My Words

Some rants. Some raves. Some laughter.

[sugarlumpy-blog]

Don't wake the bear...I'm grouchy!

A few days ago, I got one of those automated calls from my drugstore asking if I want to refill one of my scripts. I missed the call but they left an automated voice message telling me they would call me later.

The next day they called but I missed the call again.

Yesterday when they called I decided to let it go to voice mail. I wanted to see how many days they would continue calling before they gave up. An experiment of sorts.

Early this morning my phone goes off and wakes me from a deep sleep. It's the drugstore calling.  

You guessed it...experiment over.

Touche automated voice dude...touche.

[sugarlumpy-blog]

[sugarlumpy-blog]

He Gave Me My Smile

 I had an appointment to get my teeth cleaned. I was looking forward to this check up because I got a popcorn hull caught between my teeth and for three or four days I couldn't chew on that side. I wanted to make sure everything was ok.

 I got there a little early so after checking in, I took a seat and started looking around the waiting room. I noticed a huge picture frame with a photo of my old dentist, who retired a couple years earlier, and his wife. I walked over to get a closer look and to my horror it was not only a photo but a funeral program and an obit. My heart sank.

 As I read about Dr Brooks' life and death announcement, I fought back the tears. Dr Brooks was a very special man in my life. He was the best dentist I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Just then my hygienist called me back. She asked how I was doing and I told her fine. Then I said, I didn't know Dr Brooks passed away. And with that, I started to cry. 

 Through the tears I told her about how wonderful Dr Brooks was to me. I needed to talk about him and she let me. For that I thank her.

 I met Dr Brooks about 15 years prior. My sister in law was a patient of his. One day I was telling her that I really wanted to get my teeth fixed. You see, I have a small mouth so when my wisdom teeth came in, there wasn't enough room. As a result, it pushed my teeth to the point where they were crooked in the front. I was so self conscience about my crooked teeth that I hardly ever smiled. She told me that Dr Brooks had straightened out a friend of her's teeth and she told me I should call him. 

 I was not fond of dentist, at all. Growing up I had a few horrible experiences with my dentist that turned me totally off from them. I took care of my teeth always but going to the dentist just wasn't a priority. I decided to bite the bullet and call her dentist because I wanted straight teeth so bad.  

 He told me he could straighten my teeth, no problem, with just a retainer. I was ecstatic. So over the next year, we worked together to get my teeth straight. It worked perfectly. Once they were straight we decided to bleach them. After it was all said and done, I had white straight teeth. YAY!!!

 I kept Dr Brooks as my dentist because when he did any work on my teeth, it never hurt. Even the shot he gave to numb my mouth didn't hurt. He just had the magic touch.

 One time, I needed a crown. This was around the time we were putting my daughter through college. I told Dr Brooks to just pull it because I couldn't afford a crown. He told me that he was going to give me a stainless steel crown and only charge me for a filling. That's just the kind of man he was.

 Dr Brooks will always have a special place in my heart...always. RIP Dr Brooks. And thank you for my smile!

[sugarlumpy-blog]

*Rolls Eyes*

 Facebook cracks me the hell up. People are so amusing. 

 Awhile back, a guy that I hooked up with before I met the husband, sent me a friend request. I accepted the invite because I hadn't seen him in over 30 years and I was curious as to how his life was going. Not because I wanted to hook up with him. Or that I had been pining away for him all these years. It was purely curiosity.

 We exchanged PM's a couple times. Talking about old times and catching up on one another's life. Out of the blue, he suggest we meet. I'm thinking, whoa killa we've only talked a couple times. And we never talked about anything that would warrant such a suggestion. 

 I decided to just blow it off and not even respond to it. I replied with something generic by asking him how he wound up living where he lived. And surprise, surprise, I haven't heard from him since. And it's not because he hasn't been on Facebook because I saw him post recently. 

 I find the whole thing hilarious. It's only obvious his intent when he sent the request. Sorry dude, I didn't want you back then and I don't want you now. I got a man. 

