Angle of Vision

that’s good enough for me

My sister was a brilliant woman.

My brother while not as brilliant is very, very smart.

Myself? How smart am I?

I know my “shit from Shinola” and that’s good enough for me.

Growing up that expression was used a lot.

You either knew your “shit from Shinola” or you didn’t.

My opinion was asked for quite a bit and I was just a child.

A slight nod of my head up said “heck yes, go for it” and a slight nod to the side meant “don’t touch it with a ten foot pole”.

I wonder sometimes how I know what I know and think of as just common sense, and yet, some people, no matter how smart they are, don’t know the difference between the two.

Anyhow, I have to go to different work locations today to sniff out the difference. Something I haven't been looking forward to at all.

Some of these people are brilliant; some are very, very smart. Lot’s of titles and diplomas will be waved.

While I admire the work involved getting these titles, getting all these diplomas, what I like best is when I run into the person who “knows shit from Shinola”.

Pounced the Kitties

As I was looking for a nail file in the drawer I saw the can of Pounce Big Guy treats the kitties with occasionally.

Big Guy was standing behind me so I said to him, “You haven’t Pounced the Kitties in a while”.

When I turned around he had this strange look on his face and asked me what I said and when I told, he laughed.

So I asked him what he thought I said.

Big Guy thought he heard, “You haven’t Bounced the Titties in a while.”

Big Guy said he thought it was odd that I would go from one extreme to another.

Sometimes he is such a smart ass.

I think Big Guy needs a hearing aid.

splattered like a pancake

As you all know Boss reads my blog and it’s all right with him as long as I don’t get work specific.

My rule is with Boss is go ahead and read but no commenting, I would find that inhibiting.

I’ve asked him to start his own blog, but he tells me he doesn’t have anything to write about.

Not have anything to write about? He is so full of it.

So here is a story Boss could of written but won’t because he say’s that he doesn’t have anything to write about. Bah.

As you know I do a lot of work from home and Boss is often here working with me. So quite often he’s had his cup of coffee and his system starts generating the making of a turd.

Typical man.

Anyways Boss is at the house and hustles off to the bathroom, comes back and back to work we go.

A little while later I have to go to the bathroom and I walk in and see what I think is a big brown leaf stuck up under the rim on the side of the toilet.

So I look a little closer, I mean this thing is the size of an oak leaf and you know how big those are.

It’s not an oak leaf; it is a flattened turd about a quarter inch thick, completely plastered, spread, just under the rim. Gross!

And I know who did it. Boss! And how in the hell did he get it up there and spread out like that I couldn’t even guess. I mean this shit was on the side of the toilet up under the rim well above water level.

I also know I’m not cleaning his shit up, no how, no way.

So I walk into where we were working on the computer and ask him what he did to my toilet.

Can you believe at first he tried to play innocent? But I said bull crap; I clean the toilets every morning. Nobody has been in the house but me and I know that I have never in my life shit anywhere but in the water.

Because I was so astounded, and so hot, at the placement of this turd I asked him how in the hell could that possibly of happened.

Boss told me that the urge came over him so fast that he hardly had his pants down and it came out before he was able to sit down. That it came out with such force it hit the side of the toilet and spread out like that.

I was hot, told him that this isn’t a public restroom and to go clean that mess up right now!

Told him where the cleaning supplies were and no way was he to use my toilet brush and get that all stuck full of his shit.

Boss said he had tried to flush it but the water rolls right over it.

Now I have to admit at this point I felt like I was dealing with my kids. Boss looked so cute, so adorable, so embarrassed, so horrified, that inside I was laughing away at his discomfort.

But just like when dealing with my kids, I kept my stern face on. Told him he’s a smart guy, and to figure it out. That I am not paid enough to clean up after him.

Now I know for a fact Boss has never in his life cleaned a toilet. Privileged lifestyle that man has always had.

Just like a kid, he actually said I don’t know how.

Figure it out I said.

So off he goes and I hear him go in the bathroom. Then I hear him going up and down the stairs. The outside door opens closes opens and closes, and I listen to this go on for about twenty minutes.

I’ve got to admit that I was curious but no how, no way, was I going to ask. Sometimes it’s better not to know.

Boss comes back and says that it’s clean. So just like when dealing with kids I go check and it is clean and sparkly. I did a quick check of my toilet brush to make sure that he didn’t get his crap all over that. But that was clean too.

Now I have to know how he cleaned it out, I mean that turd was splattered like a pancake.

Boss said he went outside got some sticks and scrapped the turd off with those then bagged them and put them in the garbage can in the garage.

We still laugh about this sometimes and it’s something neither of us has shared with anyone at work or home. Or at least until now.

But when Boss says he has nothing to write about he is so wrong.

Update on Putty-Tat, Finally over!

My daughter and son-in-law came straight from the airport to my house to pick up the cat.

