Da Count in Friday 55-Looking Out for Each Other

FRIDAY 55

 I trudge into the house at the end of a long day.

The house is a mess.

I shuffle through the pile of mail in the foyer.

Junk...

important...

junk...

junk...

Ooohh, a letter...

from my stepmother.

I open it to find

 encouragement,

 affirmation,

 an explanation, 

an unexpected gift she says is not a loan.

DA COUNT

 

It's been a long week, not a bad one, just a long one.  On Wednesday morning at work a patient came in and asked who had the purplish van out in the parking lot.  I let him know it was mine.  He told me I should go check it because it looked like the left rear tire was loosing air.  Once the patient flow slowed down a bit I checked it and sure enough it was flat as could be.  I was really glad to know that early enough in the day to get a hold of Mr. Lime so he could take care of it when he had time during the day and I didn't walk out to an unpleasant surprise at the end of the night when I was exhausted and the tire shops were closed.  That patient saved me a huge inconvenience and headache.

Thursday night I came home tired and rather frustrated by certain things I won't go into here.  I came inside and saw the day's mail sitting in a pile.  I went through it and sighed in some relief not to see any bills.  Then I noticed a personal item from my stepmother.  Personal letters and cards put a smile on my face just because they are...well...personal.  Inside was a funny card with a surprise.  When I opened the card a check slid out onto my lap and I saw a long note inside.  I read the note explaining how my stepmother was aware all three of her kids were having significant cash flow issues and how one of her aunts had been a help to her when she most needed it and without asking.  My stepmother decided (and was clear to state it was HER decision about HER money in spite of knowing my dad is going to be less than thrilled) it was time for her to send some help to each of her three kids.  The note alone had raised a lump in my throat simply because I am so blessed as to have a stepmother who considers me as much her own child as she does the son she gave birth to.  I finally opened the check that was in my lap and was dumbstruck by her level of generosity and that it was given with absolutely no strings attached. 

Slice of Lime-Summer Do

It's summer.  

It's hot.  

I have long hair.  

When it gets this hot I can't stand to have my hair down.

I frequently go with a ponytail just to get the hair off my neck.

The ponytail is effective but frequently gets pretty messy looking.

What can I say, my hair is wild and fights being tamed...

but I needed to find a decent way to get through the summer at work 

and not look like a complete slob.

Although I am in desperate need of a proper haircut,

I'm waiting until the weather gets cool

because for now it's long enough to do this,

which keeps it reasonably tidy

even when I drive with the windows down

(necessary since my car has no AC) 

and when I have a long, hot day.

And Now for Something Completely Meme-ish

Have you talked to a complete a**hole today?
I prefer to talk to the other end of a person and I don't generally require people to pass an inspection of the posterior prior to conversation so I can't really say whether or not the folks I've spoken to lately have complete assholes or not.

Are you comfortable answering all these personal questions?
Let me kick off my shoes first, thankfully they are only sandals and not those weird shoes Dr. Hubba Hubba has....much easier to kick off.

Do you think relationships are even worth it?
Worth what? And do they have to be even? Sometimes they are more fun when they are odd.

If you could pack up and move, would you?
Is packing a prerequisite? Because I just stood up and did a really groovy gyration which I think counts as moving.

Do your parents really know you?
My birth parents couldn't pick me out of a police line-up I'm sure...unless I bear an uncanny resemblance to one of them. My real parents, who raised me, know me pretty well but I do manage to shock them on occasion.

When was the last time you laughed really hard?
Oh, it's not hard to make me laugh.  It's pretty easy actually.

What are you wearing right now?
A smirk

What are you excited for?
Certainly not the syntax here.

Has anyone told you lately that they would always be there for you?
What if I want them here instead of there?

What do you want right now?
Hugh Jackman covered in chocolate, a clean house, a full bank account, no debt, to be 2 sizes smaller, to never have another migraine, but I'll settle for a foot rub.

What were you doing at 8 this morning?
Pandiculating

Do you fall for people easily?
If they stick a foot out while I am hurrying past, yes.
 

What is one word that you overuse?
If I over use it does it begin to fray at the edges or what?


What’s your mood?
Increasingly humid with a chance of scattered storms.


If you took a drug test, would you pass it?
Is this a written or oral test?

Do you regret doing something today?
Not yet, but give me some time.

Are you slowly drifting away from someone?
Wilson! Wilsoooon!!! WIIIIILLLLSSSSSSOOOOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What’s irritating you right now?
My undies are riding up.  Hey, you're the one who asked.


Tell me what one of your friends is doing.
Do I look like the amazing Kreskin?

