Goin' Mobile

To celebrate my birthday Dallas wanted to get me a nice gift.   Something I could surely use.  Something I don't already have.  Something that would be cool, high-tech, and modern.    A "real" cell phone.  

OK look---I never had one in Europe. Never needed one.  I had a phone at work, and one at home.  And computers everywhere.  And no one cared where I was nor were they ever desperately trying to reach me when I was en route to someplace or out somewhere or in the grocery store or sitting outside at a cafe'.   But for some reason, when we moved back to the States at the end of 2010, I suddenly needed one.  All of a sudden, it was imperative that I be reached at all times, everywhere.   So I got a phone.  It was a lovely (free) plastic flip phone.  Navy blue plastic.  No voicemail, no extra features, no camera, no internet, no apps, nothing.  Just a small plastic phone.   

I liked it.  What's not to like?  It fits in my purse easily, has a little robotic-mechanical-sounding chime for a ring, and I just pay a few pennies per call (of which I made very few).   

Now fast forward to 2012---And realize that Dallas is probably one of the most tech-savvy, gadget-loving people that I know.  He finally informed me that not only is my phone practically an antique---but that it is embarrassing.  He did not want to be seen with me when I was chatting on my navy blue plastic phone that cleverly (to me anyway) flips open.   He mentioned this several times, so that eventually I began to feel self-conscious when I would talk on it in public.  I imagined that people were staring at me and snickering at my low-tech, ridiculous phone.  I  would attempt to palm it in my hand, so that others wouldn't see the glare of the shiny plastic or bury it in my hair as I talked .   And I began to notice that I seemed to be the only person left on the planet with a cute little plastic navy blue flip phone.  

So although I was fine with the phone.  Happy with it actually----I finally gave in to Dallas and accepted his gift to me for my birthday.  A real grown up phone.  Now I have stuff.  I don't know much about this stuff---but I have all kinds of stuff on that phone.  I have something called a cheese shutter and ice cream sandwich on my phone (which apparently is very important.....and way better than the other option, which is gingerbread).  Oh and I have Gorilla Glass too!  That sounds really cool.  And now I no longer have to hide my phone in my hand or under my hair when I talk.  I can proudly talk on my phone in public, check my email, take photos of every meal I eat (a popular Facebook pastime) and receive voicemail messages even.

Now if only I can figure out how to hit the imaginary buttons on the screen.  Apparently it is not fingernail sensitive.....and my fingernails get in the way of my fingertips.  So my typing is all messed up.  And autocorrect is a big failure so I have discovered.  (I am apparently cooking dinner in my crackpot tomorrow)

So for my 49th birthday I get to learn something new, hold my head a little higher (cuz I am no longer lowering my head ---trying to hide that blue plastic phone in my hair), and get my nails cut down.   How did we ever get along without these phones?  Oh yeah....we carried change with us for the pay phone......and no one ever tried to hunt us down when we were not home.  We were not chained to the world.  It was called Freedom.  I kinda miss it. (and my navy blue plastic phone too)

Three very good reasons to leave my cell phone off while at work

The other day my cell phone rang while I was in my office.  This caught me off-guard for a number of reasons.  One--I never leave my phone on while at work (cuz nothing says "I care" like your therapist's cell phone ringing in the middle of your sharing-of-deep-dark-secrets moment).  Two--my phone is rarely used.  I think only 3 people have my number.  I use it mostly for emergencies.  And reason number Three.....well, that will be clear to you soon.    So anyway....I was really startled when it rang.  I answered--

Me: Hello?  (didn't recognize the number and had no idea who could be calling)

Guy:  Heeeeeeeey! Guess who this is!

Me: um....don't know.  no idea.

Guy:  It's RICHARD!!  

Me:  Ohhhhh...(my cousin Rich in Michigan!) Hey--how are you?  how did you get this number?

Cousin Rich:  Well you sent it to me a long time ago and I saved it all this time!  

Me: (thinking back....oh yeah---sometimes I use the phone when I am in Michigan--must have given it to him when we were making plans to meet up during one of my visits)....So how are you?  What have you been doing?

At this point the conversation goes on for about 15 minutes, each of us sharing info about our jobs and other general life stuff.  But we had a bad connection and at times it was hard to make out what he was saying. But the conversation continued.....

Me:  So what else have you been up to?  Anything fun or interesting?

