The Cure for Boredom

Captain Destructo is on the local swim team again this year and he seems to enjoy it. Mostly. After the first week of practice he began dragging his feet in the mornings. Usually he can’t wait to go, now not so much. Turns out one of the coaches does nothing but scream at the kids for the entire hour. I found this odd as this particular coach not only was a lifeguard last year but taught swim lessons as well and she’d always been pleasant. The Captain and I struck a deal: he’d find his enthusiasm for swim again and I’d watch his practice.

Now I don’t know much about teaching swim other than telling the kid “please don’t drown” but I’m pretty sure if you want to teach someone how to do a stroke correctly you actually have to get into the pool with them. We have 4 coaches, all female; two are constantly pantomiming how to do whatever stroke the kids are practicing at the particular moment, one is sitting on her ass at the shallow end of the pool and the fourth is checking her cell phone every 5 minutes. I realize this isn’t Olympic-style competing but all of these girls were on their high school swim team. They should KNOW how to coach.

Oh yeah, and the screechy one? She’s the team manager’s daughter. I know what you’re saying; that I should go and tell her about her daughter. Well she’s at the pool every day and SEES how her coaches coach. I’m pretty sure she knows about it already. The daughter of one of my friends ( a friend who was asst. coach for the local high school swim team no less) quit because she couldn’t stand to be around that one coach. I suggested that she tell Team Manager because if I were in her shoes that’s something I’d want to know. I’m curious as to who else has quit but it’s hard to tell when people are going on vacation and attending day camps and all.

I’ve been watching all of The Captain’s practices so far and every now and then I’ll see him sitting at the side of the pool…NOT swimming. He complains about not feeling well, the last time he did this was at last Monday’s practice. It must be a Monday thing. I can’t complain though as he’s showing improvement. For instance, he placed 4th in Butterfly the first meet which was good because he didn’t swim in the Fly event last year. The second meet he placed 5th in Fly but improved his time by 9.5 seconds! He placed 2nd in Backstroke like last time (with about a 5 second improvement in time) and placed 1st in Freestyle with an almost 8 second slower time than before. It’s amazing how you can get 9 seconds faster and place lower and get 8 seconds slower and place higher than the previous meet. This is some crazy shit.

 

In other non-crazy news VBS is over and we all survived. Now we get to plan our family “vacation” (two days at Water Country, look for me; I’m the fat chick in the blue bathing suit) and just hanging around the house. As long as I don’t have to be in two places at once I’m happy.

Uncle D had a viewing at the funeral home the day before he was buried. There were some lovely flower arrangements there, enough to drive my allergies nut and soon I had a nose full of snot. I tried to blow it but there was just no way I could be all dainty and lady-like about it so I decided to wait. I mean, there were only 20 minutes left. The Cousin Formerly Known as White Trash sat next to me and put his arm around me; next thing I know I’m sobbing again only it went something like this:

boohooohooo hooooo SNORK! booohoooobooohoooo SNOOOORRRRK! supsupsup SNOOOOOOOORK!!!!!!!!!

Seriously, EVERYONE in the funeral home could hear me horking snot up into my frontal lobe. We had a good laugh about it afterward; Uncle D would have loved it.

I get home and jump right back into the fray. A class party to plan, a den meeting to catch up on, scouting stuff left and right. I go to church that Sunday and they play “Amazing Grace” while there are passing out little cups of grape juice; that was played at the funeral. I cried some more, sans snot. I have several more appointments I need to keep (for a SAHM who does “nothing” all day I sure find ways to keep busy).

Jr passes his EOG’s with flying colors. His end of year party is a success. No one threw up anywhere but a younger brother took a whiz on one of my trees and a classmate lost a tooth.

I end up missing The Captain’s party altogether because it was moved to the same day as Jr’s party.

I work three half-days. Hooray money!

The pack gets 5 new Tigers for the summer, no leader yet so we’re taking turns with them.

Back out of scout camp; it’s an hour away and that’s too far to drive 5 nights in a row.