Are you stubborn?
I am the most compliant person you'll ever meet. Wait, let me practice saying that with a straight face.

Are you gonna be home alone tonight?
No. Now here this, all bad guys reading, I am going to be home with a contingent of large body guards all armed with AK-47s and each with a trained attack dog.

Who gave you your last compliment?

Complimentary what?  You know nothing in life is free.

What is one thing you wish you had?
My marbles, oh wait..that's plural...dunno that having one marble is gonna do me much good though.

Do you still talk to the person you fell hardest for?
Not until the wire comes off my jaw.  I fell so hard I broke it.


Would you rather go to Tokyo or Paris?
Yes, Athens, Rome, Madrid, Cochabamba, Port of Spain, and Melbourne too.


What are you allergic to?
Bananas, aspirin, and Neil Diamond

Has anyone ever complimented your eyes?
Well there was this one guy who complimented them well but wearing him in public was just a little outside the bounds of public decency.

Are you listening to music right now?
Do crickets and frogs count?


Who else is in the room with you?
Harvey

In winter, would you rather wear jackets or hoodies?
Naw, just throw me naked into a snowstorm.  What kind of asinine question is this?


Do you wish you were somewhere else right now?
Maybe a little to the right.

How long can you go without your mobile phone?
Well, I went for several decades of my life without one.

What are you doing tomorrow?
Curing cancer, negotiating peace in the Middle East, solving world hunger, then after lunch...


Where did you last sleep other than your room?
It would be bad if I said, "Behind the wheel," right?

What’s the worst way to say “I love you”?
Probably by using a knife to carve it into the object of your affection

Trini Tuesday-Cover Letters

Suldog recently shared advice on how NOT to write a cover letter. I'd urge you all to go check it out but not until you've read and commented here. In my comment on his examples of truly deranged cover letters I shared how Mr. Lime had written a couple of his own. Lacking any other ideas I am now going to milk it for all it's worth in a blog post.

While we resided in Trinidad, William Jefferson Clinton was elected as President of the USA. When a new President is sworn in it is standard protocol for US ambassadors to resign and await reappointment. Of course, sometimes those ambassadors to more strategic nations are not reappointed because the new administration has a somewhat different agenda than the folks who appointed the previous ambassador. In due course, Mrs. Sally Cowell, the US Ambassador the the Republic of Trinidad & Tobago resigned. We hadn't been particularly impressed with her anyway (some of you may recall how I told her off) so Mr. Lime seized upon an opportunity and wrote a cover letter to President Clinton. Though his actual writing has been lost I do recall the gist of it.

Dear President Clinton, 


I am an American citizen living in Trinidad, West Indies.  Although I am a Republican and I didn't vote for you I am taking to heart your stated desire for cooperative efforts between the parties.  I am aware that our ambassador to Trinidad & Tobago has resigned.  I would like to apply for the position.  I came to Trinidad to establish a school program for special education students and economically disadvantaged children. I have built excellent rapport with many Trinidadians.  The goodwill I have been able to create will assist me in representing you and our nation.  My family and I can also live much more cheaply in our neighborhood than the ambassador can thus saving you money.  I anxiously await your reply.


Sincerely,
Mr. Lime


In response Mr. Lime received a form letter thanking him for his support.  He was then compelled to draft a second letter which went something like this:


Dear Mr. President,


Obviously you didn't read my last letter too carefully because you failed to address my inquiry regarding the ambassadorship to Trinidad & Tobago.  As an educational expert I am concerned you may have some reading comprehension difficulties which I could help to remedy.  However, I'd still like to be considered for the position of U.S. Ambassador to Trinidad & Tobago.  The courtesy of a timely personal reply would be greatly appreciated.


Sincerely,
Mr. Lime


It was at this point that I became convinced we were immediately placed on an intelligence list for monitoring  suspicious characters with questionable sanity.

The Crafty Lady Retires....For Now

Every year for the last I dunno how many years I've organized the crafts for the VBS program at our church.  Long time readers may recall how some of my plans have been somewhat ambitious or skewed or just outright jokes.  Some have just amazed me to watch them unfold.  Well, this year since I have a job I was only going to be able to be there part of the time. Then it became apparent I wouldn't be there any of the time due to covering for a coworker who is on vacation.  So it seems there will be no crafty hijinx for me this summer.   This time of year though I do get the itch for arts & crafts mayhem though so even though there's a whole site devoted to the weird or awful things found on Etsy.com I was doing periodic posts like that long before others capitalized on it (if only I'd thought to make a whole website on such mockery I might have a few more bucks in my pocket today...).

