Gramma,
It was a rare occasion that the twins were here for the weekend. The girls turned eight on Halloween. Their mother died of MS a year ago. The baby is eighteen months and was here briefly while the girls were being dropped off. They live with Dave's ex-wife and her husband in a small apartment. They do not have legal custody. I suspect that the kids are getting on their last nerve and they wanted a break. I fully expected to be hit up for money for something.
The father of the children is busy hunting and fishing. He bought a new boat with government money meant for the girls. He does not volunteer anything to support the kids, including his time. He is a weird little puke who should be in jail for tax evasion. When his dog died, he put the collar on Tanya's grave. The dog was not special to her. He got another dog. I would guess the dog gets little more attention from him than the children do. We did not ask the twins any questions about how things are and they did not offer any information.
Bubba and Veve were here as well, so there were four kids making noise. Although I said no about a hundred times, I let them be kids. No, you can't go on the roof of the house if I am not with you. No, you can not go on the roof with shoes, it's bad for the shingles. There is a deck that goes from a bedroom onto the roof, but the shingles are much more interesting. Yes, you can go on the roof of the small playhouse. There is a ladder and slide involved. No, you may not go on the roof of the treehouse. Get off that ladder. No, you may not go on the dock out to the island if I am not with you. Yes, there is a monster.
A trip to Wal-Mart was made to pick out a birthday toy of their choice. Nope, that's not an option, choose something else. The multitude of pre-landfill plastic disgusts me. Grampa came along. He NEVER goes to Wal-Mart. I do not go on a Saturday. I get pissy just thinking about it. The old woman and the old cashier in front of us were having a social event. Dave and I exchanged glances and stink eye. It was good for Grampa to see how fast and far $150.00 goes. He tried to hand me a twenty for a Dairy Queen cake. I rubbed my fingers together and smiled. He waited in the car.
The kids helped take down all the Halloween décor. They demonstrated the speed of a beer truck being unloaded at a biker event. I took the four-wheeler out back with the kids in the trailer. We got stuck and unstuck more than once. We raced around the yard with the dogs trying to keep up. Then we had more ice cream cake outside. And more popsicles. They dragged their feet cleaning up their own stuff to go home. I always start the process two hours in advance.
They think we live in a mansion. I have corrected that notion to clarify that it is a castle. My hope for their time here is to go home and say how much fun they had. I hope they tell their cousins all about it. They were here once, three years ago. Maybe they will pester to visit. More kids is not much more work. In the end, it's the same amount of clean-up.
In a month, the twins will be coming for another weekend. We will go see a Christmas play with three of my grandkids. It will be their first time seeing our house decorated with the village and upside down Christmas tree and the lit up Jesus people out by the road. Their mother is watching. I know because their were dragonflies following me when I was mending fences the day they came to visit. Dragonflies were their mother's thing. They are not in season here in late fall. This is all good for Grampa's spirits.
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
Monday, October 31, 2016
Witches Ball
Gramma,
Happy Halloween. Saturday night's annual Witches Ball was a success. The bike club and some of the Christmas cookie exchange group were in attendance. My floors are covered with leaf litter and footprints. Despite rain much of the day, the guys were able to get a bonfire going with a blow torch.
Blood spurted from a steak stuffed into the neck of the headless guy. I warned him to step away from a quilt that had taken months to make. The flasher's interpretive dance included a stuffed pantyhose appendage, which Freddy Krueger tried to filet. The priest and nun were unsuccessful at saving souls.
Two zombie girls spent hours in the upstairs bathroom doing their makeup. They didn't even take a break to refresh beverages. I checked on them to make sure they weren't locked in. The temperamental door intermittently requires someone from the outside to open it. That can be scary in an unfamiliar house with a haunted reputation. The noise coming from the Halloween village on the main floor drowned out the screaming and door pounding coming from upstairs.
One of the cookie exchange girls showed up late, drunk and disorderly. A big joint was hanging out of her mouth. She is not a big pot smoker, but thought it would be cool to ask people for a light. Her ex-husband-to-be had been a club member, but was kicked out for causing too many mandatory meetings with the Hell's Angels, Girlfriend did not help his cause. It is bad form to criticize another club when you are at a party on their turf.
