So this is another oldie yet goody. This incident occurred a little over 15 years ago and I am already realizing while writing this just how many details I have forgotten. If only I had written it down earlier! I guess it is not technically "my" story, but my family's story from back in the day.
I went to college 600+ miles away from home. My sister decided to join my parents on the 11 hour drive to come visit me for Parent's Weekend at school. They had a mini-van at the time so there was plenty of room to stay comfy. We had a great time that weekend and it was relatively uneventful...until they left.
They left early Monday morning to begin their journey back home. I began my normal routine of going to classes, studying, etc. After a few classes I had to go to the music lab to study pieces of music for a test. By the way, I hated that class because the instructor would play so many seconds of a piece of music and we had to name that tune. Let me tell you how much I have used anything I learned in that class...ZERO! Okay, so that isn't part of the story. Sorry. Anyway, I am sitting in a booth my myself with headphones on listening to music when someone taps on my shoulder. I take off my earphones and am told that I need to go back to my dorm room right away. I am told something about needing to stay at my phone for my parent's phone call, police call, and my sister. What?
I return to my dorm room and call a number that had been left for me from the police in a town about two hours away. I am told that my sister is at a rest stop. My parents don't know she is at a rest stop. When they discover that she is missing from the mini-van I will probably be the first person they call so don't leave my phone. At this point I must say that this was in the pre-cell phone days. I am then given a number of the pay phone where my sister is at on the side of the road at a rest stop.
Now that I know that no one is hurt, I'm chuckling. Seriously? How did this happen!!! I call the pay phone and my sister answers. She tells me her allergies were bothering her and she took a benedryll. She fell asleep in the third row of the car all snuggled up under blankets. She woke up when they pulled into a rest stop on the side of the interstate. My parents hopped out to use the restrooms but left the sleeping girl alone. Mind you, she was 21 so it wasn't illegal to leave her there. They locked up the car just to run to the bathroom real quick. Well, my sister woke up and decided she needed to use the restroom as well. She goes into the restroom and into the stall right next door to my mom. She is groggy from the benedryll and doesn't say anything. Sister washes up and walks out of the restroom and doesn't see the car. In fact she doesn't see any car. She's the only one at the rest stop. Apparently mom did not realize it was her daughter in the stall next to her. Mom and Dad hopped back in the mini-van with my "sister" snuggled up in all those blankets and get trekking along.
So since my sister had absolutely nothing on her but the clothes on her back she's at a loss. She goes to the pay phone and dials her boyfriend's mother. Now I don't recall the exact conversation but it went something like this:
Boyfriend's Mother: Hello?
Sister: Hi BM. How are you?
BM: I'm good sweetie. What are you doing? You back from NC?
Sister: No, not yet. I'm waiting for my parent's to come back.
BM: Come Back? Where are they?
Sister: Oh they left me at a rest stop. They didn't know I wasn't in the car. I'm sure they'll be back soon.
BM: WHAT?!? DON'T MOVE! STAY BY THE PHONE. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE? WHAT'S THE NUMBER OF THE PHONE YOU ARE CALLING ME FROM? I'M CALLING THE POLICE.
So, my sister waits by the phone and BM calls the police. BM stays on the phone with my sister while the police locate her. Mind you, sister was asleep when they pulled into the rest stop so she wasn't exactly sure where she was. The police finally locate her and take down my parent's info regarding the vehicle to look out for, etc, etc. Wow!
I call to check on my sister at her pay phone. She's hungry, thirsty, needing a cigarette (because she smoked back then). Okay, how can I help? What can I do? So when she tells me of the little town that the rest stop is located in I immediately remember that my ex-roommate's ex-boyfriend is from that town and he is actually home from school right now. I call my ex-roommate and get his home phone number. (I'm thinking I am a great stalker!) Luckily he is home and I tell him the situation. He is nice enough to go buy my sister some chips, a drink, and a pack of cigarettes and drive to the rest stop to deliver them to a girl he has never met. Meanwhile, my sister continues to sit at the rest stop with a policeman for hours.
You see, my mom is driving. She's making great time...she's in a different state now. After almost four hours she decides it's time to go to another rest stop. She calls for my sister, who she believes has been sleeping the entire trip, to wake up. Mom tells Dad to see if sister needs anything and to wake her up. Dad climbs through the seat and realizes there are just blankets back there. I can only imagine her thoughts at that moment as her heart sank. They immediately pull over. And just like the police thought, they called me first. I will never forget my mom's hysteria. I told them what happened and that she was safe with the police back at the rest stop. I give them her pay phone number.
