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Things That Make Me Go Hmmmm…..

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stupid

As I age the only thing that seems to be becoming abundantly clear is that everyday there are a new abundance of things that make me increasingly confused to where the only logical response I can muster is a giggle.  Since I’ve heard of scientific studies….  (there are only a new 1000 that come out a day – so pick the one you like. My favorite is moms with big butts produce more intelligent children – that got a collective Hell Yeah from moms everywhere even though I’ve seen no evidence of it’s validity in any of my teens)

Oops rambling again…  back to the scientific study that say our brains work like a filling system.  I have started a new file which I labeled “Things that make me go hmmm”  Now this new file is floating around up there somewhere in the -easy to access section – between the files of “70’s and 80’s commercial and TV jingles” and “useless celebrity knowledge I don’t wanna know and can’t forget” While the files of “My parasites names” (little cherubs most people call their children) and “Things I really need to do today” seem to be filed under the section – take your best guess cause we have no idea where it is right now.

So this new file seems to be filling up at a rapid pace and I better get a few on paper before my brain secretary (who seems to be passive/aggressive) accidentally moves it over to the middle aged section of “No idea why you came in to this room or where your car keys are” I have decided that file is in the darkest recesses of the basement covered in dust and impossible to access.

So as promised – here are a few of the things rambling around in my brain today that make me giggle and I hope you do too…….

  • Why does McDonald’s only give out “Light” Mayo?  If I was that worried about the fat content of the mayonnaise I probably wouldn’t be eating at McDonald’s in the first place. I would be cooking at home and eating a pan seared chicken breast cooked with no oil. If I’m ordering a big mac – not so much!!    Now I do know they have healthy options now and that’s great, but I’m ordering a plain ole cheeseburger not a salad so give me my regular ole mayo. If I wanted “Light” I would’ve asked for it….
  • Why can’t General Mills just make a bag of the rye chips in Chex Mix instead of making everyone dig through the bag like we’re digging for gold??? Surely they know that’s the whole reason we buy it!!!! Yes I know Gardetto’s does, but way to simple of an answer when I’m at home at 10 pm digging in the bag.
  • When I watch the news I start to believe I may be the only person left in America who really could care less who sleeps with who as long as it’s not my husband??? All I keep asking myself is when did this become news in the first place (ie see file named useless celebrity knowledge I want to forget and can’t) 
  • Why can there be millions of educated Americans standing around, but any time the media needs an interview they find the one person who is a complete dumb-ass? I’m beginning to have a sneaking suspicion this skill is taught in journalism school under “How to dumb down American 101”  (yes mom I know it’s a “bad word” so say an extra prayer, but sometimes they’re just needed- and look I used the correct “they’re”)
  • Why can’t presidential candidates run on platforms I can really get behind. Screw the “NO new Taxes”, “Border walls” or “Planned parenthood”  I want: “No more laundry- disposable clothing for all” or “Personal cooks for every household” Maybe I should run-  I can see women being  o.k. with more taxes for these priorities and hell you never know I just might win because If I am ever lost do not bother to put my face on a milk carton or even a wine bottle. You will have better luck with a box of Tide because I’m sure I’ll be buried under a mountain of dirty laundry somewhere!!
  • Why can my parasites fix a truck, operate a smart phone, go to school, and in general be fully functioning humans, but the buttons on the oven, dishwasher, or washing machine and dryer be completely beyond their grasp. They actually stand there and stare like it’s a machine from outer space.   I suspect there’s some serious deception going on that they learned from their grandfather…….. but I have no proof
  • Why is there no Homer Simpson “Doh” emoji for parents of teenagers? This isn’t just needed it’s a requirement. Have you seen some of the dumb shit they do……
  • Instead of the “like or comment” options on Social Media why can’t there be a “WE GET IT ALREADY” option.  If anyone was confused about your political or religious beliefs before the first 100 you posted yesterday- I doubt the second 100 today are gonna make it any clearer….
  • And my favorite- Why do people keep tagging me in things that imply I’m mean to my kids or a bitch?  Oops- after reading back over my blog  never mind- I get it- just don’t care 🙂

