Coworkers Behaving Badly

I have to sanitize this a bit -- sorry.

Two days a week we have an extra person on duty to assist with higher levels of activity; answering phones, directing calls, calling out to other agencies, assisting folks at the window.

One one day a week, B works with the direct supervisor in this department, who works the desk to 'keep in touch' with the inner and outer workings of a 911 center. This helps the supervisor measure what does and doesn't work and allows a fresh perspective from that office when TSHTF.

On the second day, B works with R who is 'just a dispatcher' as we dispatcher/911 operators are often referred to. (this is one reason I am happy to just work per Diem in the room now)

R is a nice enough person, but sometimes, R is crotchety. Curmudgeon isn't always accurate a term for R, but we use it often enough ... to R's face even.

Well, R passes gas all day long. ALL. DAY. LONG.

It's disgusting really and while the rest of us can be out of the room while R is doing R's thing, poor B can't get up and leave. B has to stay and work regardless the odor emanating from the other side of the room. On more than one occasion, this gaseous excretion problem has been brought up to the boss ... by B, by me, by others.

Apparently you just can't do anything about a person who, while having this problem, continues to eat, oh, I dunno, four or five jalapeno peppers with lunch. Even Beano has its limits.

But shouldn't said person be spoken to? This is a delicate subject, but come on! Go to the dammed bathroom. Fart. Come back. But please, stop spreading your smelly farts all over the room, not to mention no one wants to use the chair R sits in ... eeeeuuuuwwww

Let me move on to the latest. R is actually quite humorous and funny -- always nice to me. We share a laugh a day at least and if R gives me any lip, I hand it back on a silver platter. It is our coworker relationship and we've been getting along fine for years on just that level.

But R cannot be nice to B. Pretty much ever. For no particular reason that one can figure other than the insult that there has to be another person in the room to 'assist' during busy times. This is surely taken as a personal affront ... but it shouldn't be B that suffers because of it, it should be the boss. Bossman is the one who wants to extra person on duty.

Anyway ...

For years we worked in the worst room in the building (until a big addition and upgrade six or seven years ago). It was tiny, crowded and dirty. One person could work in the room on a good day. On a bad day we'd squeeze in, elbow to elbow, chair to chair, two and sometimes three of us! When we moved into the new big room ... we all felt elated that we had space to move, new chairs, new consoles, new everything! WOW!

Over the course of the last few months, Bossman has been working on setting up a new console. More ergonomic, less height for less craning of the neck ... that sort of thing. Everyone has an opinion, myself included. Bossman has been asking for feedback and suggestions but reminding all of us that he may not be able to make changes on this console, but the second one may be a better set up because of the first one. Makes sense ... he had the 'back up' console put in first so we can try it out and see how we like it.

So, all week, B and R and others are talking about the new console. Likes, dislikes, etc. B mentioned that there really isn't all that much area for writing ... and that if we had a busy day, we couldn't fit two people at the console. Valid points, both.

Late on Friday, after I settled down from the car accident and had time to really think and breath, B and I were chatting and she brought up those points to me. I told B that it wasn't that big a deal, those really hectic, busy, crazy storm and disaster days don't happen often and remember the room we came from? We can figure it out!

We should all keep a positive outlook and be thankful for all that we have now, that which we didn't have before.

Then B told me something that has had me pretty po'd all weekend. The Bossman left early on Friday and shortly after that, B & R were talking about the new console again. (we're all pretty tired of discussing it ad nauseam) and she brought up her concerns about space.

R told B, "You'd complain even if we gave you the rope to hang yourself with."

At which point B stopped talking to R except about work related items. But I know B well enough to know that B was terribly hurt by the remark.

And all I can think is: Who says that to a coworker? Forget that. Who says that to anyone?

Fairy Godmother

Today we celebrated Jazmine's Christening and first birthday.

St. Paul's church was founded back in 1878 or 1879 by estate workers of Irish extraction. From 1878 on through 1990 every priest at the church was of Irish descent. Until this priest ... who is decidedly French! Father Goudreau made the baptism interesting with his history of years past when mothers would come to the priest after the birth of their baby for a blessing, of baptisms performed on Sundays during mass, (but people will give one hour to God a week and so we don't do that anymore) He talked about water being the symbol for life and he included the little cousins in the process. They all carried the gifts and the accoutrement to baptism.

