfield. Yes, my life is really that dull.

While Rachel was inside taking care of one of her appointments Janie and I were in the waiting room, waiting. In the waiting room with us were two small hispanic boys, one looked as if he was about Janies age. They were talking and having a good time when I noticed that the little guy kept touching and stoking Janies hair. It's red and beautiful and it is hard to resist. His brother saw that I had noticed his brother's hair fetish and tells me "my brother likes hair". Okay. Maybe you had to be there, but it really was funny.

Well, we say goodbye to hair fetish boy and his brother and leave for another appointment. This time, since it was only going to take a few minutes, Janie and I decided to stay in the car.

This was our conversation:

Janie: I'm going to say a bad word

Grandma: No you aren't

Janie: Yes, I am. I'm going to say a bad word.

Grandma: You are not going to say a bad word.

Janie: Actually, Grandma, I am going to say a bad word.

So she proceeded to say her "bad word"

Janie: Oh my gosh. I told you!

She is not supposed to use that expression so she thinks it is a bad word. I really hope that that is the only "bad word" that ever crosses her lips. So now I have vowed not to say my bad word (at least in front of Janie)........Oh crap I just knocked over my glass. It's okay, Janie's not here.

Old and Harmless

Apparently although I am "old",I am harmless. This is according to my 9year old grandson. This is how I came to this particular knowledge.

I pick Tylor up from the bus stop, this is about a half an hour after Steve picks up Trenton when he gets off of the middle school bus. As I was waiting for the bus to come I noticed a young boy sitting on a bunch of rocks not far from where I parked my car. He looked to be about 12 or 13, somewhere around there and just looked sad. I kept watching, hoping that someone was coming to pick him up.

Ty's bus came and he climbed in the car and usually I am one of the first cars out of the parking lot. This time, however, I waited until everyone was gone and pulled up next to the the boy and asked if someone was coming for him. He gave a me some sort of vague answer so I asked him if he wanted a ride home. He very eagerly accepted.I took him home. Thank goodness he didn't have to walk because it was quite the drive. It was way to far for him to walk and Ty could hardly wait to tell Grandpa about his little adventure.

Well, I felt a little like a good Samaritan but I was even more relieved that this kid got home okay. As Ty and I were driving home from our little adventure I mentioned to Ty that I was a little surprised that this boy accepted a ride home with a perfect stranger.

Now here is the reason that I related this story. Tylor looks at me and says, "Grandma, I am not trying to be offensive, but.....you are old and kids just think that old people are harmless".

Farmgirl At Fifty

Okay, fine. farmgirl at 50 plus. Oh, all right, if you really want to be nitpicky then, farmgirl at 60 minus. I hope that makes all you sticklers for accuracy happy.

Anyway, I have recently tapped into my inner farmgirl. It all started when my daughter gave me a copy of a magazine called MaryJanesFarm. Mary Jane lives in Moscow, Idaho; the same town that my daughter lives in. According to my new friend, Mary Jane, anyone can be a farmgirl. Who knew?

In all honesty I am a "pick and choose the chores I like" kind of farmgirl. I LOVE my hens, they are pretty and they are well behaved and my three older hens lay me an egg each everyday. The other ones are still young and aren't laying yet so I excuse them, however I do encourage them everyday when I go to feed them. Someday I know I will be rewarded for my motherly concern and encouragement.

I love going out and finding the eggs in the same little corner of the coop every time. It's like Easter everyday except the eggs aren't bright and colorful and I usually have to pick feathers off and wash chicken poop off of them. It took me a while before I could bring myself to eat the nice fresh eggs that I gathered everyday. I"d scramble them up for Steve but the thought of actually eating them made me a little queasy. I mean, really, I like my eggs from the grocery store after they have traveled for days and have sat in the storage room in the back of the store. They are already clean and in a carton. There was something a little unsettling about eating a warm egg that just moments ago had chicken poop on it. I got over it!!

I got over my aversion to eating fresh eggs but still cannot bring myself to clean the chicken coop. Instead of letting my sweet hens live in a messy house I talk Steve into cleaning it for me. Men are so cute, you can talk them into just about anything; "Honey, do you think you can go out and clean the chicken coop, I'm in the middle of making those yummy chocolate chip cookies that you love, I'll take care of it next time (sure!)".

