Category Archives: Oh shit

November 25, 2015 · 0:00

Mom’s Most Memorable Meal

Today as I prepare a million different dishes for Thursday’s feast, I thought I’d share (for a second time) another family story, about the year my Mom forgot her turkey.  I’m pretty sure you’ll buy fresh from now on.  I certainly do!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

It seems like just the other day that I was talking about folks to whom strange things just happen.  Maybe that’s because it was just the other day that I told this story.

I have a secret, though.  I’m not the only person in my family with this, ummm, gift for attracting the strange and humorous.  Dad used to say that if there was a weirdo within 5 miles of him, that weirdo would find Dad and have a nice long chat.  But if something weird was going to happen, well, it would happen to Mom.  Somehow I managed to inherit both weirdness magnets.  Sigh.

But this is Mom’s story.

Mom wasn’t the bird lover in our family.  Dad was.  So I should have known something weird had happened when Mom identified a bird I was looking at from a distance.  Mom and Dad were visiting John and I in Connecticut.  She and I were driving not far from our house one day in about 1990, and I pulled over to look at the large birds circling above us.  Back then large predatory birds soaring were still an unusual sight — when I saw those large silhouettes, I always assumed they were eagles.  I mean, what else could it be?  I kept trying to get a good look.

“They’re turkey vultures,” Mom said with complete certainty.  “We see them all the time at home in Florida.”

You lookin' for me? (Google image, natch)

They weren’t eagles?
(Google image, natch)

“Turkey vultures?” I said, not believing her for a minute.  I’d never even heard of such a creature.  Mom pursed her lips and looked back at me, slightly annoyed that I was questioning her (never seen before) bird identification skills.

I should have been suspicious.  I should have know there was a story behind Mom’s new-found large bird expertise.  I should have known that something weird was involved.

“They’re really big.  And up close, they really do look just like turkeys.”

“When did you ever get ‘up close’ to a turkey vulture, Mom?”

She tried to avoid the question.

“Mom….” It was never too hard to get Mom to tell her stories.  Something else we have in common.  “Fess up…”

“It wasn’t my fault.  That refrigerator at home is just too small.”

“Huh?”

“Well, it happened last Thanksgiving, but I didn’t want to tell you,” she laughed.  “I knew I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Mom …”

“Dad and I went to the grocery store on Saturday, as usual, the weekend before Thanksgiving,” she continued.  “And we bought a frozen turkey for Thanksgiving Dinner.”

“OK.”  I wasn’t catching on.

“Well, it was a frozen turkey.  Frozen solid.  You know it takes days to thaw those things.  You might as well try to melt an iceberg.  I put it into the roasting pan and placed it on the counter to thaw.  But I kept having to move it around that tiny kitchen to do anything else.  Then, on Sunday night when I was making dinner, I needed my counter.  So I put the still rock hard turkey into the carport.”

“Mom, doesn’t your carport get pretty warm?  It is in Florida, after all.”

“Well, that wasn’t really the problem,” she said, laughing.  “Not exactly, anyhow.  Or not at first.  The problem was that I forgot I’d left the turkey there.  I woke up Thursday morning, ready to get started on Thanksgiving Dinner and couldn’t find my turkey!  I thought I was going nuts.  I knew we had bought one.  ‘Where’d you put my turkey?’ I asked your father, accusingly.  ‘I didn’t do anything with it.  Did it get up and walk away?’ he asked.  And then I remembered – ‘Oh Lord, it’s in the carport.  I hope it’s still OK to eat.’”

“I went out the door to find the carport  filled with turkey vultures–I don’t even know how many were in there.  They were sitting on the car, on the workbench.  On the floor.  Everywhere!  And you know, they really do look just like turkeys.  They have those red heads and bulging eyes.  They had torn the packaging apart and were eating our Thanksgiving turkey!  I sent your father out to shoo them all away.  And then he had to go to Publix to get something for our feast.”

I roared.  So did she, remembering.

“I told him to get a piece of beef to roast.  I’d had enough birds for a while.”

Mom was absolutely right.  Turkey vultures look a whole lot like turkey turkeys.  Especially after they’ve just had Thanksgiving dinner.

Oh, and her instinct was right — she should never have told me this story.  She never did hear the end of it!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING to my fellow ‘Mericans!

To those who aren’t over indulging this week, can I send you a few pounds?

37 Comments

Filed under 'Merica, Adult Traumas, Bat-shit crazy, Bloggin' Buddies, Conspicuous consumption, Cool people, Crazy family members, Diet tips, Disgustology, Driving, Family, History, Holidays, Huh?, Humiliation, Humor, laughter, Love, Missing Folks, Mom, Mom would die of embarrassment, Oh shit, Pets, Wild Beasts, WTF?

Tagged as , , , , , ,

November 19, 2015 · 0:00

Because You Need To Know

Every day of my life, I thank my lucky stars when I get up, go into my clean bathroom, and take care of business.