My parents then have to drive four hours back to the rest stop. Everyone is reunited and they all go get a hotel room for the night. A full day of driving and yet they only made it two hours from their original starting location. My mom says to me on the phone that night, "But Mary and Joseph left Jesus in the Temple too!"
To this day, when we stop at rest stops, etc while driving we announce ourselves to each other to make sure everyone knows you are in the bathroom too.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Unthankful
So it seems people are making all kinds of lists about what they are thankful for right now. I am taking a different route. This year I have decided that the one thing I am the most unthankful for is superglue. This has been the year of superglue hell. Seriously.
It all began just a few short days into 2011...new year, fresh starts, higher medical deductibles. I drop the oldest off at school and begin my morning tasks. As usual, the one and a half year old has removed all clothing down to just her diaper. It's actually cold today too but it's just us inside so no bother. After showering and flat ironing my hair stick straight I decide it's time to superglue a small piece of a toy back together. Now, I personally believe superglue is a staple around a house, like sugar or flour, and everyone should have some handy because you never know when you just might need it. I go to a used tube because that's how I roll. You must use all the firstdried-out superglue before opening another tube from my stash of like 20. Mistake #1.
Mind you, I am trying to glue two pieces of plastic together is about the diameter of a toothpick and the height of my daughter's pinkie nail. Mistake #2. I squeeze the tube very, very carefully. Nothing. I massage the tube and work the remainder to the top of the tube. Nothing. I cut the tip off with some scissors and squeeze again. Nothing.
So I bet you are thinking at this point, "Karey, go get another freakin' tube." Mistake #3. I stick a pin in the hole. Guess what? Nothin'! Why on earth will it just not come out! Seriously! So I look in the tube and pop...an air bubble releases from inside the tube and shoots/sprays superglue in my eye. I have no idea how I knew not to shut my eye, but I immediately pulled my lids open and so it wouldn't shut. I then grabbed a new superglue tube (since I threw the old one in the air somewhere when it shot me) and I ran through my backyard to my neighbor's house. Thankfully our families are the best of friends and we put a door between our backyards for easier access. I leave my naked baby in the house...I mean I can't see her or anything else for that matter!
I burst into the neighbor's house without knocking and order her mother to my house to retrieve naked baby before she does something really bad. Trust me, LB can do very bad things, very fast, and that is why we all love her. Anyway, I then throw the superglue tube to my friend and scream that it is in my eye. I can only see through a cloudy milky film that is stuck to my eyeball. By now it is dry so I can blink but it feels like shards of glass and sand are all over. It hurts to close my eye. Neighbor calls Poison Control who says I need to get water in my eye. She hands me a bowl and I dunk my freshly showered, beautifully straightened hair right into the kitchen sink in a bowl. Had it not been winter I would have just jumped in the pool since sink water actually hurts to open your eyes in. Poison Control also says I need to go to the ER to prevent loss of eyesight. Okay, looks like we'll be meeting our deductible pretty fast this year.
So now I run home and jump back in the shower to continue running water in my eyes until my neighbor reaches my husband at work. Well, do you think he's going to answer his work or cell phone? Of course not. I yell from the shower to look up hubby's boss' number at work on the computer. That must have been an interesting conversation between the neighbor and my husband's boss as to why they needed to locate him and send him to the ER! It will take longer for hubby to take me to the ER so the neighbor's dad decides to drive me. Neighbor's mom takes on the challenge of LB and neighbor has to bring lunch to my daughter that I never managed to drop off earlier. Additionally, I was pretty sure at this point she'd be picking her up from school as well.
I get to the ER and they give me this wonderful pain drops for the eye. One drop in and you can't feel your eye anymore. Awesome. The only problem is that it doesn't last very long and is dangerous to continually use. For some reason I never looked at myself as an eye numbing pain-killer addict, but apparently they are out there and the nurse was guarding that little bottle with her life. After an exam with a black light that revealed it was a splatter all over the eyeball and not just a squirt, they tell me I have scratched on the cornea and they are going to flush it. The nurse comes back with an IV bag. I'm thinking, "Seriously! A freaking IV." I don't really mind shots and needles but I DO mind IV's. Then the nurse makes a very corny joke and says, "Yes, an eye-V." Ha. Ha. She proceeds to place a GIANT plastic contact lens onto my eyeball that has a tube attached to it. This tube is then attached to the IV bag. I cannot close my eye because I have a giant plastic suction cup stuck to my eye that is dripping saline solution into my eye, down my face and neck, and into my shirt. I am told to turn on my side and allow the solution to just drip on the towel under my head. Awesome. I stay in this position for the next three or so hours. Did I mention that I hadn't eaten anything yet?
