November 8, 2007

Martiana Jones

Hi there! Remember me? Former regular blogger, now full time eBay seller and watchdog over grandma’s computer?

I’m home sick today {{cough cough}} It’s the first day off I’ve had in six or seven weeks. I’ve kind of lost track of time, as the days of driving over to grandma’s house and spending all day, every day, teaching a woman in her 80’s how to use a computer, and photographing and describing her vast collection of Depression Glass, have all sort of run together into one big melted blob of cheese.

Cheese?

Yes, grandma likes cheese. I like cheese too, but we have something with cheese every day for lunch. I should have very strong bones and a stopped-up colon in a few months. But my colon will survive, which is more than I can say for other parts of me.

My back may never be right after my escape the other day. Grandma is driving some now, as the medicine she takes for her Parkinson’s has stabilized the shaking, and she needed a prescription refill. She doesn’t have a spare front door key, because they always came and went through the garage. But since grandpa passed away, she had a spare door opener.

So she left to go to the drugstore, and left me the old garage door remote control to use in case she didn’t return in time to be there when I had to go pick daughter up from school. The time came, and I used the wall-mounted opener inside the garage to open the door. When I got outside, I pressed the button on the hand held remote she gave me, to lower the door.

Nothing happened.

I pressed the button again. I pressed it several times with increasing urgency.

Nothing.

I went back inside and pressed the wall-mounted button. The door closed.

I pressed it again and the door went up

I checked my watch and realized I had to get going or Daughter would be left at the altar…errr… parking lot. So I did what any mother would do. I wished I had a stunt double.

But no magic person appeared, so I did the next best thing, I did the stunt myself. I hit the button and made a dash for the door as it started its descent. I did a diving roll, a la Indiana Jones, and made it to the driveway before the door closed all the way. I was quite proud of myself. I was also quite sore, as I am not a world class adventurer. I am a middle-aged mom with a history of broken bones. Nothing was broken but I was breathing hard from the excitement of the mad dash, and my back and hips ached from the drop and roll.

(This is starting to sound pornographic with all this urgency, arising, and heaving breasts - LOL)

I made it to the school in time to pick up the girl. I returned to grandma’s house and found her at the computer. I hoped she was heeding my warnings not to click on any links in any e-mail (I told her that e-mail links could be viruses and if she clicked on one she might get a virus on her computer. She didn’t really understand that, so I told her that if she clicked on a link, Howie Mandel would die and she’d never get to see Deal or No Deal again.)

:)

Don’t know when I’ll get a chance to post again, or visit any of your blogs. I miss you, and wish you well.

TUESDAY NIGHT UPDATE: many Tuesday evenings find me at Open Mike Night at Successful Blog. It is a lovely venue filled with wonderful bloggers who discuss a wide range of topics, eat virtual Klondike bars and frolic in the meadow. OK, so we don’t really frolic, but we do have some fascinating discussions. And this evening, Timothy Johnson, blogger extraordinaire of Carpe Factum, was wondering why his Technorati ranking seems to go up and down like a roller coaster. In the spirit of sharing (which Liz Strauss promotes) I am sharing Timothy’s blog with you. Stop by, read and enjoy. Cheers!

Categories: Family, E-Bay, Humor

September 21, 2007

Today is Our 26th Wedding Anniversary

25th Wed 25 years ago

Today is our 26th Wedding Anniversary

September 21, 1981

Categories: Special Days, Family, Humor

September 4, 2007

Then They Broke Down the Door

Labor Day is over. Thank God.

Ours was bizarre. Any holiday that includes a phone call telling you that grandma’s front door has been knocked down by the police goes right up there in the Top Ten Weird Ones.

I couldn’t make this stuff up.

Seems that someone phoned in an emergency assistance request in the next county over. The caller claimed to be an elderly woman who was in distress - lost, disoriented and having no name. The caller didn’t literally say, “I have no name” but simply failed to mention it during the call. They did however, mention a phone number - grandma’s phone number.

The next county over did a quick check with their magical We Know Everything About Everybody database, and cross-referenced the phone number to grandma’s hometown. So they passed the information about elderly unnamed woman to grandma’s hometown police, who sprung into action.

They arrived with everything short of Bradley fighting vehicles, according to the disconcerted neighbors, (which is a good thing…if this had been an actual emergency) who must have thought Osama Bin Laden (oh gee that’ll get flagged by the FBI for sure - said a paranoid Marti who is sure the government is reading her blog ever since she talked about the forest fatah and Suicide Bambi attacking her car) was holed up inside.