She decided to kiss all the guys around the fire, claiming it was her birthday and she could do as she pleased. She was also dancing around in dark corners with a member who was there with his girlfriend. This too, is bad form. She will not be invited to anymore events where club members are present. I was glad when her driver dragged her out to the car. I would imagine she is still recovering. Drunkeness and diabetes is not a good combination.
Family drama kept another couple away. The evil drunken mother of two grandchildren threw the family dog out of a moving truck. Then she tried to choke her ex-husband, threatening to kill him and get custody of the kids. This is while he was driving. The kids were screaming. They told the police they never wanted to see her again.
One of the cookie exchange girls and her husband were headed to North Dakota to support the pipeline protest. Otherwise, almost everyone showed up. Two of the dogs were dressed as wieners. Two were sent to their boxes for trying to mark guests as their territory.
As witches arrived, I was just getting out of the shower. There wasn't time to put on some Christmas music. I should have gotten up earlier, but we were out late the night before celebrating at a surprise birthday party.
A friend spent the night and helped put food away. It had taken me all month to prepare for this event. Sunday was spent on the couch watching bad t.v. Then the Packers lost by one point. I shouldn't have chosen to watch NatGeo after that. Seeing the planet destruct from global warming is the stuff of nightmares.
The gates are open for brave trick-or-treaters, It is over fifty degrees here in the northwoods. As I can't keep candy in the house without it disappearing, the kids are getting mardi-gras beads. The grandkids will be here next weekend to help take down the mess. Their next visit will be to install Christmas, much less involved than Halloween.
Happy Halloween. Saturday night's annual Witches Ball was a success. The bike club and some of the Christmas cookie exchange group were in attendance. My floors are covered with leaf litter and footprints. Despite rain much of the day, the guys were able to get a bonfire going with a blow torch.
Blood spurted from a steak stuffed into the neck of the headless guy. I warned him to step away from a quilt that had taken months to make. The flasher's interpretive dance included a stuffed pantyhose appendage, which Freddy Krueger tried to filet. The priest and nun were unsuccessful at saving souls.
Two zombie girls spent hours in the upstairs bathroom doing their makeup. They didn't even take a break to refresh beverages. I checked on them to make sure they weren't locked in. The temperamental door intermittently requires someone from the outside to open it. That can be scary in an unfamiliar house with a haunted reputation. The noise coming from the Halloween village on the main floor drowned out the screaming and door pounding coming from upstairs.
One of the cookie exchange girls showed up late, drunk and disorderly. A big joint was hanging out of her mouth. She is not a big pot smoker, but thought it would be cool to ask people for a light. Her ex-husband-to-be had been a club member, but was kicked out for causing too many mandatory meetings with the Hell's Angels, Girlfriend did not help his cause. It is bad form to criticize another club when you are at a party on their turf.
She decided to kiss all the guys around the fire, claiming it was her birthday and she could do as she pleased. She was also dancing around in dark corners with a member who was there with his girlfriend. This too, is bad form. She will not be invited to anymore events where club members are present. I was glad when her driver dragged her out to the car. I would imagine she is still recovering. Drunkeness and diabetes is not a good combination.
Family drama kept another couple away. The evil drunken mother of two grandchildren threw the family dog out of a moving truck. Then she tried to choke her ex-husband, threatening to kill him and get custody of the kids. This is while he was driving. The kids were screaming. They told the police they never wanted to see her again.
One of the cookie exchange girls and her husband were headed to North Dakota to support the pipeline protest. Otherwise, almost everyone showed up. Two of the dogs were dressed as wieners. Two were sent to their boxes for trying to mark guests as their territory.
As witches arrived, I was just getting out of the shower. There wasn't time to put on some Christmas music. I should have gotten up earlier, but we were out late the night before celebrating at a surprise birthday party.