I can’t tell you the anxiety level I was in, on one hand I wanted to lie and say the cat died a natural death but that really goes against on how I raised my children.

So I “winged it”, the “if they don’t ask I won’t tell” how it happened. I worked it out with Big Guy that he was to interrupt and distract if my daughter started down that track.

I so didn't want to tell her I damn near decapitated her cat.

And it worked.

As far as WomanChild knows the cat died a natural death. That’s not lying, maybe evading how Putty-Tat died part, but hey, any friggin port in a storm.

WomanChild was glad that I hadn’t buried her yet.

And yes, I took Putty-Tat out of the freezer earlier, cleaned the blood off (much easier when frozen) and kind of puffed up her hair with the blow dryer. Putty-Tat is (or was) a Persian so the hair covered up a multitude of my handy work. She was still frozen pretty good inside and I had fixed the head so it wouldn’t come loose.

I did the head thing by jamming a rod in both ends and making sure it’s secure, then I used staples. Worked pretty good too. But remember I am an old farm girl, butchered and cleaned a good amount of critters in my day, even did some taxidermy. Gory stuff doesn’t affect me one way or another.

My beloved daughter wanted it buried next to her old cat from childhood. When that cat had died we buried it and placed a rock for a headstone.

So out Big Guy and Son-in-law went to dig the hole. Big Guy and I looked at each other and we were both thinking the same thing. That rock had been moved about several times, a few feet this way, a few feet that way. We didn’t know if we would end up with a shovel full of the old cat. Wouldn’t that of been a topper to this saga?

But it didn’t happen, Thank God.

So then we put Putty-Tat on her little cushion and buried her in the backyard next to the old housecat (or near enough anyways), my daughter crying the whole time.

So then we had a little service you could say, we all told a story about Putty-Tat. Since by this time I was mentally and physically exhausted by this whole ordeal I kept my story short.

I said she never missed her litter box. We all needed a laugh.

Then I took everyone out to eat and said let’s not dwell on Putty-Tat, it’s time to move on.

What I really wanted was to get all this over with, that I couldn’t stand it anymore.

Me bad. I know this show’s what a manipulative woman I can be, but hey, works for me!

it’s freaking Big Guy out

My daughter and son-in-law went on vacation and asked me to watch their cat.

WomanChild has had that cat for years and loves her to pieces.

Monday I killed her cat. We hadn't even had Putty-Tat for 24 hours yet.

It was an accident. Putty-Tat made a run for the front door. I didn’t see her and closed the door.

I closed it on her neck and damn near took her head off.

My daughter has called asking about Putty-Tat and I’m lying and telling her Putty-Tat is just fine.

Putty-Tat is in my freezer and it’s freaking Big Guy out. He say’s just bury the damn thing.

But I say what if she wants to bury Putty-Tat on her own property? What if she wants to see Putty-Tat one more time?

I froze Putty-Tat curled up so that her head won’t wobble. You don’t even want to know how I did that.

My week is ruined, when she comes home Saturday I don’t know what she’s going to say.

I have to tell you, I’m feeling pretty damn sorry for myself.

Then to top it off, Big Guy and I are making jokes about the damn cat being in the freezer.

What kind of sick mom and dad makes jokes about their beloved daughter’s frozen dead cat? You can imagine how morbidly funny these jokes are getting day by day. Our laughter is getting worse and worse as the time approaches when my daughter comes home.

I know it’s nervousness about what her reaction will be, but still, we laugh just looking at each other now.

I don’t have to

Growing up we got up every morning before sunrise. We all had our work to do before going to school.

So why do I wake up now every morning before sunrise? I don’t have to.

The truth?

I love watching the sunrise.

I love thinking about all the possibilities of my new day.

I love watching the night change to day.

I love the rays of sunshine that come in my window and light up my home.

I love knowing that it’s my actions that make or break a day.

I know something deep inside me that some people never learn.

Every day really is a new day, a new beginning.

I love that thought.

quick look in the mirror

I'm out of coffee again this morning so I'm off to Walmart.

Funny how I take a quick look in the mirror now just to make sure there isn't anything odd hanging on me.

me bad for laughing, but what can I do?

Three times yesterday I scared the hell out of my husband and I wasn’t even trying.

I never purposely scare anyone; I think it’s somewhat mean.

But to scare him accidentally does let me enjoy it. A lot.

The first time was in the morning. Big Guy was busy reading the local paper and I tapped the back of the paper with the coffee pot to see if he wanted a refill.

That paper went flying and he went “Awwww!”

Damn near gave me a heart attack.

The second time was when he left for work. Big Guy walked out the front door with out his sunglasses.

Now just to let you know how sappy in love we are, I give him a hug and kiss goodbye every time he goes to work. So when I shut the door after kissing him goodbye I saw his sunglasses lying on the sideboard. So I grabbed them up and ran out to catch him before he drove away.

