I was really going to try and avoid all the political crap, this being an election year and all, but I just can't help myself. After hearing all the people who intend to vote for Santorum or Romney and worse yet, Gingrich, I just can't hold it in any longer.
Let's start with Santorum. He says he wants to preserve freedom of religion but never misses an opportunity to share his religious views and how they will affect his presidency. 1. Opposed to birth control. Does he know it's not 1950 any longer? Is everyone aware that he actually said (with his out-loud voice) "a pregnancy that comes from rape is a horrible, unfortunate GIFT". ? OMG 2. Opposed to same sex marriage. Who the hell cares who lives with who? How does that impact you personally? Why shouldn't the loved-one of a gay person have the same legal rights that I have with my loved-one? What possible harm does it do to someone else? 3. Pro-life. Come on, really? Everyone is pro-life. No one likes abortion. But sometimes (and I'm thinking of a teenager or a raped woman) it's a reasonable choice. The point is, it's THEIR choice to make, not the governments. In a speech at Ava Marie University in Florida, Rick Santorum actually said, "This is not a political war at all. This is not a cultural war at all. This is a spiritual war. Obviously he doesn't understand the concept of separation of church and state. What Santorum really stands for is INTOLERANCE.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The Emancipation of Helen
Thought I would write about the day I realized I was self-sufficient and could do anything I put my mind to, or rather, anything to which I put my mind. It was 1979 and it was the day I fixed the vacuum cleaner. Seriously, this was a life-changing event for me.
I know this sounds like no big deal, but to someone who had been told all their life they were stupid, it was a revelation. The proverbial lightbulb went off in my head and illuminated like a blinking neon sign screaming, You are woman, hear you roar!! Then, I beat my ex at chess. Life was never going to be the same again. I beat 'The Intimidator' at chess. I'm struggling to find the words to describe all the emotions. Suprise, glee, cocky, sailing, floating, flying....well, you get the idea.
I had always felt diminished by the people closest to me so something as simple as fixing the sweeper made me realize, "Hell, if I can fix the sweeper and beat meany-butt at chess, I can do anything!! Living with confidence was a whole new and lovely experience. So, don't underestimate or dismiss the little stuff. It can actually be HUGE and life-changing if you're paying attention.
The moral is, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER let someone else define who you are. You decide and then be it. One of my daughter's favorite sayings is, Whatever you are, be a good one, Abraham Lincoln. The other one she has that I love is:
I know this sounds like no big deal, but to someone who had been told all their life they were stupid, it was a revelation. The proverbial lightbulb went off in my head and illuminated like a blinking neon sign screaming, You are woman, hear you roar!! Then, I beat my ex at chess. Life was never going to be the same again. I beat 'The Intimidator' at chess. I'm struggling to find the words to describe all the emotions. Suprise, glee, cocky, sailing, floating, flying....well, you get the idea.
I had always felt diminished by the people closest to me so something as simple as fixing the sweeper made me realize, "Hell, if I can fix the sweeper and beat meany-butt at chess, I can do anything!! Living with confidence was a whole new and lovely experience. So, don't underestimate or dismiss the little stuff. It can actually be HUGE and life-changing if you're paying attention.
The moral is, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER let someone else define who you are. You decide and then be it. One of my daughter's favorite sayings is, Whatever you are, be a good one, Abraham Lincoln. The other one she has that I love is:
"You are always already happy. The reason you don't experience it is that it's covered up by layers of suppressed emotions and negative thoughts. Shift your attention and your inherent happiness flashes forth." -Steve Ross
Be yourself. And enjoy everything that entails.
Be yourself. And enjoy everything that entails.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Christmas Memories -
I was reading my daughter's blog this morning. She was telling about helping her 5 year old write his first letter to Santa. It made me start thinking about some of my Christmas memories.
When I had kids, I resolved to make Christmas a big deal because my parents put a miniscule amount of energy into Christmas. Thanksgiving was another story. Since my dad was a chef and baker by trade he went all out for that. One time he even closed his restaurant and had the whole extended family come to dinner. There were enough people to fill the restaurant. But Christmas was another story. We had a tree, but I remember being 5 or 6 and my brother and I decorating it. This always included burning my fingers on the old-fashioned lights that got so hot they would melt the icicles....and skin! I think this was the exercise that taught me to swear. But I still love those lights even though they're dangerous as hell. I also remember putting up a string of snowball lights across the fireplace mantle. I loved those lights and have looked for some like it ever since. I hope to find them in an antique store someday.