A friend spent the night and helped put food away. It had taken me all month to prepare for this event. Sunday was spent on the couch watching bad t.v. Then the Packers lost by one point. I shouldn't have chosen to watch NatGeo after that. Seeing the planet destruct from global warming is the stuff of nightmares.
The gates are open for brave trick-or-treaters, It is over fifty degrees here in the northwoods. As I can't keep candy in the house without it disappearing, the kids are getting mardi-gras beads. The grandkids will be here next weekend to help take down the mess. Their next visit will be to install Christmas, much less involved than Halloween.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Indian Summer
Gramma,
October eighteenth was an amazing Indian summer day in Minnesota. Even the morning was warm enough to pull me outside early. Rain and wind from the night before left a vast carpet of heavy, wet leaves waiting to be mowed. Many of the trees are showing their full skeletons. The oaks hang on longer, some till spring. Vines crawling up the house are crimson. Some flowers are still blooming.
I fed the ducks, the peacocks, and the songbirds, then filled the donkey water tank. There were a few more squash and pumpkins to pick before mowing the garden. The dogs trailed behind as I buzzed around the yard picking up sticks, putting away yard tools and finishing the Halloween decorating. The clowns needed to be blood-splattered with red house paint. I fired up the lights to see if the breaker would blow.
Bicycles, power washed by the storm, leaned against an out-building. Some of them are outgrown and will be sent to the Goodwill. They had collected dust in the lean-to where straw is stacked and animals hang out in a fenced section. The floor is dirt. Firewood was stored here until we installed a gas fireplace. Gone are the days of cutting, splitting, and hauling into the garage and then into the house. After we gave it up, I missed the smell of a crackling fire. I don't miss the mess.
The afternoon sun dried the leaves enough to mince with the tractor mower. The litter is good fertilizer. I mowed for hours, taking several breaks to replenish my beer. Sun, warmth, cold beer--it is a halcyon day. This day sums up why I choose not to chase the almighty dollar at the expense of sheer joy. I have "enough" and I can stretch a dollar until it screams.
I worked at a publishing company in Minneapolis for a brief period. The sky was just lighting up when I left in the morning. While stuck in afternoon traffic, I couldn't wait to get home and be outside. It seemed that as soon as I got my clothes changed, the dark slammed down. While I enjoyed the work, the situation did not give me balance or feed my spirit.
Life is about choices. We are all one decision away from a whole different life. While our financial assets may not be as healthy as some of our friends and relatives, I believe our quality of life is richer.
October eighteenth was an amazing Indian summer day in Minnesota. Even the morning was warm enough to pull me outside early. Rain and wind from the night before left a vast carpet of heavy, wet leaves waiting to be mowed. Many of the trees are showing their full skeletons. The oaks hang on longer, some till spring. Vines crawling up the house are crimson. Some flowers are still blooming.
I fed the ducks, the peacocks, and the songbirds, then filled the donkey water tank. There were a few more squash and pumpkins to pick before mowing the garden. The dogs trailed behind as I buzzed around the yard picking up sticks, putting away yard tools and finishing the Halloween decorating. The clowns needed to be blood-splattered with red house paint. I fired up the lights to see if the breaker would blow.
Bicycles, power washed by the storm, leaned against an out-building. Some of them are outgrown and will be sent to the Goodwill. They had collected dust in the lean-to where straw is stacked and animals hang out in a fenced section. The floor is dirt. Firewood was stored here until we installed a gas fireplace. Gone are the days of cutting, splitting, and hauling into the garage and then into the house. After we gave it up, I missed the smell of a crackling fire. I don't miss the mess.
The afternoon sun dried the leaves enough to mince with the tractor mower. The litter is good fertilizer. I mowed for hours, taking several breaks to replenish my beer. Sun, warmth, cold beer--it is a halcyon day. This day sums up why I choose not to chase the almighty dollar at the expense of sheer joy. I have "enough" and I can stretch a dollar until it screams.
I worked at a publishing company in Minneapolis for a brief period. The sky was just lighting up when I left in the morning. While stuck in afternoon traffic, I couldn't wait to get home and be outside. It seemed that as soon as I got my clothes changed, the dark slammed down. While I enjoyed the work, the situation did not give me balance or feed my spirit.
