One Picture, Three Stories: Drink

This story is written for a blog link up hosted by Jane Heinrich called One Picture, Three Stories #3 {Blog Link-up}.  You should check it out for more fun stories.  So the point is to take one picture and write three stories.  Okay, so I guess the title kinda says it all.  These stories may or may not be true and may or may not be made up.  You guess which is which.  So this is my first attempt at this one picture, three stories business.  Forgive me if it is awful.

 

 

Story #1

My grandfather worked in a small pub when he was a teenager.  He wasn't the bartender, get that out of your head.  He was a teen.  He spent his afternoons hauling cases of beer, mopping up sticky floors and taking out the trash.  It wasn't a glamorous job but it gave him a sense of purpose and a few bucks in his pocket.  He later bought the bar with his brother.  After my grandfather's brother died, my grandfather retired and passed the bar onto my father.  I practically grew up there, playing on the bar stools and pretending to drink beer.  But all that is in the past.  Today is the day that my father passes the bar on to me.  I have been dreaming of this day since I was a little kid.  And today is my day.  I finally get my chance to run the bar.  But I will always remember the men who got me there.  I keep a picture of my grandfather and his brother at the bar.  They will always be right where they belong, behind the bar.

 

 

Story #2

I thought we would never choose a bottle.  How hard can it be to choose one bottle?  Seems simple enough right?  WRONG.  Bottle distributors kept bringing in more and more sample bottles.  Why did this seem like the hardest part about opening a brewery?  Picking napkins was simple, deciding what kind of beer to brew was easy, picking names for the new beer, all easy.  But deciding what bottle to put our beer in seemed to be impossible.  In the end, the task was impossible.  We just couldn't agree which bottle to pick.  Instead we decided to brew the beers directly into kegs and have everything on tap.  Problem solved.  We stuck all those bottle samples in the window and called them decoration.  We saved a bundle on bottles and decorations.

 

Story #3

I just wanted a drink.  It had been a long day, a long week, a long month, a long life.  I sat there and thought about my problems.  There seemed to be so many.  What was I going to do about my mom?  She wasn't getting any younger.  Work wasn't getting any better.  The layoffs seemed to be a weekly occurrence.  And my kids.  What they hell was I going to do about my kids?  Those kids scared the hell out of me.  It just wasn't natural.  And just then, the rain stopped and the sun came out.  Maybe my problems weren't so bad.

My favorite decade was...

I have written a couple blogs in the past for "Finish The Sentence Friday."  Well, I think I'll try it again this week.  This week's topic is "My favorite decade is..."

 

 

Which is my favorite decade?  I have had the pleasure of living through 3.3 decades.  I am not sure that the first one really counts.  I was born in 1980.  I don't really have any memories of the first half of the decade.  I assume the 80's was a great decade for me.  No responsibilities, everything I needed was given to me, I was a kid, what's not to love.

 

The 90s were similar.  I admit, I had a lot of great moments in the 90s. It did bring lots of great milestones like becoming a teenager, getting to drive, graduating high school and going to college.  But I wouldn't consider that my favorite decade.

The 00s (what do we call them?) was okay.  I graduated from college in 2002 and tried to find my first "real" job in the field that I spent the last four years studying.  That never happened and still hasn't.  I did find a job but it was one that I got because my mom worked there.  I ended up buying a house near my home town because I was in love.  What a crock!  I lived in that house for four miserable years 45 minutes from any type of social activity, 45 minutes from my job and 5 minutes away from my ex-boyfriend and my parents.  So that wasn't really a great decade.

I think maybe my favorite decade is the current decade, the 10s (again what do you call it?)  In 2010, I bought a house in the big city.  I was close to where I worked and there was tons of social activities nearby.  I had different plans every night.  But I think, more than that, that this was the decade where I started to really be comfortable with myself.  I spent the last half of the 00s being mostly by myself.  I lived alone, in a small town where everyone was married and had kids.  To make matters worse, it was a partially dry town.  You could buy beer at the Krogers but there was no where to get a drink served to you.  No wonder I was miserable.  But when you spend a lot of time by yourself, you can really start to figure yourself out.  I don't want to get all psychological on you, but I think it is true.  I spent those years getting comfortable in my skin, figuring out who I was, and overall being okay with myself.  So when I got to the 10s, I was ready to really start living.  Plus I turned 30 in 2010 (20+10 = 30 yeah.)  I think my 30's has been the best years yet.  I feel that in my 30's, I have become most comfortable with the person that I am, more self confident.  I don't really care what other people think.  If you don't believe that, you don't regularly read my blog.  Also, in my 30's in the 2010s, I met The Smooch and we got married.  I know what you are thinking, love and hearts and fireworks and crap.  And okay, maybe some of that. 

