Why Women Leak

         Actually, I don’t know why women leak.  We just do.  Perhaps not all women, but many of us.

Whenever we feel sadness or sorrow, compassion or joy, empathy or misconduct, our eyes tear up and flood our face. Whenever our child (or children) is hurting, we feel their pain.  Whenever we see a movie or read a book that reaches into our hearts and connects to our tear ducts.  Whenever our hormones happen to be on overdrive (or overload?) Whenever we feel misunderstood.

I have cried at the end of Toy Story 3, Despicable Me, and E.T. (to name a few) I wept through Alabama Moon and The Odd Life of Timothy Green.  I need an entire box of tissues each time I watch “Up” and I refuse to watch “The Notebook” ever again.  I’ve cried when reading Children’s books such as “The Robot and The Bluebird” by David Lucas or “You are Mine” by Max Lucado.  I cried during parts of “The One and Only Ivan” by Katherine Applegate and stories such as Monkeys and the Mangos (which has many versions).  

Tear ducts seem to be attached to the heart strings except in the case of chopping onions – that produces tears in which the heart is not involved.  Roland and Jenna can both seem to chop onions without tearing up. Jenna laughs when I chop onions.

Last night I cried during an episode of “Chopped” for crying out loud.  To me it just feels pretty silly to cry at the end of reality show.  What a dweeb. The female chef had burned herself and her competitor who claims he was arrogant and had stepped on others to climb to the top had made amends . . . and offered to pay for her plane ticket out of his winnings.

We’re a sorry case, I suppose.  But we’re also awesome at being able to feel.

When It Was Ricks College

I attended Ricks College for one year.  Rexburg was over 200 miles away from my home and so I lived in the dorms near the campus. Believe it or not, I really did have three roommates with the same or similar names – though each spelled differently.  Christy Ann Howardson, Christie Lee Hill and Kristaleigh Phelps.  The girls who lived in the same dorm as we did would see me coming and would say, “Hi Christi-“ in which I would respond, “No, I’m the other one” thus earning my new nickname, “the other one”

We couldn’t refer to the Christie(y)s with just the last initial because they both started with the same letter.  And although Christie was willing to go by Christie Lee it was just too confusing for Kristaleigh.  And Christy refused to go by Christy Ann.  So sometimes I called her Howard – or Howardine – just to get a rile out of her. It was actually kind of fun.

As roommates go, we all had our peculiarities, our strengths and our weaknesses, etc.  Christie was a take charge kind of gal.  We called her mom.  She liked to bake.  And she baked well.  She once made an oatmeal cake in two round pans.  Never had an opportunity to put it together and frost it as one.  Christy ate one pan and I ate the other.  And I think Christie was okay with it. She loved to cook and bake but didn’t necessarily want to eat everything she made.

Most of the dishes in the kitchen were hers.  She had brought along these puny juice glasses which I always referred to as “Barbie doll” glasses.  I had asked her why she had brought so many “Barbie doll” glasses instead of something large enough to actually quench one’s thirst.  She said matter-of-factly, “Because I was hoping that I would get a roommate who would give them a nickname.”

Christy, who was one of the most gullible people on this planet, believed her.

Christy was a farm girl from a city in Idaho that nobody had ever even heard of.  She always had to explain that it was near Blackfoot – which more than half of the college attenders had never heard of either.  She was the role model of all blonde jokes.  Sometimes I felt like I was talking to someone from a foreign planet who had obviously never experienced earth life before.

Boys seemed magnetized to Christy.  Can’t say that I would have been interested in any of them.  Not that they’d ever give me a second look. Seriously.  They all needed ego boosters. And not all of them had good intentions.  And Christy was quite naïve.

Kristaleigh and I were the theatrical pair.  She actually majored in theatre – whereas I was just a ham.  I once practiced lines with her as she had an audition coming up.  She asked me to pair up with her for her audition.  She picked out my clothes so that I would look the part.  I told the instructor that I was not trying out for the part but had come to assist.  I wasn’t interested in the play itself nor was I interested in devoting my free time with practice.