Let's see, I could have had the kids make Maniacal Mutant Muskrats.  What mother wouldn't be completely charmed to have this sitting on the mantle so she could proudly display her child's handiwork.  I think this is what happens when you listen to too much of The Captain and Tenille.  I dunno if the concept or the expression on the muskrat's face is more disturbing.

Too gruesome for the kiddies?  Hhhmm, ok.  How about the Loch Ness Monster Toilet Decal?  Sure you could decorate your bathroom with a seashore motif or rubber duckies or some other boring theme that's been done to death. Why not conjure up images of some monster lurking in the inky depths of your plumbing though.  So much more soothing, dontcha think?  Either that or it will scare the crap out of folks, which could be helpful in cases of constipation.

We're always being encouraged to stop and smell the flowers.  Well, now they can return the favor for the low, low price of $375.00.  What a bargain!  I think we should have one for every room in the house and a few for the garden.  Ok, someone turn that thing around now.  I don't like when the flowers stare at me.

All I can say about the maker of the Plush Prick Cushion is the maker has some MAJOR issues with men and violent tendencies.  I'm betting she doesn't get too many dates.  I'm wincing on behalf of all the guys out there. (Well, unless you're into that sort of thing, but if you are I really don't want to know about it.)  Seriously, lady.  Get some help!

And just to demonstrate my own level of weirdness (as if the rest of this post hasn't) here is something I actually understand, Owl Pellets.  I think Etsy is probably not the best place for selling these but in the past I have dissected them with Isaac during a nature program on raptors.  They are the stuff owls can't digest so they hork it back up.  The fun in dissecting them is finding itty bitty rodent and bird skeletons inside.  The most exciting thing was finding a skull.  No, I'm not kidding.  We actually got excited about that sort of thing.  Hey, don't be hatin'!   It's educational and Issac and I have fond memories of counting mouse bones together.

Friday 55-July

Do you remember

how our eyes met 

that day,

measuring your hand

against mine,

 my smile 

when I tasted the cake 

in your kiss,

sharing the blanket 

under the trees,

 rocking gently

as we embraced,

steadying me 

against your chest

when pleasure 

overwhelmed me?

Do you remember

the taste 

of desire

on a summer 

afternoon?

Slice of Lime-Reward for Good Behavior

I have been a lifelong nail-biter.  

I know it's not a nice habit.  

I know it makes my hands look terrible.  

Every now and then I could string together a few weeks of not chewing on them and then some ragged edge would form or some crisis would hit and I'd tear them apart.  Oh, sure, when I demolished my left arm and couldn't get my hand to my mouth those nails grew but that's sort of cheating.  I've manage not to chew them up for a couple of months.  I've taken care of chips by cutting and filing rather than gnawing them to the quick.  I'm not a nail polish type but I decided I had earned a groovy little ring when I saw one I liked that was on sale for super cheap. Seriously, some funky, artsy sort of thing is more my style than a pricey rock to flash around.  Big surprise, right?

Anyway, here it is highlighting an hand full of unbitten nails.

This Post Will Not Be A Long One

Lest I drive any more of you away by posting a third long winded post I will keep this one much briefer.  Cooper has this groovy thing over at his place which allows you to plug in a writing sample to determine which famous author your style most closely resembles.  Of course, I had to try it.

First I analyzed yesterday's post.  I got this result.

I write like
William Gibson

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Ok, I never read him but kitchen and bathroom remodeling as sci-fi?  I guess I can see that.


Next I analyzed the post about Calypso's birthday.  Here was the result for that.

I write like
Dan Brown

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

A child's birthday as a conspiracy theory, hhmm....  Maybe all the confetti in the pinata really contained the code to unlock the secrets of the Mayan long count calendar.


 Moving on, I plugged in the post about my developing appreciation for baseball.  I was told...

I write like
David Foster Wallace

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I haven't even read him but because a couple of folks who have given me great book suggestions in the past have liked him he's on my to read list.


Nothing so far was resonating with me so I ran the post about Charles Schulz personally responding to my little brother's stack of drawings he set to the cartoonist.  I got this head scratching result.

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Good grief!  I could maybe understand that if I wrote about an interaction with the Cyanide & Happiness cartoonist but Peanuts???

All this leads me to believe either I am a very versatile writer or completely schizophrenic.  I think I'll go with versatile.

Kitchens vs. Bathrooms

Yesterday Beach Bum remarked to the effect that his handyman skills never seemed satisfactory to his wife so they always hired out the work to be done.  Even though the Great Bathroom Catastrophe of 1999 was a stressful time I am glad Mr. Lime is a reasonably capable handyman and we only need to hire out electrical type stuff  or huge projects like removing a load bearing wall and replacing it with a horizontal beam.  I like not spending absurd amounts of money for labor.