I beg hubby to go somewhere to get me something, anything to eat. He looks at me dumbfounded and asks me what on earth to get. Seriously!? You've got to be kidding me. I convince him that fries and a burger will be fine. I'm pretty sure I can eat fries in upside down, in the dark, with both hands tied behind my back so I am confident I can manage this.
Eventually a few more "real" emergencies are brought into the ER and they need my bed. They release me to an Ophthalmologist for further evaluation. Okay, well I don't know one, just like I don't know a plumber. I call a neighbor who has a friend who is an Optometrist. Not the same thing but maybe the friend of the friend has a friend who can get me in. Stalking skills come in handy and I score an appointment. They even stay open late just for me! I made out with only a few scratches on the cornea that healed on their own. Whew!
So, a few months later I break a nail pretty far down where it hurts. What do you do to mend a broken nail in a pinch? Superglue of course! I've learned my lesson and go straight for a new tube. It works so great that it runs down my finger. Very messy but effective. I'm going to be gone for the majority of the day so I throw the remainder of the tube in my purse. Fast forward to me driving down the road and my phone rings. I pull my cell out of my purse and notice it is attached to my daughter's immunization paperwork that I need to turn in. Oops. Not only are the papers superglued to my phone, but now the protective case on my phone is superglued shut and the case is superglued to my phone. I'm amazing. That case stayed superglued to my phone for months until I recently broke it open. Unfortuneatly as things would go in my world, I then dropped my phone and the glass front shattered. Guess I should have left the case superglued on instead. I wonder if super glue could fix my shattered screen? Kidding! Not really...I seriously do wonder!
Fast forward again a few months and I am once again trying to fix a toy. I mistakenly grab an open tube of superglue and squeeze. When it does not come out I remembered to point away from me, not look down the tube opening. Another air bubble and superglue splatters on my laminate flooring and it is still there to this day because I have no idea how to get it up. It's a constant reminder every time I mop and can't get up that stinkin' stained bubble, and every time I walk on it in the kitchen it feels like something is stuck there. To me it sticks out like a sore thumb.
Maybe I'll never learn. Karey and superglue are a bad combo. So since there are a million things for me to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, I choose to focus for the moment on the one thing I know for sure to be unthankful for...superglue.
It all began just a few short days into 2011...new year, fresh starts, higher medical deductibles. I drop the oldest off at school and begin my morning tasks. As usual, the one and a half year old has removed all clothing down to just her diaper. It's actually cold today too but it's just us inside so no bother. After showering and flat ironing my hair stick straight I decide it's time to superglue a small piece of a toy back together. Now, I personally believe superglue is a staple around a house, like sugar or flour, and everyone should have some handy because you never know when you just might need it. I go to a used tube because that's how I roll. You must use all the first
Mind you, I am trying to glue two pieces of plastic together is about the diameter of a toothpick and the height of my daughter's pinkie nail. Mistake #2. I squeeze the tube very, very carefully. Nothing. I massage the tube and work the remainder to the top of the tube. Nothing. I cut the tip off with some scissors and squeeze again. Nothing.
So I bet you are thinking at this point, "Karey, go get another freakin' tube." Mistake #3. I stick a pin in the hole. Guess what? Nothin'! Why on earth will it just not come out! Seriously! So I look in the tube and pop...an air bubble releases from inside the tube and shoots/sprays superglue in my eye. I have no idea how I knew not to shut my eye, but I immediately pulled my lids open and so it wouldn't shut. I then grabbed a new superglue tube (since I threw the old one in the air somewhere when it shot me) and I ran through my backyard to my neighbor's house. Thankfully our families are the best of friends and we put a door between our backyards for easier access. I leave my naked baby in the house...I mean I can't see her or anything else for that matter!
I burst into the neighbor's house without knocking and order her mother to my house to retrieve naked baby before she does something really bad. Trust me, LB can do very bad things, very fast, and that is why we all love her. Anyway, I then throw the superglue tube to my friend and scream that it is in my eye. I can only see through a cloudy milky film that is stuck to my eyeball. By now it is dry so I can blink but it feels like shards of glass and sand are all over. It hurts to close my eye. Neighbor calls Poison Control who says I need to get water in my eye. She hands me a bowl and I dunk my freshly showered, beautifully straightened hair right into the kitchen sink in a bowl. Had it not been winter I would have just jumped in the pool since sink water actually hurts to open your eyes in. Poison Control also says I need to go to the ER to prevent loss of eyesight. Okay, looks like we'll be meeting our deductible pretty fast this year.
