Skip to main content

Blessed are the poor, for they get cable.

"Mom! Even the poorest people on the planet get more channels that that! People that live in trailers get channel forty!!"

This from my eldest when she learned that I'd canceled our cable. I burst out laughing. Oh my, that was funny.

I'm still giggling.

Comments

  1. LOL! Some one should call CPS on you, depriving your poor children that way!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Five. But only four are worth watching, two of those only occasionally.

    I was looking at the US Geological Survey site earlier. Did you know you had several earthquakes in your area yesterday?

    ReplyDelete
  3. Sketchy, go ahead and call. I could use some down time, by myself in a small cell where I wouldn't have to clean, or do dishes, or listen to teenagers whine about no cable tv.

    Richard, that was me, sorry. I was jumping around a lot. ::grin::

    ReplyDelete
  4. Here is a joke I just read in A Prairie Home Companion Pretty Good Joke Book:

    Do you know why Isaac was only twelve years old when God called Abraham to sacrifice his son?

    Because if he had been a teenager, it wouldn't have been a sacrifice.
    _____________

    Blessed are all mothers of teenagers, for they get much grief.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Oh Kill them, that is SO true! I've also heard that grandchildren are your reward for not killing your teenagers.

    Either way. it works for me. :grin:

    It has been interesting to see how they are communicating more with us. It's been like this: "wow, who are you?" "I'm your Mother" "How long have you been living here?" "Since you were born"

    ReplyDelete
  6. What's on channel 40? I think it's the history channel here... ;)

    ReplyDelete
  7. Channel 40 here is the Disney channel.

    ReplyDelete

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…