Some days of my life, I’m less thankful when I am somewhere where the only “facilities” have no running water.  No handle to push.  No way to wash my hands.

Of course, with my potty problems, I guess I’m more in tune to toilet issues than most people.

Why am I telling you this?  You see, Thursday, November 19, is World Toilet Day. And of course, I’m (1) telling you about it; and (2) celebrating it.

The Wider Image: Around the world in 45 toilets

A toilet stands outside the Llamocca family home at Villa Lourdes in Villa Maria del Triunfo on the outskirts of Lima, Peru, October 7, 2015. REUTERS/Mariana Bazo

The point of World Toilet Day is actually pretty important.  People without access to hygienic facilities risk illness, many women are preyed upon and attacked as they seek out a place to go.  Diseases are transmitted, including infections, cholera, well, here’s a picture.

The "F-diagram" (feces, fingers, flies, fields, fluids, food), showing pathways of fecal-oral disease transmission. The vertical blue lines show barriers: toilets, safe water, hygiene and handwashing. Source Wikipedia

The “F-diagram” (feces, fingers, flies, fields, fluids, food), showing pathways of fecal-oral disease transmission. The vertical blue lines show barriers: toilets, safe water, hygiene and handwashing.
Source Wikipedia

Hope you’re not eating.

World Toilet Day is to help the fortunate ones of us around the world realize that:

2.4 billion people around the world don’t have access to decent sanitation and more than a billion are forced to defecate in the open, risking disease and other dangers, according to the United Nations

We in the West are rather spoiled.  And the reality of what some folks, many folks must deal with can be eye-opening.

About 25 years ago, my friend Ed got a grant and went to Africa to study something or other.  It was his first experience visiting the Third World.  When he came back, he talked only about poop.

It seemed that the city he had visited ran with raw sewage.  Poop was in the gutters. Children played in those gutters. The sewage ran into the river that was used to irrigate crops.

Piles of poop were everywhere.  In the street.  Under trees.  In the corners of buildings; everywhere, he said.  Even inside.  Ed described a memorable elevator in the middle of a hotel lobby, that he had seen. The decorative ironwork around the elevator shaft was delicate and beautiful. But the elevator didn’t run — in fact, the elevator itself had been removed.  But people would stand with their backs to the elevator shaft, pull down their pants/up their skirts, hang their butts over the open elevator shaft.  And they’d poop.

“I realized something incredibly important, “ said my horrified friend:

“Civilization all comes down to what you do with your poo”

So when you’re thinking about the craziness in today’s world, maybe we all need to realize that part of our problem is that so very many people just don’t have a pot to piss in.

63 Comments

Filed under Adult Traumas, Advice from an Expert Patient, All The News You Need, All We Are Saying Is Give Peace A Chance, Criminal Activity, Disgustology, Farts, Flatulence, Good Deed Doers, Health, Health and Medicine, Huh?, Humiliation, Humor, Hypocrisy, I Can't Get No, Illness, keys to success, Mom would die of embarrassment, Neighbors, Oh shit, Poop, Shit, Shit happens, Taking Care of Each Other, Toilets, Useful thing to do with poop

Tagged as , ,

November 16, 2015 · 0:00

He Nailed It

In today’s New York Times, Paul Krugman writes a post on the Paris tragedy and nailed it.

Again, the goal of terrorists is to inspire terror, because that’s all they’re capable of. And the most important thing our societies can do in response is to refuse to give in to fear.

I agree wholeheartedly.

 

40 Comments

Filed under 'Merica, Adult Traumas, All The News You Need, Cancer on Society, Criminal Activity, Oh shit, Peace, Taking Care of Each Other

Tagged as , ,

November 3, 2015 · 0:00

We Are Not Alone!

Last week, I read Bloggess Jenny Lawson’s new book Furiously Happy.

Image from Amazon.com

Image from Amazon.com

Furiously Happy deals with Jenny’s mental health issues, how she copes with them, and, importantly how they help make her the person she is.  It is truly a gift to folks with anxiety, depression, other mental health issues (and to those who care about them).  It shows them that they’re not alone.

The blurb on the flap sums it up pretty well:

This is a book about embracing everything that makes us who we are – the beautiful and the flawed – and then using it to find joy in fantastic and outrageous ways. Because as Jenny’s mom says, “Maybe ‘crazy’ isn’t so bad after all.” Sometimes crazy is just right.

While Furiously Happy is geared towards folks with mental illness, I came away from the book feeling comforted about my physical illness, Crohn’s Disease.  Because Furiously Happy reminded me that other people — probably everyone, in fact — struggles through life with something.   And that’s why we all — every one of use — need each other. 

Because no matter what each of us is facing, we’re not alone.

Plus, the book is hilarious.  You will rarely enjoy mental illness quite this much.

Oh, and go read her most recent blog post, which had me laughing for hours last night.  It is a compendium of awkward moments sent to the Bloggess via Twitter.