These days, Christmas stockings are a huge deal. It's all a huge deal actually. From making the cookies, to looking at Christmas lights, to wrapping presents, to watching White Christmas while decorating the tree, to hiding the Christmas Pickle (do a Google search) and on and on. More time often goes into stuffing the stockings than buying the regular presents. There always has to be; a slinky, silly putty, a back-scratcher, candy, Swenson's gold coins, a various other fun stuff to reach in and find. When I was a kid, our stockings held a 50 cent piece and an orange......every year.
I do remember gifts like the huge (at least it seemed so) Mickey Mouse cardboard clubhouse that my brother Mike and I sat in to watch the Mickey Mouse Club show on TV until it finally disintegrated.
I also remember a baby doll one year that accompanied me to Canada and was in my hands practically the whole trip. That was the only time I played with a doll. I usually wanted my brother's bb gun and army men instead.
I think my fondest memory though was one Christmas morning when Mike came into my room and woke me up very early and we sneaked downstairs together to check out the Santa stash. It was one of those few moments spent with a sibling that stays with you. I know my kids have a similar memory of running a string from one room to the other and putting a bell at the end so Jen could tug on the string and wake Mark up so they could sneak downstairs to check out the presents. But Jen evidently tugged a little too hard and the bell fell on Mark's head.
I also remember one Christmas when I was about 12, my parents were working at the restaurant and hadn't even bothered to go buy a tree. So Mike and I walked to the nearest tree sales lot, picked out a tree, dragged it home and put it up and decorated it all by ourselves. We were incredibly proud of that tree. There were several years when my brother and I were at odds and it has occurred to me that my fondest memories of my brother are mostly centered around Christmas, probably because we were pretty much on our own.
The best part of Christmas every year was going to my grandmothers on Christmas Eve. This is what Christmas should look like; lots of family, lots of kids, lots of food, lots of laughter, and my grandmother holding court instructing who should open which present next and the kids (20 grandchildren in all) not-so-patiently waiting for their turn. It was always awesome and more than made up for the stark reality at our house.
So, to say my folks weren't the best parents when it came to holidays is an understatement, but the holidays were always special nonetheless.
I guess it's like anything else. If you wait for someone else to create your joy, you will often wait a very long time....sometimes forever. Moral of the story....make it what you want.
I hope I've made up for their indifference with my family. I'm pretty sure I did because Jen is already counting the days until next Christmas!!!
When I had kids, I resolved to make Christmas a big deal because my parents put a miniscule amount of energy into Christmas. Thanksgiving was another story. Since my dad was a chef and baker by trade he went all out for that. One time he even closed his restaurant and had the whole extended family come to dinner. There were enough people to fill the restaurant. But Christmas was another story. We had a tree, but I remember being 5 or 6 and my brother and I decorating it. This always included burning my fingers on the old-fashioned lights that got so hot they would melt the icicles....and skin! I think this was the exercise that taught me to swear. But I still love those lights even though they're dangerous as hell. I also remember putting up a string of snowball lights across the fireplace mantle. I loved those lights and have looked for some like it ever since. I hope to find them in an antique store someday.
These days, Christmas stockings are a huge deal. It's all a huge deal actually. From making the cookies, to looking at Christmas lights, to wrapping presents, to watching White Christmas while decorating the tree, to hiding the Christmas Pickle (do a Google search) and on and on. More time often goes into stuffing the stockings than buying the regular presents. There always has to be; a slinky, silly putty, a back-scratcher, candy, Swenson's gold coins, a various other fun stuff to reach in and find. When I was a kid, our stockings held a 50 cent piece and an orange......every year.
I do remember gifts like the huge (at least it seemed so) Mickey Mouse cardboard clubhouse that my brother Mike and I sat in to watch the Mickey Mouse Club show on TV until it finally disintegrated.
I also remember a baby doll one year that accompanied me to Canada and was in my hands practically the whole trip. That was the only time I played with a doll. I usually wanted my brother's bb gun and army men instead.