After we had auditioned, he looked at me and said I could still be considered.  I told him no, thank you.  I’m so glad that I did.  For, according to Kristaleigh, everyone who had auditioned had been given a part – except for her.  I think she tried too hard and her acting was just that.  It never looked natural. I would have felt awful going to auditions that she wasn’t directly a part of. She worked it out so that she could be prop manager.

The dorm put out a newsletter once a month (I’m guessing) and Christie was one of the editors and had asked Christy and I to write pieces on occasion.  I actually didn’t remember having that newsfeed but had come across it when weeding through the scrapbooks that I could no longer save (see this post)

I had scanned the following:

Tori and Natasha

Tori and Grace were friends with one another – at one time.  Grace and her daughter both worked – or perhaps it was something else that kept them away from raising Natasha, Grace’s granddaughter.  Tori agreed to watch Natasha to assist both Grace and her daughter, but developed an attachment you might say.

Things might not have ended up so ugly if Grace hadn’t tried taking advantage of Tori to begin with.  Natasha’s mom abused Natasha and was later sent to prison for it, leaving Grace to tend to her granddaughter – but it appeared that Grace had abusive issues of her own. That’s how it was explained to me and that is what I believe.  I don’t know all the details.  I had just heard that after Grace moved, she would lock Natasha in the closet and fed her only one meal a day.

Tori is not the most educated, but she has a good heart.  In addition to caring for Natasha, she also allowed her ex-husband to move back in.  What a sap he is.  Roger is a professional bum who donates plasma twice a week so that he at least has enough money for his smokes. He doesn’t take the incentive to clean up after himself – let alone someone else.  He’s a know-it-all talk machine. If Roger could make a career out of talking on and on just to hear the sound of his own voice, he would be a millionarire.  One minute with Roger makes spending an entire day with Cliff Calvin seem comfortable   At least Cliff appeared to have a job

I’m unclear as how it is that Tori gained custody of Natasha. Perhaps DCFS was involved.  In Tori’s eyes she is the one who raised Natasha from the time she was a baby. I don’t know who assisted Tori into finding a way to legally adopt Natasha. 

Natasha was happy to have Tori as a mom and was willing to make sacrifices to help her as she had been helped herself.  So when Tori held a yard sale in order to raise a little money, Natasha volunteered - of her own free will - to sell her bike.

            I don’t fully understand why Roland seems drawn to yard sells – but he can always spot them while out driving.  Just before our first summer living in West Valley he was on his way somewhere when he noticed Natasha’s bike and stopped off to make a inquire about the bike. He paid for it and said he would return for the bike at a later time. Natasha, who appeared to be just as friend-hungry as Jenna, offered to bring it over so that she could meet the new owner of her bike. 

            So for about two years the girls played together off and on – once or twice a week, a few times a month, and then every other month.  And then it was about a year before we saw Natasha again.  It was always hit and miss.  Tori was always working – but Roger was always there (unless he was out selling plasma or picking up smokes) 

            Natasha didn’t understand why Tori worked all the time – that the hours she had put in were to support them financially and pay the attorney and fees. Tori wished to move – find a place for just her and Natasha – far away from where they live currently.  Only two bedrooms instead of three so she could honestly tell Roger that there would be no room for him.  So her house went up for sale, but the attorneys advised against it.  And then she went bankrupt and lost the house and had to take the sign down as it now belongs to the bank, but she’s been paying rent from what she tells me. Not really sure how that works - but she's still there and just scraping by financially.

Natasha has spent too much time with Roger.  She hasn’t been respectful to either him or Tori.  She’s acquired many of his bad habits.  Doesn’t lift a finger, even when Tori asks her to.  Tori has allowed the two of them to walk all over her.  I wouldn’t put up with it (but then again, I would have never got involved with Roger in the first place – let alone taken him back)

I saw Natasha and Tori the other night when Jenna and I were returning home after a long day to end her summer.  Natasha was out riding her scooter.  She seemed so forlorn and distant – as though she has given up on life.  She’s only twelve. She just started junior high.  I hope she makes friends there and doesn’t break.  I was just so sad as I watched her not caring.

