clickmom

you can take that letter idea and shove it

Dear NaBigPainInTheAssBloPoMo,

I did it!

And I hated it!

And I had to retype iphone posts after accidentally not writing them as letters!
You have no idea how tedious that is!

And now I am going back to my sweet old plain old blog365 that does not set limitations on my posting style that leave me completely frustrated and annoyed. Whew- only 8 more months of posting every single day about anything I want in any way I please! Ya friggin Hoo!

The theme for May is "Voices" and I have, after long and hard thought on the topic, decided to stifle my other 7 personalities and their voices for the month and post only as my original self, so I'll be passing on the May torture. And most likely the as of yet undeclared June and July torture as well.

It wasn't me, it was you.
See ya,
click

making my own list

Dear Karma,

Today I prevented the husband from over dosing on hydrocodone that he thought was antibiotics.

Today I checked out 3 nursing homes for grandma. I left the first one crying. I left the second one hopeful. I left the third one thinking it might work out for grandma. If I keep going to nursing homes will they keep getting better and better?

Today I attended a dinner for the nice 85 year old man from temple who was being honored for a life time of volunteer work. Can this count for mine? I wore mascara and everything.

I'm still working it,
Clickmom

two fer one

Part one:
Lil sis said to me this morning "sometimes you have to be the jerk to get results" and just have a looky at what ended up in my inbox today:

Clickmom,
As promised, I went through records at my country home and I have the following: Soc. Sec. Card, Medicare Card, Passports 1977 and 1987, Drivers license exp 2/3/93, certificate of marriage registration, certificate of executrix for grandpa.

Remember, it was your dad and not I, who applied for Medicaid in NY. Apparently NY accepted copies and did not require originals of these papers.

I'll call with this list, but thought you might want a written list.

Scumcle

P.S. I also have some NY apartment management apartment security papers at my country home.

Nice try there, scumcle, trying to blame the loss of grandma's records on my dad. But the passport is what I needed (proof of citizenship) and you have that. Hopefully you'll give it up.

unrelated Part two:

Dear Universe,

When the good wonderful doctor said he wanted to redo the part of my blood test that said I was deficient in all trace minerals because it couldn't possibly be right and he suspected an error at the lab I said sure, go ahead. Well, it seems like giving up dairy (laaaatteeeeee!) as fun as it was (cheeeeeese!) didn't do anything to help the trace mineral situation. So much for my severe dairy allergy causing absorbtion issues.

I didn't know that the good doc was also redoing the heavy metals part of the test. I'd cut and paste the results for you if I knew how, but since you are the universe I am sure you already know that I am now testing in the toxic range for Aluminum, Arsenic, Cadmium, and Mercury.

Universe.... Why?

Or should I throw my hands up over my head and ask "What?" Or maybe "WHAT??" Am I somehow self producing these heavy metals? It just does not seem possible to be that toxic. Also, how am I standing here if I am that toxic? How am I not in a hospital bed covered in sores and babbling nonsense and bald and blind and deformed? Huh? How can I appear normal and be so off balance? Maybe I only think I am normal. Wait, I saw pictures yesterday. They were normal, large but in a normal kind of way. Normally large. Wait.... I must be tougher than I realize. Wait..... No wonder my memory is shot. If this heavy metal thing is true it's amazing I can even think. At least I think I am thinking. Maybe I am already crazy and all this daily posting is just a hallucination brought on by the toxic levels of everything I seem to be carting around. Hello? Knock knock! Are you there? More importantly, am I here?

Universe, Can I get a break please? Or at least some medicinal marijuana? I mean if I am not going to think straight, I might at least as well laugh about it, right?

And make it soon.

I am fairly certain I am teetering on the edge here.

Thanks for listening,
Clickmom

lifted letter

Got home too late to see grandma last night so I went over to the OFH to see her this morning after serving up a belated birthday breakfast for Evan. (On Evan's real birthday, up in utopia where I wasn't cooking at all, I picked all the crunch berries out of a bowl of Cap'n Crunch for Evan because he can't eat the food dye and they didn't have the plain cap'n crunch at the utopian market, but even though I made that special effort it just wasn't the same as an actual home cooked breakfast like I do at home.)

When I got the OFH it was about 11:30 which is lunch time there and grandma was in the dining room waiting for her food but she looked terrible. She kind of looked like a really old homeless lady. I was angry that the aide had dressed her so carelessly. Grandma has a lot of clothes to choose from and it isn't hard to find the stuff that matches. And grandma's face has lost it's sparkle. She looked dull and saggy and puffy. Then grandma didn't really recognize me. And she asked me about three times who I was. She said I looked familiar, but she says that often, it is one of her memory loss covering techniques. I have seen her do it again and again. So I am not sure. I think after about 20 minutes she did know something because she started asking me the same loop of questions she always asks, which is how the boys are and where they are and what they are doing and what day it is. I showed her some pictures off of my iphone to hopefully spark her memory. Then I realized that the aide who dressed her in such a crazy fashion fastened her bra around her chest above her breasts which were flattened beneath the bra and smooshed against her stomach, you know , pointing straight down. So, I felt pushed over the edge just a bit and I went into the nursing office to tear someone a new one. And I let the nurse in charge have it.

Grandma just wanted to go to bed, so after I saw to it that she ate, I took her upstairs and tucked her in.

On my way out of the OFH, I started to cry. And I know grandma is going to have to go to a nursing home now. And the most convenient is the rehab she just got out of , but obviously I can't send her back there because of the horrible care and also because oh yeah, I kind of called Health and Senior services and filed that complaint, cough cough. So, I have to search for a better place this week.

And all the relaxing goodness of my week in utopia was instantly washed away and suddenly my neck hurts again, and my back felt tight and my heart was just clenched up in my chest. So I called lil sis and I told her how incredibly sad I was and how frustrated I am with my parents and the scumcle because someone has grandma's paper work history and I need it to get her some financial help and no one has found it for me, despite numerous pleas on my part, and lil sis got all riled up and said she would make some phone calls to the family on my behalf and I said she didn't have to , because every one knows you do not mess with lil sis, but it was too late and she hung up with me and made those calls. Actually she left messages on answering machines because no one was home, but the scumcle got his answering machine message and replied via email to lil sis (coward) and so, my letter(s) (haha on you nablopomo, I didn't forget!) for the day is the exchange between lil sis and the scumcle.