I think my fondest memory though was one Christmas morning when Mike came into my room and woke me up very early and we sneaked downstairs together to check out the Santa stash. It was one of those few moments spent with a sibling that stays with you. I know my kids have a similar memory of running a string from one room to the other and putting a bell at the end so Jen could tug on the string and wake Mark up so they could sneak downstairs to check out the presents. But Jen evidently tugged a little too hard and the bell fell on Mark's head.
I also remember one Christmas when I was about 12, my parents were working at the restaurant and hadn't even bothered to go buy a tree. So Mike and I walked to the nearest tree sales lot, picked out a tree, dragged it home and put it up and decorated it all by ourselves. We were incredibly proud of that tree. There were several years when my brother and I were at odds and it has occurred to me that my fondest memories of my brother are mostly centered around Christmas, probably because we were pretty much on our own.
The best part of Christmas every year was going to my grandmothers on Christmas Eve. This is what Christmas should look like; lots of family, lots of kids, lots of food, lots of laughter, and my grandmother holding court instructing who should open which present next and the kids (20 grandchildren in all) not-so-patiently waiting for their turn. It was always awesome and more than made up for the stark reality at our house.
So, to say my folks weren't the best parents when it came to holidays is an understatement, but the holidays were always special nonetheless.
I guess it's like anything else. If you wait for someone else to create your joy, you will often wait a very long time....sometimes forever. Moral of the story....make it what you want.
I hope I've made up for their indifference with my family. I'm pretty sure I did because Jen is already counting the days until next Christmas!!!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Getting old can be sucky or sweet. Your choice.
Ok, I've avoided the subject long enough. I'm going to be 61 in another few weeks so thought I would dwell a little on the pros and cons of getting old....er.
Here are what I believe to be the top 10 reasons why it sucks to get old and the top 10 reasons why it is AWESOME!!
Always wanting to leave here on a positive note, I will start with the reasons why it sucks.
10. Every freakin part of me hurts. Yeah, yeah, I know, need to exercise more and lose weight. Not so easy when the arthritis has kicked in and you feel blessed if you can get out of bed in the morning and not limp to the John. (hasn't happened for at least a year now) Unlike when I was younger, I can eat less, a LOT less actually and still not lose a pound. Eventually, you just say, 'To hell with it. I'm old now. I can do what I want!'
9. Memory is not what it used to be. In the past, on very rare occasions, I would walk into a room and forget what I went in there for. Now, it's pretty common. After researching how the brain works and finding out it slowly deteriorates over time, you get to the point where you say, 'To hell with it. I'm old now. What's so damned important anyway??'
8. The medical procedures. Good grief, there are colonoscopies, egd's, cat scans, mri's, heart caths, stress tests, skin biopsies, mammograms, surgeries and on and on and on. If there was a cure for old age, I'm sure it's been buried with the Q (lost biblical scripture) so doctors will never have to worry about going out of business.
7. The cost of medications! I literally take 7 pills a day! Five in the morning and two at night. I'm told they're keeping me alive, but you can't convince me by how I feel when I get out of bed!
6. Reflexes aren't what they used to be. Response time when driving has been altered. I think I'm still a pretty good driver, but it scares the hell out of me when I see someone use a walker like Tim Conway's bit to get into their car and drive away. If they can't pick up their feet without a walker, how are they going to lift it to put their foot on the brake in a hurry? And then I realize that's going to be me someday. YES!! I SAID SOMEDAY!! SHUT UP!
5. Your hair gets thinner and your belly gets bigger. I used to have the thickest hair of all my friends and the smallest stomach. (I have pictures to prove it) Now, I could knit a sweater with the hair that's left in the shower.
4. Old age spots. They're just gross. And why the hell do they always have to be on your hands where EVERYONE can see them?
3. Old people always talk about their bowel movements. I'm not sure what the fascination is with feces when you get old and forturnately I'm not THAT old yet, but I've already told my daughter, if I EVER start that crap (pun intended) to put me out of everyone's misery. I was a little unnerved when she replied, "No problem."
2. More life at the end of the money. Budgeting takes on a whole new meaning when you get older.
And the number one reason it sucks to get older.