While Jenna ran home to get her scooter, I walked Natasha to her house and Tori came out to tell her something.  She looked awful – Tori did.  Her hair is short and quite thin.  She has red splotches all over her face.  She says she has cancer. I don’t know what kind. I know her financial affairs are not the greatest.  The disease will most likely kill her as she doesn’t seem to know how to prioritize her affairs.  And Roger does absolutely nothing to help her. 

My heart breaks for both her and Natasha. What will become of her if /when Tori dies. Is that why Natasha seems so distant?

I told her about a place not too far from here.  I hope that she is able to remove Natasha from her current living environment.  I hope she takes the time to teach her daughter the values that she might have once had before Roger corrupted her.  I hope Natasha realizes that education and work will work to her advantage much better than following in Roger's footsteps and trying to continue life as a bum. I hope she understands the sacrifices that Tori has made and that she will find strength to overcome.

Opposites Attract

Roland likes a hearty spaghetti sauce

Full of large pieces of meat and vegetables

I like a little more sauce.

Roland likes LOTS of onions

I’m happy with just a piece of the onion

It has to be finely chopped.

Roland likes hard ginger snap cookies

I like cookies that are soft –

Preferably chocolate chip

None of that peppery strength that

Jenna and I taste with the ginger snap.

Roland likes Italian meats. 

He likes the meat lovers pizza or

At least a combination

I like Hawaiian or Vegetarian or

Just something different –

Something with Alfredo or Pesto

Roland says Chicken does NOT belong on a pizza.

Roland likes his bagels with butter or

Cream cheese and jelly

I like bagels with cream cheese. 

Sometimes cream cheese and a

Fresh tomato.

We both prefer our bagels toasted.

Roland insists on having a drink with his meal

But rarely ever finishes drinking it.

I doubt he drinks more than 20 ounces in a given day

I drink water – lots of it.  Especially in the summer.

I drink 2 – 5 quarts of liquid a day. 

Most of it is water.

Roland is an extravert with lots of charisma and charm

People like Roland.

People remember Roland.

I may not be as introverted as my siblings

But I’m certainly not the social magnet

Especially since we moved to West Valley

He’s aggressive.

I’m a door mat.

No, not really. 

But sometimes I feel like I am.

Roland is an excellent driver.

He can focus on several things

When he is behind the steering wheel.

I don’t actually enjoy driving.

I do it because it’s necessary for

Getting Jenna to school.

I told Roland I don’t have many years

Left in me before the state takes my license

The way they did with my mom

Roland is the one who stays up until
All of the children are home
I''m the one who goes to bed.
He sleeps with blankets on all year round
I might use the covers ten times at the most 

Roland and I both like to start projects.

He is much better at following through

I really need to learn to finish the job.

Another Visit with Mom

She had just finished eating when I arrive.

I don’t bother to ask if she has checked her blood.

We go for a walk.

I point to a house where a family had lived

Many years ago.

I asked if she remembers.

She says that she does.  That’s good.

She didn’t have a clue on Saturday.

I take her to my house to eat lunch.

I put her at the computer while I prepare the food.

She enjoys viewing the pictures that Kayla had taken

And had posted to facebook.

I make some suggestions on how to complete the day

I ask if there is anywhere in particular where she would like to go.

She says she wants to go home. Just home.

Her mother was a homebody, too.

I take her back home with a reminder that I will have to leave again.

I have to go pick Jenna up from school.  I’d like her to go with me.

She doesn’t want to go.

Just as I’m about to leave, I decide I will call Nate and ask if he could pick up Jenna.

Nate married my niece.  They live in mom’s basement.

Mom is overwhelmed at the idea of my knowing Nate

And having his phone number is such a foreign concept to her.

Why would I have Nate’s phone number?

