Deputy's Girl's Blog

The Power of Laughter

I love my alarm clock.  It makes me smile. 

On some days it even makes me laugh out loud.

No, I'm not completely mad; well at least not yet.  The reason I love my alarm clock is that it wakes me with a beautiful melodious British voice saying the most outlandish, ridiculous and funny things.

The clock is voiced by the English actor/comedian/author/director Stephen Fry.  For those of you not familiar with this seriously funny lunatic he has been a stalwart of the British screen for at least two decades now.  For years, his 'employer' and bane was actor Hugh Laurie of American television's "House" fame.  Stephen Fry played 'Jeeves' to Hugh Laurie's 'Bertie Wooster' on a popular BBC adaptation of the Wodehouse novels written in the twenties and thirties...but I digress.

Someone had the idea that alarm clocks don't have to be the irritating harbengers of morning, but instead could wake us with humor.  I hope they give that guy the Nobel Peace Prize.

It makes all the difference in the world to be jerked into conciousness by humor rather than some obnoxious noise.  For example, yesterday morning "Jeeves" woke me with the following:

"Good morning Madam."  "Your physician rang."  "He is very concerned for your health."  "He advises madam that she needs all new shoes, and if they aren't purchased immediately, he can't be responsible."

What woman wouldn't want to hear something like that first thing in the morning?!  I realize it doesn't translate as well on paper (well, computer screen), but the sheer silliness of it, delivered in the lovely voice and measured tones of your own personal "butler" is guaranteed to make waking at a specific time much more pleasant.  Who wouldn't love to have someone catering to our every whim instead of the way it really is?  And, who wouldn't love to be 'advised' to go shopping - especially for shoes?  Additionally, when the button on the front of the clock is pushed to turn off the alarm, the voice then says things like "as you wish Madam"....it cracks me up.

Definitely a better way to start the day.

 

 

Free Entertainment

Yesterday morning, when I went outside with the pups there were about a dozen deer standing just under a slight rise in the south pasture.  I could clearly see them peacefully grazing the newly green grass.

Seeing them, Catfish, ever vigilent, flew out the front door and off of the porch at light speed - well, as fast as his little short legs and fat puppy bottom would go anyway - making a bee line for the intruders.

Funny thing was...he didn't make a sound.  Usually,  he barks his little head off in a frantic "how dare you" voice as he charges their position.  But yesterday, half-way there he paused to hike his leg and  *water* a tree, after which he only ran about another fifteen feet, stopped dead in his tracks and sat down.

The deer on the other hand couldn't even be bothered to run; they simply stood there looking at him as if he were giving a performance strictly for their personal entertainment.  After about ten seconds of the deer staring at Catfish and Catfish staring at the deer, he admitted defeat, got up, turned around and trotted back to the house.

Wish I'd had a video camera.

Free Entertainment

Yesterday morning, when I went outside with the pups there were about a dozen deer standing just under a slight rise in the south pasture.  I could clearly see them peacefully grazing the newly green grass.

Seeing them, Catfish, ever vigilent, flew out the front door and off of the porch at light speed - well, as fast as his little short legs and fat puppy bottom would go anyway - making a bee line for the intruders.

Funny thing was...he didn't make a sound.  Usually,  he barks his little head off in a frantic "how dare you" voice as he charges their position.  But yesterday, half-way there he paused to hike his leg and  *water* a tree, after which he only ran about another fifteen feet, stopped dead in his tracks and sat down.

The deer on the other hand couldn't even be bothered to run; they simply stood there looking at him as if he were giving a performance strictly for their personal entertainment.  After about ten seconds of the deer staring at Catfish and Catfish staring at the deer, he admitted defeat, got up, turned around and trotted back to the house.

Wish I'd had a video camera.

Empty nest syndrome

When my kids grew up, went to college and moved out of the house I was fine.  I missed them of course, but I didn't get tearful or depressed.  I was happy that they were growing up, becoming adults and out on their own in the big wide world.

A few years later -  enter grandkids.

It's a whole different ball game. 

This last week my son, his wife, their kids and three of their pups came to visit.  It was the kids' spring break and bless their hearts, they drove two days to get here so that we could see the grandkids.  It was great.  The kids have grown and changed so much in the last six months it's scary.  They are smart and darling and good and funny and dear and I'm nuts about them.

Chaos was the name of the game for the three days of their short visit.  Five dogs in the kitchen when one is trying to cook for six people brings new meaning to the term 'strategic placement' but since our house is dog friendly it wasn't really a problem.  And, the time flew.

When they packed up to leave on Wednesday morning, I was anxious lest they forget something vital - like Syd's medicine or Seth's school shoes.  But, when the smoke cleared and the silence descended, I sat down and cried.  They were hardly out of sight when the overpowering feeling of emptiness hit.

For the rest of the day, I kept listening for the kids' sneakered feet pounding up the porch steps racing puppies to the door.  And when I emptied the dryer of it's 27th load since Sunday I found a lone pair of Syd's socks mixed in with the towels.   Now I understand what all the fuss surrounding empty nest syndrome is about.

Garbo speaks........

........well, maybe not Garbo, but I am finally able to communicate without sign language.  It sounds as if I've been on a three day drunk, but for someone vaccinated with a phonograph needle at birth, to be mute is torture. 

The sore throat is much better and I'm certain my Pal will be grateful when we no longer need to sleep with the head of our bed elevated in order for me to breathe.

Many thanks to everyone for the "get well soons" via blog and regular email, they're really appreciated!

