Updated: Don't Expect Too Much

I'm too busy being in awe of the amazing ocean since I'm watching it through the eyes of my two new nieces who are both seeing it for the first time.

But here a couple of quick funny memories:

Right before take off in the airplane:  "Mommy, are they gonna say, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, BLAST OFF?"

Upon boarding the plane: "Aunt Rita?  I thought you said our seats were out on the wing."  (YEAH, I did.  I thought she knew I was joking.)

During the flight:  "Grandma, would you go sit where Uncle Bobby is so he can sit next to me?"  Sorry Cissy. :(   Uncle Bobby's reaction?  :D

Overheard from a little boy seated behind us that was about two or three and obviously on his first flight also: "Don't laugh at me Graaaandmaaaaw."  At which point about 15 people laughed. 

Today on the beach, the youngest was crunching some baby carrots from my cooler.  She was so busy showing me this tiny "she shell" and telling me all about it that several chunks of "minced" carrots fell out of her tiny chomping mouth onto our beach mat.

I told her, "K, why don't you stop talking long enough to quit spitting up carrots onto the mat?" 

Beach, Ocean, Sea, Sand, Shells and Carrots are just too distracting apparently because.......

As soon as she heard me she forgot that she had a shell in her hand and absently thinking she had a carrot, she popped the tiny "she shell" right into her MOUTH!!!!

I will go to my grave still laughing about that one.

Update:  Last night the two girls stayed with us.  Grandpa was reading the youngest one's travel journal.  It had been dictated to her mother and even so, some of the words were hard to read.  After a couple sentences where Grandpa was stumbling over a few words, K said, "That's okay Grandpa, you don't have to read the whole thing because you are old and can barely read." 

And today Grandma laid down the law.  After a couple hours in the swimming pool, K who's 5 kept pestering Grandma to let her jump off the side, when Grandma kept saying no, K said, "the magic word" as my sister put it. 

She dared to utter....

"I'm bored." 

Oooooops, Wrong thing to say.

Grandma promptly took her hand and said, "OK, that's the magic word.  Out of the pool." 

Instant and loud boo hoo'ing, but Grandma was not to be deterred.

K bawled all the way to the chaise lounge next to me, threw herself down and took her fists and pound, pound on the fabric.

At which point Aunt Rita said, in a voice also not to be argued with, "K, THAT IS ENOUGH."  Of course I had to turn my head immediately so she couldn't see me laughing.

A few more overly audible boo hoos and a couple more "enoughs" and all was quiet.  Of course she was still very unhappy.  She had to sit or lay on the chaise lounge until Grandma stopped seeing glares piercing in her direction. 

Ten minutes later, Grandma takes her hand and they were back in the pool again without any further tantrums.  My sister and I are still laughing about her instant boo hoos and the pounding of the chaise lounge.

I WIN

By an overwhelming majority, 100% of my vast male readers agree with me.

I work with alot of guys and a few select females that are more like me, not really all that girly.

That means the reason I love my job is because you don't have to spend your day worrying about some stupid little remark offending anyone.  That also means that you have to "thick skin" and a very crazy sense of humor.

Over the last three years, everyone in the office mostly enjoy their day because they spend it insulting me in every "fashion" possible and they know I will not take offense and I can give as good as I get.

So on Friday, I wore a top similar to the one pictured below:

I never want to have to go back to the days when I had to dress in a business suit, heels and pantyhose.  I wear jeans every day and Fridays are even more considered "casual days".  Maybe it was the clothes, but I used to spend most of my time watching my back because the men and women I worked with would stab you in the back in a heartbeat.

After lunch, it started.  One of the guys looked at my lime green top and said, "My parents had a car about that color." 

I said, "It was a Dodge."  He didn't know.  He's barely 40, but I remember the lime green Dodge that sported the same color I wore.

A few minutes later I was in another guy's office and he also makes a comment about the color of my top.

I have no idea why they attack me in this manner.  I think it might have started with the fact that when any of the guys walk past me wearing a "girly" color I say, "HEY.  Cute TOP." 