I cannot get a hold of him.  According to her, it’s just as well

How would he even recognize Jenna?

I look at her as though she has sprouted horns

I end up driving to Jenna’s school while mom takes a nap

Or so she claims.

Nate opens the door when Jenna and I return

Mom seems a little more with it than she had been after lunch.

She seemed fine before lunch.

Nate says he has to run an errand

Jenna hands me a sheet of paper and orders me to write a story

“What story?”

I’m so not in the mood for making up something

“I will tell you”

As she starts in with her own story of an alien visiting a factory she sees that I am

using a pen and writing in cursive

“Use a pencil, mom.  And don’t write in cursive!”

“You write it with a pencil.”

“Okay, fine.”

She gets another piece of paper and says she will write her story but now I have to write my own.

Grandma dismisses herself so she can “look outside for a minute”

I stop writing. One of us has to watch her.

Jenna and I take turns watching mom standing in the driveway observing the sky

And then she walks into the back yard expecting the weather will change.

It doesn’t.  She comes inside and announces that she would like to take a walk

but that it’s just too windy.

Personality number three.

Instantly she becomes another person as she retrieves her puzzle book and hunts for words.

Jenna and I continue writing.

Mine is a Christmas story.  Unpolished.

I will post it next month.  Most likely it will still be unpolished.

Nate returns. Jenna and I leave mom’s house to return home. 

Still worried about my mom.

Staying on the Same Page

          Communication is SO important – whether it is the working place, or homes, our churches, our communities . . . and it’s important that we all stay on the same page.  We need consistency. 

          I recall one work place that made egg salad sandwiches.  Some of the workers would put pickles into the mixture, while others refused because they thought it was gross.  I don’t care if the egg salad has pickles or not.  When I am in a working environment I would expect to make the egg salad according to what the customer orders from the menu and expects – not to my own personal preference.  I think when a customer expects a certain product, he or she should receive the same product or courtesy or satisfaction that kept him or her coming back to begin with.

          I know different cooks have their own personalities and styles.  I am a wimp when it comes to anything remotely spicy – and so I have learned (well – back when I was single and had money) to ask which chef is in the kitchen before I place my order for there was one who would use every spice in the kitchen I believe and lots of it, while the other probably was not a favorite among those who really do enjoy authentic Mexican food.  It needs to be consistent.  The recipe must be followed exactly the same in my opinion.

          Food is just a very small issue of what needs to be communicated.  I hate being told one thing by one employee or parent or teacher or representative or what have you and being told something completely different by somebody else.  Opinions are often brought in by individuals who pass on their opinions that others accept as gospel truth – even when it’s not.

          I recall failing a class that I had tried to transfer into.  I was livid when I received a failing grade.  Why couldn’t have anybody said anything to me before hand?  I was on the roles already.  On the school record – but they failed to give it to me on the schedule that was handed out.  You think the teacher would have recognized the name from her rolls when I tried to transfer in.  It did not fly well.  I don’t recall there being any problems in my scheduling after that incident.

          I do have a have a similar situation story to share – only it didn’t happen to me personally.  Just someone I knew. It took place in the MTC (missionary training center) nearly 30 years ago (though I’m sure the same still occurs even now – perhaps not weekly, but maybe once in a while) I’m not including his first name in the story, but the last name is real.

          Elder Lovett had arrived on September 6 because that’s what it said on his papers – only those receiving the missionaries that day were actually not expecting Elder Lovett until the following week.  Fortunately he had his letter and showed them that it was indeed the date he’d been assigned to report.  But because there was an error in communication on whatever part, Elder Lovett hadn’t been assigned a companion (partner) or room or books or what have you.

          Six elders had been assigned to our district.  Four had been assigned to one room designed for four people.  The other two elders were also in a room designed for four – but one side remained empty.  So Elder Lovett was assigned to partner up with the latter two.  Six Elders would be serving in Fresno, California.  Elder Lovett was assigned to West Virginia.