Dear Lil Sis,

Let me tell you something that you are not going to do again. That is, speak to me like that. Perhaps your sister, your parents, your husband, your in-laws and your friends will accept this from you. Your uncle will not.

Scum

and then lil sis didn't like that email and she emailed the scumcle back

Scumcle,

Obviously I have struck a chord - and I can't say I am sorry for that. I have watched my sister break her back caring for our grandmother - YOUR mother.

I have watched my brother in-law pay an incredible amount of money to make sure our grandmother - YOUR mother has the care she so desperately needed and continues to need.

I stand by my earlier statement that this is very unfair that she has had to ask/beg repeatedly for the proper papers (birth certificate, passport, etc) in order to get our grandmother, YOUR mother the care she now needs - care that is way to expensive for them to afford. Truthfully, I feel that this should never have been their burden to begin with at least not alone.

Our grandmother, YOUR mother is an insanely lucky woman that she has clickmom - she is there to love her, hold her hand, talk to her, help her, bring her to doctors, bring her candy, bring her anything she needs or wants EVERYDAY!! She does all of this while still taking care of her three children and making sure that they are not even the slightest neglected.

There are days that our grandmother, YOUR mother doesn't know who anyone is - except for clickmom because she can feel her love - it is apparent EVERYDAY that she is there to hold her hand. Clickmom is not retired or constantly traveling she is there - there for our grandmother, YOUR mother.

You think for one minute this is easy for Clickmom? She cries everyday watching our grandmother, YOUR mother slowly drifting away from us and reality. And she is doing this mostly alone - except for a few sporadic visits from other family members, myself included.

Clickmom and our grandmother, YOUR mother share an incredible bond - and the one thing that Clickmom was promised from our grandmother, YOUR mother - the ONE thing - you couldn't bear to let her have... why? You have practically all of her treasures - why couldn't you find it in your heart to let the woman who is taking such amazing care of YOUR mother have it? That was the cruelest thing I have seen in a long time.

So dear Uncle - I don't need you to tell me how I can or can not talk to anyone - I am a grown woman and if what I am saying is something you can't bear to hear maybe you should look deeper into that.....

Signed your niece,
Lil Sis

This is why I often lean in and whisper this tid bit of sage advice to my kids "Don't f*ck with Aunt Lil Sis" I wonder if the scumcle will have the balls to respond back.

mow mow mow my lawn

Dear guys who have been my lawn guys for about 5 years now,

Remember us? Doesn't appear you do.

I rounded the corner onto my block after being away for merely a week, and from as far away as I could actually see my own lawn I was able to determine that your company had not yet seen fit to attend to our lawn this season. I am pretty sure it is the corn that needs to be knee high at some point in the summer and not the grass in the spring.

I was able, with the help of the husband's still sharper than my own memory, to recall from last year that your company did lack in initiative regarding the spring clean up area and instead of taking the bull by the horns and showing up to claim your stake, preferred to receive a call, or seven, begging for your seasonal workers to once again grace our property for a weekly trim and blow, before actually adding our property to your list.

So, since I do not know of anyone who might have a goat or cow which might be able to graze my lawn back down below knee high height each week, I am officially requesting your firm's services for another summer season of lawn maintenance, excessive leaf blower noise pollution, and supporting the economy of at least 3 different spanish speaking countries. The check is in the mail.

Hoping to see you weekly,
Clickmom

Last

dear life.

Please don't make me leave. About to enjoy my last night in utopia. Will try not waste it crying over having to leave tomorrow.

Are you open to bribes?

Clickmom

zap

Dear PETA ,

Evan found out the hard way what happens when you open the window that doesn't have a screen, leave the light on after dark and vacate the room for a few hours. If you are up near utopia this summer and notice how bug free it is you can thank Evan, me and my Dyson, and also my windsheild which has magnetically lured the few bugs in these parts that did not seek out the bright as the sun naked bulb over the foot of Evan's bed and conveniently die upon reaching and flying into the fore mentioned naked hot bulb and there by dying mid flight to land in a mass grave situation down where Evan's feet would have been had he not opted to sleep in Josh's bug free room for the night.

I, feeling quite clever at the time, left the light over the tub on all night. In the morning I found that any flying insect-ual being that had not met his own 6 or 8 legged higher being over the foot of Evan's bed the night before had done so neatly and with much efficiency over the tub and I gave them all a burial at sea, also known as a burial at water treatment center, but close enough!

Sue me.

Sincerely, Clickmom

silent

Dear birthday boy,

You just totally hate participating in the school concerts. You told me that when his class was forced to sing One Eyed Purple People Eater he did not sing. You think the song was written by a stoner and you won't sing it. When one of the kids in your class asked you why you weren't singing you told mt that you glared at the kid and in your best stone cold voice said "My uncle is a purple people eater."

Watching you grow up is a thrill.
Happy Birthday Evan.

Love, Mom

gone fishing

Deae Josh's innocence,

Because I am never stressed or just the wee bit of a screaming shrew when it comes to any sort of travel I managed to end up in utopia while the two carefully packed bags, one with my strategically chosen clothes for the week and the other with Josh's all purpose all weather play clothes remained on the stair case at home.

So, it would follow that I ended up at the brand spanking new Target store down the road the other morning with Josh and also Matt to buy a whole new partial wardrobe for me and my sweetie pie. While in Target we purused the t-shirt display for men. Matt is always on the lookout for t-shirts with the right kind of teenaged snarky attitude saying on it. There was one lovely shirt with a picture of a squirrel holding up two mutated humongous acorns and Josh read the saying. It said. "Mine are bigger than yours" and Matt and I exchanged glancesand Josh laughed and declared "That's so funny! He has big ACORNS!"

On the drive home I reprimanded Matt for mentioning my blog in front of Jailbait, who had stopped by to visit with the family earlier in the day. Josh wanted to know why we called the babysitter Jailbait. Matt and I exchanged another glance. Matt said "because you... Uh....you could go to jail if you.... Uhhh..." and Josh finished Matt's thought with " and then you could go fishing!"

So listen innocence, hang around for as long as you want. I am in no rush to see you go and don't ever think we are taking you are for granted. We appreciate you all the time, we just don't want Josh to think we are laughing at him.

Your admirer, clickmom

swell

Dear Evan,

You have no idea how much my heart swells with love and adoration for you when you make Josh and his friends laugh by doing your famous daring swing dance for them at the playground.

They think you are the best too.

