holiday's closed for the holiday

there's a child care center here in town called "holiday care center," and they have a sign on their door notifying parents that on july 4th, "holiday will be closed for the holiday."

am i the only one who finds this hysterical? apparently.

i laughed about it with "miss judy" and i laughed about it with "miss carolyn" and i laughed about it with "miss joanne." i mean, i laughed about it with myself. nobody - i mean, nobody - cracked a smile. sup with THAT????


i think i'm gonna post my own sign on their door: don't ever send your kid to a child care center that doesn't know how to laugh.

i miss how

i miss how after church he would say,

"wanna go get a beer,' and how,

if you're not catholic,

that probably sounds sacrilegious. and how,

if you aren't catholic,

you gotta admit that probably sounds good.


i miss how he would drop his head, sort of sheepish-like,

when he asked it......as if he knew it was a terrible sin

to mention beer

immediately after the priest says, "the Mass is ended.....go in peace

to love

and serve

the Lord."


i miss the way he would always close his eyes

when he said "the Lord's prayer" and the reason i knew he did is because

i

didn't.


i miss how, if he and i were both sick at the

same time,

how he would get out of bed and ask me, "do you want me to get you


anything?"


i miss probably seven thousand, one hundred, and twenty-two things

about him but you say,

nan. cy!...........


are you really not over him........



yet?

good names for restaurants

"holy smokes" is a rib joint here in town. i think it's a chain. "holy chain smokes" woulda been an even better name, but i guess nobody wants anybody to know they're part of a chain.......smoking, restaurant, or otherwise.

another good name for a restaurant is "bill's." you just can't go wrong with a place like that. you know before you even walk in that you're gonna get the burger with everything and a bud light.

there's a restaurant right outside my window, and it is arguably the finest restaurant in columbus. it's owned by one of this city's premier chefs and it's called, simply enough, "M." i have never been there and i probably never will. i mean, it scares me, ok? "M" could stand for any number of things. i need more transparency than that, thank you.

but probably the very best name of all for a restaurant is "nancy's." there's a friendly neighborhood restaurant here in town with that name and they were in business for years and years and years and then they shut down because supposedly nobody wanted to eat greasy diner-style food anymore and then they opened back up because it turned out, everybody wanted to eat greasy diner-style food. and they had solidarity picketers and lots of friendly petitions to prove it, and so, after much hoopla and celebration and media coverage, nancy's is back in business.

the point is, nobody in their right mind would ever name a restaurant "N."

what would be so bad about making a container of wipes that you can actually get a wipe out of without ripping your fingers to death?

man on the moon/no cure for the common cold/no cure for colic/no container of wipes that you can actually get a wipe out of without ripping your fingers to death.........am i the only one who sees where i'm going with this?

they also oughta be able to invent a bottle of pills that you can open in the middle of the night without having to line up two little white arrows on a white lid because lining up two little white arrows on a white lid does not qualify as a bottle of pills that you can open in the middle of the night.

this post is over. i have a headache and my fingers are bleeding.


(oh, great.........now i gotta go pry a band-aid out of its wrapper.......)

a quick run-down of my dad

he found a quarter in a pay phone once and walked over to the phone company to give 'em their quarter back.

he forgot to leave a tip at a very upscale restaurant one time and so he called the restaurant to apologize and then he mailed them a check. for twice the amount he otherwise would have tipped.

i "forgot" to do a big school assignment once and i begged him to call my teacher and explain. he said, "explain what?"

he sneaked me cookies in church.

when i got hit in the head with a baseball bat and was on my way to the emergency room, he agreed with me, for the first time in his life, that "baseball is stupid."

when i was in college, i ran up his credit card one month way beyond anything that was reasonable. on a buncha junk that i couldn't even remember what any of it was. and he yelled at me. he yelled at me loud. and then he took the credit card away.

he put me on his shoulders even when i was tall enough to see for myself.

when we went to the dairy queen, he didn't care if it dripped all over the car.

actually, when we went to the dairy queen, he cared a whole helluva lot if it dripped all over the car.


but we went to the dairy queen anyway.

"hold your cards up - i can see 'em."

abby's doctor, jason melillo, is on call this weekend and so he offered to drop by abby's room in the hospital and help her pass the time by playing cards.

i doubt that they teach this in medical school.

but they should.

they should teach doctors to wear red clown noses - just like robin williams did in patch adams.

they should teach 'em to care less about whatever body part(s) they specialize in and more about what's your favorite color and if you had a license plate frame saying, "i'd rather be doing something or other," what would your something or other be?

it'd be a better world if every doctor was patch adams. i mean, if every doctor was jason melillo.

it's funny, though - dr. melillo, the ob/gyn, says, "hold your cards up.......i can see 'em." to a patient who's shown him damned near everything.

actually.................everything.

why it's not good enough to be a good person

because that goes straight to the second commandment and totally ignores the first.

the hospital gift shop

hospital gift shops are getting better all the time. you can find some good stuff in there!

the hospital that abby is in has at least 2 gift shops - maybe more. it's a big place, so probably more. but i am content to hang out in the 2 that i know about - the main one and the maternity/baby one.