Life is about choices. We are all one decision away from a whole different life. While our financial assets may not be as healthy as some of our friends and relatives, I believe our quality of life is richer.
Thursday, October 6, 2016
New Lives
Gramma,
The new granddaughter finally arrived. She's a noisy model. Her days and nights are mixed up. Mom gets no sleep. She complains often on Facebook at all hours of the night. Mom wanted to call her Jazzerine. She wanted to call the first one Aquila. Though I do not object, these are not white girl names. The protesters won. She is called Lundon Violet. She is breast fed, so I will not be relieving mom for awhile. Baby formula costs more than alcohol.
Three of the grandkids spent the weekend here. So mom got a break from Bubba acting out because he is no longer the baby. He just started kindergarten. He is always fun to have around. He likes to be very very busy. The other two kids are older and do not want his company. I need to have this set of three at the same time, as otherwise they would not be able to see each other at all. Ollie's dad is not welcome anywhere but the bar these days.
We decorated for Halloween, This is a big tradition. There are menacing, bloodthirsty weapon wielding clowns, complete with dead bloody doll babies and stuffed rabbits. Blood spattered toddler sized zombies colonize outside the iron gates. Anybody trying to invade will be shanked by rose thorns. I do this for the kids who ride the bus. Today, I will zip tie upside down skeletons to very long poles. They will be reminiscent of Cirque de Soleil. These will flank the gates.
Lighted spider webs stretch across the gates. There is a Bates Motel sign. The "vacancy" light flickers. There are caskets in the yard. Skeletons sit on a collection of colored toilets talking on phones, drinking beer, holding their skeleton dogs on leashes. There are witches, signs, pumpkins, tombstones and spiders. The annual Witches Ball is always the last Saturday of the month.
Inside the house, the kids form a chain gang on the stairs to bring up boxes of decorations. Veve helps set up the villages while the other two fight over the I-Pad, making Grampa testy. Purple and green cobwebs are stretched on the chandelier and over pictures. It looks like Halloween threw up all over the house. I am overwhelmed by the mess.
Kids are noisy things. And demanding. Also, they always want something. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. Can I have a donut. Can I have fudge for breakfast. GRAMMA, tell them it's my turn. Bubba spilled his milk. You made me. Ollie won't put away the scooter. He used it last. "Did you fart Bubba." "No, my ass blew you a kiss." Wonder where he got that. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I was just holding him back by the throat. Can I pick some flowers to bring to mom. There is enough racket to give the devil a headache.
And so it is, with great amusement, that girlfriend's partner of thirty-some years is leaving her for a woman with six frequent grandkids. Freeloader has no concept of cute, adorable tiny ninjas of death who are the right height to punch you in the balls. He has no experience with grandchildren, or children period. He does not like them. He does not like noise, or to be interrupted when he is watching re-runs of Jerry Springer. Kids monopolize the tv. It is best to let this happen, as the alternative is more noise.
The new living space is tight. It is likely section 8. There is no garage. Except for his storage unit, Freeloader will have no manspace to call his own. The kids will be in all his shit. No escape. The new girlfriend gets around in a golf cart. Freeloader will be picking up and dropping off kids. He has always been tight with money. He has plenty, he just doesn't want to share it. He contributed $400 a month to live with my friend. This included his own office, bedroom and pole shed. And he was ornery. Had I known, this would not have been happening. She lives paycheck to paycheck.
AND, there is a new grandbaby, freshly hatched. We wish we could see the shit show up close and personal. Freeloader reignited a decades old relationship on Facebook with a woman who had wronged him every which way to Sunday. He is over seventy. He has visions of reclaiming his studly self. She smokes. He hates smoke. Nothing like kissing an ashtray. He snores like a Harley. She talks incessantly. She is on disability. He will be the meal ticket for many.