Love you,
Mom

message

For more weekly winners check out sarcasticmom.

toothy

Dear One Day You'll Be Grown Up Josh,

When you were a little boy your two front teeth came all the way in before the teeth besides them fell out. For the longest time your big front teeth stuck out all by themselves. When the teeth next to them finally started coming in I remarked to you that your teeth were finally coming in. You looked at me so sad and you reached up with your hands and started pushing on those teeth as if to push them back into your head. I asked what you were doing and you told me that you didn't want those teeth to come in because you liked looking like Sponge Bob.

I love you more today than yesterday,
Mom

fuh reaky

Dear boys and girls,

Sit down right here and I will tell you the tale of freaky Frank. Be warned, this tale is not for the easily creeped out or the already stalked or paranoid.

Once upon a time there was a regular old family who got lucky and managed to scoop this totally awesome chunk of land (which is actually an island in a lake) called utopia. The family loved utopia and started spending all their summers in utopia. But one unfortunate aspect of utopia was the previous owner did not take very good care of his house. It was a sweet old house with lots of history and a fabulous vibe, but it also had toxic mold and was structurally unstable after all the years of neglect, so it had to come down. And down it went in November 2006.

But before the house came down the family got a call from a "neighbor", which seems hard to have when you have an island, but this "neighbor" lived close to the causeway that attached the island to the main road. His name was Frank. And the neighbor Frank asked the family if he could have the shutters from the old fabulous vibe house, and the family was happy to give Frank the shutters because they were happy to know that the sweet old house would live on in bits and pieces somewhere nearby. And then Frank asked for the paneling. And the family said ..."Uh, sure"

And then someone gave Frank the phone number of the family and he started calling them in their regular old home. And Frank started talking about documenting the construction and how the family might want his photos. And Frank even called himself a photographer and when the family mom said she was a photographer too, Frank got freakier and when the family mom asked freaky Frank what else he photographed besides her house he said "Nothing". And the family got officially creeped out. The mom asked him to please not go onto their property as she could not guarantee his safety during the construction. And the kids were told to run away if they ever saw a guy with a camera coming down the causeway.

So the family asked freaky Frank not to go on their property and the family went around posting "No Trespassing" signs that they bought at the hardware store on all their trees. But the freak didn't listen, only he was sneaky and he was watching the construction guys so freaky Frank knew when no one was at the house and that is when he snuck over and took pictures. He also circled the house in his boat and took pictures from the water and he also took pictures from different places on the shore. But it was freaky Frank's little secret. And then the family went back to Utopia even though the new house wasn't finished. And the family rented a nice old guy's (with horrific housekeeping abilities) place because he was broken hearted and didn't think he wanted to be in such a happy place when he felt so sad. See the old guy's girlfriend of 7 years dumped him.

And after another blissful utopian summer in a rental, freaky Frank stopped the family mom one day and whipped out a photo album. The freak said he thought the family might want it. And the mom grabbed some garlic and a cross and waved her arms frantically while she backed into her car and managed to call out a friendly "Thanks" as she peeled away for the safety of her kids. Once safely in the nice old guy's place the mom locked all the doors and windows and opened the photo album. Guess what she saw! There were photos of the family's house from after they bought it and before they got furniture. From the inside. The freak had been in the house. gulp. There were photos of the demolition of the old house and the raising of the new house. Each photo was dated and captioned. And the mom got all goose bumpy and went directly to (her neighbor who usually looks out for them) the sentry and asked what the deal was with freaky Frank and the sentry advised the family mom to stay away, far far away from F. Frank because of his eccentricities (which the family mom suspects just might be related to a border line IQ, but I'm not a pro, so draw your own conclusion)

It was a very quiet winter as far as freaky Frank was concerned. Which was a good thing because the family had their plate full of older family members with health issues.

Spring rolled around and all the little birdies returned to their summer homes. Even the cuckoos.

"Oh fuck" the mom was heard saying "freaky Frank is flouncing around our flora again and now it's more than photos, it's the phone!"

Can you believe it? We can't either!

The family mom's cell phone rang and she answered because she recognized the utopian area code and it ended up being freaky Frank. Are you wondering how freaky got the mom's cell phone number? Well, since all the old people in the family's family are sick and dying the answering machine says something like (we don't call ourselves very often) "If this is a doctor, hospital or emergency please call this cell number..." And freaky Frank decided he was as important as a docotor hospital or other medical emergency!

It was so horrible to hear the freakster's voice the mom almost had to swerve into a tree and end it all!. Except she couldn't because then who would make dinner? Are the crazy people of the world ever going to leave her alone? It's a proven fact, the mom attracts the crazy like shit attracts the flies. I know, I know, obviously the freakster is a fly and that makes the mom the shit. Let's not dwell on that. The mom doesn't think a crazy person break is ever going to come her way. So the mom, who did not want to talk to freaky Frank said in her firmest of firm voices "(freaky) Frank, I can't talk right now because I am driving so I'll have to call you later."

Then it was later and the mom made the dad be on the phone at the same time when she called freaky Frank back. Except he wasn't home. So the mom left a short message and vowed to not pick up the phone without consulting the (freak) caller ID. Which is precisely what she should have done but forgot to do an hour later when the phone rang and it was the freak himself. The freak wanted to know if the family was going to be in utopia because, he said, fishing season had begun and something about low water levels and he wanted to sit on the rock at one edge of the family property. And the mom said he could not. And the mom told freaky Frank that no one is allowed on their property because it is still technically a construction site and the contractor will not be liable for trespassers. And the mom told the freak to please stay off the property and the freak said "What about my photos?"

And now the family mom has a new saying. When ever something does not make sense, the family mom is going to say "what about my photos?" until the family has her committed. But the mom figures it is only a matter of time before the freakster ends up in the looney bin too, so she already packed his photo album of her house so they can while away the hours chatting about the good 'ol days.

And now boys and girls, a question for you. What is the moral of this story?

blowing the whistle

Dear Dr. Putz,

Now that I have gotten grandma back into the OFH (cue the horns and throw the confetti!!) and away from the neglectful rehab (shivers) I had a meeting with Natasha (Na-nausea) to go over grandma's "care plan". (Otherwise known as the plan in which the OFH plans on charging me more money for providing even less service) During that meeting we discussed grandma's medications. I requested that topic because I had noticed that you had taken grandma off her blood thinner. Which I thought was an interesting (ie: Do No Harm doc, sound familiar?) choice for a 96 year old with a current Deep Vein Thrombosis. Upon review I see that you had also stopped giving grandma her cholesterol medication and her therapeutic antibiotic which was keeping her recurring urinary tract infections at bay.