Attend two scout meetings, get roped into a third. We’re meeting with our local United Way; we show them how much scouting helps our areas and they agree to continue with their funding of scouting. If we lose that funding it will be real tight next year. I miss a third meeting because it was planned for a Thursday night in a city 40 minutes away; I find out about it on the Tuesday before. It normally wouldn’t be a big deal but I’m the Popcorn Chair and this was about the popcorn fundraiser. Oops.

Go to a party at a friend’s house; get home at 10:30 at night. Hubby calls to get me home, I tell him “I’m drinking a glass of wine, I’m having grown up conversation and I have no idea where the kids are. There’s NO WAY I’m coming home now!”

I pay $50 so The Captain can swim on the swim team this summer. Our first meet is tonight and he doesn’t want to swim anymore.

I pay $20 so Jr can attend track and field camp. The camp is canceled on account of Jr being the ONLY kid to sign up.

I pay $45 so The Captain can attend basketball camp. The camp is canceled, no reason given. Refunds, however, ARE given.

Vacation Bible School begins this Sunday. The director is still at the beach and I don’t know how many kids are attending.

My doctor’s appointment has been rescheduled twice; I’m not seeing a doctor, I’m seeing someone called Ms. Smith. I’m hoping like hell Ms. Smith has some kind of medical know-how. This is what happens when you turn 40 and go in for a check-up. God help me when I turn 60.

I want more wine.

First it was my great aunt, next it was my grandpa’s first cousin’s wife.

Now it’s Uncle D.

He passed away yesterday. I was assured he went peacefully and we’re all relieved he’s no longer suffering. Kind of a lot of shit to go through just to light up, ya know?

I’ll be planning another short trip to FL only instead of reminding Grandma about pork chops and what day of the week it is I’ll most likely be reminding her that Uncle D is dead and no, we can’t visit him in the hospital.

Man this is going to suck.

We don’t know yet how this is going to affect Grandma. Uncle D would have turned 55 on the 27th. It sucks enough burying your child; to have to deal with it over and over again because of dementia, well, I can’t even begin to think how bad that would be.

NGD, if you watch my car again I’ll buy you a new coconut bra. I may even buy Shmuppie one of her own so yours won’t get broken.

I’ve spent all of this week working at school and in the yard. We’re having Jr’s end of year party for his class at my house, hopefully no one will barf on the couch this time. You know how those 4th graders like to party. I hacked up our old doghouse with a shovel, I’m expecting the Gambinos to call me any day now for my shovel-whacking expertise. I mowed and raked and filled 8 leaf and lawn bags full of leaves and clippings. I’ve also discovered I had poison ivy growing in my back yard. Finding out about that BEFORE coming in contact with it would have been super, thanks.

That’s all I have to say right now. I feel another crying jag coming on and The Captain is begging me to lay down on the couch with him.

I finally got around to blogging about Sunday of my trip and I couldn’t remember much of that day. Either too much time had past or there just weren’t many details to remember to begin with. Must have been my day of rest, although I did have this conversation with my grandma the night before when I got back from the hockey game:

Grandma: Did you have fun at Auntie K’s house?
Me: Yes, Grandma, but we didn’t go to her house; we went to a hockey game.
Grandma: Oh. Who’s pots and pans are in my sink?
Me: Those are yours, Grandma.
G’ma: Mine? Well where did they come from?
Me: I found one in the lanai and the other in your garage. They’re pots you don’t use that much.
G’ma: Oh. Well, what did you cook at K’s house that used up all those pans?
Me: I didn’t cook anything at K’s house; we went to a hockey game. Those are from when I started the pork chops.
G’ma: Pork chops? Oh yeah, from when you were cooking.
Me: Yes!

*brief pause, or maybe some other mindless chatter between us*

G’ma: What did you cook at K’s house that made such a mess?
Me: *small sigh* I didn’t cook anything at K’s house, I cooked pork chops here. We went to a hockey game.
G’ma: Well whose pans are in my kitchen sink?
Me: They’re YOURS Grandma.
G’ma: Mine? Well where did they come from?

This conversation went round about three more times before either she finally got it trapped in her long term memory banks or she just gave up about finding out who broke into her house and left their dirty dishes in her sink. When I finally did get around to washing them and putting them away it solved her dilemma once and for all.

