Wassup!

Hey, Peeps!

And I say that because Easter is only a week away.

Who doesn't love Peeps?

(Well, okay, I don't. But I love the idea of them! I think they're cute! And colorful!)

So, what's up these days?

Plenty, I tell you!

(1)
Flynn started a new job in a new state. It's actually closer to Zion, where we live now.
About 100 miles closer.

But there are no interstates to get there, two large mountain passes to cross and hundreds, 

I say HUNDREDS of deer and antelope to get past safely.

I don't care what the song says, conjuring up all that Wild West romantic imagery:

♫ "Where the Deer and Antelope play" ♫  

Oh please!! Deer and antelope playing on the road isn't cool at all. 

It's dangerous and scary!

So far, we have been fairly lucky. (Knock on wood)

We've not hit any big game with our vehicles as we travel back and forth.

Flynn has hit a small something (it was dark and he didn't see what it was. But it knocked something loose on the bottom of the car).

And I hit an already dead skunk... which was just as terrible as if I'd hit an alive skunk.
The residual smell left on the bottom of the car was pretty terrible!
Thank heavens for automatic car washes with HOT water.
No tomato juice was needed to rid my car of the nasty smell.
Not that tomato juice works anyway.

That's an old wives tale. 

Silly old wives. Didn't know what they were talking about.

Holy cow!

I digress.

Now that we're past winter, Flynn is able to fly back and forth more frequently, which is
a whole different set of worries.

Too bad you can't see the top of my head and all the new gray hair that has sprouted out.

But, he loves it.

He can fly here in 2 hours

vs.

driving for 6.

That's a no brainer for him!

But what about us moving to the other state to live with him to stop all this dangerous traveling back and forth?!?!

Good question!

(2)

A long, long time ago,in a galaxy far away....

Okay.

Well, in January, which seems like a long, long time ago we were in that galaxy far away

(where Flynn is working now),

and we got together with a real estate agent and a builder.

We picked out a lot. And we picked out some house plans.

We put some earnest money down on the lot and house plans.

And then we noticed something.

Remember when gas prices started to drop? 

Remember when they were almost $4/gallon and all of a sudden they were below $2/gallon?

Yeah.

It was pretty amazing, since we're people who spend a lot of time in cars driving down roads,
using that gasoline.

Those low prices, however, STINK for the people who are working in oil fields.

Flynn's new employment is near a lot of oil fields. A lot of people in his town work out in those oil fields.

A lot of the oil rigs are being shut down, and workers are losing their jobs.

Very sad.

But, for us, that meant that the housing boom that has been going on in this town will probably slow down. 

Which also means the prices of houses will drop.

At least, we hope they will.

So we walked away from our lot, our house plans and our builder
(still trying to get our earnest money back).

For 6 months, that is.

And we cross our fingers that the prices will continue to drop and that we will be able to find a house that is not only great but more affordable!

Three months have passed since we made that decision.

And we've noticed that prices are indeed dropping.

It hasn't been as dramatic as we'd hoped, but it's happening.

Here's the plan...

(3)

 * Scooter and I finish out the school year here in Zion.

* We are committed to helping out/performing in our local community theatre production of
"Little Mermaid, Jr." (children's theatre) during the month of June.

(I will probably need to be committed when it's over. I'm "assistant director"!)

* I am NOT registering Scooter for school here next fall.

* We begin looking, in earnest, for a home for us all to live in.

* We will be living together, UNDER ONE ROOF, by the end of summer/beginning of the school year.

Holy cow!

It's been 4 years of living like this! 

It's dang exciting to think of seeing Flynn every day.

Hope he can handle us!

(4)

I am still a grandma to the most amazing little guy ever born, in the existence of the world.

Some might say I'm being dramatic.

I say I'm just being truthful.

Squirt just turned two years old and he calls me or FaceTimes me almost every day.
Sometimes he doesn't say a word, but that's okay.
I just talk and talk and talk to him. I think he just likes hearing my voice.

We have a connection you know.
Last week, when they were leaving our house after a visit, I heard him say to me, 

"I love you!"

I'm the first person he has said that to.

Brings tears to my eyes.

He always kisses the phone or iPad when he hangs up after our conversations.
Love my guy.

I'm going to miss him horribly when we move.

(5) 

Scooter is doing well in school.

He's no longer in his "nerd herd" classes and that's been a tough adjustment.

He has no patience for naughty children or mean teachers. 

And when you're shoved back into the general population of the school, that's what you get.

My boy is turning into an activist. He can't sit quietly when he sees injustice being done.
He told off a student teacher who he felt wasn't teaching the subject

(she was supposed to be teaching geography, but was teaching "what do you want to be when you grow up?" or "what piece of the playground do you identify most with?" or "don't judge other people by their outside appearances").

(Those are honest-to-goodness subjects that were taught during Geography hour.)

He reaches out to help the autistic child in homeroom that he feels is being bullied by the teacher.

He looks for ways that he can help his homeroom teacher who is obviously stressed and acting out against the children (she sends kids to the office every day!). He tries to find ways to make her burden a little lighter.

He's a good kid.

(6)

I started working.

I work at an assisted living home. 

I am working in the kitchen as a cook, server and dishwasher.

The cooking and serving is fine and fun!

I love this profession (chef) I have chosen!

I love working with the residents. And I have to say the residents with dementia and/or Alzheimer's are my favorite. But that's another story for another day.

It's the dishes that kill me.

Imagine with me, if you will, your kitchen on Thanksgiving.

You have just cooked the biggest meal possible. You have fed your family.

Everyone is fat and sassy and comfortably resting in the living room.

You return to the kitchen to clean up the dishes that have created this culinary masterpiece.

