Monday, February 28, 2011


     I'm making costumes for five people and trying to finish them up by Friday, (ha not gonna happen), I need to clean the house for house guests and make it relatively fur free by Friday, (BIL is allergic to cats), I need to clean the costume stuff out of the spare room so Mom has somewhere to sleep tomorrow, (she is not allergic to cats), I have one more paper mache project, feathers to dye, sequins to buy, head pieces to make, get Mom to surgery, then there is the care of mom after her surgery, the daily change of bandages, groceries, blah, blah, blah.  It's going to kill me if I don't have those costumes ready for Mardi Gras, but then again, I'm not focusing on mom like I should.  I need an extra pair of hands, but they're not here yet.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Parade Day

     Today is parade day; basically I'll be out on the neutral ground with the family, extended family and any friend anyone wants to bring along.  This year the BIL parked his trailer on the route and his sister contributed a portable tent so the kids are going to be corralled in the trailer.  SIL lives on the route so we have a restroom and then of course everyone will bring food or drinks.  BIL will be doing the BBQ as usual.

     We are hoping to see "Elvis" and his family this year, an older gentleman who does his hair like Elvis.  He always sits next to our spot.  Last year "Elvis" didn't come out, and while we never have anything much to say to one another, we did miss not seeing them last year.  This particular parade brings the people who moved away after Katrina back for a visit so it's almost like old times.  Those of us who came back always keep our eyes peeled looking for familiar faces that we haven't seen in a year.

     So today while awesome as in it's a day filled with food, fun and friends, it's also kind of sad.  The gaps along the route where people once were, the one high school band when there used to be three, and a missing "Elvis" are sort of depressing and one of those many reminders that the most important thing we lost in Katrina was our people.  It's a weird feeling looking forwards to an event that both elates and saddens.  You'd think I'd be used to it by now.

EDIT:  Good news!  "Elvis" was in the building, (so to speak)!  Whoo hoo!


Thursday, February 24, 2011

Lovin' Me a Smart Ass in Training

     The four year old niece got sick so I baby sat yesterday.  We had a blast.  There was the scintillating conversation where we discussed the merits of watching the Backyardigans to further one's dancing abilities.  Then we played several exciting games of Candy Land and the blue guy continuously heckled the yellow guy for getting stuck in the licorice spot which of course prompted the red guy to try and make nice between the two, (green just wanted to play the game and stay out of all the drama).  All of this was great, but the best part of the day was lunch.

     Trying to get a four year old kid to eat a decent lunch is hard enough in a house with a coca-cola cake sitting in full view on the counter, but throw in the chips, and a sandwich just isn't going to appeal.  As anyone knows one doesn't order a four year old to eat and think it's going to end well, you have to go at it like a poker player.  So there we are at the table, Blondie, (Clint Eastwood) and Doc Holiday, (Val Kilmer), (I'm Doc), looking at our hands and playing with the chips eyeing one another;(cue the theme music from The Good, The Bad), and...

     I open with, "Okay, I'll give you three chips for three bites of sandwich."  "No.  I want three chips for one bite of sandwich."  The child expertly pulls a straw from the juice box wrapper, slips it between her lips and chews on the end as if it were a stogie and squints at me hard.  I realize I'm not playing with any ordinary four year old so I try another tactic.  "Okay, I'll raise you one handful of chips for one quarter of the sandwich."  A few moments of silence and then, "Okay, I'm in."

     So we sit in companionable silence eating until we come down to the last chip.  Suddenly Blondie says, "I need more chips."  "But you didn't finish that quarter of your sandwich yet."  The straw shifts from the right side of her mouth over to the left with one flick of the tongue.  "But I'm almost finished so I should get more chips."  "You don't get any more chips until you finish another quarter of that sandwich."  Blondie knows how this poker game goes and that while Doc lives up to a bargain, she isn't going to cave in either.  She squints across the table working that straw back and forth between her lips, (she's got a juice box habit that's hard to kick), back and forth, back and forth.  Time seems to stand still.  Just when I think we are going to have to draw from under the table, she reaches down and snaps the single chip left in her plate in two.  "HA, SO WHAT?" she shouts.  "NOW I'VE GOT TWO CHIPS!"  I love me a smart ass.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

I Need An Exacto Knife and a White Bathrobe Pt. 1

     I'm not sure how I feel about this whole health care bill thing, but I do know how I feel about health care as it stands now.  We just did this circus with my FIL last year and now here we go with my mother.  She found a mole in Nov., her doctor told her in Dec. she would do a shaving in Jan.   Three months later it comes out the thing is a "stage 3 malignant melanoma."  The name sounds dramatic. Apparently its earned the name honestly; it spreads fast and once spread doesn't have much of a cure rate.  The chemo drug hasn't really been proven to be very effective, but it's all they've got at this point.

