Thank you Grandpa, for everything

Grandpa’s dead now… Well, since Christmas Eve he’s been dead for two years and I'm just now beginning to accept it. I hope I go out like he did - in my sleep. I know, boring as hell, but if it’s on Christmas Day at least I can haunt my descendants a little (the ones who remember me) on what is supposed to be a happy holiday. Christmas Day, Eve - what’s the difference? He couldn’t have planned it any better than that. In fact, without even knowing it he may have been trying to steal the baby Jesus’ thunder. And how can you knock a guy for inadvertently trying? Of course that’s speculation but it’s true he wasn’t a big fan of the manger, or to be more specific, anything religious or even slightly Catholic-y.

Yes, dying in my sleep in my seventies on Christmas Day is exactly how I want to go. Once you hit 80, how can life be any good? A typical day for me at that age would probably consist of coughing up blood, writing a few crappy lines about the “good ole days” right after swallowing a bunch of pills, cursing out the neighbor kids, inspecting my poop and then sleeping for 16 hours. Whoopee!

Grandpa went out right. It was the right time and the right way. He was getting too old to keep driving, let alone keep kayaking the rapids. All he did was worry me the last six years of his life anyway. When thinking about my own children and grandchildren I think six years of stress would be sufficient.

But really, as great as it seems I wouldn’t have to die on Christmas Day. I’d settle for any holiday just as long as I have a few grandkids around to make my own children feel guilty for not spending enough time with me when I was an old maid. Just because they’ll have their own lives is no excuse for the inevitable neglect. Someone has to call them out, even if it’s in advance. Guilt is what makes a family go round. And if anyone should feel guilty, how is that my fault? We all have our share to carry. Some of us just choose to ignore it.

So as I was saying four paragraphs ago, Grandpa’s dead now, but in an attempt to find some kind of wisdom to pass on to my sons (who are turning 17, 16 and 15 this year) I’ve been looking back at his life. I think it’s my own way of dealing with the fact that I can’t call him up and ask, “So what the heck do I tell these hormonal punks?”

As it turns out, the life he lived is a gold mine of valuable information. Here is a tidbit of what I’ve told my sons: Be careful who you help out. Rescue a dog and you’ll have a faithful friend. Rescue a hooker and she’ll stab you in the back. The beautiful ones you always seem to lose.

Okay, that last line is actually from a Prince song but that doesn’t make it any less true. And this has nothing to do with Grandpa (or Prince) but I’ve also warned, “You’ll need a f**king army or a crazy bitch to stop one. Don’t call me!”

I guess in a few years they’ll already have learned this stuff on their own. Who ever listens to their parents, anyway? Oh... No… They’d better not call me!

Finally, I don’t want to get mushy or anything and you probably can’t read this but I’ll always love and miss you Grandpa. Thanks for everything.

The star of the Republican ticket

She stole McCain’s wisp of thunder and since then has been some sort of puppet person. And according to recent polls, the ‘Palin factor’ has been working well for Obama’s campaign. Much better than Biden. However, I don’t think it’s fair for Palin to say she’s been hearing about Biden’s speeches since she was in second grade. So here’s a cheap shot for ya. I’m 35. She’s 44. Do the math. When I was in second grade she was busy getting nailed in the back seat of a Chevy.

I think Palin is just trying too hard at this point. That quip was an obvious attempt at impersonating Tina Fey that went all screwy on the poor woman. And when Katie Couric got up in her grill about her statement, she tried to pass it off like it wasn’t a dig on Biden’s age and said he was experienced three or four times. I guess Katie really threw her off there. Sarah got so confused she thought she was talking about McCain. Katie is really a bad ass. Anyone in her line of fire should be… scared?

If what America really wants is a dummy times two in office yet again, then elect me. My running mate will be my female dog, Sparky Churchill. That’s historic times two. Two bitches in office. So wrong it must be right? The dog is qualified in commandeering because she’s also named after the great Winston. What can I say. I just knew this day would come.