So there ya have it –  the first edition of “Things that make me go hmmmm”  I’m sure they’ll be another unless the secretary decides to let it get lost in the dark and dusty basement, along with the location of my car keys, middle aged brain. Here’s to hoping instead she lets it gets attached to the “My bologna has a first name, it’s O-S-C-A-R”   I had no idea in my youth I was entering into a long term relationship with bologna, but that sucker’s embedded til death do us part!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Institutionalized Chaos

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“”Marriage is a great institution- if you like being institutionalized” – that’s the statement I’ve always heard anyway………

The main question in every happy marriage at some point comes down to this… “Smother him in his sleep or put the earphones in and just play happy music until it passes?” STOP- before everyone gets their knickers in a wad-  I’m a woman so I used the pronoun “him”, but trust me I am well aware the feeling is mutual and he’s felt the same way about me just as many times in all these years of marriage.

Tonight I am choosing listening to the music (your release may be something besides music, but just go with me here)  I am dancing to the music not because it wouldn’t be simple to smother him in his sleep or that I couldn’t hide the body.  (I’m a Southern woman with access to a chipper shredder, at least 10 bottles of bleach, and miles of woodlands)  I choose the music tonight because even though I don’t really “like him” right this minute I am well aware I would quickly miss him if he were gone.

Some days as I look at his face I think to myself- really “You Again”?  (oh hush- you’ve all thought it at least once if your married – it’s not my fault you won’t grow a set and say it out loud) On these days there is a standard monologue that shortly flows through my conscience. It sounds something like this “RELAX- this too shall pass- you know he’s a good man, he usually makes you laugh, he’s been a great dad and you still actually love him after all these years” The first question I always have as these thoughts flow through is “where did SHE come from?”  Why does my conscience always have the sweet southern accent and sound EXACTLY like my mother??  That’s a whole different topic for a later date, but let’s just say it’s sooooo not fair……………..

I remember looking at this man sleeping next to me when we were newly married with all the fascination of a new born baby.  I remember feeling how lucky and happy and nothing could ever change that feeling.  Almost 20 years and three parasites (children for those sweeter parents) later – nope no more fascination at all – just a snoring asshole.  Luckily an asshole I would quickly miss!  (Insert annoying sweet southern accent monologue here)

As women, the entertainment industry feeds us princess movies and romantic movies designed to show us what relationships “should look like”, but have you ever noticed they all end after “they get together” and never show us the everyday monotony of waking up and going to bed with the same person for 20 or 50 years.  Why do you think that is????

I’ll tell you- The first reason is that would be a horribly boring movie.  Can you imagine watching a movie on the drudgery of everyday life?  The only thing that movie would be good for is replacing counting sheep.  The main reason we don’t see that type of movie is the reality of that kind of love isn’t pretty. That kind of love isn’t all butterflies and rainbows.  That kind of love takes commitment (mainly a commitment not to kill them), but a commitment just the same.

I’ve been really lucky and watched my parents hit the 50 years of marriage milestone this year.  I’ve watched them do the ebbs and flows of marriage with as much grace as anyone could ever expect.(50 years is a long ass time) It wasn’t always pretty. It wasn’t a perfect marriage (there’s no such thing), but it was as good of an example as anyone could ask.  I watched them love each other, dislike each other,and always come back to love.  They taught me a lot about true love- true love takes commitment, sacrifice, and a complete surrender of yourself on occasion (i.e. don’t smother them in their sleep) Some days you’ll wake up and may not want to see their face, but if it’s the right one give it a few days and it will probably be different.

As I sit here tonight after deciding that I couldn’t do away with him, not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t really want too because I would miss him- I realized maybe that’s what real long term love is…..  It’s the commitment to wait the few days to see, it’s the commitment to try, it’s the commitment to the everyday chaos and monotony, and definitely the commitment to listen to the happy music and not smother them.

I guess that means if I’ve got to be institutionalized – I’ve chosen this institutionalized chaos…………………

If the Shoe Fits…….

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Well here I sit on my back deck with the computer in my lap on an absolutely beautiful spring day trying to determine which one of these crazy idea’s floating around in my brain I will share with the world today.  I took a hiatus for quite a while and realized after writing the other night I missed it more than I cared to admit.