          He shared these events with us during our third class (I think) when once more the instructor would say: “Turn to page H5” (for example) and all of us would turn to the assigned page – including Elder Lovett – but he would never be able to follow along.  I think it must have been during that third class the instructor suggested a page that just didn’t exist among the pages that Elder Lovett’s had in his possession.

          “It’s just my book.  They must have gone to the warehouse and retrieved this off some old dusty shelf.  This is out of date.”  I know for a fact that we have been asked to discard old material as it is updated.  Apparently the books that Elder Lovett had been given weren’t as discarded as they should have been.

          Perhaps his situation prepared him to be a stronger leader.  He definitely understood the importance of communication.  Elder Lovett had his first opportunity as district leader serving with us in the MTC.  He was great – throughout his entire mission I would imagine.  I actually never saw him or heard from him again after leaving the MTC. 

          There is the miscommunication between family members.  Just before Tony got married, I had called Roland’s family to inform them about when the event was scheduled to take place and what might be involved for those waiting outside the temple. 

          I was experiencing problems with my cell phone and had made some remark about my frustration.  Unbeknownst to me, the family had me on speaker phone – and whatever snide remark I made (in regards to my cell phone) somehow was interpreted to mean that I did not want them (mom in particular) to come . . . and whatever it was that I said got blown out of proportion as family members related the events to other family members until I realized that Roland’s brother was slamming him on facebook; his brother was not even a part of the initial family I was calling. 

I noticed one of Roland’s sisters had also been misinformed about the events that would take place when their oldest sister died.  Why not just listen and repeat before we jump the gun on something that was just not communicated correctly?

         

I am grateful to those who do take the time to at least try.  However their attempts to assist are not always profitable when the communication among the employees to employees are even worse than employee to customer. (as I have mentioned in this earlier post) 

Roland is great at having people and communication skills – problem is not all of those he attempts to communicate with possess the same talent.  And that is sad. It’s sad that so many have become and accept ignorance.  Ignorance is NOT professional.

And machines that talk to you instead of a human being?  Oh, don’t even get me started.  Talk about impersonal – and yet it seems that so many business have picked up on it and wreak havoc on the consumer’s life even more. 

Bless the company that gives you a live human being to begin with. Especially when that human is able to communiacate!

The Happy Drunkard and Exotic Dreams

          On Feb 14 I created this post.  My sister-in-law’s visits with my mom were positive and full of conversation.  My visits were not so uplifting.  And then mom became Mr. Hyde for each of us.  But now she’s seemed to take on this happy drunkard personality with a desire to travel – and in her mind she has.  In her mind she has done a number of things that she would have never even considered just five years ago – such as sky diving.

          I have actually never experienced a conversation of where she’s been and what she’s been up to – but apparently she has told my niece and nephew-in-law countless stories about having gone to Russia, Hong Kong, China, and South Africa – all within the last ten years (she has been out of the state, but not out of the country – unless it was with a tour group in the early 2000’s)

          Occasionally my niece and nephew-in-law will take her with them to my brother’s house for Sunday dinner.  Corey was with the rest of the family when mom related her “sky-diving” experience. 

          The conversation started out with reminiscing of sky diving events that had already taken place in real life with my oldest niece and nephew.  Their younger sister was unable to go because of age or lack of money.  But after having watched Ellen and Kimball experience the thrill of falling out of the plane, three other family members have been saving up money to experience the same thrill.

          Apparently my mom chimed in with a story of her own as she has also been skydiving (my mom has never sky dived in her life; she doesn’t even enjoy certain rides at the amusement park as her legs are dangling.  There is absolutely no way she would ever go sky diving!  She cringed at the very idea of Ellen and Kimball doing it.)

          And so the family allowed her to speak without correcting her. Some smiled as she did so.  And because the events were so real to her and she was able relate with details, Sunny said that even Corey seemed to question whether she had actually gone or not.  She must have fallen asleep during some war movie where they were jumping out of airplanes or was watching a documentary or something.