So now I run home and jump back in the shower to continue running water in my eyes until my neighbor reaches my husband at work. Well, do you think he's going to answer his work or cell phone? Of course not. I yell from the shower to look up hubby's boss' number at work on the computer. That must have been an interesting conversation between the neighbor and my husband's boss as to why they needed to locate him and send him to the ER! It will take longer for hubby to take me to the ER so the neighbor's dad decides to drive me. Neighbor's mom takes on the challenge of LB and neighbor has to bring lunch to my daughter that I never managed to drop off earlier. Additionally, I was pretty sure at this point she'd be picking her up from school as well.
I get to the ER and they give me this wonderful pain drops for the eye. One drop in and you can't feel your eye anymore. Awesome. The only problem is that it doesn't last very long and is dangerous to continually use. For some reason I never looked at myself as an eye numbing pain-killer addict, but apparently they are out there and the nurse was guarding that little bottle with her life. After an exam with a black light that revealed it was a splatter all over the eyeball and not just a squirt, they tell me I have scratched on the cornea and they are going to flush it. The nurse comes back with an IV bag. I'm thinking, "Seriously! A freaking IV." I don't really mind shots and needles but I DO mind IV's. Then the nurse makes a very corny joke and says, "Yes, an eye-V." Ha. Ha. She proceeds to place a GIANT plastic contact lens onto my eyeball that has a tube attached to it. This tube is then attached to the IV bag. I cannot close my eye because I have a giant plastic suction cup stuck to my eye that is dripping saline solution into my eye, down my face and neck, and into my shirt. I am told to turn on my side and allow the solution to just drip on the towel under my head. Awesome. I stay in this position for the next three or so hours. Did I mention that I hadn't eaten anything yet?
I beg hubby to go somewhere to get me something, anything to eat. He looks at me dumbfounded and asks me what on earth to get. Seriously!? You've got to be kidding me. I convince him that fries and a burger will be fine. I'm pretty sure I can eat fries in upside down, in the dark, with both hands tied behind my back so I am confident I can manage this.
Eventually a few more "real" emergencies are brought into the ER and they need my bed. They release me to an Ophthalmologist for further evaluation. Okay, well I don't know one, just like I don't know a plumber. I call a neighbor who has a friend who is an Optometrist. Not the same thing but maybe the friend of the friend has a friend who can get me in. Stalking skills come in handy and I score an appointment. They even stay open late just for me! I made out with only a few scratches on the cornea that healed on their own. Whew!
So, a few months later I break a nail pretty far down where it hurts. What do you do to mend a broken nail in a pinch? Superglue of course! I've learned my lesson and go straight for a new tube. It works so great that it runs down my finger. Very messy but effective. I'm going to be gone for the majority of the day so I throw the remainder of the tube in my purse. Fast forward to me driving down the road and my phone rings. I pull my cell out of my purse and notice it is attached to my daughter's immunization paperwork that I need to turn in. Oops. Not only are the papers superglued to my phone, but now the protective case on my phone is superglued shut and the case is superglued to my phone. I'm amazing. That case stayed superglued to my phone for months until I recently broke it open. Unfortuneatly as things would go in my world, I then dropped my phone and the glass front shattered. Guess I should have left the case superglued on instead. I wonder if super glue could fix my shattered screen? Kidding! Not really...I seriously do wonder!
Fast forward again a few months and I am once again trying to fix a toy. I mistakenly grab an open tube of superglue and squeeze. When it does not come out I remembered to point away from me, not look down the tube opening. Another air bubble and superglue splatters on my laminate flooring and it is still there to this day because I have no idea how to get it up. It's a constant reminder every time I mop and can't get up that stinkin' stained bubble, and every time I walk on it in the kitchen it feels like something is stuck there. To me it sticks out like a sore thumb.
Maybe I'll never learn. Karey and superglue are a bad combo. So since there are a million things for me to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, I choose to focus for the moment on the one thing I know for sure to be unthankful for...superglue.
Monday, November 21, 2011
And without further ado...THE SQUIRREL
I never thought I'd keep a blog until The Squirrel. Now I have come to realize the importance of blogging so we will never forget this experience in detail. I will write from my perspective with a summary of the conversations. So without further ado, I give you The Squirrel.
It's Friday afternoon. I am exhausted from staying out way too late dressed up as The Red Queen for a costume contest the night before. I am supposed to get all made up again for the second night in a row for a Halloween dress-up birthday party for three-year old twins at a bar. Yep I wrote that correctly. This time tough, instead of just me I have to get the kiddos ready and hubby psyched up for a dress-up party for three-year old twins in a bar. (I think I just really like saying that!) I can already tell it will be a long night.