Cousin Rich:  Not much really....just went on a vacation.  Took the wife to Hawaii.

Me:  (silence)  (thinking....what?  when did Rich get married?  this is weird......I never heard about him getting married. Maybe this isn't my cousin Rich.  Well then who is it dammit?  We have been talking for 20 minutes now, if it's not him I am going to be so embarrassed.)

Me:  (casually) Well, that sounds like a nice vacation.  Hey, where are you calling from?  (my clever tactic to verify that it is Cousin Rich or to find out who it is without admitting I don't know who it is.)

Possibly-Cousin-Rich:  I'm calling from Belgium!  Yeah this is great talking to you! I was just telling someone all about you the other day!

Me: (dammit!!  it is NOT cousin Rich-in-Michigan!  Ok....calm down....you can do this....you can figure out who it is and be slick about it.  He will never know that you never knew who you were talking to.....just be clever and careful.)

Me:  Hey Rich.....we have a very bad connection.  Can you call me right back on my work phone?

Not-Cousin-Rich:  Sure --give me the number.......

We hang up...Great!  now I have gained a few minutes to scour my brain and try to figure out who I know in Belgium named Rich.  Now don't be too harsh on me here......I lived in Belgium for 15 years and many of my friends and co-workers would come and go----military and civilian tours lasted from 2-5 years typically.  So in 15 years....many friends came and went.  (phone rings) Dammit!  I still can't remember anyone named Rich in Belgium!  OK, OK,  get it together....you can still do this.....

Me:  Tanya Oskey (how I answer my phone at work)

Not-Cousin-Rich:  Can I speak to Kim Perino?  

Kim Perino!!!???????   BRAIN STALL!.......now my brain stalls and then goes immediately into overdrive.....thinking....thinking....what is happening here?????  let's see....WAIT!  I KNOW!  I stayed with Kim Perino in Washington DC for 3 months in 2010.  She gave me a phone to use....and when I left, I took her phone chip and put it in my new phone as I wanted to keep the same phone number since my job contacts all had that number.  OH MY GOD!  Not-Cousin-Rich called Kim's old number, which is now my number, and he thinks he is talking to Kim!  

Now all these thoughts fly through my mind in a millisecond.....and so back to the call from Not-Cousin-Rich.....

Me:  Tanya Oskey (how I answer my phone at work)

Not-Cousin-Rich:  Can I speak to Kim Perino? 

Me:  (after my millisecond of horrifying realization my now-frozen brain is not working properly, so I reply with the first thing that comes into my head....)  

Me:  I'm sorry she is not here right now.  (WHAT did I just say!!??? Oh god---I am such an idiot!!)

Kim's-friend-Rich:  (sounding confused)  But I was just talking to her.....she told me to call her at this number.

Me:  (in too deep now)  Well, um, she just stepped out.  Call back later. (WHAT!!  What the hell am I saying!!)

Kim's-friend-Rich:  (sounding a bit let-down)  OK---I guess.

We hang up for the second time.

So now I sit at my desk, knowing the situation is hopeless.  What are my options?...."hey, Kim's-friend-Rich, guess what....you are really going to laugh at this......you were never talking to Kim at all!  It was just me, her friend (more-than-likely-ex-friend-now).  Isn't that a scream!"

Oh god---I can't do that.  I am an idiot.  What to do....what to do...

phone rings again.  

CRAP!

Me: Tanya Oskey

My-ex-friend-Kim's-friend-Rich:  Can I speak to Kim Perino?

Me:  She is not here.  (in waaay too deep without another plan....might as well dig deeper)

My-ex-friend-Kim's-friend-Rich: Well, when will she be back?

Me:  Not sure really, but thanks for calling. 

Poor Rich--he never got in touch with Kim.  Poor Kim--she never got her call from Rich.  

Poor me---I'm so screwed.

(and now I have that third very good reason to never leave my phone on while at work)

Hot Child in the City

My car temperature guage showed it was 112 outside on my way home from work (and it felt just as hot inside the car)..... and I thought---dammit! if only I had the foresight to toss a roast, carrots, and potatoes on my back seat this morning.......

it may not be in the dictionary

me: he wouldn't shut up. he just kept blabbling.

dallas: blabbling? is that a word? i don't think it is.

me: yes it is. 

dallas: no it's not.

me: yes it is. i made it up just now. it is a combination of blah, blah, blah....and babbling. 

