Surprising Revelations

Clare and I were having dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings this past weekend when I told her that my oldest daughter has been experiencing excruciating pain from a problem that involved her clavicle being separated from her shoulder.  Clare empathized and told me that she too had experienced the same problem years ago.

Curious, I wanted to know, "How did it happen?"

Clare was uncertain about how the separation occurred. She had always attributed the separation to one of her pregnancies when she felt so much pain she could only guess that the weight of her belly had been responsible for pulling her clavicle away from her shoulder. 

Because of the relentless pain, though, Clare made an appointment to see a doctor who took an x-ray and showed Clare the results of her x-ray. The separation was so immediately obvious, it surprised Clare. I told her that Keeley, too, was surprised by how obvious the separation showed in her x-rays.

While the memory of that long-ago time blossomed in her mind, Clare suddenly cocked her head to one side as if another related memory had just slammed into her brain. Her face filled with a sense of wonder, she exclaimed, "I think I know how it happened! It must have been that time I got hit by a truck!"

Whoa! Wait! What? I, who am not at all capable of repressing laughter, exploded with it (though I did apologize to Clare for laughing at her expense), but I had to know, "How could you not remember being hit by a truck?"

With her surprising revelation, Clare detailed the event. She was 18 and walking to the train after work. She was also wearing high heels. When the snow storm hit she was paying such close attention to the snow under her feet that when a truck appeared suddenly and knocked her down, she blacked out. She awoke in the back of the truck with about 50 onlookers who wondered if she might be in a coma. Nobody called 911 back then (it didn't exist), and, more embarrassed than hurt, Clare got up and just walked away.

Years later she had 5 children, one of whom she blamed for the pain in her shoulder when she was pregnant with her. Not until this past weekend did she realize that the pain was actually caused by a truck hitting her. 

Clare is now 73 years old and in better shape than some 20-year-olds I've seen. The pain in her shoulder is gone, and her memories just keep getting funnier (to me).

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Busy days

Guest post written by Arnoldo Acevedo

My husband recently found a new job working ten hours a day, seven days a week. With children, work and school it was almost impossible for us to get some alone time. Sunday afternoons was the only time we could be at home together. Taking our chances on getting a decent babysitter for the night was virtually impossible. I often questioned my husband “why do our children run all the good babysitters away, there actions or the fact there is four of them”? He always just shook his head. I had to find a way to keep the children calm so my husband and I could go out for one night. My husband suggested I look into upgrading our expertsatellite for a new upgraded. I upgraded to get many of the movie channels our children could benefit from. We got to go out for dinner that night. We came home to all four children in the bed and ahappy babysitterthat volunteered to come back. We were very thankful we had finally found a way to calm our children so that they could easily be watched so my husband and I could have quality time.

How to Paste Suntan Lotion Onto Your Skin

HOT today. Dripping hot here in Virginia. I slathered suntan lotion on my face, neck, and arms before I ventured out with three of my grandchildren, but when we got to the park, I realized that I had forgotten to lotion my feet and legs. Robyn said, that's OK, I have some in the diaper bag.

So I reached into the diaper bag, found a tube, rubbed it all over the top of my feet, and noticed that the consistency was much thicker than was mine. Hmm, I thought to myself, I guess stronger baby lotions are thicker to better protect new skin from the sun, so I continued to grease up my legs.

As I put the cap on the tube and returned it to the diaper bag, I realized that I had just lathered myself in butt paste.

After dinner, all I wanted to do was shower, but my son had showered and so had his kids, so I asked if he thought I would have enough water to take a shower. Oh, yeah! he  said.

So I got in the shower and just after I lathered my hair in shampoo and just before I wiped off all the butt paste, the hot water ran out. My legs, however, now feel like a baby's butt.

Want to Buy a House? Join the Military!

Buying a home is both exhilarating and exhausting, and it's difficult enough to purchase a home when you go with a conventional loan, but when you have to go with an FHA (Federal Housing Authority) loan, you are in for some serious trouble. 

Once upon a time, when you found a home that allowed you to go through FHA, you knew you were getting a good deal, because the home had to pass all kinds of inspections and the house was move-in ready. Today, those inspections are lacking in too many respects and not everything is move-in worthy, as one of my daughters recently discovered.