          My grandma has been to China.  Maybe Russia – I don’t know.  She really did go on several tours and saw many parts of the world before she died.  I don’t know if my mom got her own life mixed up with her mothers or if she has started to watch the travel channel or if she has exotic dreams or what. 

          There was a time when Jenna’s visits used to wear her out (I think Jenna’s enthusiasm and loudness has wiped out just about EVERY family member) but now she welcomes her and calls her cute and crazy.

          I don’t know if it’s her blood sugar or in the meds that she’s taking or if this dementia is somehow gratifying her because so many desires have apparently been fulfilled in her mind.  But it just makes me worry about her all the more – for I know there are times that she is alone – and it’s okay if it’s the television that takes her away – maybe not the best thing – but certainly better than having her walk out the door and not knowing where she is. 

          We’ve called the police on her a few times – one time they found her (that was just before we took her license away) and a few times kind strangers have brought her home from wherever she happened to be.  We need to set up the alarm system so that she’s unable to leave unless someone is with her.

Thanks to the police and all of those who have spent time assisting us with my mom.  Thank you to the firefighters who continue fighting the countless amounts of fires.  My mom used to keep herself updated on all the current events.  I wonder if she even knows about the fires – or if she’s completely missed the boat on them because she’s been having all these global vacations.

It’s NOT like I need your Approval

  

          Sit coms often come from real life situations.  We laugh at deception.  The sitcom characters put on a show for one played by a guest star.  They try to pass themselves off as rich, married, successful, high-ranking or whatever.   Their dishonesty snowballs into more lies and further deception until they realize they just can’t continue with the charade any longer. And yet we laugh.  If they just told the truth in the first place, there would be no show or else it would be a rather boring episode.

There are many real life people who continue to put up fronts and play charades with certain people from their past.  I don’t get it.  If you’re not close enough to this person that he or she really knows who you are, why would you care what he or she thinks?

          If anyone from my past is interested, I am NOT wealthy.  I am not in a high rank position.  I do not rub elbows with Hollywood’s finest.  My children did not go to Harvard.  Two of them simply don’t have the grades for it. I’m just not that prestige.  Nor do I pretend to be.  I am who I am.  Either you like me or you don’t.  And if you don’t, well that’s okay.  I am not a people pleaser – that is to ALL people.  It is IMPOSSIBLE to please ALL people. 

It doesn’t matter who you are or what you become – there are some who will like you and there are some that just won’t. And that’s okay.  It’s not the world’s approval that makes us happy (though I guess there’s some who believe differently).

 

Happiness is what’s within us.  It’s knowing who we are and what makes us tick.  It’s feeling.  It’s caring.  Why should having the approval of someone else be our deciding factor?  Doesn’t our own opinion matter?  Aren’t we valuable enough to decide for ourselves?   

          I have read a couple of posts from different Blogs in which reference was made for keeping up with the Joneses.  One seemed all for it while the other was not in favor.  I’m not in favor.  Couldn’t keep up if I wanted to.  And I really don’t want to.  Trying my best to show them up or show I’m equal.  Why?

          I see girls dating guys that they like – though I often wonder why.  What do they have in common really?  “Oh, he can/will change” says the girl.  Change into what?  Why change him?  Why not just go out with someone who fits the mold in the first place?

I’m grateful for the values that have been instilled in me and have helped me develop my character.  I wish that were the same for all.

The Big Red Hen and the Tired Blue Cat

          Roland and his boss purchased some property years ago – the idea was to flip the house, make money – but the location of it all became a great nightmare for all of us.  I referred to the project as “The Nightmare on Oak Street”

          At the time I referred to Roland as the Big Red Hen because of his attempts to involve our three boys in his house fixing project.  Meanwhile, I was attempting to get them to help me around the house that we actually lived in.  I was not as aggressive as Roland and had a toddler who wore me out.

          Though the sharing this story with the boys did not produce the results we were hoping for, Jenna is totally amused with hearing it today – and thought I should share it on my blog.  So here goes:

The story of the

Big Red Hen and

the Tired Blue Cat

“Who will help me clean a house?” asked the Big Red Hen.

