One is the Loneliest Number

I have been single for quite a few years, and up until recently it has never bothered me. I have kept myself busy with my family; my two daughters and two grandsons who live with me. Life in my house with the five of us is noisy, chaotic and full of activity.

As winter nears this year, I've found that I'm feeling my single-ness more than I ever have in the past. In spite of all the noise, the clutter and the toys -- I feel alone. Not that glad-to-have-some-time-to-myself alone...but an empty, hollow alone.

It's as if I have been asleep all these years, and suddenly have awakend with a jolt to a stark, bare forest. How is this possible? I have all these people around me, and yet feel so solitary? Why when they come to me, in my heart I wish they would leave me alone? It doesn't make sense! If I don't want to be alone, then why do I get annoyed when my family wants to spend time with me? Yet, that's all I seem to want these days --to be left alone...but not.

I guess what I miss is a relationship with someone my own age. Warm hugs from strong arms, the tickle of someone's breath as they whisper in my ear...a yearning hand reaching for me in the darkness. I miss looking at someone, and they know exactly what I'm thinking without my saying a word.

I miss being me. Not mom. Not gramma. Just ME. I miss being loved for who I am as a person, not just because I cook dinner or pay for that new pair of jeans.

Each night I crawl into bed, cold sheets and my heart aching for companionship, for love. And slowly but surely I'm finding it harder to face each day. The kids laughter and play noises reverberate off the walls till it sounds like a faint echo of some other place where I am not.

Where am I? I'm not sure, exactly. I've been avoiding twitter, where my friends have come to know me as the sassy granny who is fun and funny. How can I disappoint them? They all have problems of their own, and normally I give hugs, kisses and words of encouragement or a laugh or two. Snark is what I do best...but then someone's father dies, another friend is in dialysis, another has cancer. Maybe they're losing their home, or they too are alone. Reality creeps in like frost on a bitter night.

With Love, Granni

Update: Bernie Bird

Many of you have asked me about Bernie, the little baby bird we rescued in June after a nasty storm blew him out of his nest. Almost completely bald, with a mouth larger than his head, we named him Bernie because he looked like a little old man.

To be honest, I didn't think Bernie was going to survive his first night with us. Cold and weak and drenched from rain, he couldn't even make a sound anymore. Those first few days were tough, I had to open his beak and give him food and water in small increments every 20 minutes. After about 3 days or so, he began opening his mouth for food and making small squeaks.

Before long Bernie got stronger, his feathers burst through their casings and he developed quite a personality. We still are unsure what kind of bird he is and he can really get aggressive at times.

We've had several attempts at letting Bernie go free, but he doesn't fly well and loses his balance occasionally. I can only assume that there is some kind of hidden injury to his body that affected him this way. He did after all, fall about 100 feet from the cottonwood tree where his nest was located.

So Bernie is now our pet, he loves his cage and plays with a little dangling bell I put in there. He looks at himself in the mirror quite a bit, opening his mouth and looking down his own throat. It's comical to watch. He is now full grown, and very beautiful! You can't see it in the photo, but his feathers are brown on the tips with green and electric blue at the base with the white dots everywhere.

Bernie Bird has imitated all the whistles I've tried on him. He does the bobwhite, whippoorwill, chickadees, sparrow and cardinal calls...which are the only ones I could manage to teach him. He also does the old traditional "cat call" whistle, you know--the one construction workers use at a pretty lady walking by... He imitates the microwave beep as well. He imitates my laugh, and something else I never expected. He says "Bernie Bird" almost as clear as the human voice! My daughter told me he was talking, but I didn't believe her till I heard it myself.

I'm still not sure what kind of bird Bernie is, but I'm so happy he survived and he fills my days with the most beautiful sounds! He is a joy and a pleasure to have in my home.

With Much Love and Hugs,

Granni

Popcicle Granni

The cold weather is coming and I had a little taste of that this past week. Thursday morning, I woke up to a chilly...no, freezing 32 degrees.

Now, while I lived down South, we did in fact have some very cold weather. But it was generally in spurts and didn't stick around too long. Now being back in a Northern state, I am well aware of the frigid temps, wind chill factors, ice storms and snow will be at my door--and SOON.

Unless I can convince/bribe the dog to sleep with me at night, I'm going to freeze! I thought maybe I could tuck a little milkbone under the pillow...but decided against it. The dog would probably keep me up half the night digging for it and then getting crumbs in my bed.

I guess that's when I really start to feel my single-ness the most. Cold nights alone in my bed, freezing my pop tarts off. Sure I could buy yet another electric blanket, but the way my 4 yr old grandson climbs and jumps on my bed, I don't think it would be safe. I already had one catch fire while I was asleep once a few years ago. Nothing like a little snap, crackle and pop to rouse you out of your slumber! (not to mention the smell)

Here's hoping you all have a warm bed, an even warmer partner and lots of quilts~because winter's cold is just around the bend.

Love and Hugs,

Granni

What's In A Name?

As many of you already know, I moved from one state to another state this past spring. As with all major undertakings, this move was not without some hitches, glitches and general pain-in-the-ass moments--from registering kids for school to mail changes.

My basic personality resists change. I hate it. Sometimes I resent it. Most of the time, I avoid it as much as possible. Before we moved, I put in an address change to the Postal Service so that our mail would be forwarded. Little did I know that the person who gave me the new address transposed two numbers on the house, and now my mail is being forwarded to a wrong address. Attempts to correct this error have been to no avail.