I enjoy the release and the self examination that comes with writing.  Some people choose to look in the mirror and reflect. As I age, I still use this method on occasion, but there is only so much evaluation I can do in the mirror.  After you convince yourself those are “laugh” lines and show you’ve had a great life the reality of “I’m just getting damn old” creeps in.  I find it best to move away quickly before my brain, who is still convinced it’s 15 on a good day and 20 on a bad day, explodes. It really hates that reality and I have found it’s much more fun to let it have it’s way.

I can promise you the hubby and parasites (children for those nicer than me) really don’t miss their “favorite” wife and mom and her writing.  After I wrote the last blog and made the announcement “I believe I’ll pick up writing again” there was a huge collective sign that I am pretty sure even Prince in heaven heard.  Then their negotiations began.  Things like- “Can we not document every embarrassing moment in our lives” To which I replied to these poor,, pitiful, pleading members of my family in the sweetest smart ass voice I could muster between the giggles “Oh sure, no one would EVER want to hear the story of how I set off a complete pack of firecrackers in your room one morning when you wouldn’t get up because that’s just too mundane”  (Yes that really did happen and if you’re a parent who struggles with the teenager and getting up – I highly recommend the method especially if you make them clean up the shrapnel)

Since at least three of these people are stuck with me for life,whether they like it or not, I get a little more leeway than with most. This is the only advantage you get when you actually build them inside your body, spit them out of your loins and then feed them from your chest for months and then cook for them and have to hand out $20’s for years to come. (ie. parasites)  Since it’s the only advantage I get I figured I should exploit it to the fullest.  The hubby- lets just say that’s a whole different exchange program 🙂

So back to here I sit with all these crazy idea’s and as I evaluate each one and flesh em out in my brain I remember why I took the hiatus in the first place.  Most of the things that inspire me to write my brand of comedy are either controversial or would be easy recognizable to others as to who I was “picking” on.

In this everything offends me world comedy has become really hard.  I’m a person that thinks that you can find a little funny in almost everything.  It’s usually all in your perspective. I choose to see the funny (remember- those are laugh lines not wrinkles- it’s my make believe world and I like it here) I do my best to surround myself with others who do the same and thank my lucky stars there are still a few, but most take themselves and their beliefs waaaay to seriously.

I don’t ever really want to hurt anyone and I definitely never mean to offend and I refuse to argue with those who do not get comedy so I’ve evaluated and I’ve decided there is only one course of action for this old Southern woman to take.  I’m gonna have two different blogs.  I’m going to keep this one for the mostly non controversial and the “in general” harmless stuff and create another anonymous blog for the I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.

I’m excited about this new venture!!  Somewhere I can just write, evaluate myself and the world, say what I please without the polite Southern restrictions I place on myself should be fun and hey it’s a safer release than say- running away or drugs.  Those are typically frowned upon.

So for those of you who get easily offended or take everything way to seriously- if the next blog that goes viral seems to be about you and the baby shoe fits- you never know- it just might be!!  🙂

 

 

 

 

The Day The Music and My Youth Died

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I remember the night vividly in August of 1977 when Elvis Presley passed away!!

I was a girl of the mere age of 9.  We were at a place known as an old Southern Campground.  For those of you not familiar, this is a place where a bunch of crazy southern people live in what is basically a shack with wood shaving floors for 10 days in the sweltering hot part of summer with no air conditioning, but- full kitchens, bedrooms and showers and church 3 times a day (yes I did say 3 times a day-it’s the bible buckle)   If you have never been to one of these events you might believe that only one crazy family would venture to do this insanity every year and you might be right in the beginning- because it does have a family name, but to your surprise after 150 years of the event there are now over 100 different families who live in crazy proximity to each other in shacks in the misery of the southern summer heat with no air conditioning.  I would continue, but this insanity really deserves it’s on time at a later date…………..