The service was lovely and my sister-in-law and I thought the priest was interesting enough and the church was lovely enough to almost get us to go back. We even talked about going together one Sunday.

After the baptism we all packed into our cars and headed to Lynch Park in Beverly for a cookout and some relaxation. Although honestly, it's a lot of work for someone to get the tables (it's a first come, first served deal), reserve the area with chairs, coolers, tables, grill. Today was a gorgeous day.

Jazmine's mom, Jamie had spread the good news that they are expecting their third!! later this year and we are all very happy for them. Food, cake, gifts and games for the little ones ... a pinata, donuts on a string, sack races ... all fun.

And then the clean up. I didn't do much other than put a few light things into bags. The neck and back are pretty good today -- although I did come home and sleep for two hours -- and then Jamie and DJ gathered us a round to make an announcement.

"Thank you everyone for coming. You all know now that I am expecting our third and today we'd like to ask two of you to be the next baby's godparents." My sister-in-law raises her hand and quips, "pick me! pick me!"

Then Jamie asked Emily if she would be willing to be the new baby's godmother? Emily says, "Sure, why not?" which got a few laughs because every one knows Emily isn't terribly effusive and she's limited in how she expresses herself, but she was beaming from ear to ear.

After she asked Emily, she then asked DJ's sister, Heather if she would be the godmother.

Too.

And Heather said, "I am so honored." Jamie explained to all of us that she had spoken to the priest and asked him if two godmothers would be welcome rather than the traditional godmother and godfather and he was quite willing and enthusiastic.

We all said our goodbyes and on the way home Emily was chatting about the new baby.

"Whatsit Mom? Boy or girl?" We don't know Emily. "Jamie know?" No, Jamie doesn't know. She doesn't want to know. She wants to be surprised. "Me too." "OoooH! I so happy!"

"I goin to be a Fairy Godmother!"
Emily & Amy, Lynch Park 2009

Just Call Me Crash

I took a vacation day today in order to attend a forum co-sponsored by Massachusetts Parents Advocating for Change and the Merrimack Valley Dept of Disability Services -- DDS (formerly DMR, Dept of Mental Retardation). The forum ran from 9:00 am to noon with a continental breakfast and beautiful view of the golf course ... on our first sunny day in a month of gray.

The forum was put together in answer to parents requests for information on programs and services available to their children with special needs who upon turning 22, are out of the local school district and into the adult world of services. And service providers.

It was a worthwhile attendance for me. I had no idea just how many choices are available to Emily (and her family) for programs and services from day rehabilitation services to vocational training and support. While I think I have a clear view of what I'd like her future to look like, I'm certain Emily's is somewhat different; it was good to have the feeling that others can accept my clear view and are willing to work with both Emily and her family to make her dreams and goals come to fruition.

As one presenter said, "Sometimes we meet them way down at the bottom of skills ... and then we simply take them along with us to where they want to be." I have no doubt that these speakers, advocates and worker bees have the best interests of all the young adults they provide services to ... in their hearts and daily lives.

There was a young man there. Okay, he's in his 30's ... and he spoke about how parents need to let go of their dreams for their child and let the child dream and grow. And let them make mistakes. And let them learn from their mistakes. He has made many, but he has learned from them too.

Amazing young man. He is an intern at the State House -- my oldest had mentioned him to me just two weeks ago. John was at one the Legislative Aid Seminars that she attended. And she wondered did I know him? I did not.

He gave those of us in attendance a few tips: "Listen! Listen! Listen!" He went on to explain that without the support of his family, friends and workers he would not be where he is today.

He told us to remember that we should think outside the box, take the time to really get to know our kids and who they want to become and most importantly we should believe in the person we are supporting.

How wise and smart he is. He ended his speech by telling us that "Right now I am living my dream! I couldn't ask for more."

I left the forum and in very heavy stop and go traffic I mulled much of what I had heard, read and seen today. I was flipping between discouragement and encouragement ... the budget has been slashed and slashed and it looks like the Governor will be passing a budget that will have many young and older adults losing placements or having less services due to huge deficits and no way to meet them.

I was driving along next to a Burger King set at the front of a strip mall ... with a large parking lot behind it and at the back of the lot there is a Panera Bread and an Ace Hardware store. Completely stopped, I opted to let a woman pull out of the parking lot at the end near the Ace store and wham!!! My car was rear ended. It was quite a jolt, but I didn't think there could be too much damage.