Hubby comes home as the kids and I head to Wal-Mart for some last minute supplies. Hubby calls and says something is wrong with the toilet so he has to head out for a pipe snake. We get home from Wal-Mart and hubby says he doesn't think he can go to the party because he had to call a plumber as he was unable to plunge or snake the toilet. If hubs can't make it to this party then there is no way momma can either. I simply cannot do a two and five year old in a bar dressed up as the Red Queen. This announcement then leads to utter and complete meltdowns by both children who were so looking forward to dressing up for the twins birthday [party in a bar]. The plumber hubs called said they would not be here until at least two hours.
So I'm thinking, "What's the big deal? Surely a clogged toilet could wait until the morning." Now I am starting to have a meltdown over the kids meltdown! What to do, what to do. Oh yes, I will call my dear friend Monica because Monica and her husband know someone who does everything. They may still live a little in the 80's with home phones and answering machines, but a Rolodex with business cards and phone numbers sure does come in handy. Unfortunately for me, Monica has caught up with us in some respects and has contacts in a cell phone now...mind you she just got a cell phone last year. Anywhoo...I call Monica:
Me: Hey Monica, it's Karey. Listen, I need to get right to the point. I need a plumber like right now. You know everyone. You know a plumber?
Monica: Yes, but I don't know his number. Eddie has it but he's out of town giving a speech and you can't reach him. Um, Steve might have it.
Karey: Ok thanks. What's the plumber's name?
Monica: I don't know. He's the one who lives across from me. His son's name is Patrick.
Karey: Okay, I'll call Steve.
Me: Hi Steve, it's Karey Foster. Um, I have to get right to the point. Do you know the number of the guy who lives down the street from you who is a plumber. His son is Patrick.
Steve: No I sure don't but Eddie might have it. Call him.
Sounds like a great idea, but see my conversation with Monica. Okay, so what to do now before meltdowns continue. Should I brave it to the bar birthday for three-year old twins by myself? Hell to the NO! I try to rationalize with my 2 and 5 year old why we can't go. Oh dear God, the meltdowns only get worse. Now it's time for business. Drastic times call for drastic measures.
So I have seen Mr. no-name plumber drive out of my neighborhood a million times. He works for George. And that's all I know. The sign on his truck says, "Yell George!" I'm gonna go Yell George at his house. I get in the car and drive by his house. I'm stalking because I drive by twice just to be sure the giant white Yell George truck is hiding in his one-car driveway. No luck so I come home.
I know, I'll google Yell George! And so the true stalking begins. I find the Yell George website and start looking around for names, pictures, any info I can get my eyes on. And there it was, F. Foster, plumber 2nd in Command to George himself! YES! So, my last name is Foster too just in case you didn't know. So now I know who he is and where he works but how can I get Mr. Foster to come over to my house, and fast! I know, I'll just call. It's not quite 6pm so the office might still be open.
Me: Um Hi. My name is Karey Foster and I am looking to get in touch with F. Foster....but I'm not related to him. I am a neighbor...but nothing is wrong with his house. I just need to know if I can get a hold of him.
Man who thinks I am crazy: Oh you mean L. Foster. No one calls him F. (This is where I think to myself of course I didn't know that because I AM NOT RELATED!)
Me: Sure. Well, I know you can't give me his number, but is there any way you can find out if I can get a hold of him? I'm having an emergency plumbing issue. (Well, the emergency is getting my kids to a bar party, not the potty. The potty's holding us up.)
Man: Well, I could give you the number if you were family, but since you are not, let me see if I can get ahold of him on his cell. (He places me on hold and now I'm thinkin' I should have used this whole same name thing to my advantage....long lost daughter, etc, etc) Okay ma'am, he's on his way home and can be there in about 30 min.
Whew! So the kids are happy now and we begin to get dressed for the party. Plumber shows up with his snake and begins snaking the toilet. I must say at this point that our poor two-year old has now been grilled multiple times as to what she put in the toilet. In future posts you will get to know LB better, but for now, just trust me that it would not be far fetched for LB to have placed an elephant down there. Anyway, I hear Plumber ask Hubby what the kids could have stuffed in the toilet, meat maybe? I thought that was some weird comment or joke so I go take a look. Sure enough Plumber Foster is placing meaty items on the floor and say, "You have a rat stuck in there." WHAT? That is disgusting! Hubs replies, "But we have Terminix come out!" And the Plumber says, "Son, it didn't come through the house! It came up through the sewer and got stuck."