But let's be clear, The Smooch is not always the easiest guy to live with.  He wants me to be the best person I can every day and he let's me know when I am not living up to that standard.  The short version is that he makes me a better person.  When this happens, rainbows come out of his butt and fireworks come out of mine.  Oh, isn't love grand.  But life wasn't completely easy.  Some of my most difficult and most stressful times of my life happened in this decade.  But it makes a huge difference when you have a great support system backing you up.  And each time, The Smooch and I went through a tough time, we came out on the other side better people and a stronger couple.
 



So to finish the sentence "My favorite decade is...." 2010s!  I am feeling really good about the person that I am.  Life is very good.  I am very happy that The Smooch is in my life.  We have a great life together.  We live in a great house, in a great neighborhood.

The Stones Have Gotta Go

Medical problems in special areas seem to run through my household.  This time it affected my poor baby boy.  He is eight.  He is a dog.  His name is Dominic.  You might remember his sweet face from blogs such as Tricknee, The Walking Dead Took Over My Life and just about every other blog I have written.  He is a little bit of a ham.  He loves dressing up and loves to have his picture taken.  That works out really well since I love dressing him up and taking his pictures.  But he will not be dressed up in this blog.  I think he has been tortured enough.

Dominic

It all started when we adopted him.  He was peeing blood.  The vet said it was a UTI.  We gave him an antibiotic and it went away.  This happened four or five times over the course of two years.  Our vet did an x-ray because this is not normal.  My poor baby boy had stones in his bladder.  (Let me note here that I don't know how parents do it.  I was freaking out and my baby was just a dog.)  The vet said he would need surgery.  SURGERY!  How did my poor baby go from a UTI to having surgery?  I think the worse part is that he didn't even know what was about to happen to him.  No idea and I couldn't communicate that with him.

The morning of the surgery, I got up early to take him to the vet.  He was excited to take a car ride.  I brought his blanket along with him and he curled up in it on the front seat.  It was early (8:00 am.  That is early when you are unemployed.) and he wanted to sleep on our trip.  I turned the heated seat on for him.  He napped the whole way to the vet.  When we got to the vet, he suddenly realized where he was.  All four brakes were applied and he wouldn't move.  Luckily, he only weighs about 13 pounds so I just picked him up and carried him inside.  Once we got inside, one of the vet technicians came to greet us.  Dominic was so excited to have someone else to pet him.  He ran to her and she took him away.  Glad to see I am the only one who is sad about what is going on.  He seemed so happy.  What a fool.

Later that afternoon, I went back to the vet to get him.  His surgery went really well.  They said that they scooped out all his stones.  One stone was on the way to the urethra and one was actually lodged in the urethra.  The vet explained to me that Italian Greyhounds (that's the breed we have) have bones in their penises (giggle, giggle he said penis.  I am twelve.) called an os penis.  I actually Googled "Italian greyhound penis bone" to confirm that I had the right name for it.  Did you  know that if you Google "penis" it brings back results with the word "dick" in it.  How would you like to be the person at Google who has to add all the AKA words in for words like penis.  (Giggle, giggle!)

But I digress.  The moral of the story is that not only did the cut into his bladder but they had to slice his urethra to get the stone out.  They stitched his urethra back together and then glued him closed everywhere else.  The vet said that I would have to watch all the incisions for obvious reasons like making sure there was no infection.  But he also told me to watch and make sure that the pee was coming out of the right place.  He said it was possible that if everything wasn't "glued" properly that pee could ooze out of his urethra (not at the end) and then out of his incision.  Umm, gross.  Love is watching your dog pee, every time for days to make sure he isn't peeing out of the wrong places.

When I got him back from the vet, he looked pretty sad.  I cuddled him, kissed him, then threw him in the back of the car and drove him home.  He spent the next three days sleeping and looking pathetic.  Today is day three after the surgery.  He is slowly getting back to his old, ornery ways.  He is still sleeping a lot and looking pretty sad but he is moving around well.  In a couple more days, he will be back to normal.

Stop reading here if you are sensitive or easily grossed out.  TRUST ME.  You don't want to see the pictures below.

But as far as Dominic is concerned, he spent a lot of time doing the below and getting yelled at.

Do I really need to put a caption on this?

 

The next thing he knows, he is coming home from the vet looking like this.

Yes, that is major bruising in what was his manhood area. 
Trust me, this breaks my heart too.