Upon registering the grandkids for school, it was discovered that their birth certificates had been misplaced. I got online and ordered new certificates, and waited weeks to get them. Then it was time to transfer our driver's licenses/registration/title and tags. What a nightmare! Required documents included birth certificates, marriage licenses, social security cards and having to take the written test! Since I have not taken the written test since the late 1970's, I doubted I could possibly pass it again--so I put it off, for six months...

My daughter, who also needed to transfer her driver's license, had torn up her marriage license--as her marriage is something she'd rather forget ever happened. So once again, ordering the document online and waiting weeks to get it in the mail. *sigh*

I passed the written test first time out (YAY!) and I had my birth certificate locked away in my fire-proof box for many years. So imagine my dismay when I presented my birth certificate at the License Branch and was told it was not a "Certified Copy" and I would need to send for a new one. Several weeks and $37 later, I received my 'Official' Birth Certificate only to discover that I have been spelling my name incorrectly for the past 50+ years.

Of course, I will have to take the certificate to a Notary, fill out the back of the certificate with the spelling of my name corrected, re-submit it to the state I was born in, and probably wait several weeks to recieve it in the mail--so I can take it back to the license branch so I can get my new driver's license. All because ONE LETTER is missing from my first name! Some slouch waaay back in the 1950's apparently wasn't careful when they registered my birth with the state. (Back in those days, the hospital took care of that). AI YI YI!!

My Mom was a Mouseketeer fan, and just adored Annette Funicello...so much so that that's what she named me.... "Annette". My birth certificate has my legal name as "Anette". It doesn't even look right...not to me anyways. And since I use the nickname "Annie" how goofy it would be to write "Anie" instead? LOL

Now why can't the License Branch just overlook the missing "n" and just give me my damn driver's license??? The answer? Because that would be too easy, and Lord knows any government office is not out to make anything easy for anyone!

Which brings me back to my loathing of change. It's just one of those things in life I'd rather not deal with, and with good reason!

*HUGS* from your "Grani Anie" LMAO!

*GASP* Religion...

I was recently asked by a friend what my religious point of view was since I came so close to "meeting my maker" so to speak when I was hospitalized in June. I'm not really comfortable discussing religion with most folks as they are often proud and staunch believers in whatever religion they may be, and really don't care to hear other viewpoints.

I started my religious quest when I was still a kid, attending church services with my friends' families in my neighborhood. Living in NJ, there was a mixed bag of religions as you would have with any state that is a true melting pot. I attended many services which included Baptist church with the girls down the street, Catholic Mass with my best friend Kai, Pentecostal Church with my friend Janet from school, Buddhist services with Edna and her mom, who was Japanese. That's just a few.

As kids we walked the neighborhood, or rode our bikes--anything to stay away from home during the daylight hours. (You only stayed home if you were sick or a big dork and enjoyed your parents' company.)

We had a Temple near my home, and I used to drop by every now and then just to ask the Rabbi meaning-of-life questions and do the same with other churches within walking distance. I know, I was a weird kid. The Rabbi was kind and very tolerant of inquisitiveness and he was a wealth of valuable information. The nuns at Corpus Christi wouldn't let me near any of the priests, but would sit with me and answer my questions. One pastor told me I was asking too many questions, and that I needed to stop asking and just have faith. Another pastor told me that God was pleased with people like me who searched for the truth.

I frequented the local library, and read tons of books on religion...even pagan religions and wicca, which totally blew my mind when I first viewed "skyclad" (naked) witches celebrating a Sabbat. Then I got caught up in offshoot subjects such as the paranormal, in which Hans Holtzer books of photographed ectoplasm left me having nightmares! But I digress.....

I made it a point to study all forms of Christianity, Judaism, Eastern Religions (Buddism, Taoism, Hinduism)...learning the basics, learning prayers in the native language, and absorbing the customs. I envisioned myself as enlightened, or I was the Singing Nun, or Bernadette Soubirous (yeah, TV was a big influence on me as well) LOL I spent more than ten years as an adult studying the bible formally, and taking weekly classes, and I was very active my my local church. As a kid, I had been baptized on more than 6 occasions--as I never really felt "clean".

Don't worry, there is a point to all this...I promise!

In my blog while I was sick, I stated that I had no religion to comfort me and I was scared. No, I didn't profess any faith in religion just because I was facing death...though many folks do. I couldn't pretend to believe in something I could not. My personal connection with my religion started to fail me back in the early 1990's. I won't get into that as it's a long story.

The point is.... after all my searching, reading, studying and experiences I have come to the conclusion. Every religion has value/merit... (except Satanism--which I just don't get at all), they all have the same basic requirements of good works/faith. I don't like it when people profess that their religion is the "correct" religion and all others are false. Not true! (and how arrogant!!) It's a crappy thing to piss on someone else's religion, period.

