Baseball is not for wimps

We spent all day Saturday at the ballpark for my son Ryan's baseball minor league tournament. It was cloudy, windy and rainy, and I still managed to get fried (skin - not brain). Playing out a scene that happens everytime Ryan meets up with friends, he ran over to me between games asking if his friend CJ could spend the night. Before I could answer, he also informs me that CJ's 4 year old little brother would need to come with him. Say what???

ME: Are you referring to BJ (beelzebub junior), the little maniac that spilled blue rasberry snowcone all over my white shorts; the little angel that deliberately threw his baseball into the field during play causing much confusion and stoppage of the game; the sweet boy that was using the water fountain to fill up the front of his pants and then sat so close to me that I am now blue and wet; the child that walked up to a stroller of a sleeping baby and started shaking it violently so the baby would wake up and play with him; the same boy who was in very close proximity to a dog that was whimpering and yelping whereupon boy claims to not know why dog is acting so wierd; the little monster who has both parents here somewhere that have neither scolded him or kept track of him - are you referring to that little brother?

RYAN: I guess.......so can they stay?

ME: ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND?......curious, why does CJ have to bring his little brother?

RYAN: 'cause his parents want to go out and they can't find a babysitter for BJ

ME: shocking

RYAN: Mom, so why can't they (in whiny,pathetic tone)

ME: ...................................................(incredulous silence)

I better get my own "Death Day" because I never got my own "birthday"

Okay, so yesterday was a big news day with regard to celebrity death. First, we hear about Farah Fawcett, which did sadden me because I watched her documentary a few weeks ago and thought it sad that someone so beautiful was dying like that. Not that ugly people dying isn't sad, but you get my drift here. Then I'm at my youngest son's baseball game in frigging 100+ degrees and I overheard a woman say that Michael Jackson died and at that point I thought that heat exhaustion was kicking in, but noooooo.....the King of Pop....gone.....for good. I was sad about that too. When I say sad, I mean that there was a moment of reflection and remebrance for these folks. There was not tears, hysterics, statements like: "it feels like I lost a member of my family (sob)", or "I can't believe it, I keep hoping it's not true" (in sobby, hysterical voice). What the fuck is wrong with these people? How do they react if an actual member of their family dies or someone they know - or are acquainted with - or even met? I'm actually a little scared of these folks and their over-the-top emotional state.

Speaking of Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett dying on the same day: isn't it just like Michael Jackson to fuck up Farah's death day? All of the sudden, Farah dying is on the back burner, and it's all about Michael. She should have at least had her own day for everyone to be sad just about her. If when I die, some really famous icon has the audacity to die on the same day thereby fucking up my "day" for everyone to be sad about "me", I am going to be really pissed.


During Highschool, my goal was to have hair like Farah Fawcett. The fact that I was a brunette with naturally curly hair did not deter me......unfortunately.....as you could tell from my senoir picture if I was stupid enough to include...which I'm not.

Bad Twin is now Good Twin but only for a day

My sister rocks! She prepared 4 pages of notes for the "meeting" with the nursing home staff and not only managed to discuss all issues in a professional and non-bossy/caring manner, but actually ended up looking like she was running the joint. I keep telling her that she missed her calling and truly needs to become a nurse. Presently, she is a Speech Pathologist and has been for many years. She has helped countless children and families strugglling with issues like hearing impairments, autism, and Down's, but to see her with the sick and elderly leaves me awestruck. That is why, for the next 24 hours, she will be known as Good Twin. It's the least I can do. I am fashioning a crown out of scrap paper and out dated birthday cake certificates from the radio station for the occasion. Your welcome Kim!


Sisters annoy, interfere, criticize. Indulge in monumental sulks, in huffs, in snide remarks. Borrow. Break. Monopolize the bathroom. Are always underfoot. But if catastrophe should strike, sisters are there. Defending you against all comers. ~Pam Brown

Don't make me go all Jack Nicholson on your ass

Sinister goings on at the nursing home, people. They contacted me yesterday to inform me that they are changing my mother's status from "skilled care" to "custodial care", which results in us paying the full costs of nursing home care, as insurance would no longer pay any $$$. I met with the director of nursing to discuss the issue. They feel that she is not improving and at times, refusing to get out of bed. I went down to scold my mother for not cooperating and, thusly, putting our financial future in jeopardy when she says "hard to refuse to get out of bed when no one tries to get me out of bed!!!!". I go back to head nurse to report conversation with Mom, and suggest that she look over documentation regarding the incidents in question, and she replies that they need to do a better job of documenting those issues. WTF!!! Your plan is to wipe us out financially and you have no documentation....that sounds like a horrible plan to me. I sweetly suggest that they may be a bit premature in their decision and nicely urge them to work harder at helping my mother improve her condition. Shortly after that discussion, I see head nurse at the nursing station discussing the situation with nursing staff which is accompanied by rollling of eyes, sighs and guilty looking silence when I approach the station. Bad idea on their part....bad, bad idea. Now I'm pissed, my mother is pissed and my sister(Bad Twin) is pissed. It isn't often that the Twins "K" are on the same page, or agree on how to handle a situation, but when we are, we are a force to be reckoned with. Nobody fucks with our mother, or our money....NOBODY! We have a slight reprieve in the time frame in order to work these "issues" out, and have a Care Plan meeting scheduled for tomorrow. There will be blood....or at least harsh words and veiled verbal assaults. Prepare for battle Nurse Ratcheds- you have been warned!!

I am fairly certain that my sister, after reading this post, will suggest that she do the talking in the Care Plan meeting. Fine Kim - but I get to be in charge of sound effects.

Staring Death in the Face

Years ago, some people began to have dreams about me. Bad Dreams. Dreams that led them to believe that my life was in eminent danger and I would probably die in a car accident. In a RED car. My mother was the first to have this dream, and upon waking, began calling me and everyone I know. Unfortunately for her, I was in college at the time and drunk - and unavailable to take a phone call....cause I was drunk. Over the next few years, I would learn that others had the same dream or variations of that dream, with the one constant being the RED car. At that point, I took it as a serious sign from God (?) not to own a red car, which morphed into my refusal to even ride in a red car which really pissed my husband (RIP) off when he brought cute little Mazda Miata covertible home and I made him take it back. That fear has stayed with me for years, and recently I have found myself driving my son's reddish Intrepid and my mother's reddish Lincoln because my stupid little silver car BLEW UP!! I have been telling myself that these vehicles are not really RED, but a variation of red, and therefore, somewhat safe..ish. Today, I am officially trading reddish Intrepid, reddish Lincoln and red golf cart in for my new vehicle - a Dodge Caliber.
And it's red. And I am a fucking moron (or brave warrior princess who laughs at death).