 I think without any doubt, he has learned his lesson about licking his private area.  I don't think he will be doing that for a while.  Mostly because it is so bruised.

Please don't call dog services.  We didn't schedule the surgery because he licks his manhood like its his job.  Surgery was not punishment. Surgery was to heal his bladder stones.

I kidnapped a couple kids...

OK.  Maybe this is only partly true.  I did pull up to a couple kids at the bus stop and yell, "get in the car if you want to live."  (In an Arnold Schwarzenegger like voice.)  The other half is, that I knew they were their because their mother asked me to pick them up and the kidnapping was really only temporary.  They had an 8:00 curfew.

I went to the bus stop.  The older kid was there waiting on his younger brother.  I told Older* to get in the car.  We waited.  We waited almost half an hour.  I asked Older, how long do we wait for the bus before we start to worry.  He replies, no need to worry, my mom is already on the phone with the school.  Finally, 30 minutes late, the bus with Younger* shows up.

We are now 35 minutes late to the educational opportunity (improv for kids class) where I am supposed to be taking them.  But a kid's gotta eat right after school, so off to Taco Bell we go.  The kids mother had told me some things about dietary restrictions and what they can and cannot eat.  I pray the kids remember and will not try to trick me.  I feared they would eat what they were allergic to just to trick me so I had to take them to the hospital or vet or something.  They didn't, they were cool.  But ordering was like some kind of master mind puzzle.  Extra this, not that, extra this, add this completely random thing, and take that off etc, etc, etc.  Younger had to repeat his order to me three times before I thought I understood enough to repeat it to the drive thru teller.  I think I got it mostly right.  Younger took the receipt with the survey at the bottom.  He agreed he would split the prize with me if he won.  I would get $9 (to cover dinner) and he would get the rest.  Not sure if he won.  Like many dates, I never heard from him again.

The kids are in the backseat talking in some kinda code and eating Taco Bell.  Like a fool, I ask them to explain to me what they are talking about.  They are talking about some gamer stuff I don't understand and about all these people who make a living making YouTube videos.  (Idea for my next job?)  I can't believe what I am hearing.  What are you talking about?  They change the subject.  Apparently Younger has a girlfriend.  Say what?  This is unacceptable I tell him.  When you left your house, you were innocent and when I bring you back you won't be.  He says not to worry, this is not his first girlfriend.  I ask him, what does it mean to you to have a girlfriend.  He said real cool like, we hold hands and stuff.  Well that's good to hear.  Glad it is not something more dangerous.  His brother wants to know the details on how he asked her.  It went something like this.

Younger's Friend To Girl: "So Younger likes you."

Younger To Friend: "I can't believe you told her that.  What did she say?"

Younger's Friend to Younger: "She said she would let you know before class."

And that is how young loves starts.

I take them to the improv class.  On the way back, I asked them what they thought of the class.  I got a lot of "it's okay, I guess" and other grumblings.  But when I got them back to their mom, they couldn't stop talking about it.  They were really excited.  Those little bastards lied to me!

Overall it was a fun experience.  Having kids seems to be a lot of work and worry.  My friend's kids are really well behaved so I didn't have too much problems with them.  But I kept worrying about school buses, dietary restrictions, seatbelts, sex (well maybe that is an exaggeration.)  How do parents do it?  No wonder you can never go out, you have to much other stuff going on.  Props to all parents.  Shaping young minds is hard work.

Are you a parent?  Tell me how you do it?  It seems like a lot of work to me!!

* Names have been changed to protect the innocent.  But I don't really think they are all that innocent.

Random Things about Me... Because it is my blog after all.

I thought that with all my extra spare time, I would be able to write on my blog more often.  But the truth is, I am busy.  Candy doesn't crush itself and somebody's got to get that done.  So here I am, attempting to write on my blog.  I am going to try something easy, Random things about me.  Since it is 2014 and I have nothing but time, I think I will write 2,014 random things about me.  Ha Ha, just kidding.  No one wants to read that and truthfully, I don't want to write about it.  I am not that interesting.  So in no particular order, here are some random thing about me.

• I am addicted to Candy Crush.  I wouldn't normally consider myself to have an addictive personality but when it comes to stupid pointless games on facebook and my phone, I am addictive.  I try to not download games on my phones because they suck me in but I admit that I have a few.  Candy Crush is one of the.  Since becoming unemployed, my addiction has gotten worse.  I now play on both my phone and my computer.  Between those two platforms and my friends giving me free lives (thanks friends) I can play, almost non-stop, all day.  Not sure if this is good or bad but it passes the time.  Anyone hear about this Pet Saga?  I'm thinking of trying it out.