1. You become invisible. There was a time when I could turn a head or two. Not beautiful, but not offensive to look at. But when women get older, people seem to look right through you and you wonder when you became invisible. So those are the reasons it sucks.
NOW let me tell you why it's WONDERFUL to get older.
10. You can say whatever the hell you want. People expect old people to become eccentric and say stupid stuff. This comes in handy when you want to give your doctor shit about all the medications you're taking.
9. You can eat ice cream every day if you want to. (Remember number 10 from the other list?) And now they have those neat individual serving sizes to reduce the quilt levels even more! Than you, Edys!! I love you!!
8. You can go to bed early. Thank God for our DVR or we wouldn't have anything to watch while we're having our morning coffee!
7. You don't have to shop if you don't want to. When you get older, people don't expect presents.....they expect money in those cool money envelopes you get from the bank.
6. You can feign deafness. At least Bob does.....all the time.....especially when I'm the one talking!
5. Being a grandparent is loads more fun than being a parent. We always threatened our kids that when we became grandparents, we would teach their children to put their feet up on the coffee table, stuff candy wrappers in the couch, play practical jokes, and load them up with sugar right before mom and dad get home. I think we're keeping up our end of this bargain nicely.
4. Rocking your grandchild to sleep. There are no words to describe it.
3. Turning over the holiday responsibilities to the younger generation. No one expects old people to do all that work, right? My daughter still makes me cook some stuff, but we go to her house now so she's the one who has to clean!
2. People respect my opinions and experience. (At least they humor me and let me think so)
1. The prospect of retiring. After working for nearly 50 years, retiring and doing exactly what I want every day is a delicious future goal. If you've been reading along on my blog, all I can say is, if I die before I get to retire and before my house remodeling is fininshed, I'm going to be TOTALLY PISSED!!!
Here are what I believe to be the top 10 reasons why it sucks to get old and the top 10 reasons why it is AWESOME!!
Always wanting to leave here on a positive note, I will start with the reasons why it sucks.
10. Every freakin part of me hurts. Yeah, yeah, I know, need to exercise more and lose weight. Not so easy when the arthritis has kicked in and you feel blessed if you can get out of bed in the morning and not limp to the John. (hasn't happened for at least a year now) Unlike when I was younger, I can eat less, a LOT less actually and still not lose a pound. Eventually, you just say, 'To hell with it. I'm old now. I can do what I want!'
9. Memory is not what it used to be. In the past, on very rare occasions, I would walk into a room and forget what I went in there for. Now, it's pretty common. After researching how the brain works and finding out it slowly deteriorates over time, you get to the point where you say, 'To hell with it. I'm old now. What's so damned important anyway??'
8. The medical procedures. Good grief, there are colonoscopies, egd's, cat scans, mri's, heart caths, stress tests, skin biopsies, mammograms, surgeries and on and on and on. If there was a cure for old age, I'm sure it's been buried with the Q (lost biblical scripture) so doctors will never have to worry about going out of business.
7. The cost of medications! I literally take 7 pills a day! Five in the morning and two at night. I'm told they're keeping me alive, but you can't convince me by how I feel when I get out of bed!
6. Reflexes aren't what they used to be. Response time when driving has been altered. I think I'm still a pretty good driver, but it scares the hell out of me when I see someone use a walker like Tim Conway's bit to get into their car and drive away. If they can't pick up their feet without a walker, how are they going to lift it to put their foot on the brake in a hurry? And then I realize that's going to be me someday. YES!! I SAID SOMEDAY!! SHUT UP!
5. Your hair gets thinner and your belly gets bigger. I used to have the thickest hair of all my friends and the smallest stomach. (I have pictures to prove it) Now, I could knit a sweater with the hair that's left in the shower.
4. Old age spots. They're just gross. And why the hell do they always have to be on your hands where EVERYONE can see them?
3. Old people always talk about their bowel movements. I'm not sure what the fascination is with feces when you get old and forturnately I'm not THAT old yet, but I've already told my daughter, if I EVER start that crap (pun intended) to put me out of everyone's misery. I was a little unnerved when she replied, "No problem."
2. More life at the end of the money. Budgeting takes on a whole new meaning when you get older.
And the number one reason it sucks to get older.
