A hybrid model of learning? What do you think? Go comment, if you are so inclined.

Not as much for me as it does for my Granny, who is convinced she will die soon, go to Heaven (her heaven is Capitalized), find my Grandpa, slap him silly for being the one to die first and leave her, and then start a new family with him.

Presumably so their babies will be cuter this time around.

(Just kidding. My mom is adorable.)

Hmm.

Do you have any thoughts on Heaven? Or Hell?

Please share.

wm

After a slammin’ great season, my beloved Lady Demos (shown here last season) lost tonight to Willamette at the University of Portland. The Nekkid Neighbors and I would like you to join us in a few moments of mourning.

Ready?

Thank you.

We love you, Demos. Thanks for playing so hard.

A Peek Inside the Fishbowl

Shim and Sons

Mommy Track’d

Literary Mama

Ma Petite Chouchou, Laetitia

2+2=INSANITY!

MamaToo is right — it gets to be spring and I just want to clean house and get the hell out of town. And I don’t mean a weekend at the beach — I mean move away. With Steve and the kids, of course.

My grandma is doing okay. (You want to know her motto? Yep.) (Also, here is her recipe for Pineapple Upside-Down Cake.)

She’s hating the physical and occupational therapists. She likes half of her nurses and wants the other half fired.

To her nurse who is African (from Nigeria): “Ooooh, you speak English really well!”
me: (crashing head into hands)
nurse: “We were colonized by the British, so we actually do speak English! And I’ve been here 24 years.”
me (in my head): I love you, nice nurse.

So, she’s getting back to her old self. It looks like I’ll be able to take some family leave so I can spend time with her — she’s in a rehab center (Wacky Girl: “For drugs?” Nope. But they do give her drugs. Different kind of rehab…). And then she’ll be going back home, it looks like. Pretty good for going on 89 years old.

Here is your video for the day, cuz if I had a boat, I’d get out of Dodge, too. Maybe we will. You just never know til you start driving away. Still not crazy about Portland. The crappy weather, the stupid mayor, the crummy schools. The people who will talk to dogs but not other people. Hi puppy! Aren’t you the cutest wittle bittle puppy-wuppy yum yum yum!

(To all you transplants: Oh… my… GOD!!! Isn’t Portland the best????)

Here’s another favorite — I’ve played this song about a half-million times, I really love it. But this is my favorite version ever — viva la Francine Reed.

Dear “Friends” (and i use the term “loosely”),

Stop inquiring as to whether I would FaceBook or MySpace with you. I will not. Have blog, will travel.

“And now do you like my hat?”
“No, I do not!”
“Goodbye again.”
“Goodbye!”

— “Go, Dog. Go!” — P.D. Eastman

xxox

wm

…obstreperous

PRONUNCIATION:
(ob-STREP-uhr-uhs)

MEANING:
adjective: Noisy or unruly.

ETYMOLOGY:
From Latin obstreperus (clamorous), from ob- (against) + strepere (to make a noise).

(Thank you, Anu.)

my husband: Don’t get out of bed.
me: I’m late to work. Gotta go, Spocky.

coffee lady: “Nice to see ya!”
me: “Nice to see you, too. How’s your art?”
coffee lady: “Great!!!!”

me, on the phone with Zip: “Did I wake you? Oh, I forgot. You don’t sleep, either.”
Zip: “I do. I sleep every morning from 5 til 6:30.”
me: “I sleep from 4:30 til 6.”
Zip: “Well, there ya go then.”

* re: That Woman on Welfare and Her 14 Kids… me: “She had 6 at once and then 8 at once?” my co-worker, “Uh, no. But they were all in vitro.” me: “???” my other co-worker, “Huh. Yeah, I thought it was two pregnancies, 14 kids all together.” All of us, in unison, “What was that fertility doctor thinking?”

* me, on my way to cafeteria duty: “LEAVING FOR DUTY NOW, BYE.”
* my co-worker, not looking up from her computer: “I hope no one pukes on your shoes.”

Why am I writing about work?
Why not?

My grandma? She is still in the hospital. My mom? She is handling it okay, but it’s her mom, y’know? We love our moms, even when they are wacky. Here’s the funniest things my grandma ever says…

She just thinks she’s something, Miss Tits.

or…

Who do you think you are? Little Miss Astor Butt?

(My sister: “Huh?” My great-uncle: “She means ‘Little Miss Astor,’ she just puts the ‘Butt’ in there for fun.” me: “Heh heh heh heh heh.”)

me, to our painter and his wife, who I ran into at the restaurant: “So, this your girlfriend?”
him: “Yeah. I mean NO, it’s my wife!”
me, to his wife: “That would have been awkward, huh? If you were his girlfriend? I mean, that would have put me in an awkward position and all.”
his wife: “Heh heh heh heh.”
me: “Will you come paint my upstairs bathroom? I hate it.”
him: “Sure thing.”

I love our painter.

My girlfriend, just now on the phone: “You and Steve are good, all renegade like this. Just go renegade all the time.”
me: “I don’t think I know how to do it any other way.”

So. How was your day? Details, please.

They set her hip with a pin and she is doing all right. Not great, but all right. Still heavily sedated. Thanks for the good thoughts and e-mails, I appreciate them and she does, too.

xxox

wm

it’s been two years since we lost our dear, crazy dog. i still am yearning to get another pup. we will not get a pup. we would love to be dog people but we are just not dog people, i am sorry to say.

we’re not really cat people, either. or fish people. or guinea pig people. we are people-people.

“People/
People who need people/
are the luckiest people/
in the world…”

— B. Streisand

i need people, people. i need my internet people, my librarian people, my family people, my friend people and my Nekkid Neighbor people.

i need my grandma, people. I need my friend S, people. Cuz when she’s goofy from pain pills (she messed up her arm) well. She’s always funny, but she’s extra-funny on the “happy pills.”

today started out ok, even though my husband refused to watch this YouTube video with me:

that’s right. sometimes you need to start off the weekend with a little Tony Manero.

“Hey, you guys do layaway? Put me down for five dollars for that blue shirt in the window. Hold it for me.”

— T. Manero

we went to the eye doctor’s, where I was informed i need bifocals. excuse me — “progressives” — and that they may make me want to throw up while i’m getting used to wearing them. middle-age is so cool, i am loving it. i am gobbling it up.

out to pizza schmizza for lunch, then home, where I received a call from my aunt, chipper and over-animated, “Hi kid, how are ya?” me, hesitantly, “Good…” (thinking, “someone died…”) “…and you?”

“Good! Say, Grandma broke her hip.”

i love my grandma. she is under sedation and in the hospital.

this sucks.

as do happy-perky phone calls that carry loaded news right smack-dab in the middle.

say prayers and light candles for my granny, would you? She turns 89 in July. She shouldn’t have been walking in the store, by herself, that is no good. You know what she says when I call her? “Yeah, I’m a little tired. I was out late at the clubs again. You know.” She fractures me. There should be no fractured or broken hips in this post, just my grandma cracking me up because she is funny girl, my granny.

Candles and prayers or good thoughts or whatever you do would be nice. Thank you.

Here are some posts about her. She’s a pistol.

wm