While Palin was on stage at the convention speaking to a semi-live audience of Republicans, she said if they just gave her a chance she could make them all fifty years younger. And the crowd went wild. There were canes waving and hair plugs flying. Exciting stuff there. Even Joe Biden flinched.

After asking that great question (back before she was actually chosen), “What does a Vice President do?”…

She has apparently been taking a crash course. The question is, will the course crash? I thought for sure it would when they took the teleprompter away. But now that they’re letting her speak on her own, the public is impressed that she can come across like she’s speaking on her own. Maybe they’ll let her talk to reporters some time in the near future for a few minutes, to prove she isn’t just a puppet in lipstick, but I won’t hold my breath waiting for a Sarah Palin news conference. Something tells me, even if he allowed that, McCain would be right behind her whispering, “No comment on ‘bridge to nowhere’.”

Did you know twenty percent of Alaskans hate her guts? You call them cheap shots. I call them fun facts.

Back to the convention… during her acceptance speech she announced she had put the governor’s jet up for sale on ebay. And she went city to city, and kept saying it like it was an awesome achievement. “I said I don’t need no stinking luxury jet! Ebay! Woo! Yeah! Ebay!”

She had me convinced. Convinced she’s addicted to ebay, that is.

Now she just needs to tell us all what she buys on ebay. This is what we really want to know. Who cares about political experience? Let’s talk online auctions, kids and lipstick. Better yet, she needs to sit down with Barbara Walters. That’s how you win an election.

Every great leader has had a love for auctions. That’s how Teddy got his guns. And that’s how Nixon got rid of those pesky documents. That didn’t work out too well for him. But Gerald Ford didn’t come around until he was his 90’s. And once he got started he couldn’t stop. He bought a steel building (on ebay) and used it to store all of his purchases. He was on the site every day, so he eventually ran out of storage space. And that’s when his heart gave out. It’s sad. His hand was still holding the mouse when they found him, face down on the keyboard. Then his wife had to auction off everything.

I wish I could relate to Palin, I really do, but among many things she’d have to suddenly realize the importance of Roe v. Wade and our right to privacy. As far as abortion is concerned, do you think someone like me with a bunch of kids has ever considered it? But it’s comforting to know the option is there. You take that away, and what’s next? Tampon machines in rest rooms? Noooooo!

But I still heart Governor Palin, because she’s a woman with a bunch of kids and a love for the elk jerky. With a little luck from the masses and a big kiss from heaven, perhaps she could become president some day. If she doesn’t want to wait as long as Bush Senior did, after “helping” McCain win the election she should keep praying to that Republican God, and maybe (if she prays it will be God’s will) the grim reaper will bump him up to the top of the list.

What? You don’t really think she has any strategy, do you? She IS the strategy.

Yes, it’s that simple. Some day she could be the first president to put Air Force One up for sale on ebay.

I'm just a sucker

I’m usually pretty good at running a tight ship around here. That’s what I tell myself. I’m thinking if I hear it enough times, eventually it will come true.

Rewind to April. One of my brother-in-laws wanted me to take a dog off of his household’s hands. I agreed without knowing anything about Monty (the dog). I visited the family in June and learned my sister had a change of heart and they were keeping him. That was good since the vehicle I had to borrow for the 1,000 mile trip didn’t have room to accommodate him. So I got out of the “adopting Monty” situation unscathed. I didn’t come home with an unruly dog even though I really wanted to (my optimistic outlook has got me into trouble many times over). After I’d originally agreed, I began to hear negative things about the dog from people who were “in the know” so I’m thinking I would’ve regretted it in the end.

Well, now I have an entirely new slightly relative situation on my hands.

