What Was That?

Uncle S (holding a small bottle): "Tracey, I want you to take this home tonight."
Me: "OK, what is it?"
Uncle S: "Love Oil."
Me (not sure what to say....this is very wierd): "Um..., did you say Love Oil?"
Uncle S (looking at me strangley): "No, Glove Oil - for L's new baseball glove."
Me: "Oh" turning bright red as I bolt from the very awkward situation.

I can pretty much guarantee this will be talked about at every future Christmas dinner.

Drunk Santa

I put together an activity for my Girl Scout troop. It was a game that involved matching the native name for Santa Clause from various countries. As I wanted to jazz it up, I put a picture of Santa on the paper. Imagine my horror as I handed the papers out to the girls when I realized the picture of Santa I had chosen was actually a picture of a drunk Santa holding a beer. Yes, I will be winning the Troop Leader of the Year award.

What not to do at Christmas

The other day, I received in the mail a large box from my father. My dad had warned me it was coming and to go ahead and open it. So I did. What was inside? A box full of old Christmas crap. My dad and his wife are planning to move to a new state soon and I imagine he was "cleaning" out and thought I might be interested in this detritus from the past. While this was annoying (because now I had to wade through it and throw most of it out), what was most upsetting was that he returned the etched in pewter "baby and grandpa" first Christmas ornaments. What?! Who does that?! If you aren't interested in them, at least have the decency to hide them in a shoe box in your closet so when you die we can think that you loved the grandkids soooo much you couldn't bear to part with their ornaments!

Bat Cave

When I was a junior in college, I lived in the basement of an old three story building. It was creaky, dark and damp. It really didn't have any redeeming qualities except that it was cheap and had a washing machine in the adjoining building. As part of the retro-fitting to make the basement livable, they had put in a drop ceiling to cover all the ugly pipping. Late one night I woke up to the sound of a "thump!" I bolted up, but being nearly blind without my glasses, I couldn't see much. Then, all of sudden, I caught a quick, blurry movement from the window well. As I was tired and my mind was still waking up, my first thought was "that is the blackest mouse I have ever seen. I didn't realize they came in that color." It didn't really faze me and I was about to go back to sleep when it took flight! I screamed and dove under the covers. The mouse/bat started circling the room.

Since I was living alone at the time, I had barricaded myself in my room to keep out potential burglers. Instead, I had managed to trap myself in my room with a bat. (of which I was sure was rabid). Thinking relatively quickly (after I got tired of screaming and realized I was on my own to solve this issue), I covered my head with my comforter and inched my way to the door. With shaking hands, I finally got the door open. Amazingly, I found the phone and somehow called the landlord - all while under the blanket. It was about four in the morning, but I felt it completely within my rights to insist that he come over RIGHT NOW and take care of this situation. He must have been in bed, because I could hear his wife in the background taking my side, despite the fact he really saw no point in driving over. Yay for wives, because he finally showed up. Unfortunately it was a very sad end for the bat. We deduced that the bat had fallen into an open pipe and slide down to the drop ceiling. From there, it fell into the window well and my room. After seeing the bat's misfortune, I decided I was going to handle the situation from now on. I learned that if you wait until daylight, they are pretty easy to trap (and then set free). This was a good tip, because after bat #1, several more made their way into my room. It was not at all uncommon or unexpected to wake up and see one circling my bed. I decided to embrace the situation and renamed the apartment "Bat Cave."

You Know it's Christmas...

when you see Santa driving down the highway in his reindeer chevette.

Speed

Why is the phrase "slow & steady"? Why can't it be "fast and steady"?! I would much rather have that!

UPDATED (per my mother's suggestion): "fast, steady, and done right!"

Black Friday

My father's summation of his midnight trip to Walmart: "It was all asses and elbows."

