Class of 1966

Here's a challenge for you ... find me in this crowd of fellow Robert Fulton Elementary School Class of 1966.

Well Freckles had surgery yesterday and I'm hoping she's on the road to recovery -- cancer free. I can tell how sore she is feeling and can relate -- it hurts like H E double hockey sticks to have an abdominal incision. It is hard to see her so sad but I know she will get better. I'm going to wash off her buggy and get her outside this weekend and hopefully that will perk her right up.

I got the rest of my scanned pictures back the other day ... this is so exciting to have them on CD. I am going to get one of those computer picture frames that you can load pictures on and they alternate. There will be few pictures of me though. I would hope after all these years I could finally look at a picture of myself and not cringe. Well at least a picture of myself in my adult years. I love the kid pictures -- I was so dang cute. When I look at current day pictures I get the urge to buy that double chin exercise machine and get a new wardrobe -- well you can't necessarily see what I'm wearing but I always want to get a new wardrobe.

I have found it much easier to accept the fact that I probably won't like what I see in a picture than to spend thousands of dollars on therapy to learn to pretend to like what I see. In fact I think my money would be better spent on a professional Photoshop class and I could change all my pictures to what I like.  Hmmm, I never thought of that -- I think Photoshop could put the psychology profession out of business -- or at least put a big dent in it.

Freckles, Foreclosure, French Fries, Friends -- What an "F"ing Day

Well Tuesday could have been a really bad day ... first I'm told Freckles has to have surgery again because she most likely has cancer and I feel horrible putting her through this again and even worse is I may have to make decisions based on my income and I really hate that. Then while I'm still trying to work through this Wells F***go Bank (where, by the way the next stage could be homelessness unless you are lucky enough to get run over by that wagon and sue their sorry asses - but I digress) as I was saying, Wells F***go Bank calls to tell me that my application for refinancing help has been refused and I need to pay $14,000 or I will go into foreclosure. Now I wanted to say something about how if I had $14,000 I wouldn't be in this mess and how the banks aren't working at all to help people but I realize I was just a schmuck talking to a another schmuck who was sitting there with her schmucky script so I just asked why can't I meet with someone and discuss other options available but this was apparently off her script and I really don't know where we left off except with a threat that I would be going into foreclosue blah, blah, blah. I asked exactly what that meant, would the sheriff be at the door or my things out on the curb and in a very snotty response I was told how Wells F***go had rules they had to follow. Yep it could have been a bad day but fortunately I had scheduled a dinner with two friends that I used to work with and hadn't seen for I'm not sure how long ... and I had a blast.

Now here are pictures of all of us at my college graduation party June of 1987 (almost 25 years ago) -- Sue is in the stripped jumpsuity outfit and the 80s hairdo; Deb is petting the gigantic dog in the puffy bridesmaid's dress (Deb is in the dress not the dog although I think Hugo would have looked lovely in that purple satin number) and 80s hairdo; and I'm the one in the new bike helmet and the 80s hairdo and Neanderthal look that drives the men wild. Sue and I were working part-time at the same law firm while attending the U of M and Deb was a legal assistant. The firm had run out of room on it's main floor and had acquired space from a company called Nuveen on the floor above them so Deb, Sue and I being outcasts of society were put into the Nuveen space and bonded there waiting for a call from the warden with our parole papers.

What I love about getting together with people I haven't seen for a long time is you get to reminisce and laugh about all the stuff and people we remember but then we get caught up on where everyone is now and it came so naturally. I have a few people in my life that our relationship is almost entirely based on "remember when ... " kind of like Chris Farley's show on SNL. I can only take so much of that -- I need news, fresh dirt, blood & guts and new laughs. And I need cheeseburgers, french fries and malts to go with it.  And maybe next time a waitress that isn't so snarly -- I've noticed waitresses with rings in their noses tend to be less friendly then ones without nose rings -- I'm not sure if some how our endorphins are hooked up to our nostril membranes and a ring disturbs the mucus level. Perhaps I can get some kind of federal grant to study this -- the Endorphinostril Study.

I have to get on that .... more later.

Febreze and Fools

Dad with his car, 1948 or 49?

Now that I have 2,000+ pictures from my past you will have to suffer along with me ... well you get the drift.

I love this picture of my dad. I'm guessing it is the late 1940s and it's spring time because there are no leaves but no snow either. Kind of like today.

Have you seen the Febreze commercials where these people agree to be blindfolded and led into some room to "smell" stuff. What the hell kind of idiot agrees to do this. Are they the same people who would get into a windowless van with a mattress on the floor for a test drive, or help a stranger look for his lost puppy in the deserted woods by the river?  Sure when I was a kid I was told that if a stranger talked to me in the movie theater I should tell the usher and so every time I went to the movie theater I'd sit by a stranger hoping he'd talk to me so I could tell the usher. I had no idea what I would do if a stranger offered me candy -- you can only ask so much from a kid you know.