She had been performing circus acts, jumping through all kinds of legal hoops in her attempt to purchase a home with an FHA loan. She most definitely makes enough money to afford the home, but the loan, through FHA, is nearly impossible to obtain, and pleasing the people responsible for approving it is remarkably complicated.

VA loans, on the other hand, might be easier to obtain. VA stands for Veterans Affairs. Unfortunately, my daughter cannot get a VA loan, because she has never been in the military – her brother, however, can, so I'm using this blog as a big "shout out" to my son, in the hopes that he will get the hint. He loves his sister, so he may be willing to help. 

VA home loan rates are so much lower than conventional rates, so it would be silly not to ask him if he would be willing to cosign, right? Or – he could purchase the home for his sister and put it in her name! I really have raised some amazingly generous kids – I really have (hint hint).

Try Wells Fargo to start ;)

The Ants Go Marching Down – And OUT!

Four generations live in my home. I am the eldest, the matriarch. Like all matriarchs, I am the most influential person in the family.

OW! Sorry, I just choked on that last comment.

Anyway, what I find curious about our "situation" is that we all have different styles of handling things. 

Ants, for instance. I buy ant traps that draw ants by the millions. They drink in the poison, return to their homes, share the poison with their ant family, Jim Jones style, and voila, no more ants.

My oldest daughter has a different approach – grits –apparently the more humane approach to ridding the home of ants. Because by using grits instead of poison, the ants can watch each other EXPLODE!

The Private Life

Picture for a moment nasty women wearing combat boots. Suddenly images of Goldie Hawn in Private Benjamin pop into your head (not that Goldie Hawn is nasty – quite the contrary), but if you haven't seen that movie, please treat yourself to it, especially if you need a good laugh (as opposed to a bad laugh, which nobody needs). 

At one time, in my desperate need for money, I had considered joining the Navy (go ahead – laugh – but you'll laugh even more when you discover that the reason I would have chosen the Navy was because I liked the way their uniforms looked). I couldn't leave my baby, though, (at the time I had only one child) so I had to consider other options.

Just recently one of my granddaughters, in contemplating a way to financially help her family, considered joining the Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marines, but decided instead to work at my youngest daughter's upscale consignment boutique and to sell Scentsy. Perhaps we all give joining the service a thought at some point during our lives, and many actually join.

I was not one of them. I would never have made good naval material due to the physical exertion the Navy would have required of me. With absolutely no upper body strength whatsoever, I would have whined like Goldie Hawn's character, Pvt. Judy Benjamin. I doubt seriously that I would have made it through basic training anyway – convertible handbags to backpack, comfortable beds to bunk – or maybe even ground – no thank you – I'd have been begging to go home.

IF (big IF) I had somehow made it through basic training, I might have improved physically, and I might have earned the right to retire as a high-ranking officer. Today I would be sitting on the back porch of a beautiful home, high on a hill, overlooking a lake, and typing this blog.

I admire our service men and women who stay the course and rise above the grueling, never ending work (special thank you to my Marine son, Greg). 

From my car, as I look upon my console cup holder, my lightweight cooler, and a trunk filled with luggage, I contemplate the life I did not live and thank God that I am not living out of my car – though it looks as if I do while I prepare for a drive across the country with my grandchildren to visit my Marine son (their father). 

When we arrive in Virginia, I might suggest we watch Private Benjamin. I think we all would get a kick out of watching it.

Little Things

Posted by Gaylord Campbell I learned something new today! I was surfing the internet and landed uponshopelectricityratestexas.com. I didn't even know this was an option in Texas. I have lived here for thirteen years and never heard anything about it. I asked my neighbor about it and she was all surprised that I hadn't heard anything about it. She said she had had a fixed rate for years now. Have you ever been doing laundry or put on a jacket for the first time in the winter and reached into the pocket to find a twenty dollar bill? That is what this was like! Some people get excited over the big things like a vacation to Disney Worldor a new car; I get so giddy about little things like a new shower curtain or a low rate or a drawer full of new shiny silver ware. Does that make me crazy? I'm telling you, I can buy new silver ware and will open the silver ware drawer just to look at it! Does anyone else do this?