Sunday, June 17, 2018

Punch/kick like a snake bite

Do you know what that means?  Punch/kick like a snake bite?
My Jazzercise instructor, Brenda Pearson, uses that term all the time.

It means quick motion out and even quicker back - like a recoil action.

The first time I heard her say it, I knew exactly what she meant because I had prior history and performed the maneuver like a pro.

You see, way back in the dark ages when I went to Stephens College, I took a karate class.  It wasn't part of the curriculum and I don't remember how I came to be part of the group.  It might have had something to do with how drop-dead handsome the instructor was.

I also don't remember how long the class lasted but it wasn't too long because our teacher got busted for selling drugs.

It was really disappointing when we were informed the guy was behind bars because I was close to the board breaking part of the course.  And naturally, wouldn't get to see that cute face on a weekly basis anymore.

Who knew, many years later, that the one skill I took away from my karate lesson would be put to good use at Jazzercise.

I could see the appreciation in Brenda's eyes the first time she witnessed my precise punch and she absolutely glowed when she saw my kick.  Delivered like Bruce Lee.

Ok, I confess that last paragraph was a complete fib.
Ok, an out and out lie but my fingers took over on the keyboard.  They had a mind of their own.  Really.

I'm writing about the whole punching/kicking thing now because the memory came back to me the other day as I was expertly punching at Jazz.  That cute instructor's face popped into my head.

Wonder where he is now and if he's still a handsome devil? 

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Bug bites and me

I've had some weird experiences with bug bites.  Some of them are or should be embarrassing but - you know me - they weren't.

I blogged about attending the retirement party of our doctor friend, Tim Dickenson ( I can never remember if it's "in" or "en") with a nasty reaction to a bug bite on my chest and didn't have an issue with asking him "would you mind looking down my shirt"?  Whereupon he whipped out his handy-dandy flashlight which he apparently has at the ready and looked down my shirt.  I should also add that Petey had a flashlight as well (WTH?) and he joined in the fun.

Doc gave me home remedy advice and sent me on my way.

Another bite occurred, also in my back yard, and that little stinker got me on the back of my upper leg - right below my you-know-what.  

That bite, like the one above, went from tiny to "holy shit, what's going on"? (question mark before or after the quotes?) very quickly and we were out of town.  Not far, though, but it was on a Sunday so I thought it would be a good idea to stop off at another doctor friend's house - Rian Mintek.

He answered the door and I asked if I could come in and drop my pants.  He didn't blink an eye and gestured, with a sweeping arm, so I entered.

I think he wrote me a Rx because there was mention of FLESH EATING VIRUS.

Now to current events:  we were at a neighborhood party down the street on Monday afternoon. Bridget and Bill Haag were the hosts in their beautiful home.

Bill had just finished a tour of the grand house and we were standing in the foyer downstairs when I felt something bite me on the upper leg (what's with the upper leg as a favorite target?).  I tried to ignore it but the biting continued.

I knew I had to get rid of the sucker so I said "excuse me but something's biting me and it needs to go."  I know Bill was present for the show and I also think Fred Jordan witnessed me shoving my hand down my shorts and aggressively moving it around in a frantic way.  Again, no one blinked an eye.

I was thinking of taking a picture to show you just how many bites I received that day (7) but there isn't enough money in this world to get me to show ya'll my upper thigh.

You're welcome. 

Sunday, May 27, 2018

While the dog's away . . .

the parents will play.

Augie is at "doggie camp" and Petey and I have been having a blast roaming the countryside.

Friday we drove up to Grand Haven, MI.  Such a beautiful place.  I will admit, however, that I had cookies on the brain.  I know, you're shocked, right?

There is a bakery up there that makes outstanding cookies.  I had one last year when we went up for the art show and I've been thinking of it ever since.

We didn't leave town until 3-ish and took the scenic route so we arrived just after 4p.  We got street parking and as luck would have it - parked right in front of the "bakery of my dreams."


I stopped myself before screaming out loud "WHO THE HELL CLOSES AT 4P ON A FRIDAY OF A FRIGGING HOLIDAY WEEKEND???"  Plus I knew it would embarrass Petey if I did that.  I almost fell to my knees, too.

Petey reminded me that the staff had probably been there since 6a making those damn cookies so . . . a 4p closure wasn't out of the question.

I pulled up my big girl panties along with a semi-happy face and we proceeded on with the day.

After browsing the shops and waterfront in Grand Haven we headed down to Holland where we rounded out the evening with dinner at the  New Holland Brewery - outside where we watched life go by as we ate.

Yesterday we headed out early for the South Haven Harbor walk.  Another beautiful day.  Mother Nature has really stepped up with this weather.

It's a wonderful place filled with great memories.  We reminisced with old neighbors (from our family cottage days) and then happened upon the Mermaid Fest.

Yes, it's for real.  There really is a Mermaid Society and it's world wide.  They were trying to break the attendance record with this gathering and did!  400+ maids (female and male) were out on the pier.  It was amazing.

After South Haven we headed into Kalamazoo for some great pizza at Erbelli's.

Home by 9p.  It was a long day and we're old; what can I say. And we still have 2 more days to go on this holiday weekend so we need to pace ourselves.  

Monday, May 21, 2018

Life with braces

 A handful of years ago a "used to be close friend,"  Tom Richmond mentioned the fact that it looked like I was missing a tooth.  Right up front. 