Back to the day Elvis died….  I had just turned the tender age of 9.   I was at the crazy campground surrounded by many different people of all ages as we returned from evening service (Church for those not familiar with southern slang) and the radios announced Elvis Presley’s passing.  Many of the women in their 40’s and 50’s began to cry. I remember becoming completely confused.  These were women I had known for all my young life.  I had seen them become the complete Rock of Gibraltars when family members passed and handle everything like a prize fighter (for those of you that don’t know many southern women – we handle what needs to be done and typically cry in private-  Scarlett O’Hara wasn’t far off)

These strong women, who I had always seen as rocks, suddenly sat on the porches of their shacks together crying.  These  women who  I had witness handle spouses and parents deaths, look at single motherhood in the 70’s without  a second thought and conquer became weeping children because a celebrity whom they didn’t even know had passed away.

This was very confusing to a 9 year.  I knew Elvis, my dad had a friend who loved Elvis- he even had the sideburns and looked like him and only played his music when we were at their house.  I was aware he sang music, which to me, was tame and kinda dated.  I knew he made movies- I had even seen a few and thought they were cheesy.  Nothing I knew of Elvis helped me comprehend these women and their grief.  I remember being a child baffled.

Well today was MY turn and I am no longer baffled!!  Prince passed away today!  Prince was the music of my formative youth.  Prince was the music that had racy lyrics and themes we hid from our parents. He and Madonna (she’s still here) were our generations rebellion. I can’t be the only person that still remembers singing “Party Like It’s 1999” and thinking how far away that was and now it’s 17 years in the rear view…..  He might of been the first to say masturbate on an album, but I doubt it- just the first one we heard.  (Thank goodness for Darling Nikki) The Purple Rain album was the one we hid and took to camps and played after the chaperons went to bed. Prince was the soundtrack of my generation.  When my brain still wants to be 15 regardless of my body and it’s aches the Prince and Madonna soundtracks still play.

What I realized today was those women, who were my age now, I saw crying in the 70’s were children of the 50’s when Elvis was racy.  He was the music they hid from their parents when they were teenagers. He was the music they danced too when no one was watching and sang loudly when no one was listening and everything was ahead of you and anything was possible.  Elvis was a person they did not know.  They were not crying for the death of Elvis the man.  They were grieving for the realization of their youth being gone. They grieved for the innocence and immaturity of youth.  They grieved for the brutal realization of adulthood which had always been there, but as long as that ICON was there could somehow be recaptured.  The death somehow made it permanent.

Getting old has it’s advantages (age and treachery over youth and enthusiasm an all), but damn some days the knees hurt!

Every generation has a “Day the Music Died” which actually should be translated to “The Day My Youth Died” because that is how we actually react and grieve.  One generation had the day Buddy Holly and others passed in a plane crash, the next generation had Elvis passing and based on my 40 and 50 year old friends reactions today ours is Prince’s death.

To all of my friends floating with me in the same boat of middle age grieving our youth and all of those possibilities that we feel passed with Prince today just remember-  “We are gathered here today to get through this thing called Life” so the next time you see a Purple Rain just dance and embarrass the kids-  it’s all we got so might as well enjoy after you had your cry!!!

Oh- and don’t forget to keep on partying like it’s 1999- it’ll confuse the young folk until they’re at least 45 when it’ll be there turn too!!!! 🙂

 

 

 

 

All Girls Should Have And A Line And A Strong Safety

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One of the advantages, or disadvantages, of having a teenage daughter is the plethora of teenage movie and television drama’s. Just take a look at the CW or ABC Family which cater to the teenage girl. There is a vampire show for every love torn teenage girl’s fantasy boy and/or a show based in fantasy land high school where love conquers all and the mean girl always loses.

As a mother who chooses her battles wisely, I was aware I would never win the battle of the teenage girl heart and taste for the love torn so I bribed instead. She is watching and learning football with mom and I, in exchange, watch teenage girl shows and movies with her. The bribe does seem to be working in my favor. We have passed the basics of football and she is moving right along in learning positions and plays. God bless some poor teenage boy who thinks he’s getting off easy with the dumb pretty blonde. Oh wait- her favorite restaurant is Waffle House, she likes the taste of beer and she knows football. Maybe the teenage boy is getting off easy and we should all be blessing her father and brothers instead! 🙂

So back to the teenage girl drama’s. Since I haven’t watched this many since I myself was a teenage girl I am finding myself in a quandary. On one hand I am very nostalgic. It’s similar to listening to the radio and an old song comes on which brings a smile to your face. You listen and remember a certain party, old boyfriend or experience and suddenly you are back to the age of 17 and all the emotions come rushing back and you smile because if only you had the wisdom of today. I watch and remember my youth when cute boys, parties, and small drama’s made up everyday and I thought life was difficult. The only difference now is I smirk.

