They’re bringing it over for a test drive in about 30 minutes. I’m excited. I got a darned good deal (rebates being offered if you sign before 7/31) - it’s black and shiny - although living on a dirt road, I know I’m going to regret this.

For all of you that recommended minivans - aaaaaahhahahahahahahahahaah. No, actually, I thought about it. For about 3 seconds. Honestly though, every time I’ve sat in one, I’ve thought - “Y’know, I could do this - this is pretty nice.” - But then…….somehow, I just can’t do it. A station wagon was hard enough. But you know I love you all.

The hard part is going to be cleaning up the Magnum enough to turn it in. Three years full of baseball and moving (from a small city to the country) and gardening and hauling and a crazy dog…..it’s groady. (Have I just given you all further proof that I’m pushing 45? Groady!)

Now, I’m going to go watch out for the guy bringing it over. And drive around for a few minutes. And then probably end up calling the insurance agent.

—- And my plea for the day - and for a very good cause - look for Secret Agent Josephine’s artwork in the sidebar and if you’re in Redondo Beach, CA - Go! See! Her! Art! and Rescue! Dogs! —-

It’s just one of those days. Trying to go in too many different directions. So, I’ll just share a few things:

• I have had readers from 20 countries. Okay, this, to me, is amazing. Denmark leads the non-U.S. list with 5% of my hits. But also, Canada, the U.K., Germany, Italy, Australia, France, Norway, Japan, Mexico, Singapore, Peru, Russia, New Zealand, Indonesia, Liechtenstein, Argentina, and Turkey. Wow you guys! How about de-lurking into the comments? Tell me where you’re from.
• Based on the keyword searches that brought people to my site, lot of people are interested in Lab/Daschund mix dogs (and I had never heard of these…but 3 different variations of “lab/daschund” sent people to my site). Other keywords? Bandonkadonk Butts, “I love Ohioan guys Tank Top“, Porta Johnny, Penis Enlargement and webbed hand pantyhose. I’m guessing on that last one. As far as I know, it’s the only time I used the word pantyhose in a post.
• My admin brought me a huge bouquet (no, not because I’m the most wonderfullest boss in the world). Her daughter was in a musical this past weekend, and then left for a week of Leadership Camp (yes, she has one of those ‘perfect’ children). B was left with nine(!) bunches of cut flowers. The one she brought me is white/purple and pink lilies with a whole bunch of greenery. It makes me smile whenever I look at it.
• Shortman is going to get his eyes examined for contacts today. He’s only been wearing glasses for a year, but based on my eyesight (poor) and Mr. Hot’s eyesight (poorer), he probably could have used them before that. School screening never picked up a problem - I just decided last year that he needed to get those peepers checked. Contacts are, hopefully, our way of getting him out of the house while wearing corrective lenses. He’ll wear them while driving, but then whips off the glasses as soon as he takes the keys out of the ignition. Vanity, thy name is “15-year-old boy”
• I am one class away from having my Leadership Development certification from University of Michigan. I registered for “Managing in a Global Organization” - and I’ll be in the September class. I am one of those people I hate - A University of Michigan student. (Be nice people, I bleed Green and White. Went to 3 universities - Michigan State, Eastern Michigan and Marshall. All green/white schools. It’s killing me)
• I love watching the hawks and the cranes that fly over this building. We’re in the middle of a natural wetlands, and we have all kinds of birds that live around here. The only problem is watching out for the goose poop on your way to the car.
• Speaking of cars. I keep getting this question in my quest for my new vehicle: “And what color are you looking for?” - My response? “Um, you mean, black, gray, grayer, grayest, white or gray?” Seriously. What happened to car colors?
• Chef Jake asked me to check out his site. It’s a really great site - and the link is in my sidebar. Go take a look. I love the ability to make find recipes, make meal plans, and print out shopping lists - if you use my sponsor id, you get $5 off a six-month subscription. (Okay, shameless, I know, but it is a wonderful site - and I’m going to use it regularly. I’m hopeless at being creative with meals.)