 

29 Comments

Filed under Adult Traumas, Advice from an Expert Patient, All The News You Need, Bat-shit crazy, Bloggin' Buddies, Books, Chronic Disease, Crazy family members, Crohn's Disease, Family, Farts, Friends, Good Deed Doers, Health, Health and Medicine, Hey Doc?, Huh?, Humor, Illness, laughter, Love, Mental Health, Oh shit, Seriously funny, Shit, Taking Care of Each Other, Wild Beasts, Writing, WTF?

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , ,

October 16, 2015 · 0:00

Customer Service

Today, my son Jacob is taking his very first airplane trip alone.  So of course I woke up wondering if John and I had told him everything he needed to know before hand.

It was a very early morning flight, so he’d arranged to stay with a friend near the airport and take a cab from there.  When I woke up, I immediately checked up on him.  Err, in on him.

He was at the airport in plenty of time, and had even found his gate.  But I could feel his eyes rolling from across the miles when I suggested he sit at the gate and not move until they called his flight.

Because once I made the mistake of not doing that …

***

It was March 31, 1997, and my mother had died the day before. John, Jacob and I picked up my sister Beth who lived not far away, and they dropped the two of us off at National Airport, to take our flight south to Florida to help Dad with the funeral arrangements.  To be there with him.  John and Jacob would follow in a few days.

“The Terminal is under construction, so leave yourselves extra time to get to the gate,” John warned us as he said good-bye.

Yes, National Airport’s Terminal A was a complete mess.  There were barricades everywhere, dust, dirt, grime.  The air was thick with it.

We found the US Airways desk conveniently located just outside of an Au Bon Pain.

Google Image

Google Image

We got some drinks and sat down at a table.  I took a seat facing the US Airways desk, with the information about our flight scrolling across the top.

Like every shy person I’ve ever known when they’re with someone they know, Beth began talking and kept on.  She talked about Mom, about being a kid, told stories that I had heard, and ones I hadn’t.  It was really wonderful, just sitting there.  Neither of us wanted to be going to Florida.   Neither of course, wanted to be motherless, either.

I kept looking at my watch, and at the information desk, which kept displaying information about our flight.  I was just about to go and check, when the display began giving information about another flight.

“Grab your stuff, Beth,” I said over my shoulder as I headed to the desk to find out what was going on.  We hadn’t heard any announcement.  Fortunately, Beth was right behind me.

“Ma’m,” I said to one of the two women at the desk, holding out my boarding pass. “What happened to Flight 183 to Ft. Myers?”

“That flight just pulled away from the terminal.”

“NO!!!!!! BRING IT BACK!!!” I shouted, with a voice full of all the pain of my loss, “IT’S FOR MY MOTHER’S FUNERAL!!!!”

I began to sob.  Loudly.  In the empty airport terminal, my sobs echoed off the ceiling.

“Lease,” Beth said, starting to console me, “It’ll be OK.”

I got what we call the “sup-sups” — where you can’t stop crying, and you can’t quite breathe either.  I couldn’t stop.

The clerks looked at one another.  One grabbed the phone, the other grabbed my arm and pulled me.

“The gate is down here,” and she ran with me, my sister right behind us.

The gate was, in fact, a long fucking way away.  Miles, it seemed.  WTF?

We got there just as they had clicked the landing tunnel back into place.  They opened the door and we ran down it to the plane.

US Airways had brought the plane back so I could get to my mother’s funeral.

Google

Google

As Beth and I moved down the aisle, I was still trying to catch my breath, still trying to stop crying.

Heads were turning, as the other passengers were trying to figure out just who we were, and why we were important enough to bring the plane back for.  (And now doubt that if we were so damn important, why were we in coach.”

But another problem emerged.  Someone was in my seat.

There were dozens of seats on the plane.  But in my rather frantic state, I wanted my seat.

“There are lots of seats, Lease,” said Beth.  “Here, we can sit here.  Or here.”

But I made the person move.

Beth sat next to me as I shook and wept the whole trip.  “We nearly missed Mom’s funeral,” I said, again and again.

“It’s OK, Lease,” she’d say, shaking her head.  “We made it.”

***

I never got the names of the two US Airways desk clerks who helped us.  I did write an incredibly nice letter to the company, though, giving times and flight numbers in the hopes that they learned how much their kindness meant to me.

I’ve always been amazed that a big company, which no doubt faces things like this every day, would demonstrate such kindness.

But Beth said they just wanted to shut me up.  And you know, she may have been right.

74 Comments

Filed under Adult Traumas, Bat-shit crazy, Crazy family members, Family, Friends, Good Deed Doers, Huh?, Humiliation, Humor, Love, Missing Folks, Mom, Mom would die of embarrassment, Most Embarassing Moments Evah!, Oh shit, Sisters, Taking Care of Each Other, Travel Stories, US Airways, Why the hell do I tell you these stories?, Wild Beasts, WTF?

Tagged as , , , ,