They called. They knocked. They swarmed the six-foot wooden privacy fence. They scared the bejesus out of grandma’s cairn terrier.

Then they broke down the front door.

Meanwhile, (insert soft Muzak background) grandma was quietly strolling the aisles of Walmart, looking for light bulbs, blissfully unaware.

We, however, were painfully aware, and pacing the floors scared out of our wits at grandma’s supposed demise. Visions of that sweet little lady lying in a ditch are not nearly as pleasant as having sugarplums dance in your head, lemme tell ya.

As frantic phone calls were being made, and grandma’s doggie was crouching in terror under the bed while the SWAT team stormed the house, grandma was contemplating 60 versus 75 watts for the kitchen. What a surprise awaited her.

We’re still trying to sort out the details. Why the caller gave no name. Why they called the next county over, yet said they were near a town that is 200 miles away. Why they gave grandma’s phone number. Why phonetic isn’t spelled the way it sounds.

I’ll let you know if we get any answers.

Categories: Family, Humor

August 30, 2007

School Duhs

Daughter started her senior year of high school one week ago today, but I’ve been too verklempt to blog about it. {{sniffle}} Give me a moment…tawk amongst yourselves… (hat tip to Saturday Night Live’s Mike Myers skit Coffee Talk)

It’s been kind of a duh deal for her. They assigned her to wood shop. WOOD SHOP? This is a girly-girl who wears dresses every day. We contacted the counselor. Oh she doesn’t want to be in that class? Duh. Oh, she’d rather not have her locker eight miles from the wing of the building where all of her classes are located? Duh. Oh, she already took that class last year so repeating it is kind of pointless? Duh.

So the schedule is straightened out but I am still in shock. Middle Son has moved out of the attic a hundred miles away and into an apartment with some friends. I will try not to complain about him no longer living at home, as he is closer to home, and it’s not an attic - LOL

Short post today, lots going on. Hope all of you have a fabulous day!

Categories: Family, Humor

August 21, 2007

And Dealin’

I still heart my new PT! It makes me all giggly just thinking about it!

We checked out a lot of Cruisers before purchasing this one. I spoke to salesmen who were nice, who were snotty and who were desperate. I called one back the day after a discussion and they told me he quit. Draw your own conclusions.

The pumpkin PT salesman (I saw no women selling cars - don’t know why) was nice enough. A little on the dumb side (thank you car gods - lol). He called and said, “I got a PT in. It’s kind of a burnt orange color. I don’t know if anybody will like it, but I thought I’d call and tell you.” He sighed, figuring he was wasting his time and would have to throw in hookers and a kilo of cocaine to be able to unload this “ugly” car.

Husband is a car fanatic and he was beside himself. He knew that this was a Dream Cruiser (right you were, Heather!)

We know how to play the game. Act like you’re doing the salesman a favor by even going for a test drive. Point out the flaws. Shoot daughter the evil eye when she starts to act too excited - LOL

The cars on the lot have very little gas in them, so the salesman got in the driver’s seat and took us to a service station. When he got out to fuel up the PT, I noticed something shiny in the driver’s seat. I retrieved the item. It was a razor blade. We reconsidered the possibility that the salesman really would throw in cocaine - LOL (Which of course we would have turned over to the DEA, says a paranoid Marti who is convinced that the government is reading her blog and may knock on her door any day now if she makes one more “flagged” reference.)

We returned to the dealership and the real wheelin’ started. I warned the salesman that I was a Moroccan street trader in a former life. He laughed. I did not, but gave him a steely-eyed look that caused him to visibly quiver. He slid a paper across the table with a price on it. I reached for my purse and he smiled. I picked it up and motioned to the family that we were leaving. He panicked. “Wait!” He hastily wrote another number. Then another. We tried to leave several times and the poor fellow was developing carpal tunnel from scratching out his offers. We told him we needed to go get some water and think about it. “I’ll send someone for water!” he said in desperation. I think we could have said we were going for a steak dinner and he’d have had one catered (dang why didn’t I think of that then?)

Water flunky arrived, bottles in hand. More negotiations. “Let me go talk to my supervisor.” We finally agreed, with the salesman sweating as badly as the water bottles. Then we moved to the “other” office.

The finance guy.

Husband commented, “Yours is the shadiest office we’ve been in,” and I had to contain my laughter. The double meaning of the remark went over finance guy’s head but Husband and I exchanged a knowing look.

When we got home, Husband told me to Google Dream Cruiser. Turns out mine is one of only 7500 made. VERY limited edition. Top notch options. Should have sold for far more than we paid.

My inner Moroccan is very happy.

Categories: Family, Humor, cars

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