Up until that moment I will honestly tell you that I never noticed.  After my "used to be close friend's" comment, I was obsessed.

I started looking at all the photos of me and damn if he wasn't right.  I hate it when he's right.

I talked to my dentist about it and we discussed a few things - bonding and braces - and neither one sounded good.

Braces at my age?  I think not.

My dentist used that phrase every person over 50 hates:  as we age.
Yup, "as we age" our teeth start shifting forward!  That movement causes crowding and something's gotta give.

The crowding caused that small tooth to the right of my middle uppers to fade backwards. I know there are dental-specific names for these guys but I'm too lazy to ask Petey who was a dental technician in the Coast Guard. Anyway, that movement was only going to continue which meant that at some point everyone would lose sight of that once good looking tooth.

You know which one I'm talking about, right?

Dr.Seiferly referred me to Dr.Shannon, the orthodontist after explaining that the clear braces had come a long way.

Dr.Shannon has his own clear braces called SO Clear.

Easy process and here I am almost a year later very happy.

I might let Mr.Richmond back into my good graces after he showers me with compliments. I'm sure he's also expecting a big fat THANK YOU.



These are the "trays."  

You change weekly and wear them for 20-ish hours a day.
No wires - no pain.

Friday, May 4, 2018

Twenty year bead obsession

I made glass beads for many years.  I started in March of '98.

I loved making glass beads.  I learned sooooo much from online friends and "real life" friends like Robin, Dilly, Janie and Nancy.

The glass rods came in so many colors and combining colors for a new color was fascinating.

About four years ago I decided to change over to making paper beads.  A whole different process but still the same feel of love for the bead.

It's been fun experimenting with different kinds of paper: sheet music, Christmas wrap, old catalogs and calendars and my secret obsession (although I've posted so much about it I don't think it's a secret anymore), Cavallini paper.

I tried many different crafty things before beads came into my life but none of them stuck like beads.

Truth be told, I kinda sucked at the other things so I'm still thanking my lucky stars the beads showed up.

The other thing I'm so thankful for is that glass came to me when I needed it most.  My best friend, Sue Lange, died in October of '97.
I was at a loss.  My world stopped.  Life began to move again (slowly) when I started melting glass.

Because of glass, I made new friends.  None, of course, would ever take her place but they filled the void - a bit.

So, twenty years making beads.  It's been a hoot.

Monday, April 30, 2018

Oops #2

No dead cats this time.  This oops is about too many 'terps.

I'm a Sign Language interpreter (terp) as everyone here already knows.  Unless there are some new-comers.

I went on a job recently and to my surprise (it's happened before, more than once but not frequently) there was already another interpreter there.

Oops.  We made sure there wasn't another Deaf person at the site that was waiting for an interpreter and then did "rock, paper, scissors" to see who would stay.  

JK on the hand game.  We spoke like two professionals and then I hit the road.

Obviously there was a mix up by the customer when sending in the request to the agency I work for.  Even more interesting was the fact that the other person was there from a different agency. hmmm

Later that afternoon I got a text from the interpreter who stayed and she said that another terp showed up for the same client.  Now, that has never happened before. double hmmmm

I've also gone on a few jobs only to find out upon arrival that the client wasn't actually DEAF!  That one was a royal mix up.  Actually, now that I think about it, that happened a few times.  Once, the person had a hearing deficit but didn't know Sign Language. 

I believe technology is strongly behind the errors.  As much as I love the new stuff that's out there that makes our lives easier (most of the time), it also causes some big-time boo-boos.

I love freelance work.  

Friday, April 27, 2018


This is the story of a dead cat.

Neighbor #1 lives across the street from us.  She went on a well deserved 4 day vacation.

She asked Neighbor #2 (who lives right behind her) to watch her cat while she was gone.  The cat goes out twice a day which has never been a problem

The day after #1 left #2 came to our door early that morning to ask for our help.  She couldn't find the cat and then discovered it had been hit and killed around the corner and was in the middle of a busy street.

I called the local police department and they said they'd send someone from public works to pick the cat up.  They asked that #2 go stand by the intersection.

Petey went with #2 for moral support.  Before the city guy could arrive a kindly pedestrian came along and picked up the cat and put it in the box that #2 brought along.

Now Petey and #2 went to #1's house to put the cat in the back porch until they could contact #1 to find out what she wanted done with the body.

As they rounded the house into the back yard - guess who was sitting at the door waiting to be let in?

So . . . . now what?  Who did the dead kitty belong to?

#2 decided to take the boxed cat back to her house and I'd redirect the city guy to pick it up there.  The body was destined for the city dumpster.

As #2 stood waiting for the pick up she began to wonder if the cat actually belonged to one of her neighbors who lived directly across the street from her.

Enter Neighbor #3.  #2 crossed over the street and knocked on #3's door and asked if her cat was there.  #3 immediately said "why, is he dead???"  She took a peak into the box across the street and started to cry.

Enter Neighbor #4 who lives right next door to #3.  She came out on her porch to see what was going on - alerted by #3's cries.

#3 said "my cat was hit by a car and is dead."  #4 pointed toward #3's house and shouted "isn't that your cat under the porch?"

Yup.  You guessed it.  #3's cat was safe and sound and probably wondering what all the crying and yelling was about.

So if you're missing a cat, you'd better hurry up to the city dumpster.  It's been a few days.