 Cocotte commented, "I'm never sure which is worse, bathroom or kitchen projects?"  Well, that leads me to another story.  Please try not to wet yourselves in glee over the prospect of reading it.  We do have a functional bathroom for such purposes.  In order to revisit the time of the Kitchen Crisis we need to travel back in time to 1995.  I was great with child and no I am not being poetic there.  I was a massive, swollen bloat of an expectant mother.  I was 8 months pregnant with a child who would weigh in at 9.5 lbs....GREAT with child.  So expansive was my girth that for the previous 4 weeks bathing of the older two children had been taken over by Mr. Lime because we had a claw foot tub and I literally could not reach in to the bottom of it to safely secure my 2 year old or 4 year old during the bathing process.  This will become an important consideration later in the story.

One glorious Saturday morning I was actually able to sleep in a bit.  I savored this knowing such mornings would soon be coming to an abrupt end with the baby's arrival.  Mercifully, the girls were even sleeping in.  When I finally wandered downstairs yawning in a state of unusual relaxation and bliss I was suddenly shocked into full consciousness by the presence of a refrigerator in my living room.  Strange, this isn't where I left the refrigerator last night.  I entered the kitchen with a puzzled look on my face and discovered empty spaces which only the night before had been filled by the fridge, the stove, and the sink.  The stove was now on the back porch and the sink and it's cabinets were in the back yard.  I was perplexed and none too pleased to say the last.  Mr. Lime and I had discussed redoing the kitchen but agreed to wait to do so until after the baby was born.  At least that's how I remembered the conversation going.

I called for Mr. Lime since he wasn't in sight but I could hear him banging around in the basement.  I asked why my kitchen was...well, NOT in the kitchen.  He emerged from the basement sweaty and growling that when he got up in the morning he came into the kitchen and discovered a pipe had burst in the night.  (Ya just gotta love the plumbing in a 100 year old house.)  Since that time he had shut off the water, cleaned things up, and moved everything out.   Well, I was certainly glad for that.  He went on to explain how the water gushing out of the pipe under the sink had run back down under the cabinet, through the hole in the floor and into the basement and right into an old washer that was very fortunately positioned directly under the kitchen sink.  Thus most of the water had filled the washtub before spilling out all over the basement floor and sparing the first floor considerably more damage.  So as burst pipes go it was pretty amazing that it didn't occur AFTER we had redone the kitchen and that the water was so nicely contained.

There still was the slight problem of not having a functional kitchen.  I asked in as non-pressuring manner as I could how long Mr. Lime thought it would take to get things in working order.  He said he'd already been calling around about cabinets and counters to replace the damaged one and was told a couple of weeks for the counters.  since it was grocery day and I needed to have some idea as how to proceed my next question was about food prep and clean up.  Since I had no sink the only alternative for washing dishes was a hose in the backyard or the tub.  Remember how we already established my inability to reach the bottom of the tub?  Yeah.  That wasn't happening.  And Mr. Lime would rather clean a toilet with his tongue than wash dishes so that left the hose and a basin in the backyard.  Not undoable but it was freakin' 95 degrees and 95 percent humidity and I'm freakin' ginormous pregnant here.  Let's just say in the end stages of pregnancy I don't handle curve balls well and I thought I had already handled one big curve ball with astonishing aplomb. Anyway, the issue of the shopping list boiled down to this.  Either Mr. Lime figures out a way for me to have some sort of a functional sink (It doesn't have to be pretty.  It just has to work.) or I am buying T.V. dinners for the duration.  Mr. Lime rigged up a pretty groovy sink on stilts within a day or two.  It worked just fine until we got the new cabinet and counter.

So all in all the Kitchen Crisis of 1995 was far easier to negotiate and endure than the Great Bathroom Catastrophe of 1999.  For the sake of argument we'll pretend Mr. Lime has no handyman skills and couldn't remedy either of these situations himself.  I'll still take a deconstructed kitchen over a gutted bathroom.  If it still seems unclear let me ask you, "Would you rather eat out or shower out?"  Case closed.

Flushed With Trepidation

Once upon a time there was a family (with three small children) who lived in a hundred year old house. It was a lovely little house but, having reached the century mark, age had taken a toll on it. It came to pass that the father of the family decided to replace the toilet. In theory, it would be a simple afternoon job but old houses often hold interesting surprises. When the toilet was pulled it was discovered that the original installer had not used a flange and the wax seal had deteriorated completely thus allowing all manner of...erm...moisture...to permeate the floor boards causing extensive rot. In fact, the rot was so extensive is was a bit of a miracle to realize the toilet was still in place on the second floor and had not crashed through to the kitchen on the first floor.