BLABBLING: it's a real word

Infectious Disease Control

It's nice when you are sick and someone who cares for you really reaches out and gives you some TLC.  

Unless you live with Dallas.

I have been sick the last week.  Did I get warm chicken soup?  No.  Did I get a nice back rub?  No. Did I get my pillow fluffed?  No.  Nothing.  Zip.  Nada.  Zilch.

Instead....as I roll over, body aching, head pounding, throat burning.......I see a barricade built up between our heads, made up of large white pillows.  In my foggy-headed-achy-stupor I try to make sense of what I see and eventually mumble....what the hell?

Apparently, not only do I NOT get TLC, but I also get banished to my side of the bed.  So as I struggled to fall asleep, I began wondering if I would wake up to find him dressed in a hazmat suit, sterilizing all surfaces in the room, pillow barricade now reinforced with sofa cushions ....myself huddled in a small quarantine tent built up around me....food and water slipped to me and then dishes passed back carefully through a special decontamination process.  

I understand him not wanting to get sick.  But he could at least stop spraying Lysol on everythng that I touch.  And then I noticed him removing his pillow, and then his blanket, every morning when he got out of bed.  He carefully placed them across the room.  Far away from my germs.  After he left for work, I wanted to secretly sneak over and cough all over his stuff.  And I may have just done so .....if I had been able to get out of bed. 

The good news is that my cats were very sympathetic to my plight.  They stayed by my side and laid close, letting me know that they care about how I feel.  ....Well, probably more likely they were just taking advantage of my extra-warm body and my immobility.  But I'll take what I can get.

(on the other hand......perhaps my fever is playing tricks on me, and it is Dallas who is snuggling close.  Meanwhile..... the cats are actually setting up the barricades while we're both asleep)

If there was a problem, Yo I'll solve it

Having recently returned to the US after 23 years of living overseas, I have found myself often perplexed---confused by American customs and some of the things going on around me. (i.e. they were not part of the American culture when I left the country in 1989).  For example, when did we start buying drinks at the local gas station that are no longer small, medium or large, but instead are small pitcher, big jug, and gigantic barrel sized drinks?   And when did TV begin showing commercials which tell us about some great new drug which promises to cure our depression.....but oh-by-the-way may cause our eyeballs to explode, our intestines to drop through our asses,  hair to grow on our tongues or some other minor side effect?  (all the while the commercial shows an attractive blonde woman picking flowers while a warm breeze flutters the ribbon in her hair.)  And now we have a fast food burger called The Baconator?  (Half pound of bacon, half pound of beef, a couple slabs of cheese and one ton of grease.  Yes, my European friends---this colon-choking, bacon-loaded, grease-oozing American treat is real.  I am not making this up.)

Well, all these changes have made me feel very uncool.  Out of sorts.  Unhip.   I remember my first week back, living in a hotel in Georgia.  I was on the hotel elevator with a young (very cool) guy.  He began complaining about how he had made one 10 minute phone call from his hotel phone and how the hotel had charged him some outrageous amount for the call.  I said, "Wow, that really sucks.  At least you didn't talk much longer."    He replied "WORD".   I then said the first thing that popped into my head.  I said "To ya mutha."  He looked over at me.  And I clarified.  "um...I meant...Word to ya mutha".  He smirked and said "I like your swag."   Well, I had no idea what my swag was or why he would like it, but I was pretty sure that it must be cool, since he seemed very cool.  (And, in my defense, how often does one get to quote Vanilla Ice?)  

The next day at work, in the middle of a therapy session, one of my patients asked me "By any chance, are you married to a black guy?"  Confused,  I attempted to nonchalantly look around my room to see if I had some office decoration that might make him think this.  I said to him. "No. Why?"  He then told me "Oh, I thought you were.  Cuz you got swag."

There it was again!  Immediately after the session ended I got on my computer and googled it.  I had to know what this swag was and why I had so much that people were now noticing it.   According to the Urban Dictionary...Swag is "the way in which you carry yourself. Swag is made up of your overall confidence, style, and demeanor.  Swag is a subtle thing that many strive to gain but few actually attain."   

So now I was feeling much more hip!  For a very uncool, dorky redhead, I was making progress!  (nevermind that I had to look up the meaning of a word apparently well-known by cool people.)  