     So we get this news and are told to move on it right away.  We are sent to the nurse who is going to get us a surgeon and call us the next day.  Like I said, I remember how this went with my FIL, so when the next day comes and no one has called and no one answers the phone, I get in my car and head over there.  They are of course surprised to see me.  As expected, no one has made a call and like the harpy I am, I stand there and wait while they make calls.  Apparently surgeons are a bit malignant melanoma shy and so they aren't all that plentiful, or rather in Mom's insurance network they aren't plentiful.

     Eventually, the nurse finds "Surgeon A" and "Oncologist X".  The surgery is scheduled for the 9th.  Two days later we see "Oncologist X"who says he doesn't like our "choice Of "Surgeon A," (like we selected him off of the showroom floor), and wants us to see "Surgeon B."  Well we are willing, but I've talked to nurse so and so at "Surgeon B's" office and they don't take Mom's insurance and they can't see her until March.  So like a doofus I'm thinking this doctor would say, "well let me have my people call his people and see about working something out."  Nope.  Oncologist sarcastically says, "well, I'm sure  'Surgeon A' will do okay,"leaves and tells us to see him after the surgery.

     So I call the insurance people who tell me if "Oncologist X" does a medical necessity form and "Surgeon B," is approved after a three day wait then we may be able to see "Surgeon B."  I call "Surgeon B" and talk to "Nurse B" who is a sweetie and tells me she can move some dates around seeing how it's a malignant melanoma we are dealing with.  Meanwhile "Surgeon A" finds out we are seeing "Oncologist X" and says he is now sending us to "Surgeon C."  To make a long story shorter, after many phone calls and faxes on my part, we ended up with "Surgeon C."  The surgery is now on March 1st.

     I'm a drama queen not a diva so this ego crap is making me nuts.  If any of these people's mother had a "stage 3 malignant melanoma" on her face that needed removing, somehow, I have a feeling it would have been removed by now.  Nov., Dec., Jan., Feb., March; that's four months; that is not acceptable.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Damn Raccoons

     I am a costume snob and this year I'm having costume block.  I just can't think of anything with any worthy satire, well actually I did, but Dear Husband said it was anti-Louisiana, and while I'll do pretty much anti anything, I won't do anti-LA or anti-New Orleans.  I do have some standards.  Politicians are always fair game, but no one has done anything to inspire me.  Seeing how it's getting to be that time,  I guess I'll go with my back up idea, it's not satire, but it's not bad either.  I doubt it will be on the news though.

     Last night I started on the costume.  I measured, I sketched, I cut screen.  I researched paper mache, tore up newspaper, cooked up paste.  I took pictures to show my group how things were progressing.  I fed the mosquitoes, dodged the raccoons who were after the cat food and intermittently hopped around a bit in front of the motion sensor light every few minutes while I stuck paper mache to screen, (the stay on setting refuses to work for me).  When I got done I was covered with mosquito bites and had a nice work out trying to keep the lights on.  None the less, I was pleased with the progress.

     I woke up this morning looking forward to seeing the finished product.  I opened the back door expecting to see dry paper mache ready for a coat of paint and instead saw screen with bits of paper scattered about the patio.  I was/am ticked off and amused.  Those stupid raccoons are fed by almost every other neighbor, they inhale the cat food I leave out for my strays, I leave them scraps in the woods so why they felt the need to eat my paper mache is beyond any reasoning.  The nerve of those ungrateful beasts; the audacity; the chutzpah, (we're Cajun, but my great uncle was Jewish and lived with the family for years so its been incorporated)!  Dear Husband has a buddy who has expressed an interest in hunting those little furry beasts if ever I'd let him, I think it's time those raccoons and I had a talk about straightening up or else.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Using Adversity to Your Advantage

     My dear husband is trying to quit smoking and has discovered that he can literally get away with being rude and grumpy at work by simply saying, "I'm trying to quit smoking and you are the unfortunate soul who has caught me at my worst."  Wow, wish I could use that one, but everyone knows I don't smoke.  So when can you be horrible to other people, get away with it, and be comfortable with it?

     I figure there is a fine line somewhere.  For example you could be a complete *itch on the phone and then try to excuse it because grandma died, but it wouldn't fly.  No one is going to be okay with being abused just because your mimi died last week. Obviously no one's mimi would approve of your behavior. Then there are the excuses that make you uncomfortable, like, yeah, I just snapped your head off because I've just become homeless.  Way too personal; uncomfortable for you and your victim.  Perhaps it's a combination of  situation, timing, and something everyone can relate to.

     So can I use death, cancer, being a victim of a disaster, as an excuse?  No.  However, fighting an addiction, pain, or being dumped would be acceptable excuses for being snippy.  This next week or two DH is going to get away with social transgressions all over the place while I have to be polite and quietly deal with getting my elderly mother ready to face this malignant melanoma.  I'm envious of DH, but won't hold it against him, after all he is trying to quit smoking.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

My First Post!

     I've just spent the past hour trying to come up with a clever and catchy name for my new blog and now I'm spent.  Freakin' figures.  I'm calling it quits for the night.