You wanna see a guy's spin around like they are Regan from The Exorcist, say that to them when they are wearing Lilac or Coral or Periwinkle.  I would like to take credit for that line, but I actually stole it from a guy I worked with several years ago when we were commenting on another guy's pastel shirt.  It was such a great straight line, I use it whenever I can.

So when the second guy makes a comment about the color of my top, I repeated the first comment.  Told him it was the color of a cool Dodge, back in the '60's.  He disagreed.  Said, "MAYBE, but it would have been a Dodge Dart."  All hell broke loose at that time.  If I had any ounce of "offendability" in my little finger, that comment would have lit it.  A great argument ensued and I was about to google my winning argument.

The second guy then walks into the "big guy's" office.  NO, not THAT Big Guy, the next-door-office-executive who is ALL about cars.  Second Guy says, "Rita, come in here."  Second guy tells Big Guy, "look at her." 

If you think I was in the least bit intimidated at this time, you do not know me. 

I stand there with my hands on my hip and Big Guy hired because he knew no one intimidates me.  Since then he and everyone else have found out no one can offend me either.

Second Guy said, "Was there ever a cool car that color?"  Big Guy would absolutely know the answer to this, but it was a "great guy conspiracy".  Big Guy, said, "NO, never that color." 

Second Guy and Big Guy are a few years older than me and I KNOW they remember the cool Dodge's "back in the day".  I insisted, "Oh yes there was, it was a Dodge."  Big Guy said, "Maybe a Duster."

Are you seriously kidding me?  First accused of being a Dodge Dart and then a Duster?  Oh, it is all out war now. 

I pulled up both the Dodge Challenger and the Charger on google, printed them out on the color printer and posted them outside my cube which both Guys have to walk past on their way to the "manly" restrooms.

I spent nearly all day yesterday on a conference call with these "boys".  In the waning times the lime green top argument was brought back up.  I told them that from now on I was wearing that color every single day.  Political correctness does not exist where I work (for which I am eternally grateful) and one of them says, "or come topless."

I said, "I would, but the funny thing is I am the exact same color underneath."

After the laughter died down, the Big Guy said, "Well, that doesn't surprise me, you ARE alot like the Grinch."

So thx guys.  You have proven that I win the argument.  Lime Green Dodges in the '60's WERE cool cars.

Help Me Settle An Argument

All votes will be tabulated according to my own standards.

Was this considered a cool car or not?

Placing Blame

I think we're all inclined to do it.  When we're hurting, we don't want to accept it's just a natural part of life or we direct our hurt to anger and that anger has to go somewhere so we want to blame someone because then at least we have an outlet.

One evening, around Thanksgiving in 1995, Bob talked with his dad.   Their discussion mainly concerned that the doctor had told him he could start driving again after a few months break due to his health.  He had lived a hard live and by the age of 71, he was not in the best of health.  Bob argued just a bit with him, concerned that he really wasn't quite up to par to be driving again.

The very next afternoon we got the call.  His father was being transported to a first rate trauma hospital downtown.  He had been in a traffic accident.  He was awake, alert and talking at the scene.

This was before the days of "everyone has a cell phone", so because I was on the way home, I didn't know until I got home around 6 or so and Bob had left a handwritten message on the counter.  I think I actually still have the piece of paper somewhere.

It read:  "Dad's been in an accident, I'm going to Wishard (hospital)."   I saw the note and was reading it when Bob's teenage daughter walked in, excited about her new job, which would help her with her college major.  I listened to her while trying not to be appear concerned.  When she was done, I called Bob on his new cell phone.

When Bob answered I was standing right in front of two teenage girls.  I heard Bob say, "he's not going to make it."  The combination of my ears not wanting to hear that and not wanting to repeat what he said in front of the girls left me speechless.  My non-response left Bob a little more than irritated.

He said, "Did you HEAR what I said?"  I said, "Well I think I did, but repeat it."

He did.  The words didn't change.

I told him I was on the way.  He told me I wouldn't make it in time.   I didn't care.  I had lost my own father just a few short years before that and I was not going to not be there.

Twenty-five minutes later I was running into Wishard's emergency room.  Wishard is known for first rate trauma care but mainly for providing care for the poor and uninsured.

I found Bob in a hallway, just a couple minutes after the family had been told he had passed away.