In my opinion, all religions are different paths that lead to the same place/goals. They offer guidance, comfort, and a feeling that someone larger than ourselves has control over events that we are powerless in. Religion is a very personal thing, and if a person finds comfort/wisdom and faith in whatever religion they might be, I think it's great. It's just that I don't think it's right for anyone to try to shove their religious point of view on anyone--it is disrespectful if you push the issue after someone declines interest. That being said, I'd like to offer one more nugget for you deep thinkers out there:

If I'm wrong, and there is a God out there...then it is He who created me, and it is He who knows me inside and out. I'm not going to fool Him by professing faith I don't have-- (that would make me a liar). If He exists, He already knows my point of view so it's no surprise to Him whatsoever. And if He exists, He will love me and accept me and I will be pleasantly surprised. I'm not intersted in debating this subject, nor am I going to defend my point of view against any hard-core zealots.

Until my dying day arrives, I will continue to do my best not to offend anyone because of their beliefs, to do good deeds, be kind and understanding, give love freely to those who cross my path and generally try to be a good person. I admire people who have a great deal of faith in whatever religion they may be....but please don't piss on me cause I may not agree with you.

HAPPY SUNDAY EVERYONE!

*HUGS AND SMOOCHIES*

~Granni

Patience (oy!)

As usual, life has its ups and downs...and I have been spending the last three weeks recovering from my recent illness.

Let me tell you up front, I'm not one for lying about the house doing nothing, it drives me batty! Waiting for others to do the things you used to (and biting your tongue when they don't do it your way) is not one of my favorite things to do. I'm from the old school of thought that says, "if you want it done right, do it yourself". Yet I have been forced to sit back and allow my daughters to take over running the household.

I must say, they've done an excellent job with the cleaning, cooking and other tasks that used to fill my day. But there are some things I'd rather do myself. Folding my own laundry and putting it away is one of them. I don't have much dresser space, so I military roll my clothes so they fit neatly in the drawers...my daughters think I just go too far with that stuff! LOL

I'm getting around much better, but I still have some off days where I have to back off and not do much at all. Its frustrating to not be able to shower when I want to, or cook dinner the way I like. Some days I can actually walk to the mailbox and get the paper/mail...while other days I have to let someone else to do it. Last week, my grandsons ran to get the Sunday Paper, so excited to help their grandma out. The four year old began snatching the paper section by section while the nine year old stood there supervising his technique. Needless to say, by the time the paper reached the porch, it was a collection of wadded up balls, and nearly impossible to straighten out and read. But--they were helping, which meant alot to me.

My favorite boys (which is what I call them) so eager to help out , you just gotta let them do it even if they screw it up. This made me think about the efforts of my daughters, trying to run the house and let me recover. They're so eager to help their old mom out, I figure the least I can do is not notice when they do things differently than I would. It means alot to me that I have daughters who don't complain about things like this--they just do what needs to be done.

I know a few kids of their generation (kids born in the early 80's) who would be at a loss as to how to wash a dish, turn on the stove or do some food shopping. Not only would they be lost, they would bitch and moan about it as well! I'm lucky to have my girls, each one has their own particular knack for certain things, so between the two of them, just about everything is covered.

I thought by the time I reached my age, there would be fewer lessons I would be learning, since I was a stubborn ass most of my life and learned almost all my lessons the hard way. But I'm finding now with my recovery, I am still needing to learn the lesson of patience. That, and not to be so persnickity about things. Nobody's gonna die if the shirts are folded to the left than to the right, and okay, the noodles for dinner required a bit more chewing than I would've liked. Who cares? We have a roof over our heads, food on the table (cause there were many times we didn't!), and I am one lucky granny to have both my daughters and my grandsons living with me, loving me, and taking care of not only me, but each other.

I'm no lover of the lesson of patience, believe me. Patience is only acquired by being tested to the limit and paying close attention to how you responsd to them. The trials and tribulations of life , those things that just get under your skin to the point of madness.

I'm paying attention now, albeit because I really have no other choice~but nonetheless I'm learning to be patient. With my family, it is easier to be patient...it's much harder to be patient with myself.

I hope everyone had a safe and happy 4th of July weekend!

With Hugs and Kisses,
Granni

Storms and Other Things

I forgot to update the status on our little baby robin that I was taking care of. Poor little Eggy passed away the day before I went in the hospital. I had her three weeks, and she seemed to be doing quite well, then she started to refuse to eat and drink except for a very small amount. On May 31st, I woke up early in the morning to feed her and she was dead on the bottom of the cage. *sigh* Poor little girl.

Since moving to central Indiana this past April, we have had the daylights scared out of us by some vicious storms on a regular basis. We had some terrific storms in Tennessee as well, but these storms here are by far the worst and most consistent I have ever seen in my entire life! Lightning is wild and crazy, and with the land area being very flat, you can see it coming from miles away. Across the road from us is a large farm area, and when the storms are rolling in, it looks like a scene from the movie "Twister".

Two nights ago we had storms come through with 60 MPH winds, sideways rain and violent lightning. The next morning, my daughter finds a baby bird at the base of one of our 150 foot cottonwood trees (we have several). The mother was still hanging around, so I told my daughter to leave the baby bird alone. I try not to interfere with nature too much, if the mom's there, she will continue to feed the baby.

Yesterday, my daughter check on this little birdie, and it's laying on its side, completely featherless and barely making a chirp. My daughter looks at me with this pitiful look and says "Please, Mom..." with begging in her eyes. How could I say no?