Looking into the rear view mirror I saw a smallish car with an older woman driving it. I promptly pulled into the parking lot and she followed me in. There were no easy parking spaces, so with my mind telling me 'this should only take a minute' I pulled into an easy out handicap parking space with the intention of her pulling in behind me ... I'd hop out, get her info, check the damage, if there was any and be on my way.

It was not to be. As I was pulling into the space ... CRASH!!! and this was a big one, the woman hit my car again, but this time, she hit the driver's side passenger door stoving it in and tore the running board nearly off the van. She managed to wedge her car between mine and another car that was parked in a handicap space ... and neither one of us could get out of our cars.

Within two minutes of each other, I was involved in two accidents.

The 'OH!!!' from the diners at the outside tables at Panera Bread was audible! I sat in my car, stunned ... for a minute or two and then started to collect my thoughts. I should call the police. Shouldn't I? I should call my husband, shouldn't I? I should get out of the dammed car ... but first I called David and then the police. Knowing they police were on the way and after three different people stopped to be sure that first I was okay, and then she was okay I managed to crawl across the front seat of the car and get out. Pen and paper and reg and license in hand I walked to the back of my car where there was barely a scratch to the bumper! But the driver's side ... oooohhhh. Ouch!

The police arrived and asked, "were you the one hit?" Yes. "well, how'd this happen" I told him first, she rear ended me, out there (pointing) at the street, while I was stopped in traffic. His eyes open a bit wider and the grin just hits the corners of his mouth ... and then when we pulled in here, I don't know what she was doing, but suddenly she hit me again! "You mean the same lady hit you twice?" Yes. He nearly Buwuwuwuaahhhahaaaaa'd in my face but managed to contain his emotions.

I said, "Is she all right?" He said, " Everything but her driving is all right." Oh my gosh ... and then the Fire Department arrived, two on the rescue, four on the engine, and although my back was hurting I refused transport. Emergency Departments are for emergencies and an achy back can be treated at a primary care docs easily enough. But while I am waiting for the notebook computer to come up so that I can sign a treatment refusal and HEPPA sheet ... they ask how'd this happen.

Have you ever seen six firefighters all trying not to laugh at the same time? Well, I have and it was killing me ... so I gave them permission to guffaw away. And oh, they did!

Eventually the FD left, the wrecker arrived and the lady who owned the convertible Mercedes in the parking space that had been it as well was able to move her car out ... The officer let me drive my car home but told me not to drive it 'around'. Like I felt like driving home, even.

I arrived home somewhat the worse for wear and although the officer had told me I would have to file two accident reports and open two claims, I was kind of hoping I wouldn't. The good news is the lady and I have the same insurance company, the bad news is there are four separate claim numbers. Two for me. Two for her.

As the afternoon progressed so did the ache in my back ... moving up into my shoulder blade with the numbness and tingling and down into my left arm, over the elbow, down the forearm and out the ring finger. I called the doc's, headed over and was given a couple of prescriptions and an x-ray requistion. Off to the hospital for a c-spine series, back to the pharmacy for the scrips and finally, at long last, home to rest.

At some point, this very nice, older woman, all made up and in lovely clothing came over to talk to me. She explained to me that she drives in and out of Boston for treatment of her esophogeal cancer and that she's had a problem with her car before. She told me where and when she bought it and how it acts up and she can't control it. Honestly? I think her foot slipped off the brake and onto the gas ... and she can say what she wants.

So I ask you? Who's having the bad day? Me? or Her?

Just call me Crash.

My Staycation Has Me Stymied

My Staycation has me stymied. There's no money for a spa for the deck, a pool for the back yard or a Corvette to cruise in ...

What to do? What to do?

We live in an area truly rich with history and there are beaches, famous and not-so-famous within twenty minutes of home and as far away as a couple of hours drive. Connecticut with Mystic Seaport and two casinos ... Providence, Rhode Island with it's wonderful gourmet offerings as well as lively entertainment ... Boston, Newburyport, Cape Cod ... the Mohawk Trail.

... the mountains of Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont are a stone's throw away (as the crow flies) and all three states offer enough recreational activities and relaxing opportunities ...

... right here on the North Shore there are gorgeous beaches, hiking and biking trails, short trips to great shopping and eating as well as historical cities that offer art, theater, museums.

So, let's see, I live smack in the middle of the six New England states and I am wondering how to spend some time off this summer.

