Friday, May 13, 2016

Tent Shopping!

Okay get ready for this...I'm going to start camping again!  I say AGAIN but truth be known I've only gone camping twice in my whole life unless you count those few times I slept in my backyard with a sheet draped over the clothesline in place of a real tent...I guess you could include those.  My grandmother had a shit fit thinking we were going to get killed but hey we were kids and were invincible and unkillable, right?

The last time I went camping was at Kickapoo Park near Rantoul, Illinois when my ex was attending Air Force training at the tech school there.  Kickapoo Park was oh gosh this was a long time ago but it was probably a half hour or so away.  The thing about Kickapoo Park is that there is a rule we didn't think about.  You. Can't Camp. In. The. Park.  One of the ex's school mates knew of the park but failed to let us know that camping in the park was prohibited.  There was a campground there, but we never saw that nor did we even know about it.



It was 1976.  The year of the Bicentennial.  We drove into the park and found a perfect place to throw down our blankets.  We didn't have tents.  Boones Farm was flowing and one of us started a fire.  Big. Mistake.  This alerted the park rangers who weren't happy with us one bit.  They escorted us to the campground and we were to mingle in with the other campers there.  No big deal I guess.  But everyone there hated us.  We were loud.  You know how kids on Boones Farm are.  Well we were of age but you couldn't tell it. 

At midnight, we all broke out in a Happy Birthday to America and all the people around us were telling us to shut the hell up, they were trying to get some sleep.

Some patriotic people, I'll tell you.

But that was the very last time.  Many years have passed and ever since I had my gall bladder out, I've been on a mission to do things that I love to do.  I had forgotten I loved camping actually.  I love sleeping in the forest and breathing in that pine scent while I slept.  I had forgotten how cool it was to get up in the morning in the woods.  And talk about roughing it.  I want to rough it.

So what I was thinking was...since it will be a month before we start our camping adventures, I need a few things.  Like a tent.

I was thinking about this one:



Nice, huh?  I watched a video about it and looking at every other tent in the world, I think I have narrowed it down to this one because of the room and the zippered porch or whatever that room is called.  I'm a newbie at this I'm telling you.  Ronnie and I are going to Ganders tomorrow to get some ideas on what else is out there and this way we can tell whether this is the one we want.  I have already bought an air bed and a toilet - two of the most important things!  I can see myself leaving the tent in the middle of the night and getting raped at the porta-potties or whatever they are calling them at the campgrounds.

So the plan is we're going to check out every campground we can and I'm going to rate them so you can kinda sorta know what you're getting into if you're a newbie like myself.  I'll let you know!

Saturday, December 26, 2015

That Moment When Christmas Is Over

I wish you could see my living room.  Dog toys.  Everywhere. No kids in the household so we spoil the dogs but don't think I went out and bought all these toys.  Their stocking was stuffed full of new toys but because Max looooves to unwrap gifts, all during the year I would pick up a toy here and a toy there that he wasn't playing with, wash it and stuff it in a plastic bag with all the others I had confiscated.  Does anyone else do this? This is nothing to what it looked like yesterday.


This is what it looked like yesterday:


Cody (not pictured above) sat on the couch next to me in his new bed which he loooved, but here he is in his Santa hat not looking particulary happy:


I went out on the deck this morning.  I started to put away some of the decorations and I stopped myself.  It's not over 'til the fat lady sings and I haven't heard any fat lady sing.  I'll probably go "It's done.  Let's get it all put away." But, not yet.  

This was an unusual Christmas.  Instead of snow, we had a heat wave for this time of year.  If it hadn't rained, it would have been warm enough to at least walk the beach.  Windows were open.  The air came on a few times.  I thought this must be the way it is in Florida.  I've always told the kids I would love to move to Florida because I hate the cold so much.

And this is why I don't want Christmas to be over.  I know soon enough I'll be freezing my kabooza off.  No more walking into my carport with a t-shirt and instead I'll be holding my nose and mouth in my hand because I can't breath the wind is blowing so bad and would freeze my nose off if I didn't have it cupped in my gloved hands.  It was in the sixties at night and seventies during the day and I know that isn't all that much of a heat wave but you have to remember that it's the end of December and it could have been a lot worse.  I think that's the reason I don't want it to be over.  According to the news, we have broken the record for the warmest Christmas EVER.  My daughter wore shorts on Christmas Day.

But I know Ol' Man Winter is going to show its face.  I'm hibernating when that happens.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Khloe Doesn't Do Doctors

Wow.  I haven't posted for a long time! I miss this blog I really do.  It's a silly blog; the kind that makes you want to be silly, write silly.