She scooped up the little one and ran it to me. Poor little thing was cold, shivering and very weak. I didn't think it would make it another hour, to be honest. So I jump into my rescue mode and start making the concoction of bird gruel to try to get this baby back on track. Wrapping that baby up in a light washcloth, I held it in my hands to warm it while I force-fed it a few little bites of food. When I figure out how to post photos on this thing here, I'll post one of this baby and maybe someone can help me identify what kind of bird it is. It's a BIG baby, with a real wide beak that makes it look like its smiling....the mouth actually bigger than the baby's whole head!

We haven't named this baby bird yet...as I am still holding out to see whether or not it survives, but today it is strong, and opening its mouth to be fed with vigor! I'm very happy it's doing better.

My follow-up visit at the doctor revealed that I had a DVT while I was sick, and that was part of my breathing problem. I had not heard this from any of the hospital personnel, but my primary care physician filled me in. A DVT is short for deep vein thrombosis ie: blood clot that can travel through your body to your brain (which would cause a stroke) , to your heart (causing a heart attack), or to your lungs ( causing a pulmonary embolus). Let's just say that this new information was quite sobering, to say the least.

I'm recovering quicker than what the doctor expected, which was surprising to hear, because it's not been quick enough for me. I'm used to bouncing back faster than this, but he promised me that I'm doing 'fabulous'.

So there you have it for today, kids! With Lots of Love, Granni XOXOX

Mother Nature and Other Things

Leave it to my dear friend, 4030lisa to put things in a way to not only make me smile, but think as well. (see comments on last Blog Post)

You are absolutely correct about Mother Nature and her little (or not so little) life lessons. That old broad has got more tricks than I do, and seeing as I am a master of avoidant behavior.... (the Queen-Head-In-The-Sand) I have been a bit ticked off at her keeping me on such a short leash.

I wanted a cigarette so bad, I thought about telling old Mother Nature to blow it out her ass! This thought was amusing to me as I visualized myself lighting up one of my Misty 120's Menthols and blowing that smoke right in her face! Take THAT you old bird! hee hee

Then, of course my imaginings took on a life of their own and before I knew it, Mother Nature was staring me down through narrowed eyes and saying, "Ahem, you little termite... I could blow YOU out of my ass and call it a day!" Followed by some under breath comments about my basic ingratitude, and being childish and a brat. Somehow, picturing myself being blown out of Mother Nature's ass carries no appeal for me whatsoever, and you know I'd come out looking bad in the whole deal.

Today I go for my post-hospital check up to see if I will continue on course, or if I need a bit more tweaking... (maybe an oil change?)

To sum it up, I have always resented life's little intrusions on what I felt was my right to live my life as I chose to. I never appreciated reality tapping me on the shoulder when I was dancing my heart out in the clouds somewhere...(and I was always dancing in the clouds somwhere)!

I guess this snarky old bag has met her match. I need to face reality and accept my role in my own health or I am doomed to repeat this same mistake over and over until it literally kills me. Who the hell wants that??? Time for me to suck it up and quit my bitching, at least on this subject.

I do want to PUBLICLY THANK my dear friend, @jinnandtonics from Twitter, who sent me a gorgeous basket of flowers in the hospital (and they're still quite lovely today) and signed the card from all of you..... "The Gang" Melissa, Jill, Nick, Teri, Lisa, FizzyDuck, SantaDearest and "the rest". I'd get on the SS Minnow anyday with you all for a three hour tour even if we ended up as castaways! How you guys managed to find me, I will never know...but it sure meant alot to me at the time, and will always bring me to tears to think of the day I got flowers from my twitter friends! That was unbelievably awesome!

Hugs and Lots of Granni Kisses!!! XOXOXOXOX

Untitled Progress Report

I promised to keep you all posted on my progress, and since my word is pretty much all I'm good for any more, I'm here to fill you all in. I've tried several times to sit down here and do this since I got out of the hospital, but everything I wrote sounded like an old person complaining about bunions or lumbego.

I still have not smoked.....which is amazing! I'm thrilled, though I cannot boast of having a strong will....if my breathing was back to normal, I would've been smoking again already. So it's not a case of steel fortitude, it's simply a case of I CANNOT ! Nevertheless, I'm pleased....and being pleased with one's self is truly a wonderful thing these days.

My few days home have been funny...The house looks different, the grandkids look different. I look different. I'm covered pretty much from head to toe with black and purple bruises from shots, IV's and being manhandled.

The Pulmonary Physician that treated me in the hospital did a good job, lucky for me. Because he resembled Paul Williams in that iconic leprechaun sort of way and looked at me sheepishly about my smoking habit, all the while trying to hide the trach-port in his own throat. Doctor and patient, each aware of the other's weakness, and floating in the same boat. I don't know if he was ever fully aware of the irony, but I sure was.

This same doctor sent me home with a laundry list of medications, many of them new...and this was funny in itself. I have been diabetic for maybe 4 or 5 years, but never needed insulin. Now with huge mega-doses of corticosteroids, I find I now supposedly need insulin. That would be fine, but I have no way to test my glucose, and the doc wrote me a script for the needles, but not the insulin to go with it....LOLOLOL!! So here I have a box of 100 syringes...but nothing to put in them. This is one of the funny things that happen to me in my life that people sometimes swear I just make up as I go along! (honest! I don't!)