AND, he is headed for South Carolina with his Indian motorcycle in the back of his pick up truck. He paid cash for these things. The bike is too heavy for him to manage since his back surgery. There is a record-breaking hurricane heading up the coast. His girlfriend has been biting him in the ass for days to get out there and drive her to safety. It is a two day drive and the truck is acting up. The bike will be pelted with hail. A tarp will not help, as it will beat on the bike and rub the paint raw. We think this is funny, because we are shallow that way.
He didn't even say goodbye to his cat. Weed and paraphernalia was left behind. After a lifetime of toking, he is quitting. I am amazed that guys never quit thinking with their dicks. The honeymoon will be short. We figure he will beg to come back in the spring. "You can come back to Minnesota, but not here," she will say. We will laugh and drink and smoke in the hot tub on the deck. Maybe we will take a bike trip to South Carolina to see the devastation. Stay tuned....
The new granddaughter finally arrived. She's a noisy model. Her days and nights are mixed up. Mom gets no sleep. She complains often on Facebook at all hours of the night. Mom wanted to call her Jazzerine. She wanted to call the first one Aquila. Though I do not object, these are not white girl names. The protesters won. She is called Lundon Violet. She is breast fed, so I will not be relieving mom for awhile. Baby formula costs more than alcohol.
Three of the grandkids spent the weekend here. So mom got a break from Bubba acting out because he is no longer the baby. He just started kindergarten. He is always fun to have around. He likes to be very very busy. The other two kids are older and do not want his company. I need to have this set of three at the same time, as otherwise they would not be able to see each other at all. Ollie's dad is not welcome anywhere but the bar these days.
We decorated for Halloween, This is a big tradition. There are menacing, bloodthirsty weapon wielding clowns, complete with dead bloody doll babies and stuffed rabbits. Blood spattered toddler sized zombies colonize outside the iron gates. Anybody trying to invade will be shanked by rose thorns. I do this for the kids who ride the bus. Today, I will zip tie upside down skeletons to very long poles. They will be reminiscent of Cirque de Soleil. These will flank the gates.
Lighted spider webs stretch across the gates. There is a Bates Motel sign. The "vacancy" light flickers. There are caskets in the yard. Skeletons sit on a collection of colored toilets talking on phones, drinking beer, holding their skeleton dogs on leashes. There are witches, signs, pumpkins, tombstones and spiders. The annual Witches Ball is always the last Saturday of the month.
Inside the house, the kids form a chain gang on the stairs to bring up boxes of decorations. Veve helps set up the villages while the other two fight over the I-Pad, making Grampa testy. Purple and green cobwebs are stretched on the chandelier and over pictures. It looks like Halloween threw up all over the house. I am overwhelmed by the mess.
Kids are noisy things. And demanding. Also, they always want something. I'm hungry. I'm thirsty. Can I have a donut. Can I have fudge for breakfast. GRAMMA, tell them it's my turn. Bubba spilled his milk. You made me. Ollie won't put away the scooter. He used it last. "Did you fart Bubba." "No, my ass blew you a kiss." Wonder where he got that. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I was just holding him back by the throat. Can I pick some flowers to bring to mom. There is enough racket to give the devil a headache.
And so it is, with great amusement, that girlfriend's partner of thirty-some years is leaving her for a woman with six frequent grandkids. Freeloader has no concept of cute, adorable tiny ninjas of death who are the right height to punch you in the balls. He has no experience with grandchildren, or children period. He does not like them. He does not like noise, or to be interrupted when he is watching re-runs of Jerry Springer. Kids monopolize the tv. It is best to let this happen, as the alternative is more noise.
The new living space is tight. It is likely section 8. There is no garage. Except for his storage unit, Freeloader will have no manspace to call his own. The kids will be in all his shit. No escape. The new girlfriend gets around in a golf cart. Freeloader will be picking up and dropping off kids. He has always been tight with money. He has plenty, he just doesn't want to share it. He contributed $400 a month to live with my friend. This included his own office, bedroom and pole shed. And he was ornery. Had I known, this would not have been happening. She lives paycheck to paycheck.