There has to be something wrong with me.

I'm still struggling to write for my seemingly defunct, but not quite yet dead, blog.

If I think on that a little too long I get this strange and weird idea that I should somehow start the charge for a class action suit against AOL and its' treatment of us ... but that's just silly. Lots has changed in several months and I've noticed that some folks are posting their blog links on their wall in Face Book, which makes sense.

I'm still finding this blogspot system a bit cumbersome and although I thought I had it all 'down' I've found that since I was absent while sick, I've got to get my own system back in order.

Drat. Sometimes I think I should just give it up, but then I think of all the time and energy we all have put in to the effort and I think ... that's silly too. So I'm hanging in, wishing I had something worthwhile to share with an audience that may be more than just my old AOL neighborhood and friends. Seems to me that AOL J offered just that, a neighborhood feel and here, it's a different culture and something I'm struggling to learn.

Probably just me and my never sleeping mind on over drive again ...

And on the 25th day of June, we finally, finally during the late afternoon saw the sun peek through the clouds. I guess that means that officially, in 25 days we've had just 4 days of sun.


Mackey just celebrated his 7th birthday yesterday with cake and presents! Happy Birthday Mackey! You make me smile.

Mindsleep

Mine does not.
Sleep that is. As a rule.
Dream free sleeps evoke solutions to problems or difficulties that are pushed to the furthest reaches of my mind during waking hours. The resolves I make while sleeping, the ideas I come up with, the solutions are not always crystal clear when I wake but usually I am able to pull the scattered, blurred thoughts together enough to ... use them.

As I lay my weary body and too tired mind in bed last night, I had hoped for a solution to an issue or two that have been dogging me lately. They are not 'big deals' but they are problems that require delicacy and tact in order to save feelings and face.

Mindsleep arrived last night. So there were no solutions. There were, however, some very strange, disjointed dreams.

My sister-in-law and I finally went for that long walk in the woods. The one I've been begging her to go on for years. (not really) As we strolled the path of the Bird Sanctuary, a giant black bear crested the hill above us and a quick decision had to be made. I was ducking under a full branched, thick needled pine tree, she was racing up hill toward the bear. I thought, "Wow, she can really run fast! Why didn't I know that?" I was terrified, wrapped around the base of the trunk, glued in place, eyes closed, body taught while she, she ran full force into that giant black bear screaming as if her life depended on it. She stopped screaming. I sensed a second bear approaching -- I could feel the ground tremble as came closer. Refusing to move, to acknowledge its presence, body so tight, I knew when it had moved on.

Plink. Plink. Plink. plinkplinkplinkplink. Coins dropping into Campbell's Tomato Soup cans. Plink. Plink. Plink. P.L.I.N.K!

Cold, damp air. A wet mist swirling about me. I am young and I am confused. Where am I? Why is there mist? Alone, I turn, turn, turn, looking, searching and then I fade away into the mist.

....'come on get higher, loosen my lips'... the clock radio wakes me and I realize I had Mindsleep last night.

Shouldn't I feel rested?

Dotting I-s, Crossing T-s; Do We Get Them All?

I am the parent of a wonderful young woman who happens to have Down syndrome. Way back when she was born and we were presented with the news of 'bad things to come' I sort of shrugged and walked away (at least in my head) from that mean doctor who didn't, obviously, know anything.

Turns out that I was pretty right at the time. And now, after years of growth, learning and experience, I find that even ... I don't, obviously, know everything.

The good news is, it isn't just me ... it's mother's of her friends and close friends of mine and what is the old saying, "misery loves company". Well, for me (and yes, for us) it's more about joyful moments and experiencing life in a different way.

Well. I'll relate a little story here about a friend's son ... and it's really quite ... well, you be the judge.

Let's call him Special, for obvious reasons, and let's not use his real name, for other obvious reasons. I will tell you this ... he's a sweetheart and a good kid.

Recently his parents allowed him to get a debit card for his checking account. Emily has had one for a number of years, more because it came automatically than for any real thought about obtaining one. But at Special's house and in his life this was a big deal.

In fact, it was such a milestone moment for him that every time someone he hadn't seen in a while came by for a visit ... he would stop what he was doing, pull out his billfold and say, "hey, Kathy, look! I got a debit card!" holding it up for all to see and congratulate him on his very good fortune!