You know, Dr. Putz, I am going back and forth, back and forth in my head about deciding if I want to call up what ever watch dog organization keeps an eye on nursing homes, I mean, after the not bandaging grandma's amputation site slip, and the night nurse taking grandma for walks before she was cleared for walking on her amputated foot slip, and all the other little neglectful potentially dangerous oversights I just don't see how I can go on with a clear conscience if I don't report you and your rehab. There are other unsuspecting families trusting you are your organization to attend to the medical needs of their beloved parents and family members. I can't let any other of those innocent poor old people suffer.

Honestly, I am right now sitting here shocked, that after a six week sentence in your rehab grandma got off so easy with only another frigging UTI. Because while sitting in that meeting at the OFH discussing grandma's current state of elevated confusion, and then finding that the very same medicine that I had on at least 4 separate occasions informed the nurses that grandma must remain on due to her pre-existing rectal prolapse and tendency to UTI had been removed from her pharmaceutical routine. Dr. Putz, do you even know how confused an older person becomes when suffering from a urinary tract infection?

Dr. Putz, I only hope you live to 103 and are treated with the same callous disregard you have shown my grandmother.

See you from the witness stand,
Clickmom

Update: Just got off the phone with NJ Dept of he@lth & hum@n services. (Don't want any google hits) The rehab and the doctor have been reported. I did this for all the other sweet old men and old ladies who are still there. They deserve better.

zzzzzz

Dear Bed,

I love you.

Seriously, I Love You. You are exactly what I need when I am tired, sick, cold, lazy, loungy, sleepy, smelly or clean, lonely, happy, sad, stressed, relaxed, whenever. You are always there for me day after day with your cushy back supporting goodness and you even come with a variety of weather appropriate blankets for all my seasonal needs.

I wish you were a man.

Ready or not here I come! Ready to dream about cats, revenge, paintball guns and cats, bb guns and cats, traps and cats, ransom notes and cats, mob style kitty toe amputations and cats, foam hair removal products and cats, poisoned tuna and cats (kidding! no jail for this momma!). Sweet dreams to you too!

Love, Clicky

dear kitty kitty

Dear Cat Owning Neighbors,

Funny thing happened around here, and that is that my back yard became quite the foul smelling stench pit of all odors vile. And I was confounded, for I have owned dogs for a couple of decades now and I had never experinced any dog related odor so obnoxious repulsive and downright nauseating. But being a responsible dog owner, I enlisted a small army of chore slaves children and we de-pooped the yard. Looked great, still rather odius.

Today when the gardener came I mentioned the fragrance funk and the gardener said he was pretty sure he knew the source of the smell. "Really?" I innocently asked. "What do you think it could be?" and the gardener asked back "Are you a cat person?" After I threw up in my mouth a little and convulsed from my head right down to my toes, I calmly said "No, I would rather live in an infested with tarantulas rotting cardboard box don't care much for cats." "Well, says the gardener, I have cats and that smell is most definitely of cat origin. I'm pretty sure the neighborhood cats are using the wood mulch in the play area as a giant litter box."

pause here for effect

keep letting that sink in

review

play area=litter box

children's play area=litter box

for neighborhood cats.

If I had a gun I am sure I would use it.

You can take that as a warning,
or a threat,
keep your cats inside,
I am not kidding you,
Clickmom

trashy

Dear Garbage Men,

Seriously?

I mean really and truly SERIOUSLY?? Did we actually some how offend your trash collecting sensibilities with our garbage and to show us how your delicate feelings were ever so slightly dented (much like my rubber plastic cans have managed to become at your hand) you felt it was necessary to leave my trash can in the exact center of the driveway making it not possible for me to pass after coming home from an exhausting day of visitng my depressed grandmother in the rehab, straightening out grandma's bank records, dealing with Natasha about getting grandma back to the OFH, finding and paying for an aide to sit in grandma's room while she sleeps once back at the OFH just in case she gets up in the middle of the night to pee because Natasha said that was a prerequisite for grandma's return and also fighting the crowds in Whole Foods because when I did my shopping yesterday and thought I was coming home prepared for today's nourishment requiremnts since I bought the pickles, onions, tomatoes, and lettuce for the burgers I planned on serving up tonight and I forget the meat? And I was only coming home for a quick and purposeful 20 minutes to throw a load of grandma's laundry into the washer and put the meat in the fridge before I had to pick up the kids from school. So you can imagine the light and airy mood (Who me? Stress?) I was in when I drove up and saw the can blocking my entry.

Because I am the scientifically minded kind of gal that I am I took a glance up and down the block and (survey says!) all of my neighbors trash cans stood conveniently by the side of each drive way not blocking each respective homeowners from driving all the way to their own overcrowded garages. WTF trashman?

While I am at it trash guy why can't you lift a trashcan? Aren't you supposed to be all strong and manly and be able to pick up a can so that the few discarded drink containers that had been removed from my vehicle and are now at the bottom of our drag to the curb trash can, the one you are supposed to empty (empty being the operative word in that sentence) so said beverage containers can rot within the confines of your stinky truck instead of in the bottom of my trashcan alongside my pristine manicured (by "professionals" who just happen to winter below the equator) lawn, and stink up an otherwise picture postcard side yard. Why do you lift each kitchen trash bag individually and oh so gingerly one at a time and toss those light weights into your truck? Wouldn't it be easier to lift the whole can up and do it all in one thorough dump? That's how they do it on TV. (When they aren't discovering murder victims, babies, and a whole plethora of case solving evidence)

I hope that when you close your eyes and fall asleep tonight you dream about the can you left in the middle of the driveway and somehow your conscience tells you that while you were being mean and vindictive, for what reason I do not know, I was helping grandma out of her wheelchair and into her rehab bed while wondering how in the world we are going to pay for all the additional charges they are sticking us with at the old folks home. But probably not, because I am sure that in reality you are more likely to be thinking "Wow, only two quarts of cheap whiskey and the room is spinning" or "Hello righty, looking good tonight." or even "I don't smell! I told my wife I didn't need a shower after work. She's just hassling me again!"

Also, I wouldn't put it past me to take time out of my busy schedule to wrap up a few cinder blocks in some spare bubble wrap and hide them in some industrial strength contractor bags with the rest of the household trash. Also, maybe some broken glass and rotten eggs. Just saying. Call it a truce man.