So let me tell you about my day today.  We have a new puppy.  Khloe.  I swear she's half Sheltie and half jack rabbit.  She jumps ALL. THE. TIME.  She'll come in real handy at Easter.

So today I found something in her doggie doo.  And. It. Moved.  So I text my daughter who is the real mommy and she asks me to take her to the vet.  After groaning about not being able to do my work, I grabbed the dog and we headed out.  Seems the Amish people had given her worm medicine but you're supposed to follow up with worming about 4 times in the first year.  Something my daughter didn't tell me but I figured she didn't know either.  It's like the time I got stopped for not having an inspection sticker on her brand new truck which she actually had for four months and didn't get it inspected and I figured she knew what she was doing.  Maybe it came with some kind of clause that you don't have to get inspected for awhile.  You never know; I don't keep up with automobile law.

So...we get into the little room and the dog runs straight behind me in and cowers in the corner.  I jumped up and took a picture:


What a little chicken shit.  Picture me sitting in front of her.  She's thinking maybe the doctor won't see me I guess.  

Visit went okay, he gave us some medicine and we were on our way home.  I look behind me every now and then and she's in the same position.  Won't lie down.  I was thinking maybe she'd get sleepy and fall asleep in that position.  She never did but didn't move from that position either.

She's sweet, though.  Love her to death.

Friday, October 23, 2015

Don't Tell Me It Ain't So When 'Tis So....

Nothing infuriates me more than having someone try to beat around the bush with why they fucked messed up making it not their fault but someone else's.  And yes I'm using the fuck word because it just seems so appropriately politically correct at the moment.  Even though I use the fuck word when I hurt myself or part of the phrase I still call my ex-boyfriend. You figure it out.  Oh, no she didn't just say that.

I'm talking about LensCrafters.  You know the place.  The swanky high-priced got more selection than anyone eyeglass store in the mall.  For beginners, they have you hooked.  I bought my sunglasses from them a couple of years ago and absolutely love them even though I still have to push them up my nose every five seconds.  But they are perty and I don't feel like going through another episode of I'm right you're wrong.  It's no big deal really so that's one frustration I don't have to deal with.

But, LensCrafters.  For one thing, does anyone's insurance get covered by them?  So far, I've only talked to two people, and the answer is no.  Okay so...my daughter, son and I went early Christmas shopping yesterday.  I should have known better than to make that our first stop.

My daughter wanted not one but two pairs - a pair of regular glasses and a pair of sunglasses.  The lady who helped her was really nice.  When I finished shopping in Boscov's with my son, we slipped over to LensCrafters to see how far my daughter was along in making her purchase.  So she's sitting in a chair with the two pairs in front of her, asks me if I thought they looked good on her, I said yes and the lady who waited on her was super duper nice telling us "I see where you look like your mother...blah blah blah...she's so pretty."  Well.  I was on this high because I was out with the two people in the world I love the most and we were going to Olive Garden and that in itself was enough to make me the happiest person in the world (love their trivia game thingee they have on the tables now not to mention their complimentary sip of wine but I digress...) so I'm figuring it's my inner happiness blinding this woman because either she needed glasses herself or it was just another ploy that the managers at LensCrafters throw at you to buy whatever they tell you looks good.  I mean a $500 purchase from each person that walks in makes a really good impression on the corporate higher ups.

But it wasn't the lady that helped us that I had a problem with at least not directly even though it all boiled down to her fault.

After my daughter had made the purchase we went to Olive Garden to wait for the glasses to be done.  Okay so I had a couple of sips of wine and I was feeling not tipsy actually but what's the word - like I'm the shit, know what I mean?

So we go back in and they bring out the two pairs of glasses.  There's a Chinese lady this time.  I'm sitting in one of the chairs listening to my daughter tell the Chinese lady that one of the lens isn't right.  She can see fine out of one eye but the other is blurry.  The Chinese lady is saying that she should go back to her doctor to find out what is wrong.  My daughter put her old glasses on, she saw fine, put the other glasses on and it was blurry.  What the hell did going to her doctor do anything?

I couldn't take it anymore.  I stood up and started getting a little...loud.

"But our doctor used the prescription you have down here," the Chinese lady calmly told me.  I had to admire her despite the fact I wanted to bash her head in.  I worked in a restaurant one time and I knew the spiel.  You act calm.  State the facts.  Don't let the customer unnerve you.

So I told her your doctor doesn't know what he's doing.