On the other hand do I pass on my wisdom to my baby girl? Do I tell her they are fantasy land? Do I tell her the reality of sometimes the mean girl does win and sometimes, by accident, you are her or that teenage boys are not pining away in their rooms for you because they have “other” interests and by other interest I don’t mean football? Should I tell her their brains come back at 25 and it’s in her best interest just to wait? Should I tell her that life is much more complicated than a movie and that sometimes love doesn’t conquer all at 16, but when she thinks her life is over it’s just getting interesting?

To alleviate my quandary I decided to spend a little time sharing with my baby girl the teenage movies of my age. We watched Breakfast Club, About Last Night, St Elmo’s Fire and so on. Then I decided to watch the teenage movies of my moms generation. I watched Where the boys are and Beach Blanket Bingo (yeah for Netflix and On-Demand) and I had a epiphany.

Teenage movie’s have had the same message forever and who am I do try to change the message or teach a different perspective. Even if I could would she even listen or get the point? I remember how I thought my mom had “NO IDEA” of what I was going through. I remember thinking “She’s old and married what does she know about teenage boys”

Well it turns out now that I’m old and married and it may of taken 30 years and a teenage boy of my own that I now know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I do know a few things about teenage boys. I got all excited and was planning my speech to my teenage girl and then I surprisingly had an epiphany.

Who am I to tell her the reality? These movie’s and drama’s have had the same message since Shakespeare. What if there is a valid reason for the message? What is wrong with letting her believe he’s pining away for her in his room? What is wrong with letting her believe the mean girl always loses or that love conquers all? Reality will be here soon enough and maybe my job is to just be her mom.

My job is the shoulder to cry on and the voice in her head that says Prince Charming will be here soon and she’s better than him. Maybe I am supposed to be here for the moral compass when she’s accidentally the mean girl and tell her it’s o k when the other mean girl wins. My job is really just to watch them with her, be sweet to her when she’s confused, and get her through the next 10 or 15 years so when she’s nostalgic she can smirk.

My epiphany is sometimes you just have to learn the hard way. I have decided I’m going with this plan. First, it’s nicer than she won’t listen to me anyway and second she’ll grow up soon enough and I should just enjoy the time. All I can really do is pray that one day she’ll really understand the lessons I’ll give her this fall on the concepts of football. Every girl needs a line to block for you and a strong safety to have your back.

Maybe my mom wasn’t so clueless after all!!

It’s all In Your Perspective!!

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So yesterday I had another birthday!  I got out of the bed, went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror and said “Wow- so this is what 46 looks like?” Since I was reflecting, I spent a few extra minutes and low and behold I noticed those new wrinkles and pounds I had been purposely avoiding. I had seen them, but I am convinced that avoidance is a perfectly acceptable way to get through middle age. I can’t avoid the creaks in my knee’s anymore so only just glancing in the mirror is really my new survival mechanism.

I wish I didn’t, but I remember like it was yesterday being a teenager and thinking 46 was ancient!  I remember listening to Prince singing “Party Like It’s 1999” and thinking I would be soooooo old (32) when it turned to the year 2000. Now it’s 2014 and it amazes me because I’m sure if I had even thought about being this age I would of pictured myself in the nursing home.  I see my parasites (children for those nicer than me) faces and remember how ancient they think I am now and it makes me giggle. I get that evil age smirk every now and then as my brain says “Yes my child- please believe I don’t know what your thinking so I can bust you just for fun!!”

My brain has a remarkable way of convincing itself most days that we are still just 15 with just a little more wisdom (other than hangover days when it screams loudly “you are 40 something honey-what were you thinking??” but I don’t think those really count cuz it did that when I was 15 too!)