Doc also sent me home with a new blood pressure pill that needed "prior authorization". He instructed me to to let his office know if the pharmacy wouldn't fill it, which I promptly did. His staff tells me they can't fix this issue, because the doctor handles my lungs, not my heart...so I was out of luck....and I'm dumbfounded with the phone in my hand and my jaw hanging open...okaaaay...... and I now know I got discharged before I was ready because Medicare decided it was time for me to go. I am truly lucky to be alive.

Life on high doses of steroids really stinks...cause I want to eat everything in sight...but the wonderful thing about it is, everything you eat tastes fantastic!! Too bad I didn't discover the secret to oral fixation while I was still married....maybe the divorce would not have been necessary!

So, there you have it, my irreverent view on things in general. Life is quite literally what you make it, or should I say that life takes on its true meaning by how we respond to it, rather than what we try to fool others into believing about us...which is a silly waste of time.

As a dear friend of mine blogged recently...don't waste your time in envy or jealousy over what you wish you had. I don't need big boobs, lucious lips or even an active sex life anymore. I'm comfortable being me, and I'm embracing myself with both hands without apology. Gimme a jelly donut and a soft chair and I'll be happy as a clam.

Life is good, kids. And those little sucky moments along the way are just little reminders to pay attention...that you're getting too comfortable, that you're not appreciating the bigger picture. Come on now, you wouldn't think twice about your butt unless you had an occasional hemorroid to remind you that sitting can be a pleasure or a curse depending on what your current situation may be.

I miss you all very much, but I'm trying to be good and take care of myself...(besides I've been watching the Trueblood Marathons at night....). I know you all are still not quite sure how to take me yet, but it's just me...

Love and Hugs to you ALL!!! XXXXX

Home Again Home Again Jiggedy Jig

I have been released from the hopsital this evening and so I am now at home scared out of my wits! I'm supposed to take care of myself now, give myself insulin and not walk too much. I have an oxygen tank that I either completely drained, or shut off...I don't really know for sure. BUt All this is rather hysterical for me because when I comes down to it, if it's associated with me, some how, some way....it's gonna be screwed up. LOLOL!

I'M ALIVE, and that's the good news and when I get myself on an even keel, I'll fill you wonderful people in on the power of Twitter Friendship, give you all big wet hugs and kisses and tell you all how much you mean to me!!

It's a miracle that I still exist, and a testament to my tweet-pals relationship with the ALmighty, I'm sure. My doctor said he had no other reason to explain that I did not die. I HAVE NOT SMOKED! (YAY!) BUt when I arrived by ambulance a week ago, I was in full respiratory failure.

I'm okay, just trying to get over that the offensive smell in my house is actually ME......(PEE-UU) and my daughter will help me get washed up and slathered in deodorant (or at least take pity on me and put a stick-up on my forehead).

You all are precious, wonderful people! And I will update you on everything as soon as I can!

*HUGS AND KISSES* ANNIE XOXOXOXOX

My Dear Friends

I'm not doing well, and I 'm probably going to have to go into the hospital for awhile. I have been following the regimen of medications given to me by the ER doctor to the letter and have gotten no relief whatsoever. Being an old hat at this, I know what's in store for me when I decide to head back to the hospital...and though at the moment I'm trying like hell to avoid it, I know it's inevitable.

Currently my breathing is so bad that I can't walk or talk much. Movement makes me extremely short of breath. I have to sit very still and not move much at all. I know that I have symptoms of respiratory failure, and I know I need to be intubated again. (That's why I'm holding off on going back to the hospital). I have gone through this many, many times in my life...too many.

I can't smoke, so that's a plus. I do light one and hold it...sometimes take a tiny puff, but not inhale. Pathetic, I know. I'm embarrassed at my own idiocy, but I tell it like it is, even if it makes me look bad. I developed chest pain late last night, and it took 3 squirts with my nitro spray before it subsided somewhat. I know I am in serious hot water this time. And I am very aware that this time, I may not recover from it.

SO I wanted to let you all know, because I truly do care for my friends online. Everytime I sent you a hug or a kiss or told you that I loved you, I meant it!!! You all have enriched my life with your humor, and sharing your lives with me---- and it means a great deal to me. You are all wonderful people, and I am grateful to have met you!

I'm terrifed at the moment that I may not survive this latest round of illness...but I'm not looking for any one of you to feel sorry for me, I'm not looking for attention and I'm not trying to be dramatic. Facts are facts. I screwed up my own health by smoking. It's my own fault. I've got no one to blame but myself. I don't want to die...the idea of it scares me more than words can describe. I don't have a strong religious foundation to lean on for comfort like many folks do. So there's no feeling of a 'safety net'. I know I'm bearing the consequences of my own stupidity....that is, the act of smoking was stupid...I still hold to the opinion that doing stupid things does not make a person stupid overall....LOL I'm not an idiot. I'm not stupid. But in that particular area, I concede.

Hopefully I will return in a few days feeling better and will have kicked the smoking habit once and for all! If I could give up the smoking, it would make this current suffering well worth it.

I wanted to tell you all this myself now, just in case I don't make it...because I know when I don't hear from the people I care about, I worry about them. I'm not going to lecture you on the evils of bad habits like smoking...you're all adults, and unless you've been living under a rock, you know what the facts are-- and you're all responsible for the outcomes of your own lives. I hope you all will take care of your health better than I have done, but even if you don't, I won't love you any less.

