The Devil You Say!

The Devil You Say!

There I am.  Grandma.  Or GrammiePam with Kisses, rocking the 1 year old baby girl in my arms while the rest of the gang busily unwraps, eyes devouring, mind assimilating, their current Christmas gift.

 Also, on my lap is a new keyboard and it says iMac compatible.  Yay!

Still in its black box, Miss Lilly leans her baby body over and with infant fingers touches and caresses the red devil figure on the front.   She’s into matching shapes, you know, so when her eyes spy the other red devil at the other corner of the box she quickly leans forward further and lets her baby index finger outline it, too.

“Ewwww, red devil.”

This keyboard, as requested, is iMac compatible.  The last one wasn’t.   I had to unplug it frequently to get it to work, then came the day I spilt hot sweet tea on courser keys, shift keys and return key…they decided to stick.  So, as requested, this is iMac compatible.

Compatible????

COMPATIBLE!

Seriously, you should see this thing!

Like the devil, its keys GLOW RED IN THE DARK.

It glows green.

It glows blue. 

Am I, GrammiePam, ready for the “new”?

The gifter said, “A gaming keyboard for you!”

What the devil?

So, I look at the particulars. It touts. “No mechanics switch”, instead…”membrane switch”.  

Are you serious?

Then it boasts, molding keycaps –- “fading  and double-shot.”

Oh yah?  What’s that?

And, (lower your voice like a man and whisper to say), “breathing” mode.

Breathing mode?  What the devil is breathing mode?

At this point I’m picturing a whoosh of air coming from red-flared nostrils and spouts of steam from beneath evil horns!

Well, this grandma scoured the Internet typing in “definition”, then “gaming keyboard” and finally “Redimp.”  Isn’t that just perfect?  Redimp.  I love that brand name, it makes me smile.   Devil’s smile sneakily beckons, “I know all.  I know you. I know this is your weakness.  Come to me.  We’ll play.  We’ll have fun.”

My devil adds, “Pssst, don’t forget, you have anti-ghosting keys.”

"YOU'RE NO JOHNNY CASH!"

"You're no Johnny Cash!"

My 5' 10" tall, 185 pound hubby comes down the stairs and I can barely make him out due to the dark paneling on the stair well and...due to the fact that he's dressed all in black!

What on earth!  Black LONG-SLEEVED white buttoned up shirt, and black dress slacks and black shoes.

"You're not going to a funeral.  You're going to church!"

It juxtaposes this beautiful day.  The sun's coming from my left, the east, through the leafless magnolia tree slanting it's yellow rays across our green grass, brightening up the rustic boards of the deck, and, brightening up my world.

I've been sick -- high fever, headaches, runny nose, extreme tiredness -- and for the sun to shine and the temperature not to be so cold, this is great for my spirits.

For background I should tell you that dear hubby and his family have always had a bit of respect for Johnny.  Somewhere in their ancestry they're related.

I was educated, informed.  They drew a family tree.  I've since forgotten.  But a color photo in DH, darling hubby's, scrapbook is a gentle reminder.  His family and Johnny's family were all at a reunion together in Virginia in the late 60's.  So, they've always shared a kinship with this black dressed famous singer.

And, here he comes, my own dear hubby, dressed all in black.  Depressing.

Shaking my head and rolling my eyes, "You're no Johnny Cash!"

He's quick witted, "You know what Johnny Cash is doing right now?"
I look at him with squinted eyes, knowing this is going to be a groaner.
"He's kicking at the lid!"

Groan.

He continues, "Thought you'd like that; an oldy but a goody."

Then, with a twinkle and quick wit he adds, "I'm breathing better than he is!"

Getting Little Blessings

Count your blessings, you have many!

As a clerk at Dollar Tree I was helping a lady customer find some bird houses, then she followed me to the register with red items saying she was fixing up her kitchen so she could sell her house.

She noticed the bag of green plastic toy army men for sale on the counter. We were selling toys for Operation Homefront to donate to military children in need.

She began to quietly cry. Tears were coursing down her cheek like an unending river. She said she was happy, though she didn't look it. She said her son finally got to come home from war. Then is when I understood the complexity of sad verses happy. She said he and she have been "going through 18 months of hell. He has PTS, you know."

You could tell she was a very tired woman, her hands were shaky, and at first I thought she was talking to herself because her eyes were downcast; she determinedly avoided eye contact.

We don't know what others suffer. And I for sure don't know what to do in these situations. I did tell her our family was thankful for his service and that somewhere sometime she'll get little blessings with him.

Count your blessings, you have many!