1. You become invisible. There was a time when I could turn a head or two. Not beautiful, but not offensive to look at. But when women get older, people seem to look right through you and you wonder when you became invisible. So those are the reasons it sucks.
NOW let me tell you why it's WONDERFUL to get older.
10. You can say whatever the hell you want. People expect old people to become eccentric and say stupid stuff. This comes in handy when you want to give your doctor shit about all the medications you're taking.
9. You can eat ice cream every day if you want to. (Remember number 10 from the other list?) And now they have those neat individual serving sizes to reduce the quilt levels even more! Than you, Edys!! I love you!!
8. You can go to bed early. Thank God for our DVR or we wouldn't have anything to watch while we're having our morning coffee!
7. You don't have to shop if you don't want to. When you get older, people don't expect presents.....they expect money in those cool money envelopes you get from the bank.
6. You can feign deafness. At least Bob does.....all the time.....especially when I'm the one talking!
5. Being a grandparent is loads more fun than being a parent. We always threatened our kids that when we became grandparents, we would teach their children to put their feet up on the coffee table, stuff candy wrappers in the couch, play practical jokes, and load them up with sugar right before mom and dad get home. I think we're keeping up our end of this bargain nicely.
4. Rocking your grandchild to sleep. There are no words to describe it.
3. Turning over the holiday responsibilities to the younger generation. No one expects old people to do all that work, right? My daughter still makes me cook some stuff, but we go to her house now so she's the one who has to clean!
2. People respect my opinions and experience. (At least they humor me and let me think so)
1. The prospect of retiring. After working for nearly 50 years, retiring and doing exactly what I want every day is a delicious future goal. If you've been reading along on my blog, all I can say is, if I die before I get to retire and before my house remodeling is fininshed, I'm going to be TOTALLY PISSED!!!
Monday, November 7, 2011
I love a good coincidence, don't you?
Oddly enough, my previous post was about The Thankless Deed and my discovery of great music and then this afternoon, I saw the blog titled, The Kid Should See This. I'm a fan now. It has this video of Thelonius Monk playing Round Midnight:
(I love a good coincidence) When I became a professional singer, I was working with some fantastic jazz musicians and I remember the first time I heard them play Round Midnight and I was blown away. It became my all-time favorite song, but I never sang it. It seemed too difficult to tackle vocally, but I was so drawn into the melody I almost didn't want to spoil it with words. It was probably 10 years later before I discovered it even had words. The last recording I made, (about 20 years ago) I sang that song. I was in a commercial studio and the lights were dimmed and I was standing in front of a mic and I couldn't see the musicians but I could hear them through my headphones. The guitar player was Bob (The Fras) Fraser of Cleveland and the bass player was Ray (Baby Noodle) Parker from New York. Ray said, "Why don't you sing Round Midnight?". I had never tried it before but decided to go for it. As I expected, it's a bitch to sing but I was pretty happy with the outcome. Thanks for the revisit of another wonderful memory. I still have the recording and will go home tonight and find it and dim the lights and let it take me back there again.
Also, if you'd like to hear something from the piano player in my previous post, do a google search for Herman Chittison. Fabulous stuff.
Also, if you'd like to hear something from the piano player in my previous post, do a google search for Herman Chittison. Fabulous stuff.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
The Thankless Deed
In honor of November, the Thanksgiving month, I'm thinking of THE THANKLESS DEED. That phrase has been sticking in my head lately. I heard it the first time years ago by my first life mentor. "Helen, don't forget, the most important deed you can do is the Thankless Deed". (Thanks, Bill)
When I say, THE THANKLESS DEED, what's the first thing that comes into your head? One of my co-workers responded, "...when I bring flowers home to my wife for no reason, but my wife's response is usually, "Ok, what did you do??".
My daughter instantly responded with, "That's easy! Being a mom. It's the million little things you do that nobody notices, but if you didn't do them, they'd notice". (You can see lots more of her wisdom at her blog, http://www.diff-path.blogspot.com/)
My favorite thankless deed memory was a Christmas Eve night when I was just a kid; parking a block down the street from someone's house; (strangers to us) sneaking in the dark up onto their porch with my folks and placing a sack full of food and presents on their porch. We knocked on the door and then ran for all we were worth before the people inside answered the door. That's one of the few really fond memories I have of my parents.