Since I had decided to do a little reflecting I was sending my poor 15 year old brain into a tail spin. It was doing all sorts of somersaults of justifications, excuses, and it’s best trick avoidance.  I refused to listen I just kept right on looking. As I noticed the deep wrinkles I laughed as I remembered the immortal words of Dolly Parton in Steal Magnolia’s “Time marches on and eventually you realize it’s marching across your face” Yep- there were those pesky boot prints of the army of time. God bless my 15 year old brain because it kicked in immediately. It decided we should make some faces and I realized most of my deepest wrinkles are laugh lines.  I realized an array of smiles have crossed this face over 46 years.  I decided I wouldn’t be depressed about laugh lines- they really should be celebrated. Maybe with Botox, but celebrated just the same.

When I got around to the extra pounds I decided to listen to my young brain immediately (it was nicer). For those of us that did not get smiled on young by the breast goddess a few extra pounds can do WONDERS!  I am convinced that those babies are the first place a woman gains and loses weight.  That old statement that most men like curvier women makes much more sense to me.  I am convinced for every 20 pounds a woman gains it equals a bra size. Now I understand most men don’t even see the extra 20 pounds, just the new boobs! It gives a whole new meaning to “give em what they want”, but me and the brain are going with it!!  I think about losing the pounds all the time, but then the dessert hits the table and my teenage with wisdom brain says “yes, but those go with em” and I eat the cake anyway. Hey- I could always be gaining because I was pregnant and another year older is always better than 3 months late any day!!

As I slide down the ramp of my 40’s and reflect in the mirror on this birthday, I realize more and more it seems to be all in your outlook of life.  I can be depressed about the wrinkles or I can celebrate the army of laughs and emotions that have crossed my face.  I can be sad about the body, which is changing daily, or I can relish in actually getting to buy a real bra size. I can be sad that my parasites see me as ancient or be excited that my brain actually knows what they are thinking and enjoy busting them and seeing their confused faces.

So as I stood there contemplating the years I realized the only thing I have truly learned in 46 years is that the truth is always just in your perspective and so stay happy and just make it up as you go along!!!

 

 

 

 

 

They’ve Lost Their Marbles!!!

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I am one of those people who, in my 40’s, is still lucky enough to have both of my parents.  Not only am I lucky enough to still have them, they are both still extremely active. Now many days that activity can drive me crazy with the 40 phone calls to ask what size shoe’s, coats, shirts, pants, or underwear my children wear while my mom is shopping, but that’s usually because I don’t have any idea.  Even on those days I still always answer because I remember how lucky I am that she is still shopping for them. Many of my friends have lost one or both parents these days so even when they are still giving me their own type of Southern loving advice (the rules) I still smile and try to live by them and require my children to live by them because I’m Southern and respect is still just respect.

This week though I am a little worried that they have completely lost all of their marbles!!

They left with my sister and 4 children (3 of them mine) to drive across country to Montana. The hubby and I will be flying out next week to spend a week with them in Montana and then we will fly home and they will drive back across the country with them for anther week. Now I love my parasites (children for those nicer than me), but even a 6 hour car drive with them can make me look like the exorcist while I turn green and my head spins completely around. A grandparents love must have a special patience button that you just don’t get when you become a parent. I have spoken with my mother everyday and she still just smiles and says “they are being soooo good”  I’m starting to think that when you become a grandparent the government must sneak Valium in your water supply and if that’s the case can my parasites hurry and grow up (to 30) and give me grand parasites of my own. I could use a good dosing of patience, even if it’s in government mandated drug form!!

As a mom of three it is extremely weird not having your parasites at home.  I have spent an evening on the back deck listening to very loud music with no one coming out to complain that we had no food.  I watched an entire movie with no one coming to tell me they are bored. I’ve slept late with no one coming in to wake me up because we are out of cereal or milk. I took a nap in the middle of the afternoon with no one coming in to ask me why I am sleeping. I realized after 48 hours I am starting to miss the parasites because it is waaay to quite in my house. The insanity must be so ingrained in my brain now that when it’s turned off I’m just confused. I just wander around aimlessly waiting for some parasite to give me a direction. Luckily the hubby is handling having no direction very well. There are things happening that never happen when the parasites are here. Do dad’s get the same water as grandparents? So I need to go now so I can eat the brunch he made me complete with a cocktail. It may not be the same water as the grandparents get, but he’s trying to teach me.  So until next time……………………………..