Don't tempt me.

Mrs. C.Mom

baseball letters-weekly winners

Spring sports are here! Hurray the shooting is outside again! Since there has been much baseball in my agenda for the past two weeks, I thought I would do an all baseball (yeah spring sports!) all letter (hello NaBloPoMo) weekly winners. Hello sarcasticmom!

Dear Twitches

Dear Twitches,

You have got to go. It isn't you, I mean you guys, really, you are good company, reliable and steadfast, it's me. It's all me. I am more of a loner, even in these times of incredible stress and possible low grade depression. It is just that I would rather do it on my own. I know, at first you made me smile and laugh how every time I could just say the word "scumcle" (oh look.... you . are . doing . it . now) and my eye lid would start fluttering away. Or how when I had to see Natasha for the first time in a month and my lip developed this very Elvis kind of twitchy beat to it and I showed it to the desk lady at the posh club. And then the two of us laughed that "Eeew gross Hahaha What is up with your face?" laugh. Except I was really crying on the inside and she just might have disinfected the desk when I walked away. And the other day, when I was thinking of every trouble all at once and my neck and my cheek both started to twitch at the same time... well, that may have been kind of on the over board side. And now I am officially over you.

So, you aren't funny or cute anymore. As a matter of fact, the very same things that were kind of endearing and charming for about a minute and a half are now the same things that make me want to stuff you in a plastic bag and dump you into a fast moving river. So, just leave before it gets ugly. Ok? Saying goodbye is never easy, so let's just say "Shake you later!" and go our own ways. Really, it's the grown up way to do it. We are adult here, no? No need for scenes, or botox (sorry, didn't mean to sound threatening there...), or other nerve paralyzing procedures. Right? Cause you are just going to pack your bags and slip out the back Jack. Make all the plans you want Stan, as long as they don't include me.

So, listen stress related twitches, or even possibly a hemifacial spasm (oh yes, I have done my internet research), just go away.

Please.

This isn't fun anymore.

In despair,
Click

Dear Friday

Dear Friday,

You can't imagine how much I welcome you each week. It's not the lack of homework battles on a calm family oriented Friday evening, it's not anything special on the schedule, it's not a regular Friday night meal or anything like that. It is going to bed when ever I happen to go to bed on a Friday night and knowing that I do not have to wake up at 6 o'clock Saturday morning.

Oh yeah Friday baby. Come and get me.

Love,
click

Dearest Internet

Dearest Internet,

As my readers already know the health of much of my family is not so good. Both my mother and my father were diagnosed with different terminal forms of cancer last spring. While there is treatment to extend their lives, there is no cure for what they have and most likely, neither parent will be around for more than another couple of years. But you never know. And that really sucks too. My mother has peritoneal mesothelioma and my father has had a reoccurrence of prostate cancer that he had originally battled about 11 years ago. Except the first time Dad had prostate cancer they had caught it early and this time the cancer zipped right into his bones. So now he is stuck with the cancer. It can't be removed from his bones.

In the mean time, in January 2007, feeling like my grandmother was not getting the care she, then nearly 95 years of age, required living all alone in her studio apartment with 20ish year old aides to come and not really actually care for her but mostly sit in her teeny tiny apartment and just watch T.V. or talk on their cell phones, I moved grandma out to an assisted living facility near me. I decided that if grandma's kids (my mother and uncle) weren't going to give her what she needed to be taken care of then I would. And I could, so I did. And it was great for a while. We saw grandma all the time, she had dinner with family, and made friends at the assisted living. She really seemed happy for the first time in years. But then around the time grandma saw 96 creeping up on her, life got tough. Since last November grandma has been physically and mentally declining. There is nothing shocking or profound going on, just a slow decline that is not a surprise for her age. But still, the grandma I grew up with and adored isn't really with us anymore. And the grandma that I visit nearly every day is lost and upset. She knows she can not remember anything and tells me every time I visit that "something is not right" and when I question her about it she tells me that she can not remember a thing. And it is true. She isn't even sure what her own name is anymore. And I don't know how that feels to have an empty memory, but I imagine it is disquieting to say the least. Also, she has suffered with the prolapsed rectum, the bone infection and eventual amputation of her toe, and now she is still in a wheelchair. She is weak. I am not sure she is ever going to really walk around again.

So what I am asking of you Dear Internet, is some advice. I am hoping that you, and the people you know, and maybe your friends, co-workers or relatives have some experience dealing with a situation like mine. Or maybe you have cancer or had cancer and can tell me what the people around you did right and wrong. Lot's of people live and die from cancer. And lots of people die of old age. I know I am not original here.

Except this my first time around with three ends looming in the not so distant future. At the end, when it's all over and my family is gone, I just want to be able to say I have no regrets. I want to do the right thing. I want to say the right thing, and I want to be the best daughter/granddaughter during this unpleasant journey that I can be. So please, Internet, send me your stories. Tell me I am not alone and that you know what I am going through. But most of all tell me what you did. Because I do not know what to do. You can leave me a comment for everyone to read or you can email me. I just want to hear about your experience, what you did right, mistakes you might regret, any thoughts you have. Anything you have to offer will be helpful and appreciated. Really.

Thanks in advance.
Clickmom

Dear Managing Editor

Dear Managing Editor,

Did I do an awesome presentation or what? I mean really, at the end when that reporter said (and I am really verbatum quoting here) "Wow, so much of what you said was so obvious yet I would have never thought of it!" I knew I had done good. See? Aren't you happy that we went through with this little talk of mine? Aren't you hoping that the non professional photographers get on the photographic ball now? Did I do a stellar job of breaking it all down to understandable bite sized non threatening pieces or what? You should listen to me more often!

And, in case you weren't listening, the female non professional photographer came up to me right before we broke and said (more exact quoting) "Thank you so much. I was really nervous, but you are as cool as -insert local editor's name here- said you are. I learned a lot." Just so you know. It seems that in the adult world of small weekly newspapers, I am one of the cool people. Wow. I am cool. Who knew?

Just so you know, when I bumped into the camera phobic editor that did not come to my presentation because she had a tennis game this morning, and she was still wearing her tennis skirt 6 hours later when I saw her out and about, (ouch! salt in the wound) I might have said something along the lines of shame, missing out and stellar talk. So if she asks you about it, back me up. Okay? Then make her feel bad.

