Mrs. P

Mrs. P. You frightened me just enough to make me behave, but not enough to NOT try to get away with shit. I remember when we were in New Zealand and Lori, Becky and I snuck out of our hotel and walked to McDonald's (in the middle of the night). When we got to McD's, there you were... I believe you scolded us first and then gave us a ride back. How did you even know we had escaped? 

When we went to Europe... The rule was "no candy", but we smuggled it in our suitcases anyway. You knew we had it. You just pretended we didn't... I believe it was in Amsterdam and we had our own little party in Shannon's room, but we were supposed to be in bed. I think it was you (but it might have been Peggy) that walked in, saw the candy and turned around and walked out. 

Not. A. Single. Word. Was. Spoken.

I still have my jacket, Mrs. P. Remember when we were in England and people stopped us for our autographs? 

We were "celebrities" for a minute. You let us soak it in, because you knew when we got home we would be "nobody's" again.

But we were always "somebody" to you. 

I think

I believe

No matter what country we were in... I always knew we'd be safe. You could yell at us, but lord help anyone who tried to hurt us. The truth is... we never, EVER wanted to disappoint you (at least we never wanted to get caught by you).

Do you remember us Mrs. P? 

Everything I know about being a C.E.O.

I learned in Baton

1.  Show up early or on time, but NEVER late!
2.  Always wear make-up & take the time to do your hair.
3.  Make eye contact & smile, but never let them see you sweat!
4.  Lead with confidence... "they" are always watching you and will only follow a confident   leader. And be kind! Because how you treat people matters.
5.  Face every challenge head on - Problems are inevitable, failure is an option.
6.  Recognize other people's accomplishments & praise liberally.
7.  How you act when you win is just as important as how you act when you lose (but try not to lose too often for Heaven's sake!)
8. Practice! Practice! Practice! And always give your best performance.
9. If the nerves don't kill you, your critics might... so get a thick skin.
10. There will always be someone that thinks they can do it better than you. Some are right. The rest are watching from the sidelines.

R.I.P. Mrs. P

Go dance with the Angels

Vinnie

My cat is trying to kill me!! I know that sounds dramatic and there's a good chance that it is, but I'm kind of serious. I mean... I am allergic to him, but that's not how he's trying to kill me. The ONLY reason he is even IN my house is because of the extreme heat and I don't want the little shit to die. So... they are all locked inside with the AC on.

The other night I kind of woke up and could just make out the shape of a HUGE blob on my nightstand. I was alarmed, but also still asleep so my brain wasn't quite firing fast enough for me to react. I grabbed my phone and took a picture in the dark, but figured the flash would catch whatever it was.

 

Vinnie!!!!

What was he doing you ask???? 

Well... It was dark. So I just kept taking pictures... Turns out he was taking his sweet time drinking water from MY glass... That I drink out of during the night.                                                                                                                                                        But that's not the worst part...                                                      

Even after I turned the light on... He  didn't stop. When he had enough... he just casually sauntered off and laid on my bed and I'm pretty sure I heard him say (in his mafia voice),                                                                                                                                                                          "What'da gonna doing about it, bitch"?

                             

What was I going to do about it? I'm SO OCD and the idea that I have been drinking after a cat for gawd knows how long... ughhh!!!! It's at times like these that I really resent my doctor for NOT putting me on anxiety medication... or tranquilizers!

And yet... THAT's not even how Vinnie is trying to kill me (as bad as it is to realize I have been drinking after a cat!). Words are not enough to lay out the cat-murder-plot, so these pictures will do it best. 

I know that seems innocent enough... BUT consider for a moment WHERE those paws have been!!!!

I believe his plan is to kill be by litter and poop. I mean kitty litter has been proven to cause serious health risks...  

Here's what Google says...

Overexposure to ammonia—as urine and feces accumulate in the litter box, ammonia fumes are produced. Ammonia is a toxic gas that, at the mildest, causes queasiness and headaches and, at worst, may result to serious respiratory problems like pneumonia.

This is the major danger to humans from litter boxes and cats in general. Toxoplasmosis is caused by a parasite in the cat feces. ... It is often found in cat feces and so the litter box is a definite area of exposure.

According to WebMD... I have a few hours to live. In those hours... Imma fix that cat good!

NOW he will drink out of the cat fountain... 

And NOW I have another problem with Vinnie... The dogs are pissed!!

Trains and Serial Killers

When my new sister first asked about me taking the train down to San Diego... I'm certain she "saw" this...

And THIS is what I "saw"...

My #3 fear = Trains (totally irrational since I'd never been on a train)

I didn't want to be a sissy about it though, so I decided to just go with it and deal with my anxiety later. I mean... I wouldn't want her to know how OCD and neurotic I am or anything.

I did a little research in preparation.Google is my friend.

1. Safety tips for travelers

2. How to spot serial killers

3. What to take on the train

4. Emergency exits on trains

5. Train etiquette

6. Safest place to sit on trains

7.  What if I miss my exit?

8. Hospitals near train stations

9. Do Hobo's still sneak on trains

10. Are Hobo's serial killers

I arrived at the train station like an hour before departure ~ just to make sure I could figure it all out without a panic attack. I also made sure to park near the emergency assistance thing-a-ma-bob. Ya never know when you might get attacked by a serial killer in the parking lot...

I must have looked like I knew what I was doing because a few people stopped to ask ME how to navigate the train station... 

Which is slightly ludicrous considering I probably should have been heavily medicated to navigate this "experience" on my own. 

Alas... I found my "track" and patiently waited for it to arrive... to take me to my impending death.