It took days before we could find anyone who knew the details of the accident and actually got a copy of the police report which we were certain would tell us how his dad caused the accident.

We were a little more than shocked to find out that his father had been travelling through a green light downtown when a woman ran a red light and t-boned him.  While he was alert at the scene, the accident ruptured his spleen and, although only 5 minutes away from the hospital, the docs were not able to save him.

The police report made it all very clear.  The lady lived in Ohio and had been at IU Med Center downtown, another excellent hospital, right off the interstate near Wishard.   She had missed the red light that was placed immediately before the ramps.

Driving the route she would have been travelling you can see that unless you are very familiar with the area, you would be concentrating on the interstate entrance signs and immediately before the signs is a traffic signal.  The placement of the two together is an accident waiting to happen.  I'm sure this wasn't the first deadly accident at that intersection and certainly not the last.

Undoubtedly, she was not only unfamiliar with the area, but trying to make sure she got on the correct ramp and completely missed the red light that resulted in my father-in-law's death.  She wasn't driving recklessly, she wasn't under the influence, she simply made a mistake that I'm sure haunts her today.

At the funeral home, we were surprised that we found an arrangement with her name on it.

Writing the "Thank You" notes afterward was split up among the "kids".  Since we had the police report, we also had her address.

Bob and I had a long discussion talking about the accident and what that woman must have been feeling.   She didn't go out that morning and decide she wanted to kill anyone.  She didn't go out that morning and drink all day and get behind a wheel and tempt fate.  She went to visit someone in a hospital and upon leaving made a horrible mistake that killed my father-in-law.

Fortunately, no one in the family wanted to play the Blame Game.  It was a mistake.  Nothing more, nothing less.  It was an accident, it wasn't an "on purpose".

I wrote the note to her as Bob and I talked.  Although I don't recall the exact wording it went something like this:

Dear ......

Thank you for the lovely arrangement.

Sometimes in life there are tragic events and we want you to know that we believe this is one of those times for our family and yours.

More than anything we wish you peace for this Christmas.

The son and daughters of.....

It would have been easy to be angry, it would have been easy to place the blame as clearly Bob's dad was legally crossing the intersection on a green light and this woman, in the wrong place at the wrong time just missed seeing a red light.   But, these many years later, I am more than certain that she relives that moment more often than we think about this accident.  I am sure it will haunt her all of her days and I wish that were not the case.  We think about his life, she thinks about his death.

Thought I'd see you one more time again

I must have been around 18, maybe 17.

I awoke up one Saturday morning to some disturbing news.

When I was growing up, our neighbor had a couple of grandsons that would visit every few weeks.  Raymond was a couple years older than I was.  I hadn't seen him for years and years.  At one point his brother was my sister's "boyfriend" kinda.  By the time I was 17, his grandmother was no longer living across the street and I cannot honestly tell you how long it had been since I had seen Raymond.

The same weekend, my father got a call from a good friend of his, I'll call him Bill.

Sometime during that weekend, Bill's son was in a Jeep with a good friend.  The friend ran off the road, striking a tree.  Bill received a call from a hospital doctor.  He was told his son was dead.  No "easing into it", no "I'm sorry", just "your son was in an accident and he's dead".  Bill and his wife had no other children.  The hospital doctor then put the friend on the phone.  It was apparently a heart-wrenching call where Bill was in shock and yet still managed to ask the friend if HE was okay.  Bill's son was 20-years-old.

That weekend we found out about Raymond.

While his parents were away, Raymond and a friend were alone in the house when they had "visitors".  Months later there was some story that perhaps (probably) Raymond and his friend had gotten themselves involved with some drug dealers and had not paid them.   Raymond had never seemed like that type of kid, but the "randomness" of what happened would indicate there was some underlying motive.

They believe a couple of men entered the residence.  Raymond and his friend were found tied and gagged.  Each had been shot once in the arm and then once in the head.  I remember hearing the phrase "gangland" style.  To this day, no one has ever been convicted of the murders.

My only thought was that I hoped Raymond had gone first. 

At the time of these deaths, I had not seen either of these two boys for at least 2 or 3 or 4 years.