The friend who loaned me her SUV (I’ll call her Marci) has a daughter the same age as my youngest and they play together. That’s great, and I truly mean that. In fact, they took my daughter camping recently and she had a blast. Well, a few months ago Marci told me her Golden Retriever was pregnant. I was happy for her as she was pretty excited about it. The male dog I think is a Blue Australian Shepherd and has blue eyes. Both dogs are gorgeous. So the pups were bound to be good looking. Well, my daughter has spent a lot of time at their place in the past month since it’s summer and Marci’s daughter doesn’t have any siblings close to her own age. So the two girls have been just like sisters. And throughout all of this my daughter has been watching a very pregnant dog, and having this crazy recurring dream about bringing home a puppy.

Well, I also had childhood dreams…




Tekno the Robotic Puppy doesn’t chew up shoes or pee on them. And if he dies unexpectedly you know a tear-filled backyard burial won’t be in order. This kind of awesomeness wasn’t even in the price range of “maybe” when I was a kid, so what am I waiting for??

And another thing… my childhood dreams always got squashed. What’s with kids nowadays? How do they manipulate some of us into thinking their dreams are more important than ours were?

Anywho, the drama over the puppies “coming soon” had been building for quite some time. Then one morning not too long ago, we got the call. Goldie was in labor. Oh my god, my daughter was so excited. Her friend was so excited. Marci was so excited. I was feeling like I was pretty happy with the dog we already have. She is a Red Heeler/German Shepherd mix and a great family pet. But of course I was happy for everyone and their “feelings” so I joined in on the excitement.

That evening I got another call. Goldie was in labor too long and needed a C-section. Marci’s daughter spent the night at our house and Marci took the dog to the Vet. The next day I called and found out Goldie and her lover were much more than fertile. She had been carrying a whopping 13 pups; they all made it and were healthy. Thirteen puppies! Holy crap! She was baffled. How did that happen? No one knows for sure, but since half of them are black I don’t think one can rule out the possibility that Goldie was sneaking around, and maybe had a little jungle love on the side. I don’t think a dog can be called a whore for sleeping around, but, what an animal.

Somehow I was talked into seeing the puppies. More like “ganged up on” in a way. I don’t like it when a group of females get together. I wouldn’t recommend it. I was basically mobbed - emotionally - which is the worst kind of attack. Totally unfair. Then my one son who really loves dogs found out about the puppies. That was the straw that kicked the camel in the crotch (and he’s going down in our family history for that one, like it or not). He pulled me over to Marci’s and begged me. He picked out his favorite. I kind of melted when I met the little thing. His eyes weren’t open yet and he just laid in Marci’s hand like a… well, almost like a very realistic robotic toy.

So I guess you know what happens next. I still have a little time before the pup is off his mom’s teats, nips, or whatever you call them. But he doesn’t have a name yet. I’m open to suggestions. “Trucker” rhymes with sucker, so I might just go with that…

Yes, I am kidding (about the name Trucker).

I might have a good luck charm after all

I was looking at vacation photos a few days ago, and I noticed something in this one picture (in addition to the fact that St. Paul’s East Side is so scary now you never walk alone)...



I’m on the far left (in the photo and not politically speaking). You might think I’m going to point out the fact that I have no ass, or that my relatives are practically midgets. But the truth is when I first saw this I was thinking how much my aunt (middle) resembles a troll doll. Remember those toys from the 80’s? They were all the rage for a few seconds. And my aunt can handle being teased so I’m going to run with this. I’m not one to like to stop once I get started anyway. So I was thinking how cool it is to be related to a troll doll, because they are rumored to bring you good luck. I think you’re supposed to rub their hair, but in the case of real live troll dolls I think just being related counts. Here are the facts:

· My engine fire was eventually going to happen due to the gas leak, and it could’ve happened out in the middle of nowhere on I-94 on our way to Minnesota. Instead it happened in town at a shop with a fire extinguisher nearby. That’s good luck.

· I could’ve been out hundreds of dollars going through Enterprise or some other rental place that feigns customer service (that’s another story I prefer to forget) but one of my friends loaned us her SUV for cheap. That’s not friendship per say. It was luck she was in a bind at the right moment in time.