I send all my love to each of you:

Isy
Peggy
Lisa
Kris
Karen
Lina
Sue
Nick
Sheri
Janice
Cassee
Jill
Portia (only know your RP name)
Shannon
Claudine (RP)
Mikey
Terri
Scott
SantaDeareat (RP)
Yarho
SweetlyCaroline (RP)
Camille
GG
Lori
WarrenWm.
jinnandtonics
FizzyDuck
RedHatsof NedCo.

You all took the time to be my friends and I adore you all. You have made me laugh, make me think about things and shared your unique perspective on life that I have enjoyed immensely.
If I have not named you, it just means I have a crappy memory and not that this all doen't apply to you. I have almost 400 people who follow me on twitter and I have spoken to many of you directly. I can't possibly name you all, but you know who you are!

Granni Hugs and Kisses!! Hope to see you all real soon.

With All My Heart,
Annie

This and That

I've been pretty busy for the last week, but nevertheless have been very observant. Strange things have been happening...odd, annoying, or just plain idiotic! Now, I'm not one to gripe, but I have found some happenings a little less than appealing.

Let's start off with the lawn mower man. Lawn Mower man comes to my house once a week to mow and weed whack (sorry, it doesn't EAT the grass, it WHACKS it). I have a full acre of yard, and with all the rain we got the past week, it had gotten fairly high and thick. Normally he comes on Thurdays, but last Thurs. he was a no-show. By Monday, I was pretty irritated with how my yard was looking and called. "Oh yes! We'll be there this afternoon" So I waited at home...and he didn't show up till 7:30PM. Maybe he thought I had no life.

Let me tell you, he whizzed thru my yard so fast that the grass simply laid down and popped back up after he passed over it. Then, skipping the normal weed-whacking areas, he hurriedly loaded his truck and split. Hmmm...for that I pay 50 bucks? Now my daughter, after a full day of running around to school and back, doing the grocery shopping for me and chasing the kids thru the park-- is out there at dusk re-mowing the yard with a push mower.

The other night, the lid to my kitchen trash can mysteriously opened and closed by itself. No one was around but me and my other daughter, and she saw it too. *shrugs* Okaaay....

Online this morning the headlines included a story about a dairy in Ohio who was secretly filmed abusing their cows. Beating them with crowbars, stabbing them with pitchforks and punching them in the head. WHY???? If this was for their amusement, or some kind of therapeutic way of releasing their stress, I'd like to relieve some of my stress on those people myself! That story made me cry.

One of my favorite bands will be in Indianapolis on June 23rd, (The Moody Blues) and I so wanted to go. But my sister who lives here will be on vacation back to NJ for that week, so I don't get to go. *sigh*

You all know I had tests done two weeks ago for my heart. Well, after all this time, I figured no news is good news... and thought I was in the clear. Nope. The doctor's office called today to tell me my tests were abnormal and I need to come in. Something about a lack of oxygen to my heart....no more details were given, I have to wait till June 8th to get the full story from the doctor himself. Yeah, that will be a relaxing couple of weeks.

Normally I would close this post with some amusing remark, as I have done with the others ...but I don't have any. This world sometimes makes me sick. The troubles going on around us weigh heavy on my soul, like the oil spill in the Gulf...slowly, surely coating everything beautiful in it's sticky, suffocating goo. Some days I have to ask myself, 'why am I here?' then a little voice in the middle of the night will come to me and say, "Gramma, can I sleep with you tonight?" and I know.

Loose Lips

When I was a kid, keeping my mouth shut at the appropriate times was sometimes difficult. My mother would give me a look that could rip your skin off and I would be told later that whatever it was I said was "unacceptable". The problem was, I was never a good liar, and didn't know how to keep family secrets very well. I never knew when it was okay to say something and when it wasn't. Mom was always telling me to grow up, which confused the hell out of me, because she never could tell me how to go about doing just that. I would've loved to accomodate her, just so I would gain her approval in some small way--but alas, it was not meant to be.

As I got older, I definitely learned what things I could tell her safely without the worry of getting any flak. But occasionally, an innocent comment would get me and hour and a half lecture fraught with disapproval. *sigh* Mom was definitely a Type-A personality and anal-retentive about almost everything. Mom could nit-pick about the dumbest things like how you combed your hair, where you went to get your taxes done and how much money you spent on dinner out. Sometimes she would take it too far and it was so ridiculous, I had to stifle my laughter.... Like once I called her on the phone and she answered in an annoyed tone. When I asked her what was wrong, she said: "I'm trying to eat dinner!!" So me being the smartass that I am replied, "Oh good. That was my plan, to interrupt your dinner!" She realized the absurdity of being angry and laughed.

In the past few years, I have noticed that when I'm uncomfortable or nervous, I'll say things that are blunt, brutally honest and sometimes inappropriate leaving me embarrassed or horrified. The first time I took note of it was when I was in the dentist's chair. Fully numb and mush-mouthed, his drill hit a spot that nearly made me cling to the ceiling. Not thinking, I signed "that fucking hurt!". He looked at me, not knowing what I was signing and said, "What?" So stupid me had to translate with a mouth full of cotton. Now I was on gas at the time, and I will use that as my excuse for my lack of discretion--but anyone who lives in the South will tell you, a lady NEVER drops the F-bomb. Thank God my dentist laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair, but I skipped a few appointments to be sure he'd forgotten the incident...(he didn't).

