There is a certain woman on our street that has made it her job to be the eyes and ears of the neighborhood. Every neighborhood has a person like that I think. I’m sure your neighborhood has one too. Matters are made worse by the fact that her daughter is in the same Brownie (girl scouts) troop as my granddaughter Jas. This morning the kids are at the bus stop as Jas and I load up the chariot to drive her to school. So just as we get to the end of the street the bus comes and we are stuck at the bus stop until the school bus leaves. No big deal. But then this woman walks over to my car. “Did Jas spend the night with you? She should ride the bus if she is spending the night with you. You should call the schools transportation department. Is Jas moving in with you? Oh, watching her before and after school while her mother works? Well where does her mother work? What time does her mother have to be at work? What time does she get off?” I felt like I had been through a police interrogation by the time she let me leave. Whew! The hubster says it’s because her husband was in the military for many years. He said she must have honed her “interrogation” skills on base. I’m sure my daughter, who lives on an Army base in Germany, knows many women exactly like my neighbor. Interestingly enough, the neighbor lived on a Military base in Germany for many years.

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I have always played an active role in my granddaughters life, and been glad to do it. When she was in Kindergarten and First grade I picked her up every afternoon from school. The school would call me when she would get sick in school, instead of calling her mother. I’m not sure how that came about or why but I didn’t mind it. I was the one who played room mother last year when Jasmine was in second grade, and set up the “Gingerbread house making party” for her class. This year I thought I would take a break from all that. I was under the impression that Jas’s mother wasn’t working right now and that Jas was riding the bus home from school every afternoon. I was wrong.

I called Jas’s mother yesterday to see if Jas could spend the afternoon and evening with me today. She said yes and asked if I wanted to pick Jas up from the after school program or if I wanted her to drop Jas off at 6:30 in the evening when she picked her up from the after school program at school. WHAT? You mean to tell me that for the last 2 weeks my precious little granddaughter has been sitting at school until 6:30 in the evening each and every school day? WTF? It fills me with horror. Who is giving her cookies and milk in the afternoon? Do they have a TV set where she can watch Sponge Bob cartoons at four o’clock? School ends at 2:35 so that’s a huge chuck of time to be sitting un school until 6:30 pm. The horror! So Gwanma to the rescue.


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I am picking Jas up from school at 2:35 this afternoon. And this evening when her mommy picks her up I am having a little chat with her and telling her I will watch Jas every afternoon after school. Well, with the exception of the one week that I will be in Wilmington and Charlotte NC soon. I am just disgusted that her mother didn’t approach me and ask if I would or could watch Jas after school. I feel bad about it like perhaps I may have been unapproachable this summer. And with our lives going through so many changes what with moving to MD and then moving back and being so unsure what we were going to do with our lives, I suppose I can see where her mom may have felt uncomfortable approaching me about watching Jas. She should know though that I would lay my life down for that little girl and no matter what she should let me know if there is something I can do to help Jasmines way of life. And I plan on telling her so tonight.

In a way I am relieved to be getting back into the old routine of having Jas every afternoon but in another way I will miss my afternoon naps. Naps are over rated anyway, right?

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Our house is beginning to feel like a home again now that we have my son’s doggie living here. We sort of hope he doesn’t want her back. Look how happy she looks in the picture above. Doesn’t she seem to be saying “I want to be yours forever”. Yeah, I thought that too. And yes, her tongue is purple. In fact, I took steps today in the direction of keeping dear little Chloe forever. I bought her a pink bed. The hubster was offended that I bought pink instead of something like pit bull brown. But Chloe told me pink is her favorite color, so how could I refuse. I also bought her a few toys because it was breaking our hearts to see her play with Moose’s toys. I know Moose is in heaven watching Chloe run in his back yard and he is happy she is happy and has such a large yard to run in now. But our hearts will always have a little piece that is broken because of our grief in missing Moose. He was a good friend. Even though he smelled bad. RIP dear friend, you are sorely missed. :-(

(Actually mine is lime green)

Well bite my butt. Just when you think things are honky-dorry, life kicks you in the back of the knees again. So there I am, walking along through Hobby Lobby this morning, minding my own business. Actually I was getting a mood lift from walking through the Christmas decorations aisle on my way to the 30 % off book lights. (I like to read in bed at night and my Hello Kitty book light is starting to die). When all of a sudden - - - BAM! It hit! The holey, moley, nukker fudding, pain of all pains right square, smack dab in the pancreas. Folks, we bring you pancreatitis courtesy of the pancreas from hell. Damned pancreas. I’ll tell you what though, no darned pancreas was going to keep ME from a shopping trip. So I took my sweet time finding that book light. I even browsed the 40 % off Christmas ornaments and bought a couple of those too. (Brooke, you’ll LOVE what I bought you). Any-hoo, I squeal tires pulling into the driveway about an hour after the pain started and with no time to spare. Because one block away from making it home the bile started rising in the back of my throat. Oh hello old friend (I call my bile Bernie since he burns). Gee I missed ya. I dash in the house, and run up the stairs, slam the bathroom door and Bleeeeeeccchhhhh... Barely made it, but the point is, I made it. The hubster is a smart man (for today at least) and has learned over the last few years (since I’ve had chronic pancreatitis) not to enter the bathroom when I am blowing chunks. He has learned this lesson the hard way. Blowing chunks is a very private thing for me and I don’t care to share that with the hubster. I’ll share a lot of things with him but blowing chunks and cheesecake are two of the things I refuse to share. So why am I in such a great mood when I’ve been stricken with pancreatitis? Thanks to the joy of pancreatitis I don’t have to cook dinner today. In fact, I get to lay in bed and be waited on hand and foot. (well, maybe not the foot part). The hubster is bringing me all sorts of medicines, cold bottles of water, books, the laptop, etc. And the back rubs! Ooohhhh the back rubs. Oh-La-La! See, every cloud has a silver lining. Ain’t it great!