WE NEED A CAT

No, that's really not our Lucifer, that picture is just a reasonable facsimile, we could never get our cat to hold still for a photo shoot!  Too wily. 

Accidentally, I found out you can apply for a feral barn cat at the Humane Society.  There's a waiting list, I was number 3.

You see, we've always had a neighborhood feral cat and it ate the mice in the wood piles and kept other critters at bay.  Well, when the neighbor decided to move, she took that cat to the Humane Society.  Why?  I didn't understand.  Needless to say we were perturbed.

Since then we've had an abundance of mice, some chipmunks, and a snake eating the frogs in our pond.  Ugh.  We need a cat!

So, when I found out about free barn cats, it seemed just the thing.  They called, said they had a couple and we could choose between Quartz, a painfully shy black 3 month old, or Lucius, a backward gray 1 year old.  We chose Lucius because John said he wanted an aggressive cat which would more likely do the job.

In the white cardboard box carrier he went, traveling in the back, and meowing the whole time.  At home, John filled the bowls with water and cat food and tucked in a nice towel, while I suggested he put a tablespoon of cat food inside the dog house so Lucius would know that's home.  Well, let me tell you, upon opening that box two things happened.

He hissed!

He fled!

We didn't see him until the next morning.  He was avoiding eye contact as he snuck out of his heat lamp lit new home.  He now skulks along the side of the house behind the burning bush, sneaks around the back deck, and lightly steps sniffing at the front steps.  There's no petting.  And no responding to cat calls!

Yesterday morning I saw this big hulk of a shadow on top of the dog house.  With short pointy ears I thought, "Wow, that's a big owl.  Must be watching for mice in the field."  Then it turned.  Green eyes!  LUCIFER!

His name was changed because we're no innocents.  Wildness and hissing confirms that Lucius is Lucifer.  And John laughs at taking the blame for letting Lucifer out into the world!

HODGE PODGE FOR THE ADD

Hodge Podge.  AutoCorrect doesn't like hodge podge; it puts a red line under the word.  So, doubting myself I checked Miriam-Webster.  Miriam-Webster said, "disorderly mixture."  Hah.  The word does exist.

Pssst, now you're thinking of M and M's, ooey gooey chocolately insides because of their Christmas commercial, "He does exist!"

Speaking of words, here's examples.

An Absolute:
Calvin, laughingly reminiscing about he and young brother Clint around the age of 4 stripping three of the neighbors pine trees (note pine -- many needles) of all their branches leaving only tree trunks looking like sticks straight up from the earth, he chuckles like his uncle Herbert, "What else are you going to do with pruning shears!"

Pithy
Ian to his mother,  "Be alone with your mind?  Oh no!  That's just trouble!"

Waxing Philosophical
Clinton, speaking of love and marriage and having a child,  "It's like the missing link."

Techno Entertainment
Me, Myself and I declare it's any manufactured object that gives you a solitary enjoyable experience
or go here:  http://thequeensbs.blogspot.com/

A Groaner

Q.  What do you call a coin collector?

A.  A numismatist.

Q.  What do you call a stamp collector?

A.  I don’t know either!

The Bait & Drop

There's a strange man in my house painting the hallway.

I gotta go home and check him out.

Gotta check out the paint job, not the man, he's my cousin!

Paradoxic
John to Pamela, she was recuperating from a foot injury and he was heading back to the kitchen to nuke a burrito for the second time, "I'm here to be accommodating, to make you better, even if it kills me!"

THEY THINK THEY SAW SNOW

First thing John says to me,  “Those kids were singing Jingle Bells, I kid you not!”

Dear John, my dear hubby, is now a bus driver.  Of a morning he has two runs, one for the primary and elementary school aged children and another for the middle school and high school kids.  He repeats the same runs in the afternoon when school’s let out.  It’s a brand new job for him, only been doing it about four weeks and one of those weeks he was off due to fall break.  The thrill and the newness is fresh!

So, this morning the weather’s blustery, cold and windy, and he comes stepping up the deck into the house with a surprised, eye rolling, disbelieving expression on his face, “All because they THINK they saw snow!  The day after Halloween and those kids were singing Jingle Bells!”

He holds up his hands and starts ticking off on his fingers, “Then it was Jingle Bells Batman Smells, you know the song, and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and I Love Rock and Roll, Put Another Dime In The Jukebox, Baby!”

Still in high energy he says, “I wish I had a recording of ‘em.  All because they think they saw snow!

At least when they’re singing they’re not up running around like little Mexican jumping beans!”

After a catch-your-breath pause he finishes, “I kid you not, every bit of it off key!”