When he got to the car he realized he didn’t have his sunglasses so he started back to the front door. I was coming around the corner in the dark just as he was coming from the other side.

That time I thought he was going to poop in his pants. Funniest expression on his face, I couldn't stop giggling.

Big Guy got angry with me because I laughed.

Then last night he was in the walk-in closet, burrowing around looking for something. I had a question I wanted to ask him so I came into the room, saw Big Guy was in the closet and waited at the end of the closet until he was done burrowing and then asked him.

This time poor Big Guy screamed like a girl and hit his head on the shelves overhead and sent all kinds of things flying.

I was impressed, never saw anything quite like it before, and truly I am amazed at his verbal ability to swear at me.

I couldn’t take offense because I started laughing. Laughing so hard I was weak in the legs. The more he swore the more I laughed.

Trying to walk was even a chore and I ended up leaning against the wall with tears running down my face.

I’m still smiling and laughing about it this morning. Every time I looked at Big Guy I cracked up. We ended up having our coffee in different rooms this morning because I would start snorting with laughter as I looked at him over coffee.

I’ll make him his favorite meal tonight to try to make up for it, have some truly great sex (funny how that always works), and just try to get past this.

Sure was funny and me bad for laughing, but what can I do?

Ever feel like faith is under attack

Ever feel like faith is under attack? Seems like it’s the thing to do nowadays, to go after someone’s faith.

I was at a lunch recently and the conversation was varied and interesting. One of the ladies was Catholic and that came up in the course of this conversation. Anyways, one of the other lunch attendees looked at her and said, “You don’t actually believe all that catholic crap do you?”

Such bad manners and what I consider a personal attack.

Occasionally I have lunch with a man who says Grace before he eats. Personally I find this delightful and charming. I will join hands with him, and enjoy his prayer. Then I look him in the eyes and say a deep, from the heart, Thank You.

One of the other lunch companions makes a point of telling him that he is an atheist and believes people who do that are idiots. That there is not God, and he doesn’t want to hear this while he’s eating. He goes on and on with such vitriol. The grace was over, nobody was forcing him to participate and lunch could of been full of laughter and good conversation.

Instead he went on and on about the stupidity of religion.

Again the bad manners and what I consider a personal attack.

I find behavior like this disrespectful and of a hostile nature.

Over the last few years I can tell you about a number of these incidences.

None of the people who were attacked were trying to make converts or be prophetic. All they were doing was being true to their faith and practicing their faith.

My own faith is simple and deep and held close to my heart.

I enjoy people who have faith and I enjoy those who don’t.

What I can’t stand is disrespect and bad manners.

My first thought, my first impulse, is to hide away

I screwed up on a project at work so badly that I’m actually in deep kaka.

Boss just looked at me, he literally couldn’t say anything because he was so dumbfounded.

I’m embarrassed, humiliated, and at the same time I am even in awe at the sheer stupidity of myself.

Yep, I am in awe at myself.

Even I can’t believe I did what I did.

When you can’t even believe yourself capable of making such a huge, horrendous, horror of a screw up, where do you go from there?

Nowhere to go but up I guess, literally, nowhere to go but up.

This screw up had me up at 3AM this morning, woke from sleep thinking about it. I took a sleeping pill to even get to sleep and I still woke up at 3AM

I am so horrified I can’t quite seem to get my mind around it. Just kind of keeps circling around in the old brainpan.

What was I thinking? How could I of been so stupid? How in the hell can I fix this? The problem is I can’t fix it and that is that.

My first thought, my first impulse, is to hide away, avoid everyone.

But that is wrong, I know that, you know that, hell’s bell’s everyone knows that.

I will drive to main headquarters, take a deep breath, put my nose up in the air and walk in the front door and face it head on.

Ah well, this morning is not going to be good morning, not at all.

Sometimes I hate being a grown up. Sucks the big one.

Update already:

Took my shower. I’m leaving in just minutes. My heart is pounding like you wouldn’t believe and I feel like I don’t have any blood flow to my head at all. If I was a throwing up kind of person that is what I would be doing, throwing up and gladly.

Jeez, this is miserable.

If I could find a way to weasel out of this I would do it in a heartbeat.

If I could find someone else to blame I would throw him or her to the wolves. Well ok, I wouldn’t but I would be tempted.

So all right, I’m a sinner for the thought, right? Me bad.

I’m just delaying, I know that, if I keep writing I don’t have to leave and face the music.

My inner child is screaming “Mommy! Help me!”

Ok, ok, I’m going now.

Going....going....gone..

Maybe the last update:

I finally got home at 7PM with my tail dragging behind me.

I am so tired. I faced the music and promised to never make a mistake like this the rest of my working career.

Of course I can truthfully say I have never made one this stupid before so it's pretty doubtful I ever would again.