Aside from mindless conversations and quite a bit of housework not much else went on Sunday. You know, it’s easy to write about Grandma and her dementia and get a good laugh at her expense but I’d like to take a moment to write about the woman who is my grandma.

Grandma was born in 1926 in Flint, MI and was raised in Detroit. Or she could have been born in Detroit and raised in Flint, I never could remember which it was. Either way, she’s a Yankee of the highest order. He mother died when Grandma was 11; when her father remarried a woman with two kids of her own Grandma pretty much helped raise her three siblings. She was the oldest of 4, two girls and two boys. Grandma hated her stepmother with a purple passion. I don’t remember exactly why except she was a royal bitch. Grandma swore up and down that she viewed Great Grandpa as a “meal ticket” and only married him to take care of her own kids (who she swears were both mentally retarded) and neglected her step kids. She hated the woman so much she refused to fly Delta airlines because the woman’s name was Delta.

Anyway, Grandma moved out and got married and started a family. That married didn’t last long because the guy didn’t want kids, or something, and kept trying stupid shit to make her lose the baby. She gave birth to Auntie K two days before her 22nd birthday, only she wasn’t born K then, she was named something like Cheryl Faye. The marriage ended and Grandma moved on with her life. I don’t remember exactly how she met my Grandpa, only that he didn’t seem to care that she was a divorced mother. They got married, then met his mother.

Oooooooo, boy.

Great Grandma B was as old fashioned as they came. She was a staunch Methodist and practiced her faith every day, not just for an hour each Sunday morning. She ALWAYS wore either a skirt or a dress, more often than not one that she herself made, and had Sunday dinner prepared on Saturday evening so as not to break the commandment of working on the Sabbath. So imagine this: Her one and only son shows up one day with his new blushing bride…wearing capris and carrying a baby on her hip. Needless to say, their relationship was a delicate balancing act of Grandma B not alienating her son and Grandma not telling the old woman to go fuck herself. I forgot to mention that Grandma is a die-hard Atheist. Ummm, yeah.

Grandpa was in the Navy (try getting THAT song out of your head! Yer welcome) and traveled quite a bit. My mom was born in Phoenix, AZ; Uncle D was born at Balboa in San Diego and Auntie M was born in Memphis. They all settled in Alpine, CA when he retired from the Navy and stayed there until they moved back to NC in the mid 80’s. All this time Grandma finished raising her kids (sometimes alone when Grandpa was off killing Japs during WWII or getting shot at during the Korean ‘Conflict’) and she ended up helping raise her 4 grandkids; myself, my sister and Auntie K’s two kids (Auntie K was renamed when Grandpa adopted her much to her relief. Apparently, she wasn’t too keen on her original name).

Grandma also had her own business: a custom drapery business she ran out of her “drapery room” (a room where you NEVER walked barefoot because she never did get all the pins up off the floor). She was always the go-getter, making sure things got done whether you liked it or not. Once they moved back to NC I felt totally lost but it wasn’t long before I joined them all in NC. I lived with my grandparents for half of my junior year and all of my senior year. I really think my grandma was only happy when she had something to do or someone to take care of. When Grandpa died in ‘91 we all thought she wouldn’t last but a few years without him. we all re-learned a lesson when she lasted longer than that: never underestimate a woman in our family.

It was sad to hear her complain about my mom and Auntie M when they took her driver’s license way. She has no business being behind the wheel of a car yet she was always so fiercely independent that it was sad to her her decline. She’ll be 83 in December and just recently lost her last remaining sibling. The first to die was Uncle Glen, the Uncle Vern. Aunt Rose died in her sleep a few weeks ago; she had had a falling out with her daughter and they hadn’t spoken in two years. Cousin C was devastated by her mother’s death and you know she wishes she had mended fences before now. My grandpa’s first cousin’s wife passed away Monday; she was suffering from cancer. We didn’t even know she was sick and she only lived a few miles from me. Uncle D is still battling throat cancer and the effects of the treatments for it. We haven’t told Grandma about Cousin A’s death just yet, she’s still reeling from Aunt Rose’s passing and the dementia can’t be making it any easier.