AND, there is a new grandbaby, freshly hatched. We wish we could see the shit show up close and personal. Freeloader reignited a decades old relationship on Facebook with a woman who had wronged him every which way to Sunday. He is over seventy. He has visions of reclaiming his studly self. She smokes. He hates smoke. Nothing like kissing an ashtray. He snores like a Harley. She talks incessantly. She is on disability. He will be the meal ticket for many.
AND, he is headed for South Carolina with his Indian motorcycle in the back of his pick up truck. He paid cash for these things. The bike is too heavy for him to manage since his back surgery. There is a record-breaking hurricane heading up the coast. His girlfriend has been biting him in the ass for days to get out there and drive her to safety. It is a two day drive and the truck is acting up. The bike will be pelted with hail. A tarp will not help, as it will beat on the bike and rub the paint raw. We think this is funny, because we are shallow that way.
He didn't even say goodbye to his cat. Weed and paraphernalia was left behind. After a lifetime of toking, he is quitting. I am amazed that guys never quit thinking with their dicks. The honeymoon will be short. We figure he will beg to come back in the spring. "You can come back to Minnesota, but not here," she will say. We will laugh and drink and smoke in the hot tub on the deck. Maybe we will take a bike trip to South Carolina to see the devastation. Stay tuned....
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Men Behaving Badly
Gramma,
Tuesday morning I looked at my phone. My daughter had texted at 10:38 p.m. that Trashcan was arrested. He had come to her condo, believing that he had a right to be there. They both called the police.
I asked for details. She was at the courthouse and didn't have anything to report. Her boss was being a jerk about her being off work again. Trashcan had called him and the corporate office to alert them that she was doing meth. We joked that as long as she showed up and did her job, it didn't seem to be a problem.
___________________________________
Girlfriend stopped in to help make plans for my annual Witch's Ball. Halloween happens to be her birthday. She chastised me for not wearing my foot brace. My foot is not doing well. Later, she called to say that her boyfriend of three decades had left a note on the fridge that he would be gone a few days--bucket list. They had not been getting along well. He was selling large items that belonged to him, like the motor home and a car. Then she found a receipt in the garbage can for a $300 antique mug he sent to somebody several states away, where an ex-girlfriend of his lived. I asked if she wanted me to come and help her pack his shit.
As I am an evil bitch who zealously protects her friends, I thought up some shit. After consulting Google regarding common law marriage in Wisconsin, I found that the equivalent is now called co-habitation law. I provided girlfriend with the details and the name of an asshole attorney. I took another friend of mine who I had coached in the fine art of divorce to her house, where we proceeded to toss the pole shed for any signs of hidden financial documents or cash. A search of the house had turned up nothing. Girlfriend had already searched the house. Sneaky Pete had his computer with him.
____________________________________
Girlfriend called to say Sneaky Pete's brother-in-law had died earlier than expected. She left a message with Pete, but he didn't call back. His sister heard from him and he was "cutting his vacation short." We had brainstormed and rehearsed for plan A, B, and C.
___________________________________
My daughter texted to say that Trashcan had made bail. He left court with the gift of jewelry. Hope he enjoys his ankle bracelet.
Tuesday morning I looked at my phone. My daughter had texted at 10:38 p.m. that Trashcan was arrested. He had come to her condo, believing that he had a right to be there. They both called the police.
I asked for details. She was at the courthouse and didn't have anything to report. Her boss was being a jerk about her being off work again. Trashcan had called him and the corporate office to alert them that she was doing meth. We joked that as long as she showed up and did her job, it didn't seem to be a problem.
___________________________________
Girlfriend stopped in to help make plans for my annual Witch's Ball. Halloween happens to be her birthday. She chastised me for not wearing my foot brace. My foot is not doing well. Later, she called to say that her boyfriend of three decades had left a note on the fridge that he would be gone a few days--bucket list. They had not been getting along well. He was selling large items that belonged to him, like the motor home and a car. Then she found a receipt in the garbage can for a $300 antique mug he sent to somebody several states away, where an ex-girlfriend of his lived. I asked if she wanted me to come and help her pack his shit.