I continue to turn myself into the Red Queen while the plumber goes to get more tools out of the truck. I check back in a few minutes later and he's standing there holding a soaking wet dead squirrel with forceps. Remember when I said he was pulling out pieces of meat? Well, the squirrel is essentially missing half his face and head. I am amazed to say the least. I get the camera and immediately shout to the girls to come see the squirrel the plumber just pulled out of the toilet. They run upstairs to see when my five year old screams in horror, "SAMMY!!!" And the hysterical crying begins. I am now thinking I am the worst mother ever!
You see, for several years now my oldest has had a special relationship with a squirrel. She truly believes the squirrel, Sammy, lives in a tree out front our house. Sammy has shown up at Disney World, in Alabama, Florida, school, anywhere. If there is a squirrel, Sammy somehow followed us again! Sammy has a sister, Lisa, and a whole lot of cousins, friends, family, etc. I forget all their names. It's just a thing we've always just gone along with. We eventually console her and convince her is was not Sammy. Plumber takes the credit card info and says the charge won't go through until then. He doesn't know how much this is going to cost. Great.
While driving two hours late to the twins' three-year old birthday party at the bar, our daughter speaks very quietly and says it was not Sammy. It's wasn't even a squirrel because squirrels have bushy tails and the rat in the toilet did not have a bushy tail. We leave it at that.
In the end the squirrel rat cost $75 to be removed from the toilet. He came through the roof vent. I'm glad he got stuck and drowned. Otherwise, they hop out when you lift the lid and that would have been a whole other experience I would have not wanted to live!
It's Friday afternoon. I am exhausted from staying out way too late dressed up as The Red Queen for a costume contest the night before. I am supposed to get all made up again for the second night in a row for a Halloween dress-up birthday party for three-year old twins at a bar. Yep I wrote that correctly. This time tough, instead of just me I have to get the kiddos ready and hubby psyched up for a dress-up party for three-year old twins in a bar. (I think I just really like saying that!) I can already tell it will be a long night.
Hubby comes home as the kids and I head to Wal-Mart for some last minute supplies. Hubby calls and says something is wrong with the toilet so he has to head out for a pipe snake. We get home from Wal-Mart and hubby says he doesn't think he can go to the party because he had to call a plumber as he was unable to plunge or snake the toilet. If hubs can't make it to this party then there is no way momma can either. I simply cannot do a two and five year old in a bar dressed up as the Red Queen. This announcement then leads to utter and complete meltdowns by both children who were so looking forward to dressing up for the twins birthday [party in a bar]. The plumber hubs called said they would not be here until at least two hours.
So I'm thinking, "What's the big deal? Surely a clogged toilet could wait until the morning." Now I am starting to have a meltdown over the kids meltdown! What to do, what to do. Oh yes, I will call my dear friend Monica because Monica and her husband know someone who does everything. They may still live a little in the 80's with home phones and answering machines, but a Rolodex with business cards and phone numbers sure does come in handy. Unfortunately for me, Monica has caught up with us in some respects and has contacts in a cell phone now...mind you she just got a cell phone last year. Anywhoo...I call Monica:
Me: Hey Monica, it's Karey. Listen, I need to get right to the point. I need a plumber like right now. You know everyone. You know a plumber?
Monica: Yes, but I don't know his number. Eddie has it but he's out of town giving a speech and you can't reach him. Um, Steve might have it.
Karey: Ok thanks. What's the plumber's name?
Monica: I don't know. He's the one who lives across from me. His son's name is Patrick.
Karey: Okay, I'll call Steve.
Me: Hi Steve, it's Karey Foster. Um, I have to get right to the point. Do you know the number of the guy who lives down the street from you who is a plumber. His son is Patrick.
Steve: No I sure don't but Eddie might have it. Call him.
Sounds like a great idea, but see my conversation with Monica. Okay, so what to do now before meltdowns continue. Should I brave it to the bar birthday for three-year old twins by myself? Hell to the NO! I try to rationalize with my 2 and 5 year old why we can't go. Oh dear God, the meltdowns only get worse. Now it's time for business. Drastic times call for drastic measures.
So I have seen Mr. no-name plumber drive out of my neighborhood a million times. He works for George. And that's all I know. The sign on his truck says, "Yell George!" I'm gonna go Yell George at his house. I get in the car and drive by his house. I'm stalking because I drive by twice just to be sure the giant white Yell George truck is hiding in his one-car driveway. No luck so I come home.