And now I will continue on my quest for coolness.  It seems that it will be an ongoing struggle as I learn to adapt and eventually pick up new cool American phrases and habits.  I plan to read the Urban Dictionary in its entirety.   I'll keep you posted on how that works out.  I fear that I may just be too old-school.  But with my killa swag I might just pull it off.  Cuz that's the way I roll.

 WORD.

Way down upon the Swanee River...it's fun living in the deep South y'all!

Went kayaking in the hills of north JAW-JA.  I found a "kayak outfitter" place near the river.  It was run by Ma and Pa Kettle (not their real names....but close enough). They had ONE kayak for rent.  And their niece was on hand to help out.  She favors chain smoking Marlboros, guzzlin' Mountain Dew, and I think I saw a Moonpie poking out of her lumberjack coat pocket.  Oh, and she was sporting a beard.  Not a full beard, but I guess I would describe it as a thin, prickly-short type of beard.  .....with matching moustache.

So...back to the kayaking....the kayak trip was great.....beautiful scenery, no one else on the river, perfect weather.  We kayaked in the stillness....in the one kayak that was available.....which it turns out came complete with a small hole that slowly but surely transformed our floating boat into a small oblong swimming pool that sunk so low that it scraped along the bottom of the river.

At the end of the day we waited 45 minutes for Pa to pick us up.  In the meantime,  I talked to one of the locals who was hanging out on the small dirt road that ran along the river.  He was selling some stuff that he said he found in his basement, including some old Coke bottles, a few naked dolls (don't want to know why he had those), a pile of rusty dusty tools, and some items that were not identifiable.

I tried not to stare.......but dammit, I could not make out what the tattoo was that ran across his bare belly.  It was one of about 10 tattoos he had on his body----about seven of the ten tattoos were of women, mostly nude. So anyway, I don't know why I was straining so hard to see this one tattoo,  but I was. I felt compelled to figure out what it said.  As if maybe, possibly, it was something critically important, something significant, something meaningful.  It was on his belly after all.  The tattoo was all letters, written in some fancy script. I had to know what this important message was.  Finally I got close enough to make out the letters.  Spelled out, across his belly was......

H I L L B I L L Y

Perfect.  

Redundant.  But perfect.

Perfectly redundant.

Oh....and apparently there is no dental insurance South of the Mason-Dixon line. 

This is a woman I saw in Krakow Poland. I believe she is a distant relative of the bearded niece. 

I was run over by a vehicle!

Unbelievable!  Today a vehicle ran me over!  AND---The vehicle operator calmly looked me in the eye and asked "so, what do you like to watch on TV?"  WHILE her vehicle crushed and smashed my body! My pain was evident and all she could say was---"oh, sorry it hurts".   This story may sound incredible but it is true!  I was mashed, crushed and nearly flattened by this lady!  I am so glad this trauma is over and I can now start my recovery~ (both physical, emotional and of course mental)

And now---thankfully-- I have a year of rest........until my next mammogram.

A visit from Nana

Our 93-year-old grandma and her husband just drove across the country (MI to FLA).  Remarkable!   But what is even more remarkable is that she and her husband Bill drove there to GOLF!  You see, she is a bit of a wild woman---golfing, bowling, AND she took up with and married a younger man about 5 years ago....... (Bill is 91).

They decided to stop off in JAW-JA for a visit with us.  We had such a fun time with them! (but I think they only stopped to play cards....and for our money).  We played cards both nights.  And Bill won both nights. 

...I am a bit suspicious (card shark!).

The first night Nana informed me that she gets cold easily when sleeping.  So I gave her my nice, really heavy mink blanket (purchased in Asia).  The next morning she said the blanket was SO heavy that she couldn't move all night as she was held in place under its weight.  I told her that was intentional.....I was hoping that the blanket would act like a vice and keep her in her bed.  I  didn't want her wandering around the house in the middle of the night, getting into trouble.  And the blanket was easier than locking her door. 

She also said that our towels were too large and heavy....she couldn't get one wrapped around her tiny body.  I handed her a washcloth.

We had a great time and hope they come back again.....with some advance notice---- so I can get a not-so-heavy blanket, smaller towels, and can have some time to practice playing cards beforehand......either that or hide my wallet!

I'm feeling a little blue (a dark navy, heavy wool kinda blue)

At a Civil War Musket firing demonstration in the deep South:

Musket Firing Demonstration Person (MFDP):  (using a long, winding, barely-understandable Southern drawl) So...I am wearing the uniform of which Army?