· My sister and her husband decided to keep their dog I had planned on adopting, which made our previous agreement null and void. This saved me from having to be the one to tear up the invisible contract (we didn’t have room in the SUV for him). Since I like to keep my word (I try) this saved me from having to break my promise. No one wants to be the most hated person in any one family, and I could’ve been. Whew, that was close. Thank goodness one of my uncles still holds the title.

· When I was kayaking for the first time in something that was basically an oversized bath toy, I didn’t flip over and drown. That is some luck. Yes I can swim. Just hear me out. I happen to believe if you fall into deep water with a life vest on, you won’t be able to swim to save your life. The life vest gets in the way and keeps you from being able to move in the water like a normal person, or an otter. You’re just a buoy. Eventually you’ll wear yourself out trying to stay afloat by constantly kicking your legs and feet. Then you’ll get a leg cramp. Meanwhile, the vest has been slowly filling with water as it’s been used so many times by other lake goers it has holes in it that aren’t visible to the naked eye, so you sink and drown. I know it’s irrational, but I dare you to try it sometime. *Disclaimer: I never said that.* Not to mention the lake was so full of weeds they were practically poking up past the surface. They’d probably speed up the drowning process by a good 95%. And I could just imagine trying to climb back into the kayak and then flipping my buddy right into the water with me. At least I wouldn’t drown alone. That’s a plus. By the way, none of this has anything to do with me flipping over in a canoe on a field trip when I was a kid.

So now that I’ve thanked my aunt for giving me all of this good luck, I want to kick it up a notch.

When I was four and learned how to write words that were kind of spelled correctly (not really), my aunt lived right next door to us. She came over quite often and inspired me to write a song one day. It went just like this:

“What’s the matter with you
What’s the matter with you
What’s the matter with you
Because, I just want to know”

It’s far from creative, but at least I learned at an early age I wasn’t going to make it as a songstress (new word - it’s like seamstress only it’s not). I can’t sew either, and that’s why it just… makes sense.

So you think you're an adult now

What the hell happened? My dog has turned into a total retard. And it only took about a week under the care of a lazy teenager.

When we went on vacation we were packed like sardines into my friend’s SUV. Basically we gave up a whole row of seating, so when I was loading our baggage it got kind of interesting. Like Regina’s son in Minnesota pointed out, it was just like a real life game of Tetris. God, I miss that game. No wonder I had so much fun loading up the luggage. Anyway, back before we left Montana it took me a couple of hours to pack it all in there just right, but in all fairness one of my neighbors stopped to converse during the game. This was the first time we actually said more than just “Hello” to each other, so I think we ended up talking a good hour until it started getting creepy and I learned he was a Kentucky-bred racist and not the innocent peace-loving Veteran I had once thought. The kids came along then and started pestering me. I’ve never been so happy to see them. They probably thought it was really weird to get smiles from me when they so rudely interrupted. What I’m doing here is dragging out the fact that since we barely had room for ourselves, we definitely didn’t have any room for a canine on board. This didn’t become an issue with adopting my sister’s dog though, because she and her husband did a 180 and decided to keep their beloved pet… some time between April and Jessica‘s birthday party.

Back to my pet - I had to hire the most responsible person I knew who was willing to dog sit (and house sit) for cheap. Enter a kid who is always desperate to get away from his place. He has been a friend of the family since he was 10. Now he’s 18 and thinks he’s an adult. I felt he was the best choice under the circumstances. I honestly don’t know anyone else I could trust 100% not to throw parties or drink my beer while we were away. But I knew there was a downside to hiring him. He thinks he can get by in life doing as little as possible. He is nearly always sitting around with his laptop, and gets less sun than a mushroom. He has no desire to go to college. In fact, I think his only plan is to do nothing and mooch off his parents the rest of his life. So… he has until the fall to get a job and pay his parents rent or he’ll be kicked out of the house. When he does ever decide to get a job he wants to live with us and pay me rent in order to escape his family drama. Well, he says his mom wants to take so much of his money he’ll be trapped at home forever. But when we came back from our vacation I soon could see where his parents were coming from...