‘I’ll go,” said the Tired Blue Cat, “but I’ll need to find a sitter for my sunshine.”

They worked along side a Friendly Orange Rooster.  There were items that were heavy, lots of hazardous waste, lots of dirt. The Tired Blue Cat didn’t feel like she was pulling her weight because the Big Red Hen and the Friendly Orange Rooster were both so much stronger.

“Who will help me clean a house?” the Big Red Hen asked again.

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger.  “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my chest.”

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I’m going to be hanging out with my friend, Mikey.”

“Oh, I would if I could,” said the Lazy Con Monkey, “but I have to clean my already immaculate room. Why can’t the tiger or the chipmunk do it?”

The Big Red Hen did not accept their lame excuses and dragged them to the house kicking and screaming.. The tiger and the chipmunk complained the entire time.

The monkey believed he had found rare treasures and constantly asked, “Can I have this? Can I have that?” For the most part neither the Rooster nor the Hen cared what the Monkey took.

“Who will do the dishes and mop the floor?” asked the Tired Blue Cat. 

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger.  “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my legs.”

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I’ve done them the last two nights. I need some new shoes”

“I already vacuumed and did the bathroom and took out the garbage and washed a load of towels,” said the Lazy Con Monkey. “Why can’t the tiger or the chipmunk do it?”

“Who will help me tear down some walls in the house?” asked the Big Red Hen.

 “Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my arms.”

 “Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I feel like drawing something. I need some new markers”

“Oh, I would if I could,” said the Lazy Con Monkey, “But I have to fix my bike”

The Big Red Hen did not accept their lame excuses and dragged them to the house kicking and screaming.. The monkey and the chipmunk complained the entire time. The tiger learned that wrecking walls was pretty fun and he was still getting a workout in his arms.

“Who will pick up all the towels off  the laundry room floor?” asked the Tired Blue Cat

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I did three towels last week with my personal laundry which is still on top of the dryer”

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I have too much homework. I need a new binder.”

“Not I,” said the Lazy Con Monkey. “I left my bike over at Stephano’s house and I was just leaving to go and get it. Why can’t the tiger or the chipmunk do it?”

“All three of you should be able to do it,.” said the Tired Blue Cat. “All three of you pass the laundry room everyday – I would say at least four times a day.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” whined the Free Loading Chipmunk. And he did.  And he was still able to do his homework.

“Who will help me build the house?” asked the Big Red Hen. 

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my back.”

 “Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I’ve got to run an additional 20 miles just for fun.”

 “Oh, I would if I could,” said the Monkey, “but I was just going to K-Mart to buy a patch kit so that I can fix my bike . Why can’t the tiger or the chipmunk do it?”

“I’ll go,” said the Tired Blue Cat, “but I’ll need to find a sitter for my sunshine.”

And so the Big Hen took the Blue Cat.  Once again the Blue Cat felt like she wasn’t pulling her weight and soon had to leave when she heard her sunshine was acting up. And so the Big Red Hen and the Friendly Orange Rooster started to build.

“Who will clean the tub?” asked the Tired Blue Cat.

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my abs”

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “My legs hurt. Do we have any ebsom salt?”

 “Not I.” said the Lazy Con Monkey, “I was just leaving the house to go to the library to meet my friend Stephano. Why can’t the Chipmunk or the Tiger do it?”

 “Who will help me mow the lawn?” asked the Big Red Hen. 

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I have to go mow somebody else’s lawn”

“What do you intend to use as a lawn mower?”  asked the Big Red Hen. 

“Well couldn’t you let me use the lawn mower to mow my yard before you do the yard at your house?” asked the Pumped Up Tiger.

“Why didn’t you use the lawn mower last night or yesterday afternoon?” asked the Big Red Hen who was quite annoyed.  He had worked his tail off the day and night before and could not make the time to use the lawn mower.  But the Pumped Up Tiger was not very good at prioritizing his time could have made the time. But it’s not like he had a great example to follow, either.