As I am an evil bitch who zealously protects her friends, I thought up some shit. After consulting Google regarding common law marriage in Wisconsin, I found that the equivalent is now called co-habitation law. I provided girlfriend with the details and the name of an asshole attorney. I took another friend of mine who I had coached in the fine art of divorce to her house, where we proceeded to toss the pole shed for any signs of hidden financial documents or cash. A search of the house had turned up nothing. Girlfriend had already searched the house. Sneaky Pete had his computer with him.
____________________________________
Girlfriend called to say Sneaky Pete's brother-in-law had died earlier than expected. She left a message with Pete, but he didn't call back. His sister heard from him and he was "cutting his vacation short." We had brainstormed and rehearsed for plan A, B, and C.
___________________________________
My daughter texted to say that Trashcan had made bail. He left court with the gift of jewelry. Hope he enjoys his ankle bracelet.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Garage Sale Day
Gramma
It's garage sale day, my favorite day of the week. This is my sacred day where I never schedule a house to clean or anything else that will interfere with my mission to find something I didn't know I needed until I saw it. When the grandkids are here, they enjoy treasure hunting with me. They get a set amount to spend, but I have veto power. My pole shed can only hold so much junque.
Dave sometimes calls home during the day to ask what's new. Often, I am so excited about my latest acquisition that I send him a picture before he has a chance to call. I sent him a picture of girlfriend and myself standing next to the coffin I dragged home last winter. Then there is this thing that I don't know what it is, but I needed it for my Opium Room.
Today, my favorite find is a Green Bay Packer's jacket for Bubba, who is almost five. Dave hates the Packers. His favorite team is whoever they are playing. His other team is the Vikings, so when there is a border brawl, we usually have bets on the game. Vikings suck.
I also found some gunny sacks for the kids to use on the three slides in the yard. More faster is more better. Two of the slides come off the top of the playhouse and the other is off the treehouse. I found a one dollar plunger to put in the rental bathroom, just in case. Then there are the four Halloween trick or treat pumpkins that I already have a ton of. I am collecting them to make a doorway arch for my annual Witches Ball..
And, there are three new pillow forms that I will cover with clothing worn by Dave's daughter who died from MS last year. I'm sure her three young girls will like these memory pillows. They will each get a matching memory blanket. That is a winter project. Summer is for garage-saling, motorcycling, digging in the dirt and drinking beer.
It's garage sale day, my favorite day of the week. This is my sacred day where I never schedule a house to clean or anything else that will interfere with my mission to find something I didn't know I needed until I saw it. When the grandkids are here, they enjoy treasure hunting with me. They get a set amount to spend, but I have veto power. My pole shed can only hold so much junque.
Dave sometimes calls home during the day to ask what's new. Often, I am so excited about my latest acquisition that I send him a picture before he has a chance to call. I sent him a picture of girlfriend and myself standing next to the coffin I dragged home last winter. Then there is this thing that I don't know what it is, but I needed it for my Opium Room.
Today, my favorite find is a Green Bay Packer's jacket for Bubba, who is almost five. Dave hates the Packers. His favorite team is whoever they are playing. His other team is the Vikings, so when there is a border brawl, we usually have bets on the game. Vikings suck.
I also found some gunny sacks for the kids to use on the three slides in the yard. More faster is more better. Two of the slides come off the top of the playhouse and the other is off the treehouse. I found a one dollar plunger to put in the rental bathroom, just in case. Then there are the four Halloween trick or treat pumpkins that I already have a ton of. I am collecting them to make a doorway arch for my annual Witches Ball..
And, there are three new pillow forms that I will cover with clothing worn by Dave's daughter who died from MS last year. I'm sure her three young girls will like these memory pillows. They will each get a matching memory blanket. That is a winter project. Summer is for garage-saling, motorcycling, digging in the dirt and drinking beer.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Be Very Very Afraid
Gramma
The new renter is already displaying his weirdness. I have never rented to a guy before. Larry and his wife are not getting along is how he put it. Over twenty-five years, I have rented to three couples. The rest have been victims of domestic violence or divorce.