So, the thankless deed is something you do, expecting nothing in return. Right? But do we really get nothing in return? My daughter is getting some great kids and the love of her family.
I was a recipient of a profound thankless deed when I was 5 years old. I come from a musical background. Both of my parents were talented musicians and back in the 50's, they used to have jam sessions at our house. Professional musicians would come from all over town. We lived in an upper middle class, all white neighborhood so the African American musicians had to be smuggled in. (How sad is that??) Anyway, you'd think you were in a concert hall. There would be a drum set, a bass fiddle, a piano, several horns and even once there was a vibraphone.
The wonderful music that came out of those nights is what made me fall in love with music and eventually become a professional singer. One night, one of the older (black) musicians noticed my interest and let me sit next to him on the piano bench and watch him play. I was enthralled. The next day, he came back to the house and spent a couple hours with me, teaching me scales and chords and worked with me until I had a whole song memorized. He didn't have to do that, but his love of music led him to the thankless deed which, in turn, led me to a career path and a love of music I've carried all my life. Thankless??? Well, here it is 55 years later and I'm still talking about him. (Thank you, Herman)
Make no mistake. The thankless deed is an event that starts in motion, all the right energy. We are all made up of energy...cosmic stuff, and what we do affects everything else and everyONE else....everywhere. NEVER think your actions don't have an impact because they ALWAYS do.
Have you ever been involved in a thankless deed that made a difference in your life, either on the giving or receiving end? I would love to hear about it.
When I say, THE THANKLESS DEED, what's the first thing that comes into your head? One of my co-workers responded, "...when I bring flowers home to my wife for no reason, but my wife's response is usually, "Ok, what did you do??".
My daughter instantly responded with, "That's easy! Being a mom. It's the million little things you do that nobody notices, but if you didn't do them, they'd notice". (You can see lots more of her wisdom at her blog, http://www.diff-path.blogspot.com/)
My favorite thankless deed memory was a Christmas Eve night when I was just a kid; parking a block down the street from someone's house; (strangers to us) sneaking in the dark up onto their porch with my folks and placing a sack full of food and presents on their porch. We knocked on the door and then ran for all we were worth before the people inside answered the door. That's one of the few really fond memories I have of my parents.
So, the thankless deed is something you do, expecting nothing in return. Right? But do we really get nothing in return? My daughter is getting some great kids and the love of her family.
I was a recipient of a profound thankless deed when I was 5 years old. I come from a musical background. Both of my parents were talented musicians and back in the 50's, they used to have jam sessions at our house. Professional musicians would come from all over town. We lived in an upper middle class, all white neighborhood so the African American musicians had to be smuggled in. (How sad is that??) Anyway, you'd think you were in a concert hall. There would be a drum set, a bass fiddle, a piano, several horns and even once there was a vibraphone.
The wonderful music that came out of those nights is what made me fall in love with music and eventually become a professional singer. One night, one of the older (black) musicians noticed my interest and let me sit next to him on the piano bench and watch him play. I was enthralled. The next day, he came back to the house and spent a couple hours with me, teaching me scales and chords and worked with me until I had a whole song memorized. He didn't have to do that, but his love of music led him to the thankless deed which, in turn, led me to a career path and a love of music I've carried all my life. Thankless??? Well, here it is 55 years later and I'm still talking about him. (Thank you, Herman)
Make no mistake. The thankless deed is an event that starts in motion, all the right energy. We are all made up of energy...cosmic stuff, and what we do affects everything else and everyONE else....everywhere. NEVER think your actions don't have an impact because they ALWAYS do.
Have you ever been involved in a thankless deed that made a difference in your life, either on the giving or receiving end? I would love to hear about it.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Another "Life With Bob" story
As a continuation of the Life With Bob series, before Bob and I got married, I was living in a cute little bungalow in West Akron that I had purchased after my divorce. It was a great little house for me and the kids, but it was really drafty and cold in the winter so, Bob enters my life and offers to help me insulate it.
He went to great lengths to explain the best kind of insulation to use was the kind you blow into the walls and what the insulation was made of and what the procedure was and of course, all I heard was, "blah, blah, blah" and I'm thinking, 'don't care, just make it so. BIG mistake. I should have paid more attention.