But they affected me.

I remember feeling so vulnerable.  I remember crying for their families.   Raymond's death obviously brought out the news crews and it was awful to watch the family try to fend off the onslaught.

A couple of days later, I awoke to a James Taylor song.  Whenever I hear it, I am immediately transported to that time when two young men lost their lives and left me all alone. 

Maybe that was when the first time mortality had slapped me across the face.  Neither death actually affected any one thing in my life since they were no longer a part of it, but yet both of them did affect me. 

I was disoriented for many months.  You know.  During your teenage years you believe you will live forever and in one random weekend two deaths assured me that was not true.


Won't you look down on me Jesus
You gotta help me make a stand
Ya just gotta see me through another day
My body's aching and my time is at hand
I couldn't make it any other way.
I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought I'd see you
One more time again.

Sometimes "one more time again" never happens.

Top Three Worst Movies Ever - Updated

The number one spot is:

After spending three hours of my life that I will never get back, Nicole Kidman uttered a line I won't repeat that literally caused everyone in the theatre to let out a very audible groan.


Second is:

Geez, for some reason it's another Tom Cruise movie.  I may think he's a freak, but there are few good movies he made, these are not among them.   Of course Top Gun rates up there as one of the good ones as does A Few Good Men, but that may be because of Jack Nicholson.

Third has a great actress and a horrible one. 

I wonder who in their right mind advised Meryl Streep to appear with Rosanne. 

And on the other hand, the hands-down winner of the best movie of all time is:

I LOVE Morgan Freeman in nearly everything he does.

My assessment is not up for debate. 

OK, that doesn't mean you shouldn't post your comments.   That just means that you will be wrong and I will be right.  Kinda like every other day of the week.

Update:

Oh wait, I have to put another movie in 2nd place.  I complete forgot about this one.

I went to watch it with a friend of mine and remember telling her at the end if I had wanted to listen to a bunch of screaming female teenages for two hours I could have just stayed home.  Bad bad movie.  Has Angelina ever made a good one? 

Charlie

One afternoon in August 2004, I took a nap with my grandson fascinated by the current news story.  I had muted the bedroom TV when I had drifted off and awoke to feeling badly for the people in the path of the news.

Category 5.  It had increased while I had napped.  I distinctly remember thinking about how badly Tampa, the projected path before I drifted off, would get hit.  THEN they also reported that the path had changed while I had been snuggling my favorite 2 year old. 

Fort Myers was the new target.

A mere ten months previously we had decided to go out on a limb and buy a vacation home four miles off the beaches of Sanibel Island and Fort Myers beach.

You might remember the hurricane season of 2004.  Three major hurricanes hit the state of Florida in 2004, Two hit in 2005. 

Most people might remember the news reports that Charlie had a direct hit on Punta Gorda, about a hour north of Fort Myers, where ten people lost their lives.  But the first path of the storm, a "reduced" category 4, was Fort Myers, Sanibel Island and Captiva.  North Captiva was actually split in two after the storm.  North Captival came into existence in the 1940's when another hurricane separated the island. 

Since the news focused primarily on Punta Gorda and phones and electricity were out in Fort Myers for days, we did not know if our new place was even still standing for 4 days.

A bit of damage in our community, but our property was safe and sound.  About three weeks later, we flew down to check it out for ourselves.

Back then it was less expensive to fly into Tampa.  I-75 takes a direct path from Tampa through Port Charlotte (Punta Gorda's neighbor) and into Fort Myers in an easy two hour drive.   At Port Charlotte we could see where the path of the Hurricane proceeded across the state. 

The radio playing as we were driving south.  Between the music, we began to hear the reports.  We had ignored them previously.  I mean, who would believe that another hurricane was heading for the state of Florida three weeks after Charlie?

The first reports were that Hurricane Frances might hit the Atlantic side of the state.  At that time Bob's sister lived on the east coast.  We decided to call them and tell them they were welcome to come to Fort Myers to avoid the storm.  They were already in Atlanta getting the hell out of the state, while we continued south.