The dutiful father removed the rotted floorboards only to discover more plumbing of somewhat more than questionable quality. The tub and sink were removed and the floor torn up. New pipes were installed and floor joists and sub-flooring were replaced. The very handy father took his wife to find new linoleum. The wife choose a nice sturdy looking remnant of a discontinued pattern because she wanted to save at least a little money since what should have been a simple toilet replacement had already cost significantly more than expected. The linoleum, however was green, whereas the bathroom walls were blue. "Not to worry," the husband consoled. All the demolition and reconstruction was going to necessitate a fresh coat of paint anyway. The painting would be the wife's job though since the husband doesn't "do paint."

The bathroom was now just four walls, a ceiling, and a sub-floor. All the fixtures had been moved into other rooms. It is also important to note, dear reader, that this was the only true bathroom in the house. There was a toilet in a closet, which had no sink or other running water, so at least that was not an issue. The patient mother had been bathing her wee ones in the kitchen for the couple of days since the project had commenced. The mother was not one opposed to "roughing it." She had dug her own holes during backpacking expeditions. She had gone days without a proper bath or shower during bicycle trips. She was not philosophically opposed to bathing herself in her kitchen except that the one week out of the month was approaching when (ladies, lemme hear a "Hell yeah!") when the thought of taking care of her personal hygiene in the kitchen was just NOT going to be acceptable. She'd have sooner attended to such things in the backyard except for the pesky little notion of public indecency, particularly in a shared yard such as was the current configuration.

The dutiful father was made aware of the increasing urgency of getting the job done. He directed the wife to paint the walls before he installed the linoleum and fixtures, which was all backwards to her way of thinking. She acquiesced when he explained his plan was to have her paint, then he and a friend would install the floor while the patient mother and her brood spent the weekend at her mother's. Upon her return she would have a lovely new bathroom. The patient mother breathed a sigh of relief. What a silly thing to do.

She and her children did enjoy two lovely days at Grammy's. The patient mother slept blissfully as visions of functional plumbing danced in her head. Upon her return she entered the house and ran upstairs to the bathroom to behold...four walls, a ceiling, and a shiny new floor. Oh, and one of the freshly painted walls looked as if the dutiful father had fought off a grizzly attack in the bathroom. He would soon come to wish he could choose between the grizzly and his wife because the grizzly would seem tame by comparison.

"Why are there no fixtures in the bathroom as promised and what in God's name happened to my wall?!" the no longer patient mother roared. The seemingly less than dutiful father stammered through an explanation about how the floor was hard to install than he expected and he kind of scraped the wall just a little...only he noticed that on that wall the paint just peeled off in strips when he touched it so he scratched at it to see what was wrong and more came off. And well, the toilet he bought didn't fit because the house it a hundred years old and the distance of the pipe from the wall wasn't standard. And the sink the mother picked out, yeah, that one that was on sale, well it didn't fit either. The impatient, hormonally charged mother arched one eyebrow and challenged her husband because she understood that when installing a new floor the little pipes needed for a sink can be moved much more easily than the giant pipe for a toilet. The father shuffled his feet and avoided eye contact because yes, this was true but he...umm...erm...well...he forgot to measure. The irate mother was incredulous. "YOU FORGOT TO MEASURE?" The father offered as he squinted and splayed the thumb and pinkie on his hand to demonstrate distance, "Well, I eyeballed it." We shall not record the infuriated mother's response but suffice it to say it was to the father's benefit that no sharp or heavy tools were within reach at the time.

It was also to the father's benefit that at nearly the same time a friend who lived three blocks away called and offered the use of his shower facilities for anyone who needed them since he heard about the plumbing woes of the once happy little family. So in the days it took to strip and repaint a wall, wait for a new toilet to be ordered and delivered and install all the fixtures the restored to sane mother continued to bathe her wee ones in the kitchen each night. In the mornings she walked them to school, they with their school bags and lunchboxes in hand, she with her towel slung over her shoulder and a bucket of toiletries in hand. She kissed and hugged each scrubbed child just before they entered the school. She then continued happily down the street in anticipation of a proper shower.

Many years passed, the family moved to a different house, and the Great Bathroom Catastrophe of 1999 was forgotten until...

Several tiles fell off the shower wall and the father suggested, "I think we should consider redoing the bathroom."

Friday 55-Skin Hunger

As the sun's first rays warm my face
I roll into your arms.
I feel your chest press my back,
your breath on my neck.
Your hand slides
from my hip
to cup my breast.I wriggle closer to you,
tangle my feet with yours.

The alarm jolts me.

I awake shivering...

alone.