Phobias

Last month, I listened to this story from NPR with great interest. See, I have two secret phobias. I tell everyone I am afraid to fly, which is true; but I will do it when absolutely necessary. What I really can't do, though, is sleep with 1. any appendage hanging off the bed and 2. the closet doors open. I am absolutely convinced that if I have my arm or leg hanging off the bed, I will surely get pulled down and sucked under the bed by some sort of grotesque undead. I have no idea where I got this notion, but I am CONVINCED it will occur. Therefore, you will often see me right in the middle of the bed so as not to risk any accidental appendage overhang.

I absolutely can not sleep if the closet doors are open. Now you will think I am really crazy. When I was a tweenager, I am sure that I saw ghosts in my closet. There were three of them and they looked like they were from the 1920s-kind of like old newsboys. They appeared to be around 15 and good friends. They weren't mean and looked like they were having a good time. While they weren't threatening, it was unnerving and I made sure to keep the doors closed!

Should I chalk this up to an overactive imagination? Probably. Does it still affect how I sleep today? Most certainly.

Crows

Actual picture of church tonight taken by C.T. - check out the tree!

Every year a large group of crows "rests" in our church's trees. I don't know if they are headed south, or, really, if they are actually crows. What I do know is that they are large, black and number in the hundreds. They congregate around mid-November and stay to mid-December. Going to any meeting at church turns into a scene from Hitchcock's The Birds. It is CREEPY.

Creepiness, though, is not the problem. The problem is the incredible amount of poop they produce. I was blissfully unaware of this issue until last year. Last year, I wandered into the church for an evening event. As I walked in, I looked up and thought, "wow, there are a lot of birds in those trees." And went on my way inside. I quickly forgot about them - until I left. It was late when I left. I stepped outside and the door slammed behind me. In that instant, I realized I was S.O.L. (literally). As the slam reverberated through the air, a huge mass of birds took flight. I was fair game and without an umbrella. I took off in a run with poop flying at me from every angle. It hit my clothes, my purse, my hair, and, worst of all, my face. I had to drive home with it running down my forehead.

This year, I was smarter. I quietly closed the door and tiptoed to my car. Hah - take that crows! Poop on me once, shame on you - poop on me twice, shame on me!

Chairs

I was talking to my MIL the other day. Her mother is approaching ninety and has the typical health problems of a near ninety year old. Grandma recently had an incident involving a family heirloom - a rocking chair. She is fine, as is the chair. Since we were on the subject, MIL asked if I knew what grandma wanted to do with the chair when she died. Now - I was very tired, my allergies were really bothering me, and we were headed to the mall (my least favorite place) - so I wasn't thinking so clearly. I wracked my brain for possible ideas and all I could think of was (and this came out of my mouth): She wants to be buried in it?

As I was saying it, I knew it was the wrong call. But how can you stop it? The statement had a life of its own. You don't joke about death with the lady's daughter! But, really, it wasn't a joke. I seriously couldn't think of anything else to say. Another simultaneous thought (thank God I didn't say this out loud), was: can they make a grave big enough for a rocking chair? how do they position the body in it?

MIL gave me a strange look and said, "no, she wants to give it to your son." Well, obviously I was VERY off base.

Cat Attack!

I play the clarinet in a very informal woodwind quintet. Last Sunday, we were rehearsing at the flute player's house - as we have been for years. Things were going along smoothly and I was feeling like I was holding my own. When, out of the blue, I see something out of the corner of my eye, flying towards me. The CAT ATTACKED my clarinet! It leapt up and landed on my hands (since I was in the middle of playing) and I screamed. I jumped up and the cat went flying across the room. Since I am super allergic to cats, my hands started welting up. But why did it attack me? Why not the oboe or the bassoon? What about the clarinet did it not like? I think it sensed my incredible dislike for all cats and intuitively new I was the one to attack. Little does he know that he has now earned the #1 place on my cat hit-list.

Why?

I decided to start this site as a place to chronicle the funny, embarassing and awkward things that happen in my life. It is a place holder for when I need a laugh!