I was suppose to take this week off as vacation but changed it because someone told me there was this project I needed to do and it had to be done by the end of this week (and I wouldn't get the information until Monday or Tuesday). Tonight I received an email that they haven't been able to "pull it together" yet so it won't be coming this week. Well I rescheduled my vacation for the week of April 9th (opening day for the Twins for which I have tickets) and I would just like to go on record as quoting an attorney I used to work for who said -- "Fool me once shame on you; fool me twice you're a horse's ass." (I think George W Bush had a version of that statement also.) If this project should show up, say around April 1st I will treat it as a joke.

Hirsch vs. Smith

Just a warning ... all my pictures came back from the scanning service and now you are going to have to see some of them. Learn to live with it. This is me in front of the statutes of Joseph Smith and some other Smith at the Mormon temple in Salt Lake City. This was my way of telling the Smith Brothers to kiss my ass.

Well Freckles and I are heading off to the vet AGAIN. She has a big lump on her belly. I'm sure it's nothing serious but I have to have it checked out. Poor Freckles ... Poor Checking Account -- they are sure taking a beating lately.

Yesterday I packed up and moved my office to another spot at work. I was not created for any kind of manual labor. By the time I left work I was aching and sweating. I am definitely meant to be waited on.

Have a good weekend. I'll keep you posted on Freckles -- and my checkbook.

IT'S SUPER TUESDAY

Perhaps that's why I couldn't sleep all night -- the excitement was too much for me.

Who, oh who, will get North Dakota's delegates? I think they are planning on throwing their support to Lawrence Welk AGAIN. They just can't let go.

Or maybe it's the excitement of moving offices at work. People ask why I wanted to move and I mumble how the office is bigger blah, blah, blah but the truth is -- it's closer to the pop machine. I really don't need a lot to make me happy anymore.

It could have been overstimulated by that special on the evolution of the wisdom tooth on the all dental station.

Or I'm already pumped up about Hallmark Channel's day of love marathon on Sunday.

Well whatever it is I wish it would go away because I want to go to sleep.

Monday? AGAIN?!?

Good morning and welcome to Monday.  I heard the promise of warm weather this week -- maybe in the 50s on Tuesday which of course you know that means it is convertible weather. I was thinking the other day how desperately I need to have a top down day ... there's something about it that clears your head and make you happy and all it costs is a tank of gas (which is getting to be quite expensive) and the willingness to have your hair messed up. And there is nothing as funny as a beagle in a convertible with her ears flying in the breeze.


My favorite story of the weekend is that the New Orleans Saints put out bounties on hurting people on the other team. And their punishment may be a loss of $$$ and drafts. I believe in the real world if you do that it is called assault. Nice to know that the NFL is now nothing more than a bunch of mafia families. Or better yet we have the Jets, if we could rename the Dolphins to the Sharks we could reenact the fight scene from West Side Story. What a bunch of tools.


And speaking of tools --- what about that Rush Limbaugh? Truly nothing makes me prouder than knowing that in Rush's warped mind virtually every woman who has used birth control is a slut. I want to get a t-shirt that says "Another Proud Limbaugh Slut." There are some people in this world who really have warn out their welcome and it's time to move on.


Speaking of moving on -- I better get to work.

Davy Davy Why Have You Left Me?

What can I say? If I was doing a new Fringe show it would be "I Guess I Won't Be Marrying Davy Jones So I Might As Well Die."

It began when the Monkee show started when I was 12. I thought it was the funniest thing I'd ever seen and Davy, well he was the cutest guy I'd ever seen -- better than Mike Dibble and he was the Brad Pitt of Junior High.

I watched every show and bought every album playing them over and over again especially "Mary, Mary" because I knew it was being sung directly to me (even if it was Mickey singing because Davy was too overcome with emotion to sing ). I would buy magazines that had them on the cover (Tiger Beat, 16) and oh my poor mom and dad, I would actually make them listen while I read the articles to them -- hoping they would come around and see the light and all that was wonderful about The Monkees.

I actually remember writing in my diary "If I don't marry Davy Jones I'll just die" and worse yet believing it. I would pretend he would come to visit me and walk with me from class to class, holding my hand, while all the older girls would be so jealous. I would even get them to play at the prom so I would become the youngest girl to ever go to the prom. Yes, a 12 year old girl and a 21 year old man would play well in the press huh. Can anyone say Roman Polanski?

My friends and I went to see them when they came to Minneapolis and played at the Metropolitan Stadium (the original stadium of the Minnesota Twins -- now the Mall of America). One of my friends Nancy Reed had made a gigantic stuffed animal she wanted to give to her boyfriend -- Peter Tork -- but they wouldn't let us take it into the stadium. We were told it would be given to the band but I have a feeling it is in a landfill somewhere.

Of course eventually they went off television and I discovered other men but Davy was the first guy I was crazy about. 

RIP Davy I'll always be a believer.