[sugarlumpy-blog]

I’m Not In Love

This morning I was taking my walk and I decided to change up the music on my iPod. It was great to hear some older stuff since I usually listen to newer music. 

 Some of the songs were at a slower pace than I prefer but they all worked out. That is until the last 5 minutes of my walk. 10cc's I'm Not In Love started playing. I contemplated skipping to the next song but since I hadn't heard it in awhile and I love the song, I decided to let it play. I justified the slower pace as a cool down period. 

 That song always takes me back to the summer of 1975. I was 13 that summer and I use to ride my bike everywhere. Especially to the swimming pool. The pool was about 3 miles from our house. My parents would buy us season tickets to the pool every summer. We practically lived there in the summertime.

I'm Not In Love came out that summer and the pool's radio station played it every hour on the hour. So when I hear that song it takes me back to the smell of chlorine and suntan lotion, the warmth of the sun and the cool of the pool water on my skin, being scared to jump off the high board but doing it anyway so I wouldn't be called a wimp, fuzzy vision on the ride home from keeping my eyes open underwater, waterlogged skin on my toes and fingers, scrounging for change so we could buy some taffy or a popsicle from the concession stand, and sunburnt skin. Wonderful childhood memories. 

 Things sure were simpler back then.

[sugarlumpy-blog]

Death Is Inevitable

I've been thinking a lot about death lately. I guess it stems from losing Aunt Pat last week. It opened my eyes to the reality of it all. Before I was in denial and didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it. But I really think that I'm coming to terms with the whole circle of life thing.

  Growing up, I never had to deal with death. My parents, bless them, thought they were doing me a favor by shielding me from it. When I was a child, my favorite great uncle passed away. My parents didn't take us kids to the funeral. That's the only time as a kid someone close to me died.

  I was living away from them when my great aunt got sick. I went home to visit and I went out to the nursing home to see her. She was dying of cancer and she had wasted away to nothing but skin and bones. It didn't even look like her lying there. That is my last memory of her and I wish it wasn't.

  When my grandparents died, I did not go home for the funerals. I didn't want my last memory of them to be of them lying in a casket. So I stayed away. I should have went to support my family but I'm selfish and didn't. Something I regret to this day.

In 2001, we were attending church quite regularly. There was a woman and her mother who always sat in front of us. We really liked them and always missed them when they didn't attend. The mother passed away so the husband and I decided to go to the visitation at the funeral home to support the daughter.

  Mind you, this is the first time I ever went to a visitation. I had no idea about the viewing. When I saw the mother lying there in her coffin, I lost it. I had a panic attack. I couldn't breath and I just wanted to get out of there. The husband escorted me out to the car and he finally got me calmed down. I really don't understand why that happened but I chalk it up to it being my first experience at a visitation/viewing.

  After that, if I had to go to a visitation, I would avoid the viewing part of it. I would sign the guest book and speak with the family without looking at the body.

  I actually find the whole viewing and open casket thing morbid. Who wants to see your loved one lying there dead. I don't.

I do have to say that I am changing and coming to grips with death. When Aunt Pat died, we were on our way to the hospice house to see her. When we got there, only a few minutes had gone by since she passed. Her body was still in her room. At first I said I didn't want to go in the room, so I stayed in the hall with Grandma. Grandma kind of encouraged me to go in and see Aunt Pat. She said that she just looked like she was sleeping. So I put my big girl panties on and I went in the room.

  I wasn't scared to see her. I walked over to her bed and she was lying there. Well, she wasn't but her body was. I stroked her hair and told her I loved her. It was sad but at the same time it was a growing experience for me. At that moment, I came to grips with the whole circle of life thing. (Thank you Aunt Pat for that). And at her visitation I went up to the casket and I looked at her. I didn't go into a panic like before. Matter of fact, as I looked at her lying there, I grew some more.