I know, I'll google Yell George! And so the true stalking begins. I find the Yell George website and start looking around for names, pictures, any info I can get my eyes on. And there it was, F. Foster, plumber 2nd in Command to George himself! YES! So, my last name is Foster too just in case you didn't know. So now I know who he is and where he works but how can I get Mr. Foster to come over to my house, and fast! I know, I'll just call. It's not quite 6pm so the office might still be open.
Me: Um Hi. My name is Karey Foster and I am looking to get in touch with F. Foster....but I'm not related to him. I am a neighbor...but nothing is wrong with his house. I just need to know if I can get a hold of him.
Man who thinks I am crazy: Oh you mean L. Foster. No one calls him F. (This is where I think to myself of course I didn't know that because I AM NOT RELATED!)
Me: Sure. Well, I know you can't give me his number, but is there any way you can find out if I can get a hold of him? I'm having an emergency plumbing issue. (Well, the emergency is getting my kids to a bar party, not the potty. The potty's holding us up.)
Man: Well, I could give you the number if you were family, but since you are not, let me see if I can get ahold of him on his cell. (He places me on hold and now I'm thinkin' I should have used this whole same name thing to my advantage....long lost daughter, etc, etc) Okay ma'am, he's on his way home and can be there in about 30 min.
Whew! So the kids are happy now and we begin to get dressed for the party. Plumber shows up with his snake and begins snaking the toilet. I must say at this point that our poor two-year old has now been grilled multiple times as to what she put in the toilet. In future posts you will get to know LB better, but for now, just trust me that it would not be far fetched for LB to have placed an elephant down there. Anyway, I hear Plumber ask Hubby what the kids could have stuffed in the toilet, meat maybe? I thought that was some weird comment or joke so I go take a look. Sure enough Plumber Foster is placing meaty items on the floor and say, "You have a rat stuck in there." WHAT? That is disgusting! Hubs replies, "But we have Terminix come out!" And the Plumber says, "Son, it didn't come through the house! It came up through the sewer and got stuck."
I continue to turn myself into the Red Queen while the plumber goes to get more tools out of the truck. I check back in a few minutes later and he's standing there holding a soaking wet dead squirrel with forceps. Remember when I said he was pulling out pieces of meat? Well, the squirrel is essentially missing half his face and head. I am amazed to say the least. I get the camera and immediately shout to the girls to come see the squirrel the plumber just pulled out of the toilet. They run upstairs to see when my five year old screams in horror, "SAMMY!!!" And the hysterical crying begins. I am now thinking I am the worst mother ever!
You see, for several years now my oldest has had a special relationship with a squirrel. She truly believes the squirrel, Sammy, lives in a tree out front our house. Sammy has shown up at Disney World, in Alabama, Florida, school, anywhere. If there is a squirrel, Sammy somehow followed us again! Sammy has a sister, Lisa, and a whole lot of cousins, friends, family, etc. I forget all their names. It's just a thing we've always just gone along with. We eventually console her and convince her is was not Sammy. Plumber takes the credit card info and says the charge won't go through until then. He doesn't know how much this is going to cost. Great.
While driving two hours late to the twins' three-year old birthday party at the bar, our daughter speaks very quietly and says it was not Sammy. It's wasn't even a squirrel because squirrels have bushy tails and the rat in the toilet did not have a bushy tail. We leave it at that.
In the end the squirrel rat cost $75 to be removed from the toilet. He came through the roof vent. I'm glad he got stuck and drowned. Otherwise, they hop out when you lift the lid and that would have been a whole other experience I would have not wanted to live!
Sunday, November 20, 2011
What did I get into?
I have no idea what I am doing! I hate writing, but I am never going to remember some of these experiences if I don't write them down. I've already forgotten half the things that have happened in my short career as a mother so I'd better get a move on.
First of all, I'd like to get a few things out of the way. Not only do I hate writing, I hate trying to work with a computer, I can't spell, and my grammar and punctuation really, really stink...all things which seem to be pretty important if you want to have a blog. Now that that is out of the way I feel free to make all the mistakes in the world that I want to. Whew!
I semi-remember phonics being taught in the second grade. Some sort of greenish looking plaid book comes to mind. Unfortunately I don't remember receiving one of these books. This is not a joke or meant to be funny. I think my memory is bad, or I have re-written history or something, but I swear they changed the curriculum when I entered the second grade and I never really learned phonics. I have never been able to spell, and I never will. I am thankful for spell check. (I only have two words underlined as incorrect in this paragraph. Not too bad this time!)