Next week let's get together, you and me, and discuss my new per-assignment fee schedule demands. Quality like this isn't cheap you know.

So the fond memories can linger for you too, because I know you will want to remember this morning forever, here is a shot of me (and my chins), your new hero(es), that the local editor took during my talk. And just so you keep this in mind too, my pad is turned to the page of photos that demonstrated the rule of thirds. See all the lines I drew on those photos? Visual aides! I rock.

See you by the water cooler,
Clickmom

dear novices

Dear non professional photographers who are dragging the quality of my news paper down,

Well, tomorrow is my big day. Or maybe I should say my big mouth day. Because I opened my big mouth to the managing editor about how if is going to pay for photos from you other people the photos should be better and now I am going to teach a little lesson to the non professionals in photo basics. I can't tell you how much sleep I have lost worrying over this. I don't want to go in there seeming as pompous as I pretend to be. It's just that your photos suck and if I can at least get them in focus (cough cough I am totally lying here) I will be happy. Okay the truth is, your photos leave much to be desired and they make me embarrassed to work at the same paper as you so you better listen to me and shape up fast.

Okay? Just don't think I am all full of attitude or anything like that. We are all in the same boat. Really, you have so much potential. Let's tap it.

signed,
I can't decide how much I am willing to lie about what I think about your work.
clicky

P.S. You'll still love me after the lesson, right?

Dear Boops

Dear Boops,

Remember how yesterday I said the husband got pulled over with your kids in the car and I was telling you because I thought you should hear it from me and not your kids? Well, as usual, having a kid in the car with a photographic memory came in handy. During dinner tonight Matt suddenly began to giggle and then he went on to relay this little exchange for me. It isn't quite how I heard it from the husband. Here it is. This is the husband/cop conversation in it's true and raw form which Matt thoughtfully transcribed for me. The car registration was in my purse that day. I had taken it out of the car to photocopy it for the insurance company, whose card we can't find either. So the glove box was pretty much empty. That is what all the rummaging Matt speaks of was about. I am assuming Matt's version is 100% accurate since the husband sat there just listening without saying during a word in his defense. He is usually more tactful with authority and a better influence on the kids. I plan on putting him in a very long time out.

What Matt Heard:
Dad sees Cop pulling him over
Dad: What? He's pulling me over? Really? Come on! (pulls over)
Cop: Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?
Dad: No, not really. I was going 75...
Cop: Actually you were going 78, but that isn't why I pulled you over. Are you sure you have no idea why I pulled you over?
Dad: Yeah, I mean, what did I do?
Cop: The left side and right side of your car have been in different lanes at the same time twice, now, uh, is there something distracting you? Maybe paying a little too much attention to the guys in the back seat?
Dad: No, no...
Cop: Were you out late partying last night?
Dad: (sarcastically) oh yeah, I'm a big party-er (seriously) no, no I didn't
Cop: Sir, do you find this funny?
Dad: (laughing) no
Cop: Don't laugh
Dad: (laughing) okay
Cop: Can I see your license and registration?
Dad: Sure, let me see... (rummages thru stuff for 20 minutes)
Cop: I'm just gonna go back to my car and write up some papers
(Dad keeps rummaging for things for a really long time until cop comes back)
Cop: So, did you find it?
Dad: No, {excuse}.
Cop: Alright, normally this would be a 1800 dollar fine, but I'm going to write you off with a warning.
Dad: Alright
(Dad and the cop finish up and we drive away)
Me: Seriously, I thought you had him in the palm of your hand with the jokes.

Hanging my head in shame (or maybe just trying to hide the giggles),
I mean, "Oh yeah, I'm a big party-er?"
Clickmom

Dear Clickmom,

This is hysterical because it's almost verbatim (though of course not as literally verbatim) as what my kids recounted. I waved them away, saying, I'm sure click's husband didn't say he'd been partying (even though I heard the context of how he said it), and I'm sure click's husband didn't talk back in any way—all the while cautioning the kids to never talk back to a cop even when they're obviously wrong...

They've been acting it out over and over again. They were thrilled, because they'd never been in a car that was pulled over. I had Evan's pal read Matt's transcript and he pronounced it almost to the word perfect. I asked him if he was scared at any time, and he thought for a minute. Then he said, No, I wasn't scared. But since I've never been a car that got stopped by the cops, I didn't know what to expect.

Matt's pal told me that when the cop told your huband he had him shifting lanes on film, my kid whispered to the other kids: I wonder if we'll be on Cops....

With Reservation,
Maybe the kids should play at my house from now on,
Boops

Dear Boops,

Upon questioning, Matt has informed me that he was only giving me "The Reader's Digest version". He also says that your kid said to the husband "You should get out of the car and run away so we could be on cops!"

Hold me, I'm scared.
But still laughing on the inside,
Click

dear f*** me

Dear F*** me,

I suck at organization and now my start up disk is so full that I can't burn a CD or download any more photos and when I tired to order some on line I got some kind of disconnect after 1/2 an hour and then I accidentally un-chose all the photos I had chosen. And wah wah wah. I wish some nice type A person would come in here one day a week and sit down and do all the ordering and downloading and then make nice photo albums, and go sell my better stuff..... and just let me the dizzy free spirit artist that I seem to be. Cause us artistic types are like this, right? (Just say YES, I'm in a moment here)

And now it is 11:18 and I have to post for today (damn you blog365!) but I won't have time to do the weekly winners, even though I have non shitty good quality shots for this week. wah wah wah. and it is LETTERS! Cause the good shots take for frigging ever to download.

I have to go figure out what I can erase in order to download the rest of my baseball photos. And oh yeah, tomorrow I get to take some more baseball photos. HELP!

Love, I have got to get a grip on this.
clicky

PS My southern fried ear is still totally crispy. I had no idea how much I lean on the south side of my face.

Dear kentucky fried me

Dear me again,

You should know better than to stand facing east for 5 hours photographing a baseball double header.

Also, when that new moisturizer pretended to have an SPF of 8 , did you really think that would make 5 hours of standing around in the sun safe? Now the south facing side (and only the south facing side) of your face is beet/superman cape red and you are going to look absolutely comical in the morning. Maybe a side part is the way to go tomorrow. Like parted deeply into the north side so that the (comb over) hair swoops down over the south facing eye and crispy forehead and half your kentucky fried south facing cheek in pure 1970's twiggy face obscuring style.

Your nose looks like it is half drunk.

Lovely.

