Skip to main content

Boeing Called To Say They Would Call Again

I kid you not. They (and when I say 'they' I mean Sunny Meadows) called from Boeing to say that they would call us tomorrow.

I'm not sure if the call was intended to ratchet up the suspense, but that's the effect it seems to have had on us here in the Land of Limbo. Wheeeeee!

Today I drove up to Seattle in order to pick up hubby's paycheck and carefully deposit it in the bank so as not to bounce our mortgage. We feel it's important not to do that. Bounce the mortgage check, I mean. Bouncing, all on it's on, is just fine. Fun even. Bouncing has it's place. Just not in the financial arena.

I visited with my father for a bit and watched as he chased the kids around and then frightened them with stories of Mr. Floo who lives in his basement and is an enormous ogre type person. When they weren't looking he went downstairs and started rattling a gigantic cow bell around in order to scare them just a bit more. It was highly amusing.

I came home, paid lots of bills because I could, made some phone calls to find out what other bills we owed and paid them as well. I was in a bill paying frenzy, which is not unlike a chocolate induced frenzy but with less caloric intake. Now that I think about it, I haven't had chocolate all day. Heresy! I should be sent to my room.

Not that I'm going to sleep much. You know, it's the whole 'we'll call you tomorrow' thing that's going through my head. I don't think that consuming chocolate will help me at this point.


  1. pam, i accidentally lost you on my blog links. i'll put you back tomorrow, i promise

  2. Dang, and here I was all ready to fly off into a great snit. This could possibly have been THE snit of all time. I've been pretty much snitless and thought it was time to have one.

    And you just had to apologize and ruin it for me!


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…

I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always...

I rely on the kindness of strangers...

Or not so much strangers as readers of my miserable blog.

I received a beautiful card in the mail from my long-tine reader (perhaps my ONLY reader) that lifted my heart. Thank you, G. Parkes. It was kind of you to think of me. Seriously---you are so sweet. Thank you.

Perhaps we can meet in person one day. I'll be in Utah after Conference. We'll see how it goes.

I've been caring for my autistic grandson since July. It seems longer sometimes---and that's not a complaint. I adore this little man. He holds my heart. He fills my arms and my heart in the way that my own small babies used to do. When mine reached the age where they didn't want to be in my arms any longer, I felt their absence. Their absence from my arms was heavier than actually having them in my arms. It was an ache that is difficult to describe, a phantom pain where something once was but now is no longer.

Before my husband and I went to the cabin th…