Yesterday, I'm meeting my new doctor for the first time, and he's asking me many questions about my health history. He asked me about mammograms, Pap smears, and finally asked me if I'd ever had a colonoscopy. Again, without thinking I responded, "Uh uh...NO WAY" He said, "Why?" To which I replied, "Noboody's running a hose up my ass!" ::oh god, I didn't just say that out loud did I?:: One look at his face told me, yeah, I certainly did. Thankfully, he laughed really hard and said, "Well, at least you're honest!"

I won't even tell you about the time I was in church when they introduced a guest speaker named "James Brown" and yes, he was a skinny little black man. Naturally, I had to open my big mouth and start singing (albeit quietly) "Ow! I feel good..." But two rows of folks behind me and two rows in front of me heard me, some tittered and snickered, others gave me that same look mom used to.

So when I say 'I tell it like it is' that's not my way of bragging about my ability to be honest, it's a warning to others that I just can't help myself.

Older Yet Wiser?

I am a member of the 'boomer generation' ...this includes anyone who was born between 1949 and 1963. I was born in 1958, which makes me 51. This wouldn't be too bad except I have been ill most of my life and medications have aged my body beyond my years. So I may be 51, but physically, I'm around 80.

Menopause is a faint memory, having gone through it in my 30's, and now I'm looking at the remainder of my life as if it was the last slope on a rollercoaster. Going downhill waaay too fast for me!

This morning what's on my mind is the whole aging process. You get older, you get wiser and your life should generally improve. Older people retire, go on cruises, play golf, nap whenever they want, join old people's clubs and enjoy the empty nest--or so I thought.

These days, I'm finding out that it's becoming more common for multi generations to be living together under the same roof. Grandparents, (Great-Grandparents in some cases), parents and grandchildren all living together. My grandchildren live with me, as do both of my grown daughters. I couldn't imagine it any other way, to be honest--in spite of the fact that some days I long to be alone.

With grandchildren underfoot, unique and interesting experiences can crop up at any given time; and both grandparent and grandchild can be frightfully disillusioned at the lack of mystery this can create. My grandsons see me in the morning, which can be a scary experience...they tend to know when I've had a "depends" moment despite my attempts at discretion : "Gramma! You're supposed to use the potty!!" Of course, I am aware when they have 'accidents', much to their horror. Humiliation and embarrassment tend to hit both our generations regularly, it seems.

I recall a day last summer, when I was sitting in the swimming pool with the boys enjoying the hot afternoon. My oldest grandson glided up to me and suddenly was taken aback and gave me a long, thoughtful look.

"Gramma" he said, "Are you a man?"
"What?" I said, confused. "No! Why would you think that?"
"Cause you have a moustache, just like Poppy's" He said, still eyeballing my upper lip with wide eyes.

Grandchildren say what's on their minds, they don't edit their thoughts--much to my dismay at times. Excusing myself in a restaurant recently to use the bathroom, I return to the table where my youngest grandson asks me quite loudly, "Did you stink it up like you do at home?" Then he burst into hysterics. Smartass at four, already.

I find getting older is insulting most of the time. You get hair where you're not supposed to, which is doubly-humiliating if you're a woman. The hair you're supposed to have starts getting thinner (on top and down below). Your hair turns gray... everywhere! My husband was kind enough to point that fact out when I was in my 30's. I attempted to dye my hair down there, and ended up hopping all over the bathroom because my crotch was on fire for that 25 minutes. Then, it only dyed the hair that was my natural color, leaving a gray streak right down the middle. *sigh* I'll never do that again!

There is a multitude of humiliations at becoming an old person, but on the plus side (yes, there is one) the kiddies run to Gramma for comfort, I can give them candy or soda and leave them with their mom for a few hours...*grin* and Christmas, Easter and the first snowfall brings with it the ability to play like a child and blame it on senility. I have some hearing loss, but can use that to my advantage when I choose to ignore when someone is talking to me. I can avoid crappy chores by simply hobbling around the house and acting like a cripple.

All in all, I'd rather be where I am in life now, than be young and weighed down with a miserable marriage and responsibilities of a family while hubby parked his ass in the chair in front of the TV while I cooked, cleaned and supervised homework. I can still do those things, but now by choice instead of a 'have to'. But I wouldn't complain if I woke up one morning looking like Catherine-Zeta Jones, instead of Ma Kettle.

The Bird is the Word

A couple of days ago, my daughter was taking her son to school when she happened to come across a baby robin fluttering about in the hallway inside the school. Being her mother's daughter, she scooped up the baby bird -- much to the relief of the school staff -- and brought the little one home to me.

When I lived in New Jersey, I rescued injured and abandoned wildlife, working with a local rehabilitation /wildlife refuge place out in Tabernacle, NJ. I've had my share of moles, skunks, baby rabbits and squirrels, but mostly I had birds.

Taking care of baby birds is a huge undertaking, you have to mix special food for them which consists of paste-type dog food, applesauce, baby cereal, hard boiled eggs, and bone meal. This you feed to the baby bird every two hours or so with tweezers or a toothpick with the sharp end cut off and smashed flat to make a little spoon type deal. The babies tend to crap everywhere, especially the mockingbirds, who poop huge jelly-bean sized turds. When they start to learn how to fly, the like to perch on your shoulder or your head and generally poop there as well.