Then I started to doubt the wisdom of taking this trip solo and I sensed a little bit of hysteria coming on.

I mean... if "they" have to tell you to stand behind the yellow line ~ how much faith do "they" put in the human instinct to live? And if the human instinct to live is that flimsy, what would prevent someone from pushing me onto the train track? EVERYONE was suspect at that point (and it was only 8:00 a.m.). 

I did a quick scan of the other passengers... Nobody stood out as an obvious murderer (although that 3 year old was questionable), but one chick seemed to know what she was doing. So, I decided to follow her every move (not in a creepy stalker kind of way ~ but just to mimic her confidence). 

** See her standing behind me (and well back from the yellow line ~ so clearly she was safe). ** p.s. never piss off your hair dresser before the 2nd most important meeting of your life ~ notice my gray hair?

Here she comes... ALL Aboard!

I followed the confident chick onto the train...Thankfully I had a business class ticket as well or that would have been weird. Once in the car (which for the record I think it's really strange that they call it a "car" on a "train") I did a quick inventory of potential seatmates. And I found the PERFECT guy... 

He was totally asleep thus eliminating any awkward conversation. I left my glasses on in case any other passengers tried to make eye contact and thereby establishing a need for small talk. After awhile, I realized nobody gave a shit and I didn't need to pretend to be cool. 

He slept the ENTIRE time... Around the Oceanside stop I started getting all co-dependent and worried that he'd miss his exit. I seriously debated waking him up, but he DID have ear plugs and was covered in tattoo's, so he was most certainly a serial killer and so... I left him to his own fate. 

Spent the day in Old Town San Diego with my new sister and her guy... I did give her the Writers Miranda rights, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be held in the court of public view". She was duly warned... 

 We ate Mexican food, chased Orbs, walked and talked... AND she didn't kill me, nor did she hide my body in the desert. I'm fairly certain she's not a serial killer... She is however, incredibly artistic and takes amazing photo's.

(the tunnel between Old Town and the Train station)

How many people get the "Surprise! You have a sister AND she's not a serial killer"? I consider myself very fortunate!! 

DNA and RIP

Imagine if you will... spitting in a little vial and mailing it off to some unknown lab. Then about 8 weeks later getting the results. NOW imagine the complete shock to learn that the guy you thought was your father, isn't. The results match you to another family all together.

But that's a whole other blog or book... Tonight I'm writing about meeting some of those family members I only discovered a few weeks ago. An aunt came out from the east coast and a sister and her daughter drove a coupla hours up the west coast... just to meet ME.

We were meeting at the nursing home where the grandmother was, then meeting up with an uncle and his daughter for lunch. I wasn't nervous... at all. Honest. I wasn't. 

I picked out a cute outfit, took the time to curl my hair and off I went to the nursing home (that's about 2 miles from my house and a coupla blocks from my office). Pulled up, backed into the stall and when I swung my leg out of the car, I heard it... "rrrriippp". There was about a second filled with a trillion thoughts, "hmm maybe it's small and won't show". "Maybe I should run home and change real quick". On and on... until I looked over and this woman was in the parking lot looking at me. And I was certain she was my aunt, Carol. She mouths, "Krista"? 

IN MY HEAD, "SHIT! Shit, shit, shit! This SHIT only happens to me!". I smiled sweetly, waved and calmly walked over to her... As we made our way inside, I was plotting my escape (not very successfully I might add). 

Once in the room I volunteered to go find the nurse to help grandma get back into bed... oh, YES I volunteered. (p.s. I would have volunteered even if my pants weren’t split all the way down my butt). At the nurse’s station, I quietly asked the little nurse if she had any safety pins. She totally looked suspicious! Like I was going to poke a hole in the oxygen line or something. I leaned over the counter at the risk of my pants ripping further and whispered, "my pants ripped... ummm will you help me?". 

I must have looked pathetic because she jumped up and came around that counter like she was either going to save me or beat me. She lifted my shirt to get a good look and indeed… It must have been bad. Her face!! The horror in her eyes…

In her broken English she said, “YOU go bathroom and turn pants around”. Oh! Great idea… where’s the rest room? On the OTHER side of the damn building!

SHIT! Shit, Shit, Shit!

Once inside the bathroom, it was do or die. I turned my pants around so the rip was in the front, but my pants had this extra fold that tied in the front… like this.    

So, I either had to tie it in the back or tie it in the front and the material would (obviously) be wrong side out. I tied it in the back. My pants were completely backwards!

Back at the nurse’s station… SHE said, “OH much more bettah! Now we use this!" She pulled out a bulky paper clip and used it to close my vest in the front and patted me on the back sending me back to grandma and aunt Carol. In my haste, I forgot to ask her to send someone to help grandma back to bed. 

There were chairs to sit in. But ahem… I was afraid to make any sudden movement or breathe. So, I stood… until my new beautiful sister and her amazing daughter wanted to take pictures… ahem... bent over the hospital bed…

SHIT! Shit, Shit, Shit. I smiled sweetly and acquiesced…

Lunch was fun… I made sure I sat facing the restaurant and closest to the exit

I wonder if she felt the large paper clip when she hugged me and wondered if I had an external pace maker or something? 

(p.s. YES! I will take the paper clip back to that sweet nurse)

Really… I wasn’t traumatized or anything… I mean, this shit happens to me All.The.Time. I was actually laughing in my head at the thought of some day telling these people about this entire ordeal… I mostly decided against telling them though. I mean, what if I tell them and then every encounter thereafter is, “check the ass first then we hug”? Like a new weird ritual… 

New Sisters... What a way to begin our adventures!