My second major issue with English comes from my own stupidity. I never learned to conjugate a sentence (which I can't spell) or what the parts of speech are, etc, etc. I cheated! I copied so much homework from a very smart girl in middle school named Julie. I would go to the bathroom before school and she would let me copy her homework. I remember copying from others as well, but Julie was the smartest. (Sorry to rat you out Julie if you ever read this.) This was a BIG mistake because I have paid for it the rest of my life. Try telling me that back in middle school though!
In addition to coping this homework, I copied out of the vocabulary homework book as well. This was also a big mistake as I have virtually no vocabulary beyond the sixth grade. Why do people have to use such big words all the time! I sometimes believe my husband uses big words just to fluster me.
"I will not chew gum in Mrs. Brady's Religion class." I had to write that 1,000 times in either the 6th or 7th grade. Everyone loved Mrs. Brady, but gosh darn it, I blame her for hating writing. I do not believe in writing for punishment because it makes kids hate to write when you just copy a sentence over and over and over.... I will never forget this punishment. I'm pretty sure I was chewing gum less then a week later but I've hated writing ever since.
I took regular High School English classes and did just fine on my own. (Well, according to public school standards.) I still copied some out of the vocabulary book, but for the most part my cheating days were over. I remember writing a paper in 10th grade about the meaning of a Pink Floyd song. The teacher played the song and then we wrote. I don't remember many more papers that year. In fact, I don't remember writing much at all. In the 12th grade we had to learn to write ONE paper at the end of the year, a big, huge five paragraph paper. That paper was a good and bad thing though because I somehow passed the writing test for college and was placed in the real Freshman English class instead of remedial, no-credit English. Oh crap! That was the hardest class and I spent hours in the writing lab just trying to pass that class. I avoided all classes requiring much writing through college and somehow made it through. Whew! I probably could have used the remedial English...too late now. Thank God!
So, that is the story of why I hate writing and am terrible at spelling, punctuation & grammar. I cheated and chewed gum. My bad.
First of all, I'd like to get a few things out of the way. Not only do I hate writing, I hate trying to work with a computer, I can't spell, and my grammar and punctuation really, really stink...all things which seem to be pretty important if you want to have a blog. Now that that is out of the way I feel free to make all the mistakes in the world that I want to. Whew!
I semi-remember phonics being taught in the second grade. Some sort of greenish looking plaid book comes to mind. Unfortunately I don't remember receiving one of these books. This is not a joke or meant to be funny. I think my memory is bad, or I have re-written history or something, but I swear they changed the curriculum when I entered the second grade and I never really learned phonics. I have never been able to spell, and I never will. I am thankful for spell check. (I only have two words underlined as incorrect in this paragraph. Not too bad this time!)
My second major issue with English comes from my own stupidity. I never learned to conjugate a sentence (which I can't spell) or what the parts of speech are, etc, etc. I cheated! I copied so much homework from a very smart girl in middle school named Julie. I would go to the bathroom before school and she would let me copy her homework. I remember copying from others as well, but Julie was the smartest. (Sorry to rat you out Julie if you ever read this.) This was a BIG mistake because I have paid for it the rest of my life. Try telling me that back in middle school though!
In addition to coping this homework, I copied out of the vocabulary homework book as well. This was also a big mistake as I have virtually no vocabulary beyond the sixth grade. Why do people have to use such big words all the time! I sometimes believe my husband uses big words just to fluster me.
"I will not chew gum in Mrs. Brady's Religion class." I had to write that 1,000 times in either the 6th or 7th grade. Everyone loved Mrs. Brady, but gosh darn it, I blame her for hating writing. I do not believe in writing for punishment because it makes kids hate to write when you just copy a sentence over and over and over.... I will never forget this punishment. I'm pretty sure I was chewing gum less then a week later but I've hated writing ever since.
I took regular High School English classes and did just fine on my own. (Well, according to public school standards.) I still copied some out of the vocabulary book, but for the most part my cheating days were over. I remember writing a paper in 10th grade about the meaning of a Pink Floyd song. The teacher played the song and then we wrote. I don't remember many more papers that year. In fact, I don't remember writing much at all. In the 12th grade we had to learn to write ONE paper at the end of the year, a big, huge five paragraph paper. That paper was a good and bad thing though because I somehow passed the writing test for college and was placed in the real Freshman English class instead of remedial, no-credit English. Oh crap! That was the hardest class and I spent hours in the writing lab just trying to pass that class. I avoided all classes requiring much writing through college and somehow made it through. Whew! I probably could have used the remedial English...too late now. Thank God!
So, that is the story of why I hate writing and am terrible at spelling, punctuation & grammar. I cheated and chewed gum. My bad.
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