Reluctantly yours,
Aren't you old enough to know better?
clicky

letters to the gym

Dear Spin Instructor,

First, let me tell you that you are an inspiration. Second, I can barely walk tonight. Maybe it is because I spent too much time on the elliptical machine yesterday and didn't fully recover or maybe it because when you get that gleam in your eye and say "Turn it up!" I can not defy you. Maybe it is because you are so funny and entertaining and have such great music blasting out (Oh, I really loved the America song today- lots of fun memories in that one for me) that I don't actually feel the pain until class is over, unless we are doing jumps and then I am acutely aware of the pain, but since I can not deny you, as previously stated, I try so hard to keep my less than coordinated self bopping up and down to the beat just like you do. And also, when you say we have to smile when we spin I want to make you happy. I know I was hiding in the back in the shadows but did you see me smiling? I was smiling just for you. Cause you are so adorable, and I mean that in the most mature and grown up and totally inspiring way. And maybe because somehow the smile on my face was going to make my noodles for legs keep moving when I thought I could possibly fall off the bike, but I would never because you are so great and I totally enjoyed your class and want to take your class forever and you are my absolute favorite spin teacher and if anyone ever does something that makes you want to quit tell me and I will have them eliminated because spinning with you is about as awesome as aerobic exercise can be.

Well, I have to go pull myself up the stairs like a trained seal with no rear fins right now. Then I'll soak my lower half in an epsom salt bath and pray that somehow I will be able to exit the tub with out a crane's assistance but I just wanted you to know how great I thought your class was. See you soon!

Love, Thrilled to be Waddling

Dear Odd Woman from the Gym,

Remember today when you said loud enough for everyone to hear "I had the most vivid shopping dream last night!" and your hunky male trainer's eyes kind of glazed over before they rolled back into his head and you kept talking even though he was obviously trying to hang himself on the lat pull down machine? And remember how you told him all about the handbags you were sifting through on a side walk table from a street vendor until you found the two most exquisite bags you had ever seen and couldn't decide which bag to buy and your instructor was studying the glute machine in the slim chance that maybe if he positioned himself just right he could perform some kind of auto-decapitation with the foot platform? No?! Of course you didn't because you didn't stop with the vivid shopping dream long enough to see that half of good decent people in the weight room were trying to stuff their ear holes with fitness bands.

But lady, when you said you figured that the vendor had to have been in china town because you were on Wang Street, we all covered our mouths and ran for the stairwell. And we weren't nauseous, we were trying to control the laughter. Next time save it for the locker room.

Love, clickmom

dear me

Dear Me,

Good for you. You finally went on line and ordered some new bras and some new running shoes. Listen sweetie, next time you don't have to wait until the malodorous sports bras are disintegrating in the washer and the running shoes have been run into soiled flat lifeless pancakes, make that crepes, for soles. Because really, you are worthy of new running shoes with some bounce in them and bras that don't carry the stench of a thousand workouts. Truly, you are. Keep up the good work. A little more taking care of you is a good thing. You are on your way.

Learning to love and take care of myself, I

Dear Sweet Baby

Dear Evan,

Last weekend you went to see Young Frankenstein on Broadway for Matt's birthday. You enjoyed it very much. You said you thought it was the best play you had ever seen.

Today, upon coming home after leaving you in charge of Josh for a few minutes while I dropped Matt somewhere, I over heard this little exchange:

You: IGOR! Bring me a glass of seltzer!
Josh: Yes sir, Dr. Frankenstein!

(Josh rushes into the kitchen to pour you a glass of seltzer)

I am going to remember this forever and one day I am going to bring it up again. Probably in front of your boss, or maybe when you introduce me to that someone special. Or maybe I will use it in my own defense if you ever write your autobiography.

I love you sweet baby,
Love, mom

dear blog 365

Dear Blog 365,

You're killing me here.

Okay, maybe killing is too hard core. Maybe just suffocating a little. Like the pillow is over my head and you are leaning in hard but there is a nice fat wrinkle which allows a fresh breeze in for breathing and maybe just maybe that wrinkle is named NaBloPoMo. Sorry. I am cheating on you. Kind of. I mean I don't love NaBlo, we are not in love. It isn't an emotional thing. It's more of a crutch. Yeah, that's it, I am merely leaning on NaBlo.

It's only day 93 of the 365 (we are 25.479 % to our goal!) and already I am well, disenchanted. But it's stress. And uncertainty. Suddenly I am feeling kind of boxed in. Like a tiger in a cage. Honestly, I am a bit nervous about the whole 365 thing, you know. I said I would do it so I feel like I have to. I committed. I am committed. I mean there were those 2 or three days when I posted early in the morning to give myself a break and then I forgot that so I posted again in the evening. I'm a bundle of nerves. It's the whole promise thing. So don't look at it as I am cheating on you, 365, because I would never ever do that, but I promised another that I would join in on this every day odyssey too.

But NaBlo and me are just friends. Really, just friends. Me and NaBlo knew each other a while back and now we are rekindling a friendship. It isn't more than that. And that every day odyssey is some kind of letter thing, which brings me joy and inspiration and another way to choke out a few more days of you, 365. Me and NaBlo being together makes me better for you, 365. Get it?

So look at my two timing ways not as cheating on you, not as getting two bangs for my buck, not as cheating at all per se, look at it is me being a better me for you, 365, because when this is all said and done, NaBlo is just dust in the wind and it is you who will endure for 274 more days when NaBlo may or may not even be on my radar next month and even more doubtful next frosty December when I am typing out my final post for you, sweet 365.

So forgive this indiscretion, 365. Every relationship has its ups and down, 365, but I can assure you look the other way just this once and our relationship is sure to endure.

Love for an entire year, clickmom

your brother barfed all over whole foods

I feel like in the couple of months I have been seeing my new new undead therapist we have traversed years of neglect and abuse. It is amazing how this guy just gets me. I like being getted. You know? Also, he totally got what I meant when I, dork that I am, cautiously admitted to him that I do mathematical calculations in my head sometimes as a way of self soothing. It's really a therapeutic match made in heaven.