From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

May I just say, I miss having both time to do a Slice of Lime or other photographic endeavors and now in having a camera that even functions properly. First the camera didn't want to play nice with my computer and I eventually found some ways around that though it was a pain. For some time now my camera has just not wanted to play at all even when it has fresh batteries.

Well, this week I offer some things I found around the Interwebs that either amused or touched me.

This one I may print out and hang on both Diana's and Calypso's doors.

When will the carnage end?

Why yes, I can laugh at the ever delectable Hugh Jackman and not just drool over him.

The definition of beauty, contrary to what Madison Avenue says.


Should be required reading for all children and their grownups.

And now, for your pleasure, I submit the before and after of my first day of kindergarten. Feel free to offer your ideas for captions.

The Tale of Two Teachers

Yeah, yeah yeah, I know it's summer and no one wants to think about school. The other day I ran into the wonderful woman who was the kindergarten teacher for each of my children. To say this lady was made to be a kindergarten teacher doesn't quite do justice to her. She truly regarded it as a calling and approached her job and each student with enthusiasm, energy, compassion, and concern for the children as unique individuals. She told me during our brief meeting that she has decided this coming school year will be her last before she retires. I admit I welled up a little as we reminisced over the time she spent with my kids and as I considered the loss it will be to a special little school not to have her there any more. I decided after we parted that I was going to print out this story and have it waiting for her in her school mailbox for the first day of her last year of school. Since I posted it four years ago I figure it's safe to rerun it as few of you will have ever read it before.


The Tale of Two Teachers.

Once upon a time there was a little girl, named Lime who was ready for kindergarten. She was very excited and when the big yellow bus picked her up she gabbled all the way to school. Who would the teacher be? Who would her classmates be? What was the bus passing? Who would she sit with? What would the room look like? Would she get lost?

When the bus arrived a lady with pointy glasses, a wildly colored dress and a very tall bee-hive hairdo came to the bus and said she was their teacher (Years later when the girl was grown she would know all the bee-hived women in pointy glasses depicted in Far Side cartoons were modeled on her kindergarten teacher). She led the children to their new classroom. "Here are your cubbies and here are your tables. Please put your things away and come sit down on the rug. The principal will be here in a minute to welcome you." The children did as they were asked and in came a short man in a baggy suit.

The man in the baggy suit said,"Good afternoon." Some children repeated his words, some looked out the window, some picked fluff off the rug, some picked their noses. He repeated himself more loudly. Some more children repeated his words, some giggled because he sounded like their whiny little brother and he was repeating himself insistently, just like the whiny little brother.

The man in the baggy suit started to say more words. He was using the grown up tone that says, "I am very important and you are small so you must listen very carefully," but his voice was still whiny and monotonous. And there was a whole shelf of interesting looking books, and stacks of colorful paper, and pretty fall leaves on the bulletin board, and that girl has pretty pigtails, and that boy has a lot of freckles, and how does the teacher get her hair to stay like that, and the man in the baggy suit kept talking and talking and talking and whining and whining and whining.

Little Lime noticed the girl on her left was talking to the other girl next to her. The boy on her right was still picking his nose and he was wiping it on the rug next to her. She leaned over and said, "That's yucky, you better not get boogers on me." The man in the baggy suit noticed that the children were paying more attention to everything but his whiny words and said, "One of the things we will learn in kindergarten is how to keep our mouths shut when it is time to learn because some of us have very big mouths." Now Little Lime came from a family where personal opinions were uncensored and offered freely and where astute observations were commended. So she waved her hand enthusiastically in the air (having listened to the man in the baggy suit explain that this was the expected manner for taking turns speaking) to share her great insight. The man in the baggy suit pointed to her and she proudly exclaimed, "We know who has the biggest mouth of all! You do!" Thus it came to pass that Little Lime had a note home to her poor mortified mother on the first day of kindergarten.

Lime grew and she grew and she grew. She married Mr. Lime and they had 3 lovely Limelets of their own. It came about that it was time for the first Limelette to go to kindergarten. Lime remembered her somewhat bumpy introduction to kindergarten. Knowing that Diana is even more inclined to freely offer her unvarnished opinion than Lime herself, Lime was a bit concerned about Diana's introduction to kindergarten. When the day arrived Lime walked Diana to school. All the other children lined up with their bright new clothes and shiny bags and happy faces. Diana marched up the steps to join them confidently. Out came a smiling woman with gentle eyes and a gentle voice and and gentle, happy greeting, "Welcome to kindergarten, boys and girls. We have so many wonderful things to learn together." As Diana marched in Lime had an odd sort of realization that Another Woman would now help mold and shape her precious Limelette. She didn't know if she liked that idea or not. Her concerns were soon put to rest as the gentle teacher embraced Diana's fierce little personality and found opportunities for her to use her boldness for good.