  When I die, I want to be cremated. I don't want a bunch of money spent on things that are going to go into the ground. To me it's a waste of money. And I don't like the thought of someone coming out to my grave and crying for me and/or buying flowers to put on the grave. Again, to me it's a waste of money. I want my loved ones to remember me alive.

I, personally, am not afraid of dying. I am afraid to lose a loved one though. But aren't we all?

[sugarlumpy-blog]

We're Just So Proud Of Her

For years it's been a running joke between the husband and I that our daughter was switched at birth. If she didn't look so much like us...I could almost believe she was. The reason I say that is because she's always been a good girl. I never had to ask her to do her homework or if she even had any because she always did it before she got home from school. She was an A/B student. And a blessing to her teachers. She has always been kind, sweet, smart and responsible. I can count the times she's ever got into trouble with us on one hand. Growing up, the husband and I, on the other hand, were complete opposites of our daughter. I was always in trouble...both at school or at home. I never applied myself at school. I was only there for the social aspects of it. I was (and still am) very rebellious. The husband dropped out of high school when he was 16. He stayed in and out of trouble throughout his adolescences. We both heard from our parents how we were going to have children as bad if not worse than we were. Imagine our surprise when we were blessed with a good kid. I just KNEW I was going to be raising some demon child. But nope...she was good...thank God.

So that's where our 'switched at birth' joke comes from. But my daugher told me something last week that has both voided the joke AND made us swell with pride. She was here, in her old room, looking through her hope chest at some of her memorabilia and she ran across a paper one of her high school best friends made her. She started laughing really hard so I asked her what was up. She read, 'get the dog biscuits girls...we're going out.' She must have noticed the confused look on my face so she explained what that meant. Apparently when her girlfriends would stay the night, they would wait until the husband and I were asleep and then they would crawl out her bedroom window and stay out all night until morning, then they would crawl back in. Her bedroom window was facing the backyard where our dog was kept. So they would get dog biscuits to give to Chance so he would not bark and rat them out. The husband and I have never been prouder. Turns out she is ours after all.

[sugarlumpy-blog]

Chance

When my daughter was 10 years old she came home one day from playing at the neighbors begging for a puppy. She told us that one of our neighbor's dogs had puppies. We immediately told her no. She begged and begged, telling us she would feed it and walk it and blah blah blah. We knew she was full of shit so again we told her no. But she was relentless. She then begged us to "just come look at 'em". The husband asked her what kind of dog was it and she said a beagle. I have always liked beagles. We grew up with a beagle and my brother had a beagle at the time that we just loved so we walked down the road to look at the puppies. When we got there we found out that the mother was a beagle but the father was a traveling salesman. We should have turned around and left puppyless but who could look into the sweet face of a puppy and say no....not me. So we picked out the cutest one and headed home. We named our new puppy Chance from the movie Homeward Bound. He grew to be a whopping 105 pounds. The only beagley thing about him was his bark. The husband fenced in the backyard for him and he built him a huge doggy condo. Chance hung out on the back porch. He wanted to be as close to us as possible.

He lived out there contently for many years but that all ended one day when we took an above-ground pool out and in it's place the husband built an awesome koi pond gazebo type sanctuary. To keep Chance out of the pond, we moved his fence back. He still had plenty of yard but he could no longer hang out on the back porch. Well, he did not like that. So he dug under the fence. When we fixed that, he started climbing over the fence. No matter what we did, the next morning we would find him on the back porch. After a couple weeks of fighting to keep him in, we just gave up. By this time, he had taken up with the next door neighbor's dogs. A dobie and a dog that looked a lot like Chance in his younger days. The dobie stayed in their yard but Chance and Hunter would take off and walk around the neighborhood. They were the best of friends. When you saw one, you saw the other. Neither dog would hurt a flea but we didn't feel comfortable letting Chance run loose. So, the husband put the fence back so he could be fenced in AND on the back porch. Too late. He had a taste of freedom and he wasn't going back to being captive.