Special was instructed in its use and told to use it wisely, but as all parents of special children know, you really have to dot the I-s and cross those T-s. Because if you don't, something is bound to happen.

Special has been allowed to walk home from school for the last few months of the year, at his request, and his parents trepidation. However, he has mastered the art of arriving where he should be on time and if he leaves a note or lets someone in the house know where he is going, he is allowed to walk to the park around the corner or to the corner store, around the other corner.

One day he went off to the corner store and shortly after arriving home, he asked to speak to his mother in private. Hm. That can't be good. They sat down together and he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and put them on the table. "Mom, I bought cigarettes."

What's a mother to say? He's of legal age to purchase ... but does he smoke? Has he smoked? Turns out that, no he has not, but he thought another member of the family could use the cigarettes. His mom explained to him that he shouldn't buy cigarettes, because that other family member could do it themselves and reminded him that he knows cigarettes aren't good for him.

Having straightened that out, she did what all good mothers do ... she headed to the corner store to speak with the clerk there and hopefully, finish dotting the I-s and crossing the T-s.

Ms Clerk was happy to oblige in that she will not sell cigarettes to Special, even though he is of legal age, because, one, his mother nicely asked and two, she worries about Special too. As a matter of fact, she herself had spoken to Special about buying cigarettes. She told mom that she would speak to the other clerks, and by the way, are you aware that ...

... the other kids, the underage kids, are asking him to buy cigarettes for them?

Uh. No. So mom heads home to have another sit down with Special and explains that although he is old enough to purchase cigarettes, the younger kids are not old enough to legally purchase or smoke them and that although it's not likely, he certainly could get into trouble if he were to be found buying for them. And, if you keep buying expensive cigarettes there won't be any money in your account for you to spend!

He understands as well as he can but he wonders, "what do I do if they ask?"

Tell them to ask their mother to buy cigarettes for them.

I Wanted Candy!

Raising children in small town America allowed parents to allow us freedoms. As a young child, my friend Elaine and I would dress up my old tuxedo cat Mac in baby clothes, lay him gently in the old baby carriage, cover the opening with mosquito netting and then we'd walk 'up town'.

For his part, Mac just went to sleep. He was a good old cat.

'Up town' was Danvers Square ... a wonderful place for young kids ... a movie theater, pizza parlor, Five & Dime, Woolworth's, Danvers Savings Bank, the VFW and a host of other interesting spots we could walk through and receive 'ohs and ahs' over our baby.

Our favorite stop was Woolworth's because even though the lady behind the lunch counter knew we had a cat in the baby carriage she never shooed us away, she simply made the necessary "ohs and ahs" and took our order for vanilla cokes. Occasionally we'd have enough money to add a cookie to the order, but usually it was just the coke.

We'd sit quietly and sip slowly making those sodas last as long as we could and then stroll the aisles of the store, uneven, dull wooden floors creaking and squeaking beneath our summer tennies. Woolworth's had it all, from Evening In Paris par fume to Nancy Drew mystery stories ... it was a wonderful place to pass the time.

One day Elaine had enough money to buy some candy. We finished our drinks and strolled the store, eventually arriving at the cashiers counter. The woman behind the counter was so very nice ... she rang up Elaine's small purchase, thanked her and looked expectantly at me. "I'm not buying anything," I said. She smiled at us and we left the store and began the half mile walk back to my house.

We were just out of the square -- "I wanted candy too." as I pulled a box of Jujubes out of the carriage. I'd tucked them in under the mat while I was making over Mac. The look she gave me said it all and she simply held her hand out offering me a piece of her Hershey bar. I accepted and sheepishly put the Jujubes back in the carriage.

Once home, we undressed Mac and let him escape to parts unknown. Elaine headed home to her house and I went to my room.

There I sat, alone and guilty. It was time to do the right thing. I didn't tell my mother or my father what I had done, but after a while I did ask if I could meet Elaine and go for a walk. The response was just as usual, "yes, but be careful and be home early."

I headed 'up town' on my own, stolen candy in my pocket. I remember thinking how embarrassed I was that I was going to have to return the candy and how awful it was of me to steal it in the first place.

Standing outside the door of the store, building courage, I wondered if the cashier lady would call the police! I had committed such a crime! Finally after stalling as long as I could, I marched in and right up to the cashier. Sliding the box of Jujubes across the counter. "I have to return these to you. I took them without paying. I'm very sorry." And I was so humiliated to have done something that terrible.