 

The right to whine

OK, I give up.  This upper respiratory crud is pretty miserable stuff.  I thought for certain that I'd be fine by today provided that I lie around yesterday, continue the Nyquil and not do very much talking.  Heck, I didn't even go to church.  And, I spent most of the day in my robe. 

Needless to say, it was pretty irritating to find this morning that I have no voice at all.  However, the razor blades in my throat are still working overtime and I'm beginning to resemble one of the animated creatures on the Puffs commercials - complete with bright red nose.

I hate to post a whinging complaint via my blog, but since I can't talk to anyone I have to whine somewhere!

Revocation of the mommy immunities

When our kids are little, we seems to develop what I call 'mommy immunities'.  In other words, we don't become ill taking care of our little ones when they contract all of the vast variety of kid-spread illnesses.  I've always figured it was God's way of making sure the young were cared for.  Well guess what, the 'mommy immunities' expire when we get to be grandparents!

On Monday I took the pups over to Traci's for baths and trims.  She's a groomer by profession and works from home because of the babies.  In fact, it's how we met.  But, that's beside the point.  When I arrived with Catfish and Sadie, I was thrilled to see the kids.  Katie (the oldest) hadn't left for school yet, so I got to see all three girls.  They are precious and I'm nuts about them, especially Abby, who shares my birthday.  They ease the 'missing' of our grandkids who we only get to see about four times a year.  Besides that, I really like Traci, she is a beautiful woman, with a gregarious personality and sunny disposition who loves my dogs.  What more could one ask for?

At any rate, on Monday I took the pups over and stayed to visit with Traci, brag on Katie's latest picture of horses and play with Abby and Anna for a few minutes.  When I walked in the door, Traci warned me that all three girls had runny noses and 'the crud'.  I arrogantly poo-pooed the idea saying, "I never get sick from the kids".  Famous last words.

Apparently, once you no longer have the responsibility of caring for little ones, your 'mommy immunity' is revoked.  

Friday morning when I got up with a dull headache, I attributed it to the late night before and a few glasses of wine.  I figured it would wear off as the day progressed.  Not a chance.  By Friday night, not only did I still have the headache, I'd started to sneeze and was in the process of getting stuffy.  Saturday morning found me with a head full of cotton wool, and by last night I was swallowing razor blades.

This morning, Sunday, I still have razor blades in my throat and cotton wool in my sinuses despite two straight nights, dosing myself with a stiff shot of Nyquil at bedtime. 

I feel so rotten I'm not even going to church.

 

 

Glory days

Being a grown-up happens.  Being a middle-aged grown-up sneaks up on you.  And, when you begin to consider an early dinner with friends a great night out.......you're sunk.

Tonight we are going to drive down to Tuscaloosa and have dinner with one of my Pal's old roommates and his wife.  (Gee, when put like that, it sounds like the stuff you hear kids say when they get together for their five year college reunion.)  The difference of course is, Dennis and Ken were roommates twenty five years ago.

For my part, I really like Ken's wife.  She's an attorney with a devilish sense of humor and a huge, loving heart.  She and Ken have been married for more than twenty years, so along with Ken, she was on the spot during the long series of revolving women for which my husband was famous in his bachelor days.  And boy, did he have some bachelor days.  When we married, I joked that I should take out an add in the Tuscaloosa News declaring the end of an era.

For example, Christmas before last we attended the old narc's reunion; and lest you think Dennis spent a good part of his career hanging out with druggies reporting back to the authorities, let me explain that he (and Ken) were Deputies assigned to the first narcotics squad formed in Tuscaloosa back in the late seventies/early eighties.  Anyway, the reunion was held in honor of the man who was the original driving force behind, and first Commanding Officer of the squad.  Most of Dennis's old running buddies were there, some of whom he hadn't seen in more than ten years.  It was wonderful to meet the men about whom I'd heard so much, and to see my Pal shine at the center of their attention.

After the initial handshakes, in some instances hugs, and greetings, the 'boys' settled down to rehash a few of the better stories from their salad days.  Talk inevitably got around to The Bachelor Adventures. 

Being typical males, Dennis's buddies thought to have a laugh at his expense by telling me about some of his more famous exploits.  It backfired.  You see, he's been entertaining me with the same stories for several years now.....and trust me, there are stories! 

Having been extremely good looking (though he swears not), big, blond and authorative garnered my Pal more than his share of attention from a female population in search of husbands.  The only catch being, he had no intention of becoming a husband.  He was having too much fun.  Thus, the dating circus became free entertainment, and a continuing source of amusement for his old roommates and other buddies, even twenty-plus years later.  How he kept from being shot dead by any number of frustrated, broken-hearted, outraged, jealous females during those years is a mystery to me.  Especially if you consider the fact that he's taught virtually every female he's ever known to shoot. 

Don't misunderstand, Dennis has never mistreated a woman in his entire life.  He had the opposite problem; he could never say no to one, ever.  I've laughed until my sides hurt at some of the things my Pal got up to in his misspent youth.  If anything comic or simply downright bizarre concerning a female was going to happen, it happened to Dennis.  And bless him, sometimes it wasn't even his fault.

So tonight, we'll have a great time with Rhonda and Ken.  Perhaps we'll have a glass of wine along with a really good dinner, catch up on what's happening in our respective lives (Rhonda just bought a new business), and eventually we'll get around to talking about the old days. 

I hope Ken re-tells the story about Dennis in his undercover narc car and the runaway, nude female mental patient in the hospital parking lot.  It's one of my favorites.