The first issue was, we foolishly decided to do this in the dead of winter when the temperature was in the teens. So we go to the Army/Navy store and buy bright orange survival suits that will withstand below-freezing temperatures for days. We also bought big huge black boots called Mickey Mouse boots, evidently because they look like Mickey Mouse feet. Then we bought the insulation which came in 40 big bags each shaped about the size of a bale of hay and weighed about 30 pounds apiece. The store then lets you use the machine to blow the insulation in. It was a hopper about as tall as me.
So, a couple days before the big event, Bob went around the house and drilled a bunch of 1/2 dollar sized holes all over the house in which to blow the insulation. And on the big day, we suited up in bright orange and black (so the neighbors couldn't miss how stupid I am!) and gloves and ear muffs. Bob set up the hopper just inside the garage ("to keep you out of the wind so you won't get too cold") uh-huh. Then he attached the 5,000 foot ( yes, an exaggeration) hose.
My job was to open the bags and dump them in the hopper. This entailed slicing open the bags, hoisting them up on my shoulder and slowly dumping them in. The first 10 or so weren't too bad, but after that each one started to feel substantially heavier. I couldn't see Bob because he started on the other side of the house. (The sly fox)
Half way through the bags, I had to take a break to get the feeling back in my shoulder so I decided to walk around the house to see how Bob was doing. And there he was...............just standing there...................whistling...................eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich..................with a hose sticking in a hole.
Of course, he did a deer-in-the-headlight when he saw me or more likely felt my laser beam stare burning into the back of his head. He stood there frozen for just a second.....and then started laughing his ass off and comments sailed out of me like, "YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!!"
He tried to weasle his way out by telling me that you had to know just how to blow the insulation in and how to be alert to when it was time to change holes and blah, blah, blah.
The only redeeming part of the whole day was when we went back in the kitchen and I opened one of the cupboards only to have insulation pour out and cover the kitchen floor. Three guesses who cleaned THAT up!
He went to great lengths to explain the best kind of insulation to use was the kind you blow into the walls and what the insulation was made of and what the procedure was and of course, all I heard was, "blah, blah, blah" and I'm thinking, 'don't care, just make it so. BIG mistake. I should have paid more attention.
The first issue was, we foolishly decided to do this in the dead of winter when the temperature was in the teens. So we go to the Army/Navy store and buy bright orange survival suits that will withstand below-freezing temperatures for days. We also bought big huge black boots called Mickey Mouse boots, evidently because they look like Mickey Mouse feet. Then we bought the insulation which came in 40 big bags each shaped about the size of a bale of hay and weighed about 30 pounds apiece. The store then lets you use the machine to blow the insulation in. It was a hopper about as tall as me.
So, a couple days before the big event, Bob went around the house and drilled a bunch of 1/2 dollar sized holes all over the house in which to blow the insulation. And on the big day, we suited up in bright orange and black (so the neighbors couldn't miss how stupid I am!) and gloves and ear muffs. Bob set up the hopper just inside the garage ("to keep you out of the wind so you won't get too cold") uh-huh. Then he attached the 5,000 foot ( yes, an exaggeration) hose.
My job was to open the bags and dump them in the hopper. This entailed slicing open the bags, hoisting them up on my shoulder and slowly dumping them in. The first 10 or so weren't too bad, but after that each one started to feel substantially heavier. I couldn't see Bob because he started on the other side of the house. (The sly fox)
Half way through the bags, I had to take a break to get the feeling back in my shoulder so I decided to walk around the house to see how Bob was doing. And there he was...............just standing there...................whistling...................eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich..................with a hose sticking in a hole.
Of course, he did a deer-in-the-headlight when he saw me or more likely felt my laser beam stare burning into the back of his head. He stood there frozen for just a second.....and then started laughing his ass off and comments sailed out of me like, "YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!!"
He tried to weasle his way out by telling me that you had to know just how to blow the insulation in and how to be alert to when it was time to change holes and blah, blah, blah.
The only redeeming part of the whole day was when we went back in the kitchen and I opened one of the cupboards only to have insulation pour out and cover the kitchen floor. Three guesses who cleaned THAT up!
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