Person in Audience (PIA):  Confederate Army!

MFDP:  Right! (audience claps and cheers)

And this musket is from which Army?

PIA:  Confederate! 

MFDP:  Right again! Very good! (audience claps and cheers)

And this Fort you are visiting was held by which side in the Civil War?

PIA:  Confederacy! 

MFDP:  Right! Excellent! Such a smart crowd! (audience claps and cheers)

And who were the ones who wore the navy blue uniforms? What were they called?

Me:  The winners! ........ (awkward silence and not-so-friendly stares)

You know, I don't think the South has quite gotten over it.

This year's Valentine proposal...

Laying in bed watching a Valentine-ish movie.....

Me:  Hey!  Wanna be my Valentine?

Him:  Sure.  (thinks a bit) What does that involve?  

Me:  Not much....treat me like a queen, do whatever I say, let me have my way and be right all the time.

Him:  Oh, ....you mean act like I do every other day of the year.

Me:  Pretty much.

My Corn-tucky Christmas

We are in Kentucky for Christmas this year.  You might be a Kentucky Redneck if you find yourself singing this version of the holiday song.....(written and sung .....by me)

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me....

Twelve cans of Bud Light                                    

Eleven stained wife-beaters

Ten overflowing ashtrays

Nine trips to the dollar store 

Eight clerks with missing teeth

Seven tatoos on Santa

Six guns on display

Fiiiiiiiiiiive family fights

Four chainsaws running (while we hauled wood)

Three deer heads (hanging above the holiday tree)

Two RVs in the drive aaaaaaand......... 

One bottle of Homemade Moonshine

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet~

We are adopting.  A Furkid.  And that was the easy part.  Now the hard part. 

The Name.

Our cat that died last Spring was Minuit (Midnight in French).  He was from the French-speaking part of Belgium.  Our other cat---still with us---came from the Flemish part of Belgium.  Her Flemish name is Prutske (affectionate word for a child, someone you love, or a cute little one).  And now.......now we are adopting a cat from the deep South.  So he must have a name from the deep South.  What might that be?----Okra? Grits? Hush Puppy?  Chitterling?  No.  Southern food just doesn't translate to a good cat name. 

one day later:  Hmmmmm......Bible Belt?  Redneck?  Moonshine?.......No.  Still --nothing working.  

two days later:  How about some good ol' Southern names.....Billy Bob, Bubba, Jethro, ....no.  

three days later:  Deliverance?  NO!  

four days later:  Peanut, Peaches....nice Georgian names --but too cute.  This is not easy.  

five  days later......OK--finally---a good name that will represent our cat's Southern heritage.  Our new adopted furkid is............BANJO!  ......by the way---Banjo was in a cat show this weekend and he won first place in the OVERALL BEST HOUSEHOLD PET category.  (I obviously picked a winner)

The banjo is such a happy instrument--you can't play a sad song on the banjo - it always comes out so cheerful. -Steve Martin

Banjo looking so proud after his big win at the Cat Show in Atlanta

Showing off his cool-cat skills while being judged

Critical instructions for visiting the Andersons in ARRR-CAN-SAW

Critical instructions for visiting the Andersons in ARRR-CAN-SAW~

1. Be sure to bring several pairs of pants with an elastic waist. These will provide you with countless hours of comfort after the many fabulous meals, snacks and desserts. 2. Save approximately 500-1000 dollars prior to your visit. This will be be needed to buy your new wardrobe after your visit (two sizes bigger than what you previously wore). 3. Before visiting take an assertiveness training class. This will enable you to say NO when faced with the endless conveyor belt of delicious, tempting dishes that will be presented to you every 45 minutes or so.  ‎4. You may consider bringing a dog (he will be of service when you need to slip half of your HUGE meal to him under the table). 5. Pack a good pair of running shoes and exercise clothes. You will need them so that you can work out in between feedings.     6. Fast for at least 3 months prior to visiting. This may or may not help. 7. Invest in a good stock so that you will have some funds saved for the lipo your hips and ass will need after the multitude of rich desserts you will be feasting on.

I sure wish I had had these tips prior to my visit.  But I didn't.

So now I am heading to Wal-Mart to buy some extra-extra-large elastic-waistband pants.   Several pair.