When we walked into the house the first thing we noticed was an awful smell. Very pungent. I wanted to puke. It turned out it wasn’t him, but dog urine. Apparently there was a day when he was gone too long and didn’t get back in time. So what did he do?! Well, he obviously didn’t clean it up.

Strike one.

In the kitchen I found dirty dishes piled up in and around the sink. Every cup and bowl, all of my pots, and a pile of silverware. You’d think he would have the decency to wash his own dirty dishes?! But again, he chose to leave the work for me.

Strike two.

My dog was so happy to see us. But after the first 24 hours I realized something about her wasn’t right. She looked… so… dumb. She looks incredibly stupid all of the time now. I don’t know what I can do, but just hope that it wears off. And not only does she look like a few pancakes short of a stack, but she is acting like it too. Nearly every time I call her to go outside she just sits there and stares at me, grinning and refusing to move. She’ll slowly come over when it’s potty time but I have to practically push her out the door. All she wants to do is lay around. She used to love being outside, and went out every chance she got. Now she is just like the dog sitter she had looking after her for a week.

Strike three.

Good luck, kid. You’re going to need it. If I were you I’d start by doing everything your parents say. Maybe then, they won’t charge you so much rent.

My summer plans include something big this year

When most of my family was here visiting I was in the kitchen and my brother-in-law came along. Out of the blue he started talking about my dog. He told me how well-behaved she was, and asked me how old she was. I told him she was two and it took a few months to train her. Then he asked me point blank if I’d take my sister’s 3-yr-old dog for them. They didn’t bring Monty with them so I had no idea what to expect, other than he is very cute in the pictures I have. I told him I’d think about it, and he went on to tell me Monty is a good dog and he would love it out here. The only negative thing he said was that he liked to scratch on the door. I quickly got the feeling this guy has never owned a dog before and was maybe expecting him to be something like this:




I considered that my brother-in-law has been making renovations in their house since not long after they bought it a few years ago, and who knows when they‘ll call it done. It would be a good thing to get a family pool going on since the poker games are few and far between. Anyway, I figured the wear-and-tear factor could have something to do with my brother-in-law wanting to get rid of the dog. Now, I don’t want to take away a pet from my sister that she loves, so I asked her about it. She unhappily told me Monty had to go. That just left me confused. Especially when she said she’d trained him to obey hand signals.


This was Monty two years ago.

I thought about it for as long as I could, which was about a day. I wanted to give them an answer before they left. I was basically just a dancing puppet with my family pulling the strings. I thought about how my dog could use a canine companion. And if Monty eventually got put to sleep I’d get over it, but it would probably haunt my sister the rest of her life. So I told them I’d do it. I vowed to come up some time this summer on vacation and adopt Monty.

Later that day I was talking to one of my brothers and told him the news. He said Monty was stupid, and my dog was smart. Instead of wondering if I’d made the right decision after all, I chose to feel good about someone other than a neighbor who compliments my hair calling my dog “smart”. My oldest son has been calling my dog “stupid” in a loving way for the past year.

When I told my kids about my plan, all but one of them was happy. Unfortunately, when I’d mentioned earlier to my oldest son in a “ha ha” and I-told-you-so-way that my brother called my dog smart, I let the part slip out about him saying Monty was stupid. Where is the duct tape when I need it on my mouth?

The day the family reunion officially ended and they all hit the road, I called my dad. What do you know, he was taking care of Monty for them while they were away. And he didn’t have anything good to say.

Uh oh.

When my ex found out we’re getting another dog, he asked me if I’d take one of his dogs too. I found it extremely easy to say, “No.”