Liam's Grandma or Maggie in Real Life

What's Henry Got to do With It?

Look, I'm not going to mince words here.  If you've been following my blog, you know a few things about me.  I like to cook, I love my family, I color my hair a lot, I have too many wardrobe malfunctions, and I am extremely hormonal right now.   Emphasis on the last six words of that sentence. 

If you are a woman on the younger side who hasn't yet gotten to this point in her life, read on.  Because you get PMS, right?  Well, magnify that 10,000 times and you'll know what you're in for.  If you're a guy in a relationship, married or otherwise, with a woman, read on.  Maybe this will help you when you get served with divorce papers and you're all, I THOUGHT EVERYTHING WAS OK.  So did she.  Until 5 minutes ago.  And 5 minutes later, she'll be ok again.  Until 5 minutes from then. 

Today started out a good day.  I arrived at work in a good mood.  I even solved what appeared to be a huge problem for my boss who is apparently getting ready for the TRIAL OF THE CENTURY.  As we sat together in the conference room, assembling trial notebooks, he sat back in his chair and let out a loud sigh.  "I just don't know what to do about this one issue.  Let me throw this at you.  I'm not sure you're qualified, but I'm gonna ask anyway." "Okaaaaaay," I reply.  "It's not that I don't think you're smart," he continued, "it's just that this is a question possibly for another trial attorney" (which I'm not). 

As it turned out, after he posed his problem, it took all of 3 seconds for me to tell him what I thought he should do.  He sat there, staring at the floor, looked at me and said, "I like it.  That will work.  Let's do it."  And so we continued until everything was ready.

A few minutes before 5, I started packing it up.  Arnie came into my office and said, "What'd you do with those Requests to Admit?" (on another case).  "I put them on your chair before I left last night."  "There was nothing on my chair," he insisted.  "I gotta have that."  We went into his office and tore everything apart which is not uncommon and does not ruffle my feathers one bit because this is who he is.  He is defined by chaos.  Clutter.  Disorganization.  And, no, I will never tell anyone who he is.  I want to keep my job.  For now.  But even when I don't want it anymore, out of respect, I will never tell.  Unlike Carly Simon who went and confessed who she sang about in "You're So Vain." Granted, it was only one person, and he had to sign a statement that he'd never tell another soul and then pay lots of money to some charity, but unless someone pays me at least a million dollars, I'm not doing that. 

After searching through everything but the trash, Arnie looks at me and says, "You couldn't have put that on my chair.  I would have seen it."  I look him directly in the eye and say, "I put it on your chair." 

"Maggie.  Maggie.  You didn't put it there."  He sighs and continues flipping through papers.

Upon feeling something click/snap/vibrate in my neck, I said, "Excuse me.  I have to visit the ladies' room."  Once there, I place my hands on the counter and lean way in.  I look at my eyes, bloodshot from insomnia, and try to decide whether to rehearse my acceptance speech for the Oscar I'm gonna win when I go back in there and put on my best performance as actress in a drama where she acts like everything is just fine and dandy, or the speech I'm going to give when I throw myself to the mercy of the Court during my torture and murder trial. 

When I return to the office, Arnie is standing there with his trophy as he takes an Emmy for best supporting actor in a sitcom and is all smiles and says, "I found it!"  Like nothing ever happened. 

"Oh really?  Where?  In your . . . office???" (SHRIEK).

"Yep!" 

I get my things, say a weak good night, walk to my car and drive home - where I chop the crap out of green onions, broccoli and garlic, and sob hysterically because, for some reason, I am angry with men this evening, and I am suddenly super pissed at Henry the Eighth.  "Like who in the HELL did you think you were?  Chopping off heads like that.  It was your sperm that couldn't produce a son, moron!"

Moral of the story:  Never challenge a woman in her 40s.  Ever.  Because for all you know, she's either a starving actress who just wants to get that Oscar she's always dreamed of, or she's a raving lunatic who thinks doing 30 years to life might not be so bad.

Copyright 2009 liamsgrandma

Worklife, Dinner, Liam

Yesterday, Arnie came into my office at around 2 pm looking for his mail.  "You didn't get any," I said.  "What?  No mail?"  "I had all of your mail forwarded to Arizona."  Arnie stops in his tracks, amused, and says, "Where in Arizona?"  "The State Hospital," I retort,  continuing with my work.  "Do you they give out free sunblock?"  "Everything is free for its patients," I replied. 