Again, no matter what we did, he was not staying in the fence. So we gave up completely. Him and Hunter had a year of chumming around together...free as butterflies. I believe that year was probably the best and happiest of his life. I hope he got to get him some. I'm betting he did. We had to put him down a few years ago because his spine had fused together and he could no longer walk. That was so hard to do but we had no choice. He was a big part of our family for thirteen years. That day Hunter watched the husband load Chance into the Jeep. When we didn't bring Chance back home, he would never come over here again. And he would run from us. It was so weird. Not long after, the neighbor told us that he had run away. He took losing Chance the hardest out of all of us. Sometimes, when I think of him I get so sad. I miss him a lot. He was a good dog.

[sugarlumpy-blog]

What Makes A BFF?

 What is a BFF? This question has been swirling around in my head for a couple months now. Ever since I was dissed by a so called friend. Not that I ever considered this particular person best friend material. Far from it. But the experience put a lot of my friendly relationships into perspective. 

 I googled BFF just to see what the official definition is but as I was reading all the different links on it, I realized that BFF can mean different things to different people. Of course the universal meaning of BFF is best friend forever. But what I'm talking about is, what makes a BFF.

 To me, a BFF is...

   someone who is always there for you when you need them. Not just when it's convenient for them.

    someone who you can trust with your deepest, darkest secrets and they're not going to be blabbing to the whole town about them. Or without casting judgement on you.

    someone who loves you enough to be totally honest with you. Not someone who will say what you want to hear. But will say what you NEED to hear.

    someone you want to share all your life milestones with. The first person you think to call when you have good news, bad news and everything in between.

    someone who makes you laugh like no one else can.

    someone who gets you when no one else does.

    someone who is loyal and will always have your back.

    someone who encourages and supports you in everything.

 I have a gazillion friends and I love them all. But I only have a couple BFF’s!

[sugarlumpy-blog]

Weighty Topic

The other day I over heard two of my coworkers talking about someone and they weren't being very nice. They were talking about how thin this person was and how they need to eat a sandwich and gain some weight and blah blah blah. It went all over me. All my life I've had a weight problem. Not a problem with being too large. Quite the opposite. Growing up, I was always thin...sometimes too thin. I have always had a high metabolism. Plus, I've never really been a big eater. When I met the husband I was 19 years old and I weighed 108 pounds. Perfect weight for my height. Shortly after meeting we moved to another state. To keep the story short, some stressful things were going on for me...having to grow up for one...and my appetite wasn't the best. I began to lose weight. Weight I couldn't afford to lose. Right before I got pregnant I weighed a whooping 95 lbs. After I gave birth I immediately lost all the baby weight and then some. I then weighed 89 lbs. It was horrible. I looked horrible. I looked like a walking skeleton. I hated it and I tried everything to gain some weight back. I wanted to be back to the weight I was when I was 19. It was a struggle everyday to make myself eat. And it really didn't matter what I ate or how much I ate because my metabolism was so high it made gaining weight next to impossible. Much like the struggle I imagine folks who are overweight go through...only opposite.

As I've aged, my metabolism has slowed way down. I now weigh the most I have ever weighed. My doctor tells me I need to lose weight but I’m not unhealthy. Just chunky. I have tried everything to lose weight...Adkins, Weight Watchers, etc...to no avail. But I’m not really committed. Not like I should be. I said all that to show that I've been on both ends of the spectrum and I have much sympathy to anyone who struggles with their weight. Be it to lose or to gain. So when I heard those two talking trash about someone’s weight, I had to speak up. I spun around and I said excuse me but that's rude. They both looked at me and asked what's rude? This is what I said..."It's rude of you both to be talking smack about someone just because they are thin. If you overheard Sally and I talking about someone and we were commenting about how fat they were...you would find that offensive. I find your conversation offensive too. Some people can't help being thin. They struggle to gain weight just like you two struggle to lose." That left them both speechless for a moment. Then they apologized for not realizing that they were being insensitive to others.

I share this story with you all today in hopes of enlightening someone that may not realize that talking smack about thin people is as inappropriate as talking smack about heavy people.