You are shocked when you realized that every dish from your cupboard has been used and is dirty on the counter. Just waiting to be cleaned and put back in its proper place.

Can you see it?
It's overwhelming, isn't it? 

It's exhausting, isn't it?

Okay, now times that by

x10!! 

I was shocked the first week I worked and I saw the amount of dishes we have to wash/clean.

And it's not just once a day!

Nope.
On my shift, I have to wash the same amount of dishes

twice a day!!

(breakfast and lunch)

With three of us working on clean-up, it can take 1.5 hours just to wash and put away the dishes. 

That's straight work time.
No breaks.

No stopping.

It's hell.

Not gonna sugarcoat that one!

But, these wonderful people have to eat. And they deserve to eat the best food we can provide.

This is their home, and who wants to eat hospital food three meals of every day?

It takes a lot of dishes to make good food.

So, we keep on cooking, serving and washing.

And washing.

And washing.

And washing.

(I did give my notice, however. I need to focus on getting our house packed up and ready to rent.
My last day of work will be May 18.
My fingernails are grateful.)

And that, my friends, is

WASSUP!

XOXOXOXO

A Bad Joke

In recent months a doctor from Venezuela was visiting the United States.
On his return trip home, he was flying out of Miami International Airport.
When the ticket agent asked him if he had any explosives in his bag, the overly tired
man responded, “Yes, he had C-4 in his luggage.”
The ticket agent was unsure what that was, and asked if it was a gun.
”No,” the doctor replied, “It’s explosives.”

Now, I’m no genius, but even I can see that that was not a smart move to make.
Especially in the Post 9/11 world.

The airline worker also didn’t think it was a joke.
The police were called.
His luggage was searched.
Five airlines were delayed and two concourses shut down.
Thousands of people were affected by his joke.
Because, he insisted that it was a joke.
He really didn’t have C-4 in his luggage. He was just trying to be funny.
He was also very tired, he claimed, and didn’t realize the effect his joke would have.

His joke ended up costing him $90,000.
Because he had the funds to pay the fine, he didn’t have to serve any jail time.
Dude is lucky he’s a doctor and had money sitting in his account!

(You can read the story here:
http://latino.foxnews.com/latino/news/2014/12/02/dumb-joke-doc-bomb-prank-at-miami-airport-will-cost-surgeon-almost-0000/)

I can read this story and get a chuckle and shake my head in disbelief.
I can say this guy was a dummy and
“WHAT THE HECK WAS HE THINKING?”
But really, I can’t.
That would be the pot calling the kettle black.
I cannot sit in judgment on this poor doctor.
Why?
Because I did the same thing.

Remember my statement earlier?
That I’m no genius?
Yeah.
I’m not.

Way, way back in the 1990’s – I think it was around 1996 –
(thankfully PRE 9/11)
we lived on the Oregon coast.
The Smithsonian Museum took several of its displays and put them on the road
so America could see some of its treasures.
The display came to Portland.
Flynn, Belle and I had to go see it.
There were some fabulous things to see:
Indiana Jones’ hat
The Fonz’s leather jacket
The capsule that the first astronauts splashed down in the ocean with
Dorothy’s ruby red slippers
I think we even saw the bar from Cheers
There were many other wonderful things that I can’t remember

Since this was such a special exhibit, there were also Secret Service agents that traveled
with it, to keep it safe and protect the artifacts – most of them are irreplaceable.
I was new to security checkpoints.
We didn’t need them back then.
We were safe.
We weren’t scared of terrorists or bad guys.

And Secret Service guys are hot.
Have you seen one up close and personal?
If not, take my word for it.
At least the agents traveling with the exhibit were quite attractive.
(Don’t judge! Yes, I was married, but I wasn’t dead! A girl can still appreciate attractive men!
Have you seen Hugh Jackman?!?!)

So it was my turn to go through security.
A very attractive agent took my purse and said,
”Do you have any guns, knives, pepper spray or any weapons of any kind?”
I looked at him, and with smoldering eyes said,
(I cringe when I think of it)
”Yes, I have ALL of it!”

Good Hell!!
What was I thinking?!?!?!

I would love to kick old Betty in the knees and tell her to knock it off.
Use the head that’s on her shoulders and keep her mouth shut.

Of course I had no guns.
Of course I had no knives.
Of course I had no pepper spray
or any other weapons of any kind.
I still don’t have items like that… almost 20 years later.

Mr. Secret Service man didn’t think I was as cute as I thought I was.
As a matter of fact, he didn’t like me at all.

I was MORTIFIED as he said (in a very official tone of voice),
”Ma’am, come with me.”
And he took me away from Flynn and Belle,
to a secure room.
He took my purse and searched it.
And then, the ultimate of humiliation,
I got a pat down.

I was ready to cry the entire time.
I was so embarrassed.
I wanted to DIE!

Thankfully the agent realized I was just an idiot, 

spouting off my too large mouth, and sent me on my way.
With my tail between my legs, I crawled back to my family and tried to enjoy the exhibit.
Which, amazingly enough, I did.
It was amazing.

BUT… (and here’s the important part)
I learned two very important lessons that day:
There are only 3 surviving pairs of Dorothy’s Ruby Red Slippers
and
Don’t mess with a Secret Service Agent.
They may have big muscles and cute butts,
but they don’t have a sense of humor.
They have a job to do, and they do it well.
Very well.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

PS – 20 years has removed me far enough from this story that I can look back and chuckle.
Just a little…
I’m still quite embarrassed by it,
but that was a different Betty at a different time of life.
Of course, I would NEVER do anything like that again and hope I’ve learned
the value of keeping my mouth shut.
Especially in the days since 9/11.
There’s no room in this world for “jokes” like that!