When I finally did finish those pork chops Grandma had commented a few times during the meal that she wasn’t used to me cooking for her. I simply told her she had taken care of me all those years, fixing her one meal was the least I could do.

I’m going to be a blubbering mess when it’s her turn to go. I may need to go see that shrink after all.

*I apologize for the delay in continuing this saga. In the past week we’ve had The Captain fall and hit his head so hard the group of people surrounding him immediately began talking about Natasha Richardson (I have two new gray hairs to prove it); two Easter parties, a play date and a den meeting on the SAME DAY, a killer case of poison ivy that’s making me miserable plus a inter-district track meet that was held during a school day (the track is next to our elementary school). The parking lot cluster fuck was enough to derail any attempt at blogging about anything else except the immediate demise of the stupid bitch who decided to park her SUV in the middle of the parking lot!!!!!! See what I mean? Enjoy.*

In a (futile) attempt to appease my mother I stay at her house Friday night. She has to go to work Saturday at 1 pm so of course she HAS to show up at 12 noon. I’m not sure what to make of this; either her job is so demanding that it takes a whopping 60 minutes to prepare or she has absolutely no life and makes up for it by cornering coworkers before her shift begins. We get to her house where we are greeted by her evil cat Lucy. Seriously, I think this cat is possessed. There’s EVIL written all over her face.

I’d love to say we had a great visit with her asking me all about my kids and what they’re up to and how I’ve been doing but sadly that’s not the case. It was an enjoyable visit; I got to check my email and pay a bill online while there but other than that not much happened. At least I didn’t wake up to an 80 degree furnace blast. Why am I bothering to blog about this if it was a non-event? You’ll find out in a later blog entry.

On the way back to Grandma’s house we stop by a store to do some shopping. Mom says it was one of her favorite shops. This sounds nice and a potential bonding moment; we seem to always bond when spending money. I was hoping to find a little something for JS and NGD but I couldn’t find any pink flamingos that said “HOMO” on them.

I get back to Grandma’s house and get to work on her kitchen. I empty the dishwasher, wash some other dishes by hand and get the counter tops clear and cleaned up. I ask Grandma if she wants me to cook the pork chops she bought the other day for dinner. She says sure so I get started. I can’t find a pot or pan that’s big enough for a full meal so Grandma gets me digging in her lanai for extras. While there I find 10 cans of biscuit gravy, two more boxes of pancake mix and about 40 cans of creamed corn. I also find a big box of Swanson chicken broth that expired in 2007. I tell her it needs to be thrown out and she says “Oh no! It’s still good; it’s still sealed”. I add it to my mental list of Shit To Throw Away When Grandma Isn’t Looking and keep looking for the pans. After finding a frying pan and cooking pot I get started. Auntie K is supposed to pick me up around 4:30 for a 5:30 hockey game so I have plenty of time. I pan sear the chops and set them in a pot of cream of mushroom soup (2 cans out of oh, say 8. Who the hell needs 8 cans of cream of mushroom soup?) and settle down with a crossword puzzle. About 10 minutes later Auntie K and The Cousin Formerly Known as White Trash walk through the door. “My truck died at Auntie M’s house, if you want to go to the game you’ll have to go with me now because we’re taking Grandma’s car”. This is at 3:30. Yay. I find a tupperware container that’s big enough to hold a family sized package of chops and soup and make room for it in the fridge. I rinse out the pots and pans and tell Grandma I’ll wash them up when I get home. I grab my purse, my camera bag and my hoodie and head out the door.

Auntie K and I meet up with Cousin M and her son Brian Johnson. Okay, so her kid isn’t really named Brian Johnson but he does look like him and I’m running out of nicknames:

Imagine my joy when he not only knew who I was talking about but had their songs on his iPod AND knew how to play a few of their songs on his guitar. Makes the heart of this old metal head sing. We stop at this trendy Italian place and order some food.