So after another good therapy session, where I did not have to use any tissues though maybe I could have sniffed less and used just one, I figured that perhaps I might escape the wrath of April 1st. After all the day got off on a positive note. I am much a lover of anything surprise, but much less a lover of the trickery. Unless of course I am playing the tricks, like tonight in the car when I punched Evan in the arm and yelled PUNCHBUGGYNOPUNCHBACKS, like he does to me, and there really wasn't a VW beetle anywhere to be seen so I said "Whoops, my bad, thought that other car was a punch buggy" except I really didn't. I just wanted to punch his arm for a change. It is just that Evan is stealth good at sighting cars and I suck at it and my right arm is getting a wee bit tired of being punched and also I don't think a frightened driver is the way to go. I got sneaky satisfaction.

Anyway, back to the early part of the day. I took grandma to the hand specialist today. Did I mention that she had a mysterious purple swollen finger the day after her surgery (5 weeks ago!) that no hospital nurse would take responsibility for or even admit to noticing? Did I mention that the hospital did an x-ray and said there was no break but when that finger did not look normal and was still painful three weeks later I insisted on another x-ray and it was fractured after all. It is fractured in the top joint. I know, must hurt like a M-fckr. And now grandma can not stop rocking back forth because it hurts so much. She rubs it real fast all day long all day long all day long (get the idea?) and it drives me crazy (and also it looks like she is doing the jerk off hand motion which is extra distasteful) and I have no idea how the finger can possibly still have freaking skin on it after all that rubbing. I figured maybe there was something worse than a fracture going on so I wanted to catch it before she spent three months in pain like she did with her toe, and naturally the specialist (who made us wait an hour and a half for him and what I am supposed to say to the guy when I am homicidal?) when he finally shows up, takes one quick look at ithe still swollen and very painful finger, bended it twice and said it looked normal for what it was. April fool's? Nope. We were out the door in about 4 minutes once he saw her. Grandma has a new "buddy wrap" though and now her ring finger is tied to her bird flipping finger with a lovely black foamy thing that she is sure to rub off. The doc said tape would work just fine if (and when) she lost the buddy.

We were so late because of all the waiting that I had to go straight to pick up the boys and I called Josh's school to let them know I will be late. And the office lady says she will tell his teacher to have him sit on the bench in the front. And I pull in not as late as I thought I would be and there is no Josh in the front. The very same office lady tells me he is in the back, (April Fools?) naturally, this means that even though now I am late to pick up Evan who gets out 10 minutes later than Josh, I have to exit Josh's school, go around the circular driveway back to the enter side and then drive the maze of parking lot to the back where I find Josh and his teacher hanging out like they have no where else (the front!) to be.

Then I pick up Evan and we all three plus grandma drive back to the rehab. Grandma keeps saying how all she wants to do is go to bed for 20 hours because at this point, sitting in her wheelchair waiting for a doctor to see her is about as exhausting as it gets. Did I mention that grandma likes to fall asleep during physical therapy? The therapists try to juggle three or four seniors at a time and when they look away from grandma she snoozes. Also, she likes to nap after lunch and clearly that nap is now over due. As I pull into the rehab driveway my kids tentatively ask if they have to go into that place and I realize how horrible it is for them, so I say they do not. I get grandma back into the wheelchair and I push her down to her nurse, fill the nurse in on the no new news-iness of grandma's doctor's visit and high tail it back to the kids.

I am famished when we get home after dropping grandma because I have eaten no lunch so I cram some fruit and nuts into my mouth before hopping back into the car with Evan and Josh because Evan has religious school and I have promised (bribed once again) him with a pre-religious school starbucks run. Going into starbucks a nice man asks the happy excited kids if they could possibly like coffee and I tell myself he has obviously never tasted a carmel frappacino. Which is what the boys want. So I get them each one and for me I get a painfully boring and not what I really want (LAAAAAAAAAATTEE!) black unsweetened iced tea. And Josh and I drop Evan off at religious school.

Then I tell Josh we have a very fast stop at the chiro. Because I think (ASS-U-ME) that I have this all timed perfectly until the chiro makes me wait 40 minutes for my own appointment. (April Fools) Thank god for utube on an iphone. The end. No it isn't! I am so on a roll here! I start to get nauseous in the waiting room and wonder if it was the tea. I tell the chiro about feeling nauseous and how I only ate pure and good food and tea which he tells me was a bad combination. I say "Fruits and nuts are bad together?!?!" and he nods his head and I throw my hands on the air and say "Come on! What about trail mix?" and he tells me that trail mix is the worst. And he gives me that wise man nod and I simply shut up because obviously I am not as in the left freaky about food as I could be here. Then he tells me that my diaphragm is messed up and asks me to stand with my back against the wall. I know this is gonna hurt if I need a wall to hold me up so I assume the position, hope I don't have nasty breath and let the chiro lean into my diaphragm with his steel fingers and it hurts, but then when he is finished I am not nauseous anymore. Except you know how when two things hurt you don't notice the one that hurts less? Yeah, me too. My diaphragm was relieved when it was over. Also, the chiro worked my still messed up neck. I hate my neck. That is all I am saying about the neck.

So, dashing out of the chiro I tell Josh that I have to stop at Whole Foods to get exactly three things to make dinner and he moans a little but cooperates anyway. There is like totally no one in WF because it is that in between time when the at home people are at home and the full time working people aren't there yet so me and Josh end up running around the store chasing and alternatively hiding from each other and even though this is taking up a bunch of precious time I am so happy to be having this playful moment with him because we are laughing our heads off and being totally silly. Then we go to check out. When we are standing at the register Josh suddenly bends over like he is bowing and literally tosses the one small cookie I let him eat before our starbucks run. I look at the cashier and ask for his trash can, but he doesn't quite understand the brevity of the situation and he keeps pointing at the big trash can with the swinging flap in the corner so I have to say "He can't barf in that trash can!" and something about the word barf sets the whole staff into motion and before I know it people are showing up with paper towels and bottles of water and all kinds of things for Josh who holds it in until he gets the trash can and then that frappacino comes shooting out like a pressure cleaner and I find myself being thankful for the liquidity of Josh's barf. Cause barfing is so much worse when you haven't chewed well or it's kind of on the dry side. And then as Josh is barfing I marvel at the wonders of the stomach that is able to keep the single cookie separate from the beverage that followed it. Gosh, we are amazing creatures.

I immediately escort Josh back to the car, set him up with plastic bags just in case, bring him home, trade out the bags for a mixing bowl, admonish him for trying to eat coconut covered marshmallows, shove some chicken into the oven, yell at Josh for sneaking more coconut covered marshmallows, and happily go to pick up Ev knowing that when he gets into the car after religious school I have this great "Your brother barfed all over Whole Foods" story to tell him.