This little baby has all its feathers, but seems off kilter in her balance and cannot fly yet. I have to lock myself in the bathroom to feed her, since one of my dogs is a bird dog and would kill it and eat it if given the opportunity. She refuses to eat the dog-food mix so I've been making her scrambled eggs, which she loves. My grandsons have decided to name her "Eggy".

I had one other bird that I had difficulty in rehabilitating years ago, a female cardinal, who would not fly save short distances but preferred running on the ground. I ended up keeping her (I named her Jeanette, after Jeanette MacDonald) and she happily lived with me for 16 years, believe it or not.

This morning I took little Eggy into the bathroom where my grandsons (age 4 and 9) joined me to watch, fed her her scrambled eggs and gave her water from a syringe. She tried desperately to fly all the while voicing her complaints quite loudly with an irritated expression on her face. She then flapped her wings and climbed up my arm and settled on my shoulder, nipping at my hair. The boys got a big kick out of it.

Then the four-year old taps me and says, "Gramma, Eggy pooped on your shirt!" To which he fell on the floor in hysterics. The 9 year old was completely grossed out and was making faces, which made me laugh.

Hopefully little Eggy's flying skills will improve in the next week or so and I can release her. Till then, I think the whole situation kind of illustrates how life really works. You go out in the world and contribute what you can to the benefit of mankind or nature-- and sometimes, in spite of your well-intentioned efforts, you get crapped on.

Is it right to have expectations?

Is it? Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but when I pay for a service, I expect that service to be provided without a hitch. When I was a child, people took pride in doing their jobs well. The milkman came every day around the same time, so did the breadman. (Yes, they delivered to your door) Our milkman at the time would brave a blizzard to bring milk to our house even if we were the only ones he got to. He knew my mother had small children (there were 7 of us), and when the twins (my baby sisters) were infants, that milkman never missed our house in spite of below zero weather and 10 inches of snow...and he was happy to do it! I miss service with a smile.

Oh, there are some places you go today, where they practically molest you as soon as you enter the door. "Good Morning" or "welcome" is the usual greeting...I could do without being accosted that way--especially if it's early in the morning. If I make a run to the store early in the morning, you can bet I threw on a bulky sweater to hide the fact that I didn't put my bra on, and I'm usually wearing my slippers. The old adage "Don't speak unless spoken to" would apply there.

What I'm talking about is services where they act like they're doing you a favor instead of supplying a service you paid for. Take for instance, the newspaper. Now, I just moved here April 1st, and about two weeks after we got here, I ordered and paid for home delivery of the local newspaper. It normally gets delivered about 4 AM, so when I get up, it's already out there. Unless it rains.

Every time it has rained, the paper is a no-show. At first, I let it go--figuring the carrier got them all wet, or something like that. But seeing as how we have had quite a few rainy days, I started to call and request my morning paper. You know us old folks are creatures of habit, which are ingrained in us from many years of doing the same thing at the same time every day.

This morning, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and no newspaper in the box. So I call the circulation dept. and complain. The person on the other end of the phone acts like I just woke her up, and she's quite annoyed that she has to answer the phone, apparently. She promises to have a paper sent out to my home, and I'm still waiting.

It's not that I'm a big news freak, either...but I do enjoy reading the headlines, the comics and Dear Abby with my morning coffee. I get most of my news online anyway. But somehow the coffee is not as good without the morning paper laid out on the table.

The carrier knows that the Tribune is the only newspaper published for this area, so I can't call and threaten to subscribe to a competitor. You either take what they got, or go without. I miss the old days, when you could set your watch on things like delivery of the day's milk, or the morning paper. Now it seems that the only thing I can set my watch to is my early morning trip to the bathroom. At 6:40 every day I climb out of my warm bed to visit the bathroom, much to my dismay at having been awakened in the first place. But at least no one is waiting for me to greet me with a smile there!

Welcome

Hi and welcome to my blog! Some of you folks know me from twitter (@Granni_Annie) , and I thank you for visiting.

Things have been a bit topsy-turvy around here for the past couple of months. My family and I moved to another state, which was a big pain in the butt, but well worth it now that we've settled in. I must've done too much with the move and all cause I got real sick the 2nd week we were here, and ended up in the hospital. Nothing serious, I had some multi-million dollar equipment analyzing my heart and I should be getting the results in the next few days.

Living back up North after having lived in the South for 13 years is very strange, different and surprising at at times. Down South the ladies (not the girls) were pretty prim and proper...being back up north is like putting on a comfortable old pair of shoes. People here curse in public, and no one bats an eye. The folks here are very friendly, more so than they were down south, believe it or not. In the southern states, folks are fairly suspicious of outsiders. They know by your accent that you're not from "these parts" and some will mumble under their breath about "yankees". But for the most part, the South is beautiful and much slower paced than the rat race of the north. Southerners size you up pretty darn fast by the clothes you wear, your accent and by what church you're affliated with--and heaven help you if you don't belong to a church! They will avoid you like you were the devil himself!

Though I miss the farm, and all the animals we took care of while my landlord was battling cancer, I have come to like this place here with our little one acre yard. I'm sure my new neighbors would be glad we didn't bring the pig and the turkeys with us!

So welcome everyone and come back and visit me now and then. I'll try not to bore you and maybe you'll get a little laugh here and there.

Lots of Hugs!

RIP Jimmy! We love ya and miss ya!