A day at Hershey

Today my husband and I took Bonnie (my sister) to Hershey Chocolate World and then to the Hershey Gardens.

She loves everything. She really enjoyed the Chocolate World tour. I bought tee shirts for her to take home to her grandchildren. Naturally, when you are in Hershey, you eat CHOCOLATE. Boy, I do love chocolate!

The Gardens are in wonderful bloom. Acres and acres of beautiful flowers, most especially roses. No way to describe it. Again, she loved it. We also saw the butterfly exhibit. They are so light and airy, and they flutter all around you.

Temperature was just right. Bonnie talked a lot as usual, but I dealt with it better. Just smiled a lot.

My head hurts, my EARS hurt...

Only 11 days to go. I can do it. I invited my sister here. I paid for her ticket to fly here. I knew she talked non-stop. Okay. I asked for it. I can do this. Yes I can.

But it ain't easy friends.

She's a good person. A sweet person. But oh, boy, she must be afraid that if she stops talking that her lips will grow shut. No danger of that!

Today I took her hiking at the lovely nature trail at Wildwood Park. She thought it was beautiful. She's very appreciative of everything.

 

travels with my sister

The good news about my sister Bonnie is that she is easily amused. She loves everything. That goes a long way with me.

I took her to the Shoe House in Hellam, PA (The map will say York, Pa. Well, of course, it doesn't say anything, you have to read it.)

She loved the shoe house, and it truly is unique. Fun. We had a private tour, since no one else was there. Yep, we had ice cream. Yummy.

Then we went to Gettysburg, which she also liked a lot. I took lots of photos of her there, and with the shoe house also. She doesn't get to go many places and I want her to have something to show off.

The bad news about Bonnie...wait for it...the family knows it's coming...SHE NEVER, AND I MEAN NEVER, SHUTS UP. It's amazing that she finds time to breathe.

 

Nothing much

Yesterday I had fun shopping with dddragon's twin girls at Park City Mall in Lancaster, PA. Boy, we SHOPPED! Got lots of summer stuff for the girls. Good day.

I will not be blogging every single day for the next two weeks because I will have a houseguest. I will READ your blog, and maybe I will blog occasionally.

I was born the fourth of four girls. We've lost two sisters to cancer. So now we are two. My sister Bonnie is arriving from Memphis today to visit with me for two weeks. I'll be taking her places like the Shoe House in Hellam. It's a real house. "Honeymooners and elderly couples once stayed at the Shoe House. Today, it's open to tourists and ice cream enthusiasts. Its facade is protected from substantial changes by a historic easement." You can check it out at
Shoehouse
or
Hellam shoehouse

I also will probably take her to Baltimore, Washington, D.C., and Hershey Park. Places like that. I haven't seen her in about two years. She hasn't come up here in a coon's age. So everything will be new to her.

 

Shop 'til we drop!

"Ring, ring, the telephone rings,
Somebody says, Baby, whatcha doin'?"

No! Wait, somebody sez, "Granny can you take us shopping for clothes?"

Yes! Grandmother heaven.
I'm taking my twin granddaughters to the big city to take shop.

See ya!
 

I Love All of my Blogging Buddies

We Is Friends!

I just want all of you to know how much I care about you. You make my days.

You Smile, I Smile.

You Hurt, I Hurt.

You Cry, I Cry.

You Jump Off A Bridge.


I'm Gonna Miss Your Blog!
 

Reagan's Last Words

It's been quite a while now since Reagan died, and I don't know whether or not any of you watched the memorial service for Ronald Reagan, but if you did, you probably noticed that Bill and Hillary were both dozing off.

President Ronald Reagan, who never missed a chance for a good one-liner, raised his head out of his casket and said...
"I see the Clintons are finally sleeping together."




 

Nothin' to say

Remember the A-ha song, Take on Me, with lyrics that went

"Talking away
I don't know what I'm to say
I'll say it anyway"

That's me today. I have nothing to say, and yet I have this irrepressible urge to say it anyway.

In case you missed it, here are the 2004 winners of the Washington Post's contest that asks readers to supply alternate meanings for various words.