When Calypso turned 4 she knew her turn with the teacher with the gentle eyes, voice, and smile would come soon. She asked her mother every day for a year, "How many days until I turn 5 and can go to kindergarten?" Every time she saw the gentle teacher she asked, "How many more days until I can be in your class?" The gentle teacher always said, "Soon my dear, and I can't wait either." Eventually after many days and many repetitions of the question and answer, Calypso lined up with all the other children in front of the school and wiggled excitedly. The smiling teacher with the gentle eyes, and gentle voice came out to meet the class. She leaned down to Calypso and said, "Guess what?" Calypso looked up with shining eyes and asked, "What?" The gentle teacher smiled wide, her own eyes shining with joy and answered, "TODAY IS FINALLY HERE! And I am soooo glad to have you in my class!" As the class followed the gentle teacher in Lime smiled knowing Calypso was in caring hands. This would be proven over and over when the Lime family suffered 2 deaths in the first part of the school year. The gentle teacher never failed to offer hugs, tissues, and kind words on the days when Calypso had the hardest times.

Finally, the day came when Isaac was ready for kindergarten. Since Lime had helped so often in the gentle teacher's class and the teacher had always said Isaac should come along, Isaac knew the gentle teacher very well. He knew where to find the room in the school. He knew where to find everything in the room when he got there. The first day of kindergarten was a mere technicality to him. But the gentle teacher was also wise and wanted it to be a special day for all her students. Isaac lined up with all the other new kindergartners. The gentle teacher came out to meet the class and she exclaimed to Isaac, "Welcome to kindergarten, my dear! Today, you don't just get to visit my class. Today you get to stay and today you get your very own spot in my class!" The gentle teacher celebrated Isaac's achievements with him just as enthusiastically as she did with his sisters because even though she had guided so many children it was always new for each child. Isaac and the gentle teacher also enjoyed sharing their little secret of having been "long-time friends" before he ever came to school.

At the end of Isaac's kindergarten year Lime felt a bit sad knowing it was the end of an era with the gentle teacher. She told the gentle teacher how she had wondered about her on the first day Diana went to kindergarten. Then Lime said, "I am so glad each of my children got to start their school career with you. In all my imagination there does not exist a more wonderful kindergarten teacher than you." The gentle teacher shed a little tear and cried, "Thank you, I needed to hear that."

And now, may all the gentleness, love, and joy the gentle teacher has given over the years be returned to her many times over in her retirement.

Sound Off...

...where Lime expounds on various topics of no real importance.


Certain movies need to come with an excessive tissue usage warning label. During a brief cessation in hostilities between sisters, Diana and Calypso agreed we should rent The Time Traveler's Wife. I indulged them because they were getting along. Holy time-warping Moses on a pogo stick! I thought I might dehydrate through my eyes while I was watching that movie! I needed an IV drip of Young Frankenstein just to recover. (Fine, call me a wussy cry baby, I can take it. Just remember my unnaturally high pain tolerance and then we'll see who the wuss is.) After the high level of emotional strife during the previous few days I was in no state to endure that sort of emotional string pulling. Is it possible to sprain a tear duct? I'm pretty sure it is. I blame their father's influence (link to a brief example on a former blog of mine).


In the past I have very much enjoyed Bill Bryson's books. A Walk in the Woods is absolutely hilarious and I learned a lot from In a Sunburned Country. During my vacation though I found Notes from a Small Island nearly unreadable. It's not that it's poorly written. He comes off as irritatingly affected and I kept waiting for him to inject a "Pip pip and cheerio!" while he was praising tea trolleys and and double-decker buses. Dude, you were born in Iowa, for crying out loud. You can appreciate Britain without sounding like you think you were switched at birth with someone to the manor born.


The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World by A.J. Jacobs, on the other hand, was great fun. Admittedly, I am a nerd who loves trivia and who read Funk & Wagnalls for fun as a kid so reading about some guy who wanted to work his way through the entire Encyclopedia Britannica intrigued me. Oh, and don't you fellow nerds out there try to pretend you wouldn't be interested in this! G-man, Suldog, Craig, Logo...I'm looking at you all.


Speaking of nerds (and I say that with complete affection and respect), Calypso recently acquired some Buddy Holly type glasses. She's so darned cute in them. I giggle every time I look at her wearing them and just want to tape up the bridge. She won't let me take a picture though so I can't show you. I can't imagine why she'd be reluctant.