the primary difference between the main one and the maternity/baby one is that the main one doesn't sell breast pumps. you gotta love a gift shop that doesn't sell breast pumps.

but both gift shops have baby clothes and when i say "baby clothes" i mean "baby clothes with ohio state crap written all over 'em."

look, no, i am probably not the biggest fan of the university of michigan, either, but really........do we need to put innocent little newborns in onesies that say, "poop on michigan?" i mean, there's plenty of time to corrupt these kids.......do we really have to start the second they're born?????

both the main and the maternity/baby gift shops have a buncha vera bradley stuff. personally, i don't like vera bradley stuff but if you do, i'll still be your friend. i won't hold your vera bradley purse for you while you try on gift shop pashminas, but i will still be your friend.


vera bradley diaper bags are to die for, though.

the funny part about abby being in the hospital

true story:

a bar somewhere in texas decided it wanted to expand the size of its building. a nearby baptist church protested the expansion and, among other strategies, held a coupla prayer vigils to voice their displeasure.

subsequently, the town had a thunderstorm and the bar got struck by lightning and burned to the ground.

the bar owner sues the church, saying that their prayers caused the lightning to strike.

the church says, "hey, don't look at us, mr. bar owner! it's not our fault!"

the judge who got the case says, "hmmmmm......i'm not sure how i will end up ruling in this case, but one thing's for sure........i have a bar owner who believes in the power of prayer and a church that doesn't."

I BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF PRAYER! THANKS TO ALL MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY FOR THEIR SUPPORT TO ABBY AND THE TRIPLETS!

why all boys jump and try to slap the tops of things

the title is a little misleading because i don't know why. but they sure do it!

i have never had a male client who could resist jumping up and trying to hit whatever it is that's above his head. it might be the top of the door, it might be a basketball net (that one, i get), it might be the crown moulding.

when it comes to boys jumping up to slap stuff........if you're gonna argue nature vs. nurture with somebody,  and you're gonna advocate for nurture, you're gonna lose the argument. it's just that freakin' simple. little boys jumping up to slap the tops of things is as built into their DNA as their little, um, um, well........as built in as their little congressman wieners.

on the other hand, little boys no longer instantly recoil when a little girl walks by. those days are over. turns out, there's no DNA to explain that behavior.....it's all learned. nowadays, if your client is a little 7-year old boy and a little 8-year old girl walks by? nowadays, you might as well kiss (no pun intended) your counseling session with him good-bye. cuz the only thing on his mind is how cute she is. whereas, 30 years ago, she had cooties.

but cooties are a funny thing......if there were cooties on the crown moulding, i think they'd still jump.

the cool side of the pillow

why is the cool side of the pillow preferable to the not cool side of the pillow even in winter?

in winter, i don't want my sheets to be cool, so why do i want my pillow to be cool?


why am i talking about winter when it's been blazin' hottern' hell out?

the little old lady from the jolly pirate donut shop

look, you can have your upscale, hip, cutting-edge starbucks with their coffee that sucks. as for me, gimme that old time religion!

i LOVE getting coffee from places like jolly pirate donuts. i would even rather get a coffee from united dairy farmers than i would from starbucks. i have such a thing against starbucks, i can't tell you.

starbucks, minus their coffee, is perfect. who wants perfect?????? and when i say, "who wants perfect," i mean, "everybody wants perfect except me." (and the proof that i don't want perfect is in the fact that i said, "everybody wants perfect except me," when i know FULL WELL that it should be "everybody wants perfect except i." but i say, "me," instead of "i," just to be imperfect. i love imperfect!)

i hate apples, but on the rare occasion that i do eat an apple, i always try to pick the one with a bit of a blemish or a dent or a bruise on it. not an apple that's totally beat to hell, of course, but one that's a little not quite right.

i have blogged before about my love of chipped china. i loooooove chipped china!

i like socks that don't match and accidentally putting on your navy shoes when you meant to put on your black ones.


i like it when hair isn't the same on both sides.


i like it when your roots show.....provided your roots are gray, not black.



just like the little old lady's from the jolly pirate donut shop.

i really should be rich by now

i don't mean the really important kind of rich - rich with blessings - i mean the really, really, REALLY important kind of rich........RICH!



apparently, i have a lot of good ideas, but none of them has ever dawned on me as the really, really, REALLY important kind of good - the RICH KIND OF GOOD!



i was blessed with a good brain, a decent personality, a fair command of words, and a sense of humor that will keep your party going for about another 5 minutes.

what i apparently wasn't blessed with is the good sense to know that a good brain, a decent personality, a fair command of words, and a sense of humor that will keep your party going for about another 5 minutes are all attributes that are, get ready for this.........mar.ket.a.ble.