1. Coffee (n.), a person who is coughed upon.

2. Flabbergasted (adj.), appalled over how much weight you have gained.

3. Abdicate (v.), to give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

4. Esplanade (v.), to attempt an explanation while drunk.

5. Willy-nilly (adj.), impotent.

6. Negligent (adj.), describes a condition in which you absent-mindedly answer the door in your nightgown.

7. Lymph (v.), to walk with a lisp.

8. Gargoyle (n.), an olive-flavored mouthwash.

9. Flatulence (n.) the emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.

10. Balderdash (n.), a rapidly receding hairline.

11. Testicle (n.), a humorous question on an exam.

12. Rectitude (n.), the formal, dignified demeanor assumed by a proctologist immediately before he examines you.

13. Oyster (n.), a person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddish expressions.

14. Pokemon (n), a Jamaican proctologist.

15. Frisbeetarianism (n), the belief that when you die your Soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck there.

16. Circumvent (n.), the opening in the front of boxer shorts. 

As if you aren't sick enough of this S**t

This is what America's Best Christian, Betty Bowers, has to say on the subject:
"Michael Jackson is back at Neverland. Do you know where your prepubescent son is, dear? Yes, dear friends, Michael Jackson is free. Honestly, white people get away with everything! So, one more jury has found someone "not guilty by reason of celebrity." Surely, you are not naive enough to be surprised, are you? As Paris Hilton has proved, even being an inane, drugged-out, pornographic whore is utterly laudable just as long as we recognize your vacant mug from a weekly magazine. So, once again, it is cookies and porn time back at Neverland. As if young Hispanic boys didn't have enough to worry about with Catholic priests lurking around every confessional booth!"

Now I swear to The Devil and The Little Bar of Soap that I will never speak of MJ again. (Figure I better hedge my bets on this swearing stuff.)

 

Attack cat

dddragon posts today that it is her cat Chatham's 18th birthday. Chatham was our first grandcat. Actually our first grandpet of any kind. Makes sense because dddragon is our oldest child. She will tell you just the nice things about this cat. But I have my own story.

Last year when they were preparing to go on vacation, ddd's husband (she refers to him as DH on her blog. Aral had made his pez Nod Donald Duck Pez I think. Ummmm. Maybe the DH stands for "dumb husband." I don't want to be caught calling one of my sons-in-law dumb, so I'll call him Nod.) ANYHOO--where was I?

Okay. Last year Nod decided that he was not going to go with ddd and the grandtwins on vacation because Chatham was taking medicine for his liver (I think maybe he's a closet drinker. The cat I mean, not the son-in-law.) and only Nod was able to get this medicine down the cat's throat. Normally I take care of the cats whenever their family is away.

I said, "Hey, I can do this. Go with the family!" So, I was invited to their house to prove that I could in fact get these pills into Chatham. I went over there, grabbed the cat by the back of his neck, pulled his head back, put the pill down his throat, and that was that. Nod was impressed. No problem, he can go on vacation.

So, each day while they're away I go over, get the pill into Chatham, hang around for an hour 'cause he can't eat until an hour after the pill. Then I feed the cats and hang around to keep Salem from eating Chatham's food. Salem is a pig. Well, Salem is a cat, but you know what I mean.

I go back at night of course to feed them, scoop the poop---my very favorite thing, and just in general give them "turn down" service at the old hotel. These are pampered kitties.

Now, Chatham is getting a little bit more difficult to locate each morning. He hides here and there, often under a bed, but lots of different places, trying to avoid the bitch with the pill. He can't actually run...too old and too sick. He's a crafty critter, but I always catch him and give him the pill.

By day four he starts hissing at me frequently and fiercely. That cat.

By day five when I arrive there's a shotgun in a package on the front porch. That darn cat has logged onto the Internet and ordered a gun to use to take me out. HA! He can't unlock the door to get at the gun, so his plans are spoiled. I call UPS and send the weapon back. Hope ddd and Nod got a refund for it. Forgot to ask.

I'm still