As I set up our new computer and internet connection, Bob went to the insurance company to get flood insurance just "in case" after Charlie gave us a scare.  When I was plugging in the cables, Bob came back and said, "We may not be taking this seriously enough."  The path of Frances was still not certain and there was talk of it swinging around and coming ashore on the Gulf side.  The ladies at the insurance company were evacuating.

Bob wondered what we should do.  I told him that we were so far south if we decided to try to leave we would likely be stuck on an interstate in the middle of the state and probably in the path no matter which coast Frances would hit.  We decided to stick it out.

We filled the bathtubs with water, ran to Radio Shack to get a battery powered radio, bought flashlights, candles, canned tuna, crackers and whatever else we might be able to eat if we were stranded for days.

Wanna know what's in short supply on the threat of a hurricane?  Batteries and gasoline.  Bob went to many stores to find batteries and they were virtually non-existent.   The shelves of the nearby KMart were empty.  He said the customers were looking everywhere for precious batteries.  He finally spotted a box just dumped at the end of an aisle filled with batteries.  He made sure he had an armload before he found the ladies that were looking for some and told them all where they were.  We placed our emergency supplies inside a storage closet and waited.

Hurricane Frances came ashore on the east coast as a category 2 about 45 miles from my sister in law's home.  The roofing was gone and the accompanying squalls allowed the rain to pour onto the ceiling, which gave way in several rooms.  Before they had time to repair the damage, Hurricane Ivan entered the Florida/Alabama panhandle, whipped around the US emerging back out into the Atlantic and traveled back down into the path of southeast Florida.  They were hit again.

Frances traveled across Florida during the five days we stayed in Fort Myers, going out into the Gulf somewhere close to Tampa.  Fort Myers experienced significant, but not damaging winds from the backside of the hurricane and I had to endure five days trapped inside a coach home with Bob, who cannot sit still for more than 5 minutes, much less 5 days.  Our supply equipment did not include a gun or I might have had to shoot him.

Since the electricity and the internet never went out I at least had an interesting outlet.  I found a webcam of the beach and with only 50 mph sustained winds we decided to trek out to to see for ourselves.  We had to lean against the incoming winds and watched as we saw complete idiots trek out on the pier and dive off with their surf boards riding the hurricane waves coming into shore. 

A few days before, we drove along Estero Boulevard and could see the watermarks left on the buildings.  The piles of rubbage from the watersoaked hotels were lined along the street at least one story high.  As we drove off the beach, we could see the clouds signalling Frances was on its way.

The devastating effect of Hurricane Charley on Sanibel Island ruined the beautifully draped Periwinkle Road.  All of the Australian pines were destroyed and although six years later first time visitors do not see it, the charm of the road is gone.  Sanibel has only one road leading out with (at that time) a drawbridge with a limited tonage capacity.

Nearly all of Captiva has only multi-million dollar homes and is where most of the damage occurred.   The only road leading to Captiva is from the north side of Sanibel. 

After the hurricane, the weight limit on the bridge was reduced, so any debris coming from Sanibel and Captiva was even more restricted.   Months later there were still empty lots in Fort Myers that were a staging dumping ground for the trucks to unload and head back over to the islands.

Even two years later, a trip to Captiva showed these multi-million dollar homes with "blue roofs" and debris.  With all the wealth of the owners on Captiva Island, it proved to me that there are just some things that are just simply physically limited, no amount of money or manpower can change that.

When Katrina overshadowed anything America could imagine, I along with millions of America couldn't believe such a thing could happen in the US.   But when two years later the media was lamenting the lack of progress, I was reminded of Captiva.  There are simply some things from which we humans are physically unable to recover in a "timely" capacity.  If the wealth of Captiva could not fix everything in two years, there was no remote possibility New Orleans could recover from the massive devastation even now.

And all this comes to mind with this horrible, horrible oil spill.  I don't believe BP wants this to continue, I don't believe the Obama administration wants this to continue.  I don't believe anyone wants it to continue.  We are again reminded that there are many things that are simply too great for us mere mortals to deal with quickly.

And I wait.  I hate that Louisiana has such devastation, I hate that it's now hitting the pristine beaches of the panhandle and I hate that I wonder when it will affect Fort Myers, Sanibel and Captiva.

There are no winners here.