In other odd fashion news, Dr. Hubba Hubba came to work wearing these shoes. They are the weirdest freaking excuses for footwear I have ever seen. They also made me laugh every time I looked at them. Yeah, I just know the laydeez will be going wild to play footsie with him now! And people mock me for my Birkenstocks...


A recent post at Cooper's made me realize that between the minuscule bits of fabric wedged into the butt cracks of shapely young girls (thus revealing the bottom half of their badonkadonks) and the style of young men who wear their swim trunks at "half mast" thus revealing their own cracks and top half of their rear ends there are a lot of half-assed ninnies running around on beaches and at swimming pools. I amused myself by imagining one of those picture books where the pages are divided in thirds so you can mix and match the faces, torsos, and legs of various cartoon characters only mixing and matching the top halves and lower halves of the exposed butt cheeks. A fertile imagination can be a dangerous thing. I apologize to anyone who was trying to eat while reading this.


So crack me up and reveal some things you'd like to sound off about.

Overheard at the Office

The office where I work has several chiropractors. One of them is a rather strapping fellow who is quite easy on the eyes. He's also very personable and knows the power of his baby blues. All together it has earned him a bit of a following among a number of female patients. Last week we had a patient return to care who hadn't been in the office since before Dr. Hubba Hubba was hired. We'll call her Sadie. Her comments upon checking out were too hilarious not to share.

Sadie: Wow! When did you hire him? He's fantastic! He threw me around on that table the way a man oughta throw around a woman. And have ya seen his hands? They're huuuuge! God, 5 minutes on his table was the best sex I've ever had!!

Me: (stifling guffaws) He's been here about a year.

Sadie: Well, I've wasted a year of my life not coming in for adjustments!

Me: And when do you need to make your next appointment?

Sadie: (dropping her voice to a purr) How about later today?

Friday 55-How I Know Vacation Is Over

FRIDAY 55


It is written,
"How good and pleasant it is
for brothers to dwell in unity."

A summer of strife between my daughters,
near daily arguments,
screaming matches,
threats,
icy silences,
eruptions spilling over
into angry phone calls to me at work.

Just for the record, girls,
that verse does NOT
specifically exclude peace between sisters.

Seriously, this is getting old. I haven't really said anything about it but the girls' readjustment to being back under the same roof has been far from smooth and every time I think they've found peace they go another round with each other. They've each taken turns being the instigators. I'm exhausted by the endless conflicts which seem to escalate each time. Being called at work in the middle of one of their epic blow ups was just over the top. I'm fed up.

I'm supposed to be counting good stuff here so I guess the VERY fleeting moments of cease fire are what I'm counting.

Slice of Lime-I Know I'm On Vacation When...

10. I park the car upon arrival and don't drive it again until returning home.

9. Sleeping until 10am is perfectly acceptable with everyone in the house.

8. The most stressful decision is which book to pull off the "to read" pile.

7. The biggest disappointment is choosing a poor book.

6. There is no one sick or injured requiring care.

5. I think to myself, "Why did I pack all these clothes when I don't even get dressed?"

4. No one asks me when I plan to begin cooking dinner.

3. No one even cares that dinner isn't until about 9:30 pm.

2. I am told I am not allowed to do the dishes.

1. As I emerge towel-clad from the shower I am handed a glass of chilled Veuve Clicquot.

Here's to Vacation! *clink*

Overheard on Vacation

Upon arrival, I was greeted by my dad and step mom. As we sat on the porch the first night we heard a neighbor's cat meowing.

Dad: That cat has the biggest gaping asshole I've ever seen on a cat in my life!

Me: Well, I know a couple of people who qualify as gaping assholes but you're saying you inspect cat's asses frequently?

Dad: No, but that one's hard to miss. (making a gesture with his hands indicating a circle with the rough diameter of a dinner plate)

Step mom: (stroking one of their two cats) Well, our little girl here has a horizontal butt hole. It's strange but very cute.

Me: (face palming) Please tell me I am not on vacation and actually discussing the aesthetics of cat ass....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One day when Dad was running an errand in his convertible.

Dad: You want to come along for the ride?

Me: I'll pass. If I have to get out of the car that requires me to be wearing a bra and underwear. I'm just not willing to expend that level of energy to be presentable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although I returned home yesterday in a car with no AC during the heat of a day that reached a brain melting 100 degrees, when I initially arrived at my destination there was a chill to the air and the local water. That day I opted merely to read at water's edge rather than dip even a toe. The wind still began to whip a bit and cause a bit of shivering. Finally, it became a bit more than was tolerable in bathing suits.

Dad: I think there are icicles hanging from my balls!

Me: I'm pretty sure I could cut glass with my nipples.

And now you know where I get it from.