The guest house is a maze of exercise equipment. There are lots of windows. The views are awesome here, woods, pond, a treehouse, a playhouse and a gypsy wagon for kids to play in. There are no neighbors in sight and the property is fenced and gated. You need a code to get into my sanctuary, but Larry has all the blinds drawn. What is he afraid of.
Larry has a seven-year-old. His wife won't let him visit my wonderland because she doesn't want him to know they are getting a divorce. Dad works road construction and the story is that he will be staying down in the cities for the summer. Yeah right. I have a couple of seven-year-olds. They are not that stupid.
There is the creepy aspect here. It is Halloween all year round. Some of the grandkids do not like my toilet collection of many colors with the skeletons sitting on them. They look like they are laughing and having a good time drinking beer and talking on the phone.. Some have skeleton dogs on a leash.
Then there is the coffin I found for free on Craig's List. I will be planting a daisies around it. The fancy innards are purple satin and lace. The guy had a ton of them. I also took a topless one for an animal water tank. It has molded horses on the sides. Last winter girlfriend and I went on a road trip to pick them up. I expected to be pulled over, but that didn't stop us from smoking weed and laughing our asses off all the way there and back. I think I will put my silver skeleton in it.
My favorite installation is the three large rubber balls made into bloodshot eyes mounted on old fake trees. They are Papa, Momma, and Baby Cyclops. I used Great Stuff foam painted fluorescent green to hold them in place. I am working on a bigger than life mosaic sculpture of the Wizard of Oz witch and a flying monkey. Right now the monkey is holding a super-sized empty bottle of vodka.
A giant gargoyle on top of the tower oversees my utopia. It took about a case of beer for me to haul it over the 12/12 pitch roof and bolt it in. So, maybe in light of all this, the renter is not the weird one, or he is afraid of something. Screaming peacocks? Braying donkeys? A llama looking in the bedroom window? Be afraid, very, very afraid.
The new renter is already displaying his weirdness. I have never rented to a guy before. Larry and his wife are not getting along is how he put it. Over twenty-five years, I have rented to three couples. The rest have been victims of domestic violence or divorce.
The guest house is a maze of exercise equipment. There are lots of windows. The views are awesome here, woods, pond, a treehouse, a playhouse and a gypsy wagon for kids to play in. There are no neighbors in sight and the property is fenced and gated. You need a code to get into my sanctuary, but Larry has all the blinds drawn. What is he afraid of.
Larry has a seven-year-old. His wife won't let him visit my wonderland because she doesn't want him to know they are getting a divorce. Dad works road construction and the story is that he will be staying down in the cities for the summer. Yeah right. I have a couple of seven-year-olds. They are not that stupid.
There is the creepy aspect here. It is Halloween all year round. Some of the grandkids do not like my toilet collection of many colors with the skeletons sitting on them. They look like they are laughing and having a good time drinking beer and talking on the phone.. Some have skeleton dogs on a leash.
Then there is the coffin I found for free on Craig's List. I will be planting a daisies around it. The fancy innards are purple satin and lace. The guy had a ton of them. I also took a topless one for an animal water tank. It has molded horses on the sides. Last winter girlfriend and I went on a road trip to pick them up. I expected to be pulled over, but that didn't stop us from smoking weed and laughing our asses off all the way there and back. I think I will put my silver skeleton in it.
My favorite installation is the three large rubber balls made into bloodshot eyes mounted on old fake trees. They are Papa, Momma, and Baby Cyclops. I used Great Stuff foam painted fluorescent green to hold them in place. I am working on a bigger than life mosaic sculpture of the Wizard of Oz witch and a flying monkey. Right now the monkey is holding a super-sized empty bottle of vodka.
A giant gargoyle on top of the tower oversees my utopia. It took about a case of beer for me to haul it over the 12/12 pitch roof and bolt it in. So, maybe in light of all this, the renter is not the weird one, or he is afraid of something. Screaming peacocks? Braying donkeys? A llama looking in the bedroom window? Be afraid, very, very afraid.
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