I know I will never be a true farmgirl until I don my hip waders and grab my rake and clean the coop myself (it might be awhile before I'm bona fide).

The other aspect of my inner farmgirl includes picking raspberries off of my very own raspberry bushes. Now those really are my babies. I go out every afternoon in search of raspberries that are just waiting for my novice hands to pick. I pick about a handful every time, but I refuse to eat them. I wash them and put them in a ziplock bag and someday I will have enough to make a whole jar of jam...I'm optimistic!

I also have crooked neck squash and zucchini and two whole tomatoes growing.

I am very pleased with myself, but plan on expanding my garden next year. Maybe I'll try my hand at those dreaded carrots!

Laser Light Fun

I'm thinking that perhaps I need to get a life, or at the very least find a new hobby. I am finding an enormous amount of fun in some crazy ways.
Yesterday, along with two of my grandsons, I also had the three girls for a little while. The kids and I were sitting and watching Ghost Hunters International when Tylor pulled out his laser light. Janie was just wandering around the room when Ty started pointing the light so that Janie could see it. Janie wasted no time trying to pick up the light. We giggled about that and then giggles soon turned into humongous belly laughs. Oh my goodness, I can't remember when I laughed so hard. Janie was chasing that light like a little puppy. At one point she bent down to pick it up when Ty moved it under her a little more. She bend so far, reaching under herself that she fell over. No, she didn't hurt herself, but watching her do that was hilarious!
She was also jumping, as only a two year old can try to jump, trying to get the light from the wall.
If I was a better writer and could describe this the way it really was you would be laughing now instead of thinking that I am the worst grandma in the world for laughing at her precious little two year old granddaughter. Honest, it was funny. And since our sweet Dot (our children's little dog) is no longer here we had to find someone else gullible enough to chase a light. This was America's Funniest Videos worthy.

The Good Life?

I was sitting in the front seat of a motorhome, not an RV, the kind with all the comforts of home but the kind of motorhome that other more serious RVer's look at with their snooty noses up in the air. Anyway, here we were motoring down Highway 58 towards our summer vacation in Shaver Lake. Enjoying the drive, I put down my crossword puzzle book that I had been working on and lean my head back on the seat and close my eyes.

I wasn't really thinking of anything in particular when a brilliant idea popped into my head. I don't get them that often, brilliant ideas that is, so this one made me bolt upright in my seat and I thought to myself "what a brilliant idea".

Before I let you in on my brilliant idea let me give you a little background. We go to Shaver Lake every summer and spend a week with some extended family waterskiing, riding jet skis and sitting around the shore visiting. Every year I complain that I don't really want to go. I have lots of reasons that I don't want to go but none of them are very good......so I go.

I don't really believe in camping so every year we have stayed in a lovely rental house with clean bathrooms and a kitchen and everything, well, except for one year when camping with all the dirt would have been preferable to the house we rented. Anyway, this year in an effort to save a little money (in our dreams!) we decided to borrow the father-in-laws RV. I know you might be thinking an RV, that's not really camping. Well, excuse me but if it's not permanent and involves climbing a latter to get to your bed (your bed with the ceiling 6 inches from your head) it is definitely camping!

One more thing you may need to know about me is that I have a cowardly need to please everyone.

This year is going to be different. At this moment I don't feel the need to please anyone but me. Everyone on this vacation is going to have to be responsible for pleasing themselves...I quit. No more Mr. nice guy for me.

Okay, here's the brilliant idea that came to me while driving down the highway. I am going to spend this vacation pretending that I am a character in a novel. So while I am going about my business this week if I happen to encounter some sort of problem or I'm just really bugged about something or by someone I am simply going to ask myself, what would Janet Evanovitch have Stephanie Plumb do. Well, perhaps Stephanie might be a bit much for my family to handle so maybe I'll ask myself how would Jane Austin's character respond to the situation and that's the way I will respond. I will not think about the consequence of my actions and I will take no responsibility for what I say or do this week. I will let the repercussion chips fall where they may.

I feel so free....I'll let you know how this works out for me when I get home.