• I love to sing and dance.  I often wonder why God would make me love singing and dancing so much and then make me so horribly bad at it.  I am really awful, but I can't see myself doing it so I am unaffected by it's awfulness.  If you don't like it, close your eyes.  For the singing, there isn't much you can do to avoid it.  I will just apologize in advance for that.

• I watch random tv.  I have a short attention span.  I blame it on my phone.  I tend to watch the same things over and over again. Movies for instance.  I also tend to watch old sitcoms.  When I blog, I watch Golden Girls, when that's not on I watch Full House, when that's not on, I watch Roseanne.  Rosanne is always on.  I dvr the episodes and one day this week I had over 30 Roseanne episodes taped.  I finally got through them all yesterday.  Now I don't know what to do with my spare time.

• There are three people in my life that can make me laugh until I pee.  Two of these people have made me laugh so hard, I had to change my pants.  Only one of them knows who they are.

• I have a very dry and sarcastic sense of humor.  My sense of humor was recently described like this "Dry. Dry as a bone. As a bone in the desert. As dust on a bone in the desert."

• I didn't know I was funny until I met The Smooch.  I thought I had an average sense of humor.  Even worse, I didn't really think I was funny.  People never really got my sense of humor.  It being so dry and all.

• I only read headlines.  So when I see a news article come up in my facebook feed, I rarely click on the actual link.  This drives The Smooch crazy.  Ex.  "Hey Smooch, there was a horrible accident today.  Oh my god, where, what happened, was anyone killed, will traffic be delayed? I don't know, I only read the headline."  I get all my news this way.  Yes I heard about the horrible court trial, no, I don't know the details.  I figure, what does it really matter.  Will my life be changed for the good by knowing these horrible details.  I think not.

That's all I can think of for now.  What are some random things about you?

So you're unemployed are you?

Being unemployed is loads of fun.  And for reasons, I will never understand, it gives people a free license to say really stupid things to you.  Below are a list of my favorites thus far.

• Are you looking for a new job?
• Nah... At 33, I felt it was an appropriate time to retire.

• Is that your meltdown haircut.  I got a haircut when I had a meltdown too.
• No, this is my "I hated my last hair cut more than anything in the world and I now have time to finally fix it."  My haircut has less to do with a meltdown and more to do with a sudden abundance of time to fill.  I also had a meltdown eye doctor appointment, meltdown two hour massage, meltdown lunch with all my old coworkers, meltdown naps and so much more meltdown related events.  I may get meltdown highlights and possible a meltdown pedicure later.  Plus my new hair cut is super cute and your just jealous.  Also, the old hair cut left me with wild hair in the morning and the new one does not.  Less maintenance, SCORE!

• It is a great time to start a family.  A baby may be exactly what you need.
• Not even sure how to respond to this one.  Baby's cost money so when I have the least amount of it, I should start a family?  I need to occupy a couple weeks so I should take on a 20+ year commitment.  I can just imagine talking to this baby in 20 years.  "Well honey, your father and I decided to bring you into this world because mommy lost her job, had nothing to do.  It was an emotional time for mommy and we decided a baby would fix it all.  Thanks for fixing everything honey, we couldn't have done it without you."  I will admit that I did mention to The Smooch "I'm bored, let's have a baby.  It will entertain me so you won't have too."  But just to be clear, WE ARE NOT HAVING A BABY.  Probably ever.

• We got a puppy.
• Guess we are moving on from me.  Not that we need to talk about me but it would be nice if you had at the very least acknowledged what I said, said something nice and then moved on.  Example:  "You lost your job, that's awful.  By the way, I got a new puppy."

• I found you these entry level positions that are not in your field.  You should apply.
• Wow thanks.  Thanks for thinking that after 10 years in the same industry that I may want to be an administrative assistant.  Hells to the no.

• I don't think I'll come to your happy hour.  I feel like all we'll talk about is you.
• Wow, thanks.  This is in no way a happy hour for or about me.  I organized the happy hour for a group of like minded people.  I may not even know half of the people there. But thank you for thinking that I was so conceded that I may want to talk about nothing but me.

My new wardrobe.  Sweatpants and slippers.

Some of the people who said these things to me may be reading this blog right now.  I promise not to be offended by the stupid thing you said to me if you promise not to be offended that I wrote about it.  Deal?  Kisses!

What are some of your favorite awkward things that people have said to you in difficult times?  Tell me some doozies so I can feel better about my experiences!