Category Archives: John

Even Grown Kids Say Funny Things

There are some fantastic prompts this week at Mama Kat‘s. It took me a while to narrow it down, and I may do a couple of the others just for fun! But I’m stepping outside boundaries just this once to share a couple of things my sons have said or texted within the last week.  Aaron will turn twenty-seven next week and John will turn nineteen next month.  Even though they are far apart in age they are very close, and look eerily alike (except the hair).

Aaron’s hair is military-short, and hasn’t felt a comb since middle school. John’s is now long enough for a man-bun, and he’s fairly  proud of that. I’d planned to include pics of my sons here, but this is the screen I get, and it won’t let me scroll to anything else. I can’t even make a phone call or listen to a voice mail! Help!!

I can’t even attach the screen shot I took, but it only has three sections: Photos, notes, and phone favorites. And none of them are complete – ARRGH!! Going to try turning it off and back on, and if that doesn’t work my trip out tomorrow will NOT be pretty!

So John’s statement was earlier in the week. He said, “I was made for college!” I suspect all of his teachers K-12 would agree. He needs to be in charge of his own schedule, take the classes he enjoys most, and live in the squalor of a Freshman boys’ dorm for a year. I’d nipped at his heels like a yappy dog for years. Now he will see the cause and effect of all his actions. With UofL’s diverse campus he’s making friends everywhere he goes. If he was taller at age three I’d have just dropped him off on campus instead of Mother’s Day Out, and he’d have done fine. He’s going to love college as much as I hated it, and I couldn’t be happier!

Aaron was finally texting me what he’d like for his birthday – I gave up somewhere between X-box games and Raspberry Pi – and I couldn’t find the games he was looking for. I found things that were close, and texted those back to him. He replied, “Yes, autocorrect is harder while holding a baby.” Yes, especially a drooly teething one who has been watching Mommy and Daddy use phones and computers since birth. Are there drool-proof electronics cases or covers? All suggestions appreciated!

Seven Signs I Should Have Stayed in Bed


— 1 —

During my most recent psychiatrist visit I finally admitted I hear voices. No, the neighbor’s dog doesn’t tell me kill people. I’ll be alone in the house (as I usually am) and will hear my husband or youngest son say something random  like “I’m runnin’ down the street to Kroger” or “Are the dogs outside?” or “Are these dishes clean?” His advice? Turn on a radio or the TV. Umm, I READ. So I payed some guy who starts writing scrips as soon as I enter his office for my three-minute visit $35 to tell me to watch TV instead of reading books. This is healthcare today.

— 2 —

I went to a small retirement luncheon for someone I’d worked with since my very first day out of college. I’s gone to the wrong location of the restaurant (oops, disabled person makes mistake – one of the many reasons I’m not able to work) so I zip over to the correct location, expecting to catch them at the end of their lunch and just chat a bit. They’d waited for me before ordering, which was incredibly thoughtful, but clearly not the retiree’s idea since I was shocked they weren’t sitting with empty plates in front of them and her response was, “No, we just sat and stared at each other for half an hour.” I gave momentary thought to not giving her the retirement gift I’d had specially made, but it was only momentary.  But when she opened it, she offered to pay me for it. It was a retirement gift. How insulting is that?

— 3 —

I had someone close to me call the national Suicide Hotline and get put on HOLD. Yes, I recognize it’s a volunteer support group. Yes, I would volunteer if I could, but many days I don’t think I could dredge up something positive for someone going through horrible stress with no light at the end of the tunnel. “You’ll go to Hell if you commit suicide” really isn’t helpful if someone feels they are already there.

— 4 —

This nest is 100% empty. I really thought John would be homesick, would occasionally spend the night at home over the weekend, but no. Even though there’s an industrial fan that sounds like a jet engine outside his room and he has to wear earbuds the entire time he’s in his room he stays there. And he eats at The Ville Grill, affectionately known by students as “The Veeg”. Now I can’t imagine eating there. And my house is full of all this STUFF! I used to be able to blame it on the boys, but I can’t anymore. Minimalism, here I come!

— 5 —

Trying to follow the latest season of American Horror Story, but I’m having problems. Between the remake of “IT” (which I haven’t seen and will never see – because Stephen King doesn’t watch that crap, either. He just cashes the checks and keeps writing.) and the creepy clowns in AHS-Cult the futures of every person who went to Clown College is pretty much in the toilet. Clown College is (or was) a real thing. Makeup techniques, costume design, stunt work, and body language and facial expressions that can be seen from the furthest seat away in the big top. I guess they can work the fashion runways – the looks are close enough.

— 6 —

How was I able to get up at 3:15 am, blow-dry and curl my hair, but on makeup, get dressed, check email, eat my breakfast, give the dogs a potty break,change a diaper/ breastfeed a child/put them back to sleep all without turning on a light for two decades? Now when my husband is up, everyone is up. The TV is on, the lights are on, the dogs want their potty break while he’s in the shower. And if I’m up late because of the pain the lights in the bedroom must stay off. Even the lowest setting on the dimmer switch in the master bath is unacceptable. I have constant bumps and bruises from simply not being able to get in and out of bed at night!

— 7 —

Don’t EVER buy anything from a store called POSTERMAN. Hopefully it’s just a local thing, a store here in Louisville in Mall St. Matthews. HOPEFULLY. Because my 18yo bought his dad a poster there (what a sweet boy!) at the beginning of August, and the owner is still refusing to refund him the over $150 he was overcharges for the poster. The owner admits his mother (who is elderly enough to say “my son is on a long-distance call”) runs the shop and does not give receipts. Hmmm. Although I was nothing but polite and professional when I called, he insisted I had a “bad attitude”. Then I put my phone on speaker and it soon left my hand. I’ll be camped out at his kiosk tomorrow awaiting his arrival. He insists our BANK took the money. Seriously, don’t fuck with a woman who’s constantly in pain and has lost her thought:speech filter.

For more Quick Takes, visit This Ain’t The Lyceum!



Since I’m clumsy as all-get-out and tone-deaf I wasn’t in the Bryan Station Defenders Marching Band. Even handing me a pole with a flag at the end would have guaranteed a couple of concussions during the first week of Band Camp. Seriously. I admired them tremendously!

But I married a drummer. Yeah, he’d been a drummer during high school, but he was older, and had turned down a music scholarship at UofL and an offer to tour in favor of a full-time management position with the company he’d been working for part-time.

He hired me after a glance through the kitchen to the front counter about ten minutes before he went on vacation. I suppose he thought I’d look good in orange and brown polyester. No one does.

When he got back from vacation I slammed through the door to the kitchen at my usual fast pace and tumbled him into a stack of five-gallon pickle buckets. Then I promptly spilled an entire gallon of French dressing (who eats that?) near the salad bar. I was sure one or the other would get me fired, but instead it got me asked out after a staff party.

Several years later we got married, and eventually we had kids. Two boys, two drummers. I understood nothing about band, but the Band Director’s definition of “on time” synced with mine no matter what my boys said!

If you’re thirty minutes early you’re early. If you’re fifteen minutes early you’re on time. If you’re on time you’re late. If you’re fifteen minutes late there will be hell to pay.

I must have been a band kid in a previous life. Check out Mama Kat on Thursday to see what everyone else has to say!

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