After stuffing ourselves we get to our cars and head out to Germain Arena. I initially assumed that I was going to watch BJ play since he’s been playing since he was 6 or so but it was actually a charity game between the local fire department and a visiting fire department, Fire on Ice. We get to sit anywhere we want (unless a season ticket holder shows up and wants their seats) so we take a rink side seat just to the right of the goal. It’s clear from the beginning that everyone has their favorite player, Brandon Coalter .

It was a fun game to watch and considering I know jack squat about hockey I enjoyed myself. Brandon was apparently the bad boy, spending about 8 minutes in the penalty box. Our team lost but it was fun anyway. We had about 2 hours to kill before the next game so we watched the kids play in the neighboring rinks, I bought the boys their own miniature hockey stick. When I called to verify this purchase with Hubby he said okay but don’t be surprised if they beat the crap out of each other with them. “That’s okay” I said. “If they do then I’ll just spank them with the sticks. They hit, I hit, everybody wins!” I think the cashier was afraid of me.

After that we hit some of the food vendors. I got some deep fried honey cashews, a not dog and a soft pretzel. Not nearly as good as the pork chops I wanted but it beat starving. There were the usual characters that Auntie K seemed to know, characters like the guy who brought his Weber grill into the arena and was pretending to grill a stuffed chicken on it. Being that she’s been a season ticket holder for the Blades for about evelenty jillion years I wasn’t surprised. Why I didn’t pull out the camera to snap a picture I’ll never know.

We get to our seats at the very top of the arena. Seriously, the only thing behind us was a private party who sneered at us as we made our way through their party to get to our seats. Get over it, bitch, and pass me hot wing. The view was great and I learned a few things, like you can slam the guy into the wall all you want if he has the puck, otherwise it’s called ‘checking’. I think I learned what a ‘five-hole’ is; this made me think of Juddhole. Hockey goalies are seriously awesome.

I also was eager to do one of my favorite pastimes: people watching. I hit the fucking motherload.

Exhibit #1: The Fugly Twins. At least this is the nickname Cousin M had given them. I thought her shirt was appropriate. Oops, it doesn’t say “hurl”. My bad.

And they brought with them their lovely spawn. These kids did everything but watch the game and they sat right in front of us. I tried to get some video of them the but batteries in my EasyShare died. Guess that’s what happens when you drop it too much.

The still photos don’t do these people justice. The spawn had this cute little ‘dance’ they would do for each other. It’s hard to describe…you know how your dog will walk and air-hump at the same time and then suddenly drop to the ground and drag its ass across your living room carpet? Their dance was just like that except they would drag-ass on each other. Must be a boy-on-boy thing.

When they weren’t wiping their asses on each other they were texting or playing games on their phones. Who the hell pays to see a hockey game and doesn’t watch it?

Exhibit #2: The Cougar

Even though she seems to have a nice figure there’s something to be said about dressing your age. Fifty-somethings should not dress like twenty-somethings. Cousin M says she always dresses like that. Later in the game she ditched her 20 year old boyfriend to flirt with a portly guy closer to her age. He looked like he had money.

She never looked like she was cold the entire game. Guess massive silicone, botox and plastic aren’t good cold conductors. That and all the booze she drank must have kept her nice and toasty. Look, there’s a way to do ‘cougar’ right and yes, I’m jealous cuz I’m not cougar material. Pay for my therapy, bitch.

And now for some miscellaneous shots:

Our view of the rink.

I seriously want this hat.

I don’t know who Mike is but I’d recommend a disguise.

Wearing a hockey mask to a hockey game? Original. I can’t decide if this is Jason: The Retirement Years or Mike.

HAHAHAHA!!!!! Cousin M was NKOTB’s biggest fan when she was in high school. I think she was in love with the gay one. We gave her shit every time they announced over the loudspeaker that you’d better get your tickets soon. Hurry Cousin M! You don’t want them to sell out, do you?

When the game ended we made a mad dash for the elevator. Seems there’s no bathroom near us in the nosebleed section. As Cousin M and Auntie K were doing the Potty Hop in the elevator I turned to them and said “Just do what Grandma does; wear three Depends and piss yourself”. They thought it was funny, the elderly gentleman next to me wasn’t that amused.