She's still calm.  I think I wanted her to get pissed at me.  Throw something.  Quit.  I hate that.

"Go to your doctor and find out what is wrong," she said, continually blaming someone else and not them.

"What does going to her doctor have to do with why your glasses are messed up?" I yelled.

"I solly.  I just work here."

So while we were going back and forth, my daughter looked again at the prescription and it looked like the first lady who was so nice had messed up on one of the numbers and that's why the prescription was wrong. So she showed Chinese lady and Chinese lady goes, "Oh.  I call your doctor in the morning.  So solly. We get it straightened out."

We left leaving the Chinese lady unharmed and that set the mood for the rest of the night.

So this morning my daughter calls the place and they said they checked with her doctor and the numbers are right and LensCrafters is wrong.

Needless to say, we're done.  She's going back today to get her money credited back to her credit card.

I'm telling you this story so you can just be leery or at least be on your toes.  Just don't tell me it's so when it ain't.


Friday, April 24, 2015

Only no one told me about it...

"They're selling Cecil's house."

This was texted to me by my daughter last night.  The only Cecil I knew was a great-uncle on my mother's side who passed away many years ago, so she surely wasn't talking about him.

I texted her back.  "Cecil who?"

"Your uncle."

I kinda sat there not moving because the first thing that I thought of was that Emma, his wife, had passed away only I never heard anything about it.

I immediately put her name in Google and sure enough she passed away two years ago.

Only no one told me about it. 

My world kinda fell apart at that point as I read her online obituary:

Emma Marion Tilghman, 87, wife of the late Cecil Francis Tilghman, Sr. and a resident of Exmore, VA passed away Wednesday, July 24, 2013 at her residence. A native of Exmore, she was the daughter of the late James Rosser Marion and the late Gladys Bell Marion Richardson. Mrs. Tilghman was a retired teacher’s assistant for Northampton County Public Schools and a member of the Exmore Baptist Church.

Survivors include four children; Margaret Smith and her husband, Jim, of Craddockville, VA, Cecil F. Tilghman, Jr. and his wife, Darlene, of Painter, VA,
Julie Ann Tilghman Culbertson and her husband, Jerry, of Crisfield, MD, and Tracy T. Dunn of Onley, VA; a sister, Jean M. Parker and her husband, Kendall, of Hampton, VA; five grandchildren and eleven great- grandchildren. She was predeceased by a grandson, Harry Tilghman.


And no one told me about it.

I didn't know who to blame - my family for not letting me know or myself for not keeping in touch with them.  Emma played a major role in my life and I never got the chance (or took the chance) to go see her in her final days and tell her.  I always wanted to but somehow there was never a convenient time.

It all started back in the early sixties when my sister and I were sent to live with my grandmother.  Uncle Cecil, Emma, and their kids, Julie and Tracee, lived next door.  We had family on that whole block - kinda weird when you think about it but I loved it.  All my cousins lived a short walk away and plenty of kids to play with. It was a small town and coming from California was culture shock even though I was only ten years old.

My grandmother didn't have a whole lot to give except love, and Emma being right next door was right there with anything my sister and I needed.  I remember her tomato sandwiches more than anything - they were the yummiest.  My sister and I were always invited for lunch whenever we were hanging around and there were always these tomato sandwiches and sweet tea to quench our thirst. We would giggle and Uncle Cecil would have to yell, "Hear hear!"  And that made us giggle even more. I remember having to go to the bathroom to settle down because Uncle Cecil could get pretty darn mad if provoked enough.

It was a wonderful summer catching lightning bugs in mason jars, setting up skits and charging the adults 5 cents a head and riding bikes until the sun went down.

School started, new friendships were born but along with that came hardships as my grandmother struggled to feed us and keep us warm.  I remember our old gas stove started spitting out black soot all over the place and Emma opened up her house to us.  I loved taking showers - something I didn't have at my grandmother's.  I also remember not having lunch to take to school and I had to go next door to ask Emma if she minded loaning me four pieces of bread.  She never ever made me feel like a beggar as she handed me the bread with a smile on her face.  I also remember when we started playing softball at school and we were all required to have softball gloves.  Only I didn't own one and I knew getting the money for one was out of the question.  Emma loaned me Julie's.  And I also remember snow on the ground and not having any boots.  Emma loaned me Uncle Cecil's so I could play in the snow.

These are only a few things I remember about this gracious woman.  It would fill a book. And I find out she has died.  And no one bothered to tell me about it.  God rest Emma Frances Marion Tilghman. I only hope you know how much you meant to me.