There are people in the world who know just how to handle a situation and she was one of them. "Oh, I'm sure you just forgot to pay for them. Let me just put the nickel in the register for you. You pay me back the next time you come in."

I thanked her, took the box of candy and sniveling, walked home again. I couldn't eat that candy if I'd tried. I felt so guilty and humiliated. Later I gave the box of candy to my brother. "Where did you get this?" "Woolworth's!" And that was that.

The very next time Elaine and I walked 'up town'. I sipped cold water while Elaine had her vanilla coke and then I paid back the nickel I owed the cashier.

For years I didn't tell anyone that story until I was busy trying to raise and teach my own children some of life's lessons.

The kindness that cashier extended to me ... and the lesson she taught me ... all without fanfare or fuss has never been forgotten.

And yeah, I know ... while I was making up for stealing, I was lying to my parents.

Cross posted @ womenon.blogspot.com in answer to 'the challenge'.

Friday's Faltering Fodder

A girl and a dress ...

... becomes a princess ...

... on a date with a handsome prince ...

... What!?!! Kissing?

It would be easy for me to write that 'not a thing' has been going on since my last post of April 25th. What?! That long? Yes indeed. So hang in there while I let my mind take a walk back through time.

Emily and boyfriend Steven attended his senior prom on May 16th. This prom was the last of the high school dance experiences for Emily. She'd been to Homecoming, two junior proms and now this, her third senior prom!

Both of my daughters love the girl-lee gig. Nothing better than shopping for a formal dress, shoes, jewelry, make-up and then heading off to the seamstress for the finer fittings and the nail salon and hair salon for all the necessary 'stuff' we girls tend to do. Needed or not.

I confess. I love this 'stuff' too. Honest. I've taught them everything I know and we've learned a few tricks along the way. While my intent is to age gracefully, it'll be okay with me if I carry my wrinkles along ... I earned 'em and I really do love them. Mostly.

Recently my niece wrote that I was a fashion-eesta ... at least, that's how she remembers me being. Her memory is good and while I don't buck the current dressing trends, I don't actually try to wear some of them. Let's face it ... I'm not going to look the way I used to in polyester and spandex. Nope. Not going to.

Health issues are not going to be put aside tonight. Keeping it brief: I'm still in the middle of a process ... there is little to no pain now. I hesitate to say there is none, because each time I think that's gone it comes raging back to me. Two more surgeries to come. It's all good.

It's all good because I have finally crawled my way out of a bout of depression (hidden fairly well if not completely) without the use of prescriptions. I could easily have requested something, anything to help with the problem, but in the past I've been given meds with little to no support ... 'here, take one a day and in three weeks you'll feel better.' Will it fix the problems? 'no, they just won't seem as bad.'

That brand of medicine does not work for me so I took my own route ... writing, reading, exercising, gardening and doing my best to put and keep things in perspective. I don't know ... I'm good. At being 'functionally depressed'. Go figure. (I think this runs in the family)

My flower beds are looking lovely, what with all the work I've been putting in to them. I've planted some new bushes and perennials and just a few annuals and have spent many hours relocating and mulching. More to come.

When I find the time to learn to use the new camera ... I may actually get some good photos. I do like that there is the fully automatic setting, but feel I should be doing so much more. Let me laugh at that. I haven't spent more than five minutes on the manual and I'm hoping to find my muse this summer.

A favorite picture of one of my great nephews taken at Easter this year.

Know what's really cool about this age? Even if you don't have grand kids, you have nieces and nephews who provide you with great-nieces and great-nephews -- it's just as much fun, I think, as having grand kids! Hey wait! Should that be grand-nieces and grand-nephews? Doesn't matter. The little ones bring joy and happiness every time you see them. Who could ask for more?

Golf season should be in full swing and if the weather cooperates any time soon I might get out more often to play. Maybe even play well! I've been on the course a few times this year; stumbling to find my game ... it'll come. I hope. And even if it doesn't I'm out in the fresh air, walking and enjoying the company of good friends.

Oh, and that dammed Face Book. What was I thinking? Okay, I'll tell ya' ... I love FB because I can very quickly keep up with friends and cousins and friendly acquaintances ... the problem is this: you either get behind because you don't read the wall every day or you spend so darned much time reading you don't get to blogs.

Face it Kathy. You are just never satisfied!