Thursday, January 29, 2009

mouse gitmo

The mouse problem rages on. We have decided, finally, to murder them in their sleep if possible. But meanwhile we are trying to catch as many as possible so they can live, preferably with the neighbors. After capturing them we waterboard them, wrong I know. We use a little wooden spoon and an eyedropper to find out where their little friends are hiding. We also are trying to change the way we look at them. No more Maisy and Stewart Little. This new batch are called Susan Smith, O.J., Adolph, Sadam, Rush Limbaugh and Eileen . All my love Valerie

Saturday, January 24, 2009

new job

Models in the photo are Bob's three daughters, not actual hobos.
I am not looking after my Mom anymore and I quit my job at the Asylum so I guess it is time to look for a new job. Bob doesn't say it but sometimes I can hear his thoughts from across the living room , something like the telltale heart, saying "hey I work 2 full time jobs and take care of my mother who is one thousand years old and really, really irritating, when are you going back to work? "(I may not have heard the part about really, really irritating, I may be making that part up. )
Given my particular skillset and more importantly my wardrobe, I may have to rule out sherpa, my clothes aren't quite that nice and I am kind of lazy, I couldn't climb a mountain if wolves were chasing me up it. But if it comes down to a mcjob or a return to my one day career with 7-11 I have decided instead to hit the rails and become a hobo. Sophie bin Laden will have to come with me I guess she will be a hoboette. She will have to dance in front of a little tin can while strangers throw pennies to her. We will have little matching outfits like something you would see on the old Carole Burnette Show. I am kind of worried about jumping on and off the trains, I'm not very fast and I will insist on wearing birkenstocks. So if things don't work out watch for me at train crossings or where ever hobo's hang out cooking over tin cans and playing the harmonica. That picture is of Sophie and her two pretty sisters, they are not actual hobos. Sophie seems to have a real affinity to dancing around fire. This seems worrisome. valerie

Friday, January 23, 2009

Choose an Identity

Does anyone else get a little thrill when they leave a comment and it asks them to "CHOOSE AN IDENTITY" Ok I choose Dorothy Parker, with a little Cat Woman, the original, thrown in and maybe Frieda Khalo's eyebrows. Also as long as I'm choosing, I choose to be one of those mother's I thought I would be back in my smug days, before karma kicked the crap out of me. The kind who only watches PBS and cooks organic meals while making every moment a learning bonding adventure. I am a lot like that if you substitute A House Marathon for PBS and a grilled cheese for organic meals and instead of a bonding moment you hear yourself saying eat your grilled cheese Sophie or mama will turn off that idiot tugboat. (that is a real and shameful comment from me) I haven't' reached rock bottom yet, that comes when you hear yourself saying "but I thought you always like nyquil. But close. February resolution. Choose an Identity, other than mine. Now just to see if anyone is really reading this(my true Friends will leave two or three comments so I don't appear so pathetic, please tell me who you would choose if you could "Choose an Identity" nothing sappy please, like I am just happy being me EEEW. Valerie

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Being NIce.

I am getting back to my wicked old self. I know this because my husband, St. Bob of Riverview told me I needed to "learn to be nice" the other day. I can't remember what this was in response to, I think he wanted to know what to get his mother for her birthday and I may have said a case of Marlboro's if cocaine was too expensive. The trouble is not only do I despise being nice but I don't think that it is something you can learn, at least I have never seen it in any community college catalogue. I think some people are naturally nice, My friend Sonia Purkey is genuinely nice. She doesn't gossip or stir up drama and she likes just about everyone, not Saddam Hussein or anything but everyone else. She makes being nice seem easy. But a life without gossip or wickedness you might just lobotomize me now. anyway we are pretty good here. Still fighting the mice and I am cleaning up mom's stuff at her house. I am sure QVC has had to lay off the whole Gloria Petersen Memorial wing. Still miss her, still wicked. My love to everyone. Valerie

Monday, January 5, 2009

Truck snakes

I'm posting part of my Eulogy for my mother, it's ok, it's not too sappy or sad, I'm still not sure why this is so much easier in a blog than talking to people but anyway here it is. (giving the Eulogy tomorrow, scared to death, taking a xanax before the reading so it will have a nice zombie like quality to it. Valerie

When my daughter was born I remember wondering what kind of mother I would be and what things I would pass from my mother on to her . I had a hard time narrowing it down to one thing that I thought was the most important. Her sense of humor and her storytelling were two things that stood out for me but the most important was her spirit of adventure and her enthusiasm.
She taught her children not to be afraid of trying new things, even stupid things. She took me Michelle and Scott cross country in the 70's, From Virginia. to Utah. Remember there was a big gas crisis then. I remember she took us in an old Volkswagen van to see "Rocky" at a drive in theater. Now mom was always more of an adventurer than a planner, so when the movie was over we found we were almost out of gas and no stations were open. There was room for me, Michelle and Scott to sleep in the van but no her so she parked in a gas station. After bedding us down she climbed in to a strange truck cab with her pillow and blanket to sleep. When we woke at dawn we looked out to see the reassuring site of our mother waving to us out of the cab of the truck. We waved back and went back to sleep. It turned out that once she got in the truck she noticed that there were no door handles or window rollers. She was well and truly stuck and to top it off she could hear what she was sure were truck snakes slithering around on the floor of the cab. I think my mom was so great, how many moms would have climbed up into the cab to begin with and then to be able to laugh about it, we laughed for absolutely years about that.

I really am doing ok, thanks for all the kindness people have shown. Sometimes I think I might be doing too well, but then a box of red berry cereal that we bought when she was alive sends me into paraxoms of grief. It's ok though i think that's all part of washing away the grief. thanks valerie

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