Later, at quitting time, it was raining.  As we walked to our cars, Arnie insisted he hold his umbrella over me so I wouldn't get wet.  "I never carry an umbrella," I insist.  "I like to feel the rain." He continued to hold his umbrella over me.  I took off in a sprint, splashing through puddles and called back, "See you tomorrow." 

I met Druck for dinner at a nice little restaurant in Farmington (MI) called Cedar Family Restaurant.  It has a wonderful Middle Eastern/Greek menu (thanks to my friend, Donna, who introduced me to this place).  I ordered the Schwarma and Fatoosh which ended up being so much food that I am finishing it up today for my lunch.  I love the garlic laced yogurt that you dip the Schwarma into.  Only thing is, I am leading my women's group tonight and so I will be apologizing for my garlic-fumed breath and will be chewing Altoids gum like it's a part of me.

When we arrived home, Catherine and Liam were dozing together on the couch.  I gently nudged Catherine and told her to take the little man up to bed.  While she changed Liam's diaper, I prepared a bottle for him (he does get breastfed but also receives formula as a supplement) and, after mother and baby retired for the evening,  Grammy left Grampy on the couch to channel surf and she also retired for the evening.

Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma

Arnie, Liam, Earth Day

I must begin today's blog with a statement I've said before, "I love my job." Granted, I don't always like going there because I have other things I would much rather be doing. But if I have to go to work, this is the place I want to be. My boss, Arnie, has to be one of the most positive people I've ever met. And part of his positive attitude is his sense of humor. Arnie is a born comedian and so, I have realized that it took a very special person in his wife, Liz, to marry Arnie. I don't know if I could live with the constant one-liners, although living with it at work is quite tolerable and enjoyable.

On Tuesday, I told Arnie that we're starting something new in the office. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, 30 minutes before we eat our lunch, we are going to do calisthenics. Arnie immediately went into the yoga tree pose I taught him a few weeks back (how a 61 year old, out of shape man can do the tree pose when I struggle with my balance on that one is beyond me). I said, "No, we'll do some yoga to wind down but we need some aerobic exercise." Arnie went back into the tree pose, I rolled my eyes, and went back to work.

Later, Arnie was eating what looked to me to be a Snicker's bar. I didn't say anything but only gave a look at what he calls his six-pack of a stomach when, in reality, it's a quarter keg. He said, "What? This is an energy bar," and with a huff went back into his office. He reappeared just after lunch with a cup of tea. "YOU'RE drinking tea?" I said. I have been trying to sell Arnie on tea for awhile. I drink about 4 cups a day which has all kinds of health benefits - anti-oxidants for the inner body and for great skin on the outer body, phyophenols for anti-aging, and so on. Arnie replied that Liz has him on a diet and that he's supposed to drink this energy tea at 3 pm. I looked at the clock and it was 1:05. He said he was still hungry from that power bar and decided to drink the tea now. I asked him what was in that ENERGY tea. "I don't know, a little cocaine, some strychnine." He disappeared again into his office.

It was a busy day with rushes to get things out, but we did it, and I left my desk in good order at 5 pm. Driving home, I listened to the radio and the topic was Earth Day. We have done so much damage to this old earth, that I wonder if we really have destroyed it beyond repair. I think of those who just don't care and who say, "I won't be here when the earth dies, so what do I care?" People, what's wrong with you? If any of you have a beautiful child or a grandchild who looks at you with absolute trust and dependence, don't you care about them? Don't you care about their children? Just because you won't be able to see them or hold those great great grandchildren in your arms, does that make it easier for you to say it's ok for them to suffer in sweltering heat, or to fight each other in the streets for clean water? My neighbor around the corner recycles nothing. She bags up her trash and recyclables in black bags and throws them on the curb Wednesday evenings and she is ok with that. She and her husband drive big cars and think nothing of not cleaning up after their dog when they take her on a walk (Ok, well maybe the dog poop is not so much related to Earth Day...). And she insists that the earth will be fine or her other statement, as I said before, is that she won't be here anyway. These are the times when I wish there really was such a thing as reincarnation and she comes back over and over again as the earth gets worse and worse. For more information on what you can do to help this old Mother Earth, go to: http://www.earthday.net/

Meanwhile, Liam's fussiness seems to have been quelled somewhat by a wonderful natural substance called "Gripe Water."  He is so used to his screaming and our attempts to soothe him that yesterday when I got home from work, he was doing more of a whining/cry type of thing when he was put down.  I told Catherine we have already created a little tyrant and he's not even 8 weeks old yet!  And for such a little guy, he sure can bellow.  But we are so in love with this little man and always will be.  God is good.