“Who will mop the floor?” asked the Tired Blue Cat..

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I cleaned the counters and the table and finally got around to cleaning the stove and the microwave which you asked me to do the other day; the Lazy Monkey hasn’t done anything except for be lazy.”

She couldn’t ask the Chipmunk as he was out of town – otherwise they probably would have gotten it done. The Free Loading Chipmunk had actually done more chores than the Pumped Up Tiger and Lazy Con Monkey put together.

 “Oh, I would if I could,” said the Monkey, “but I just dumped the garbage and I split my finger open where the stitches were.”

 “Why aren’t the dishes done?” the Tired Blue Cat asked the Lazy Con Monkey.

“I’ve been cleaning the back room!” he exclaimed.  And he had.  And he had done a wonderful job. The Tiger had obviously not seen the back room.

“Who will help me paint the house?” asked the Big Red Hen. 

The Pumped Up Tiger did not answer because he was at the gym.

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I have too much homework.  And my legs hurt.”

 “Oh, I would if I could,” said the Monkey, “but I was just leaving to visit my friend Stephano; we are making a seat for the dirt bike that I found.”

“I’ll go,” said the Tired Blue Cat, “but I’ll need to find a sitter for my sunshine.”

But the Blue Cat could not always find a sitter and so sometimes the Big Red Hen had to do it by himself.  Or sometimes the Rooster would do it by himself. They couldn’t seem to get together at the same time anymore.

The tiger and chipmunk and monkey (not to mention the Tired Blue Cat) all got to hate the house.  And they especially hated it when the Big Red Hen would order them to stay home so that they could work on the house.  And sometimes they would spend hours waiting for the Big Red Hen to pick them up – one might think that they would be able to assist the Tired Blue Cat while they were waiting.  And many times the Free Loading Chipmunk would.  He preferred staying with the Tired Blue Cat and doing chores around her house than working at the Big Red Hen’s house investment.  The Lazy Con Monkey also made that claim saying that he would rather do chores for the Tired Blue Cat than go to the house with the Big Red Hen – but it was just talk as usual.

The monkey would always horn in on whatever was being said to the tiger or the chipmunk – but seemed to have a problem listening to whatever actually concerned him however. He was notorious for asking “What about the Tiger?  What about the Chipmunk” What about the tiger and chipmunk?  What about them?

The monkey had many talents.  He was a very quick learner. He enjoyed building things. He was very creative about making things.  And he was very charismatic and a very good actor. He was also very cunning, enjoyed telling stupid jokes and was lazy about labor and with his study habits. He actually had the potential for becoming a politician.

None of the animals knew how to prioritize.  The free loading chipmunk was willing to work for his money – unless Mikey called.  The Blue Cat had given the chipmunk permission to hang out with him So he didn’t think he was available to do one more chore that the Big Red Hen had invented – mainly for the Monkey and Tiger’s benefit.  The Blue Cat was upset about his lack of rationalization.

If the exotic bird from Thailand had been living with the other animals in America, he would have gone willingly and things would have gotten finished a lot quicker. But alas, he was no longer in the states.

The Big Red Hen’s house eventually got sold – and there was a small profit that was so not worth the labor.  The Tiger and Chipmunk and Monkey have all grown up.  The Chipmunk and Monkey are both married and living in apartments. The Chipmunk now has a baby chipmunk of his own. The Tiger still spends much of his time at the gym.  He should really put care and concern into keeping his room and house as clean and tidy as he tries to keep his body.

The exotic bird has gone back to Thiland and is now pursuing a career and relationship with a gorgeous parakeet.  Sunshine continues to grow.  There are many chores that she enjoys doing – but several that she does not.  When the Big Red Hen or Tired Blue Cat (who by the way is not nearly as tired anymore) remind her of something she doesn’t want to do, she whines and often throws a tantrum.  She seems to complain more than did the Tiger, Chipmunk and Monkey combind. Hopefully it’s just a stage.

                                                                                                                      kfralc