MARKETABLE!

turns out, all those times i threw something together in the skillet and called it "dinner?" i coulda had my own t.v. show! or, at least, a stinkin' cookbook. (which, just my luck, prolly only woulda been sold at Borders.)

those times i made you laugh? joke book, nancy. joke. book.

when i see the irony in practically every living cell on earth and i blog about it? mon. ey., nancy...........mon. ey.

the fact that i have synesthesia and i can taste sounds........ plus i can cook? are. you. kidding. me??????? - MONEY!

but despite all these so-called "talents" that i posses, i have never looked upon any of them as avenues to cold, hard cash.



i like to think that's because God blessed me with a very enviable amount of stupidity, too.

phase one: don't go anywhere. phase two: go wherever you didn't go with HIM. phase three: go anywhere you damned well please.

i'm not at phase three yet, but i'm gettin' there.......


for pretty much the past year and half, i haven't gone anywhere. nowhere for entertainment, i mean. nowhere for entertainment aside from taking the twins to see ronald mcdonald. (btw, footnote? ronald mcdonald ain't all that.)

a few friday nights ago, i finally "went out." i went with my old high school girlfriends to the elks club for a night of beer, rock 'n roll, and friendship. good, good friendship.

it was my "maiden voyage" since things fell apart with per.

today, i am thinking of going to the arts festival, which is in downtown columbus. not far from where i live.

but i don't wanna go.

i mean, i wanna go, but i don't wanna wanna go. and the reason i don't wanna wanna go is, well, per and i used to go there. and have fun. have a lot of fun. at least.............it seemed that way to me.

so instead of the arts festival, i might go to the bait and tackle shop instead. or maybe the bowling alley. maybe i'll pick a park that he and i never went to and i'll go there and set off fireworks.


and next year at this time? i'll go to the arts festival.

phase three, baby.

phase three.................

white men can't jump. i mean, white folks can't jump. i mean, white folks can't clean house.

i had a client once - a little 8-year old african-american girl - who very casually and matter-of-factly (as if everyone knew this) mentioned that "white folks can't clean house."

i remember thinking this was some kind of reverse racism or something, and after she said that to me, i started asking around - to see if other african-americans held the same view. turns out, a lot of them did. (i had one kid tell me that white people don't buy bleach.)

well, racist or not, it might be true. folks. i mean, it might be true. white folks.

i bought a bagless vacuum cleaner and whoa nellie!..........have you ever used one of those things????..........lemme just tell you somethin.........

i need to go buy some bleach!

hi-ho, hi-ho.....

one of my clients has a guardian who makes nurse ratched look like pollyanna. she makes miss hannigan look like pollyanna. hell, she makes kathy bates's character in "misery" look like pollyanna!

she is just so, so mean. not physically abusive - thank God - but mean, mean, mean. actually, in some weird twisted way, it would be better if she were physically abusive.......because maybe then, we could get those kids outa that home.

on the opposite end of the continuum is a mom who does absolutely zero in the parenting department. absolutely zero. all she does is play video games. 24/7, with her kids. that's it. video games. ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom - parenting done.

when i leave one of these homes and go to the next, i feel like i'm in the twilight zone or something.

but, i better not feel like i'm in the twilight zone or something. i better feel like i'm in the let-me-fix-this-mess-for-you zone  - because that's my job description. to "fix" people who don't wanna be "fixed" and don't intend to be "fixed."

peeps? i'm good, but i'm not that good.

i could have gone into the fashion industry instead. i coulda been a waitress. i coulda worked at baskin-robbins and spent my day really making people happy.

if i worked at baskin-robbins, though, i probably woulda clobbered anybody who came in and ordered vanilla.

missing the whole point of the jim tressel story. and practically every other story.

after a frenzied week of all jim tressel/all the time coverage, i still haven't heard a single person lay it on the line and say exactly what the hell what went wrong. what the hell went wrong is, none of us was obedient to God.

let's just think about this for a minute.......

if everyone involved, and that includes the fans (in fact, especially the fans), did what God told us to do - in 10 simple (not easy, i give you that) steps - none of this would have happened. none of it.

what went wrong in the jim tressel case is the precise same thing that goes wrong in every situation that goes wrong - we think our way of handling things is better than God's way.

(wouldn't you think - after how the hell many wars and how the hell many failed marriages and how the hell many financial collapses and how the hell many government scandals and how the hell many traffic violations and how the hell many drunken drivers and how the hell many cheaters and how the hell many babies abandoned in a trash can and how the hell many family fights over the dead uncle's estate and how the hell many slammed doors and how the hell many slammed phones (back in the day when we had phones - real phones -  that you could really slam down and get your point across) and how the hell many "finders keepers/losers weepers" philosophies we have out there and how the hell many dogs are rotting away in animal shelters and how the hell many kids are drowning in beer in college - not to mention debt - and how the hell many abortions and how the hell many legal "loopholes" everyone can find and how the hell many price gouges and how the hell many politicians who don't change a damn thing and how the hell many people with secular relativism as their guiding force........

wouldn't you think - after all that......


that somebody would get the whole point of the jim tressel story?)

the last day of school

i remember how it smells..........

clean.

(it hasn't smelled this clean since september

first.)


i remember how it sounds.........

loud. but not lose-your-

recess loud.........

just loud. just

it's-the-last-day-of-school-so-scream-all-you-want

loud.


i remember how it tastes........ like

ice cream.


i remember what it looks like..........like there was a sale

on yellow paint.



i remember how it feels..........



but there are no words



to

describe

it.