—- When I get like this, (all random and stuff), it usually means I need to take a drastic step in my life. Like maybe a new hairstyle. But I’m 80% gray - and I’m pushing 45 - and I just don’t have any ideas. My hair is wavy and notoriously dry, and I hate it. It’s never a good idea to go into the stylist in this kinds of mood. Keep your fingers crossed that I do nothing stupid tonight! —-

Yesterday was my Gramma’s birthday. She would have been 95. She was my absolutely favorite person in the world. The one I could always turn to when my life was falling apart (which it did from time to time).

My parents were married in 1962 while Dad was on leave from the Marines. He was in Okinawa when I was born and Mom lived with her parents and her brother and sister. There are approximately 287,769 pictures documenting the first 6 months of my life. Gramma and I were best buddies. She took care of me while Mom was at work. I always felt that I had a special place in her heart - even though I wasn’t the first grandchild, or the only girl, or anything like that. I could just feel her love. And lots of times I still do.

I remember her teaching me to dance the polka. (She was Slovak, and was a typical Eastern European babushka). She taught me how to cook pierogis and galumpkis (stuffed cabbage) and beets. She taught me how to crochet. Our afghans weren’t always straight, but they were colorful.

I spent as many weekends at her house as I could. My grandfather died when I was 5. My uncle had already gotten married and moved out by this time. My Aunt married soon after, to a man with 3 kids of his own, and they moved away. She was alone. She joined the local “Senior Citizens Club” - where she was a hit with the gentlemen. She never looked twice at any of them. She had married my grandfather, had 5 children with him, and was never interested in another man.

Her oldest son died at 39, leaving 6 children of his own. You should never have to bury your own child. How true this was for her. She got tears in her eyes every time she talked about “Sonny”.

She took in boarders - Medical students from Wayne State. I had a huge crush on one of them. I always wonder what happened to Dr. Ken. Another favorite of hers was the young lady from Bangkok. Although the combination of boiled cabbage (Gramma) and Thai spices made it impossible for us to spend much time in the kitchen.

She taught me how to drink tea (lots of milk and sugar). And how to play Rummy. And a card game called “Casina”. I’ve forgotten how to play - I’m going to have to google it and see if I can teach it to Shortman.

We burned too many angel cakes and scorched too many lemon meringue pies to count. One day we decided to make this lime Jello/Oreo Cookie/Cool Whip concoction. We made 3 trips to the store for ingredients. Once to get everything. Twice to start over because we messed it up. The first time, we put the jello in an ice-water bath in the sink to set. As she wiped off the table so we could sit down and have our tea before the next step…she threw the dishrag into the sink. Right.Directly.Into.The.Jello. We trudged back to the store. She had never learned to drive. We walked. This time, we put the jello into the freezer to set. It fell over. Back.We.Went. It was the most delicious lime Jello/Oreo Cookie/Cool Whip concoction I ever tasted. Flavored with the tears we shed laughing so hard we cried.

When I got married the first time, she came to my wedding and danced the polka. She had gone to live with my Aunt in Colorado by this time. All of her children were busy with their families, and the grandchildren were busy, and the neighborhood wasn’t what it used to be. So she moved. So many of her things were shipped here and there.

I got her wedding ring - a very plain, very thin silver band that I wear with my own rings (which were my mothers). I also have her Christmas ornaments and her creche. The one that my Grandfather bought her and that always, always had the place of honor on the mantle at Christmas. She always had Christmas Eve at her house, and one of the uncles always dressed as Santa and delivered presents. Every year, when I bring it out, I relive some of those memories.

She had colon cancer and recovered. She had breast cancer, but the Doctors felt that the strain to do a mastectomy was too much. She had had minor heart attacks.

My mother called me one day. I was living with Husband #1 in West Virginia. I answered the phone and knew, immediately, what had happened. Not the details, but the result.

Gramma had been on the phone with my uncle. They were chatting normally - her in Colorado, him in Michigan. He heard her say, as she always did, “Oh Yoy”. Then he heard a thud. And she was gone.

—- Twenty years haven’t made me miss you any less Gramma. Thank you for watching over me. I love you. —-

I’m notoriously bad for posting on Saturdays. But I love my blog, and I want other people to love my blog. So, today - and every Saturday through the rest of the summer, I’m going to try to post pictures of Saturday. Maybe only one, maybe several, but I’ll accomplish two things. I’ll post AND I’ll get out with the camera.

However, today I get to cheat. I’m posting pictures from an earlier Saturday. The day that Shortman and Momanddad and I went to see the Blue Angels perform at the airshow at Willow Run airport.

It was HOT. There was no breeze and barely a cloud in the sky. They sold out of umbrellas after an hour. It took us nearly 2 to get out of the parking lot when it was over. It was a spectacular day.

It was so crowded, they had to turn people away.

The Blue Angels in formation. They are amazing.

—- If you’re interested in joining me in the Summer Saturday picture posting, leave me a comment. I’ll add a section to my blogroll to point to you. —-

Got back really late last night from Chicago. I was supposed to land at 9:30 pm. I landed at 11:20. It’s not the worst delay I’ve had, by far, but it’s so exhausting. It usually takes me about an hour after I get home to decompress enough to fall asleep, so I was not in at 7:30 this morning.

I’ve had some interesting experiences travelling for this company. Not as many as someone who does this full-time, but for the last 8 years, about every 3 weeks, I pack up my crap and go.

I’ve had lost luggage, and been in cab wrecks.

After one delay, I arrived in Manhattan at 2 a.m., got to The Plaza (yes, that The Plaza), checked in and stumbled up to my room. When I opened the door, I realized that there was someone in the bed. Snoring.

I’ve sat next to droolers on planes and drunks on trains. I’ve been re-routed and cancelled and bumped and upgraded.

But I have to say that something that happened yesterday was a first.

---

I left the office at 3:30 for a 7:17 flight from O’Hare to Detroit Metro. It was a nice, clear afternoon after a night of wicked thunderstorms. (The damn cable went out in the hotel room. At 8 o’clock. I went to sleep. There was no minibar and I had no book. It sucked.)

Outside the office, on Madison, in the Loop, a cab pulled up. There was a woman getting out, so the driver beckoned to me (standing there with a roller bag and laptop case). I nodded and saw her lean over the seat to pay him just as the trunk popped open.

I’m not a damsel in distress, and in the summer, my luggage weighs hardly anything at all, so I lifted the trunk lid, threw my suitcase in, and closed it up. I walked around to the passenger side door just as the driver was opening his door to, I assume, help me with my bags. By the time he got to the back quarterpanel, I was already in my seat.

Then? He’s gone. I figured he was checking to make sure that I really did close the trunk. But, when I looked out the back window? No. Not there. So I sit. And sit. And then I see it.

Flying money.

And then I see my driver. Running down the center of Madison. Chasing after the flying money. Stopping traffic.

Picture it. Listen! Tire screeching. Money blowing down a Chicago financial district street. Pedestrians standing there with their mouths hanging open. Horns blaring.

Me? I sat there. Once I knew where to look, I had a pretty good view of the action. Besides, the trunk was closed, I couldn’t switch cabs. I had to wait. And I was wearing heels.

He came back with wads in both hands. And a really dumb grin on his face. Another cabbie knocks in the window. Hands in a dollar bill.

My driver thanks him and closes the window. And then turns and says to me:

I keep my money under my leg when I drive. I forgot it was there when I
got up to get your bag.

Keeps his money. Under his leg. Uh, okay.

Forgot it was there? So when he gets up (which he must not do very often, right?), the wind? In Chicago? (This is Chicago, people!) Takes all of his money that he made that day (this was 3:30 in the afternoon!) and flings it down one of the busiest streets in the Loop.

—- Jonathan Swift said “A wise man should have money in his head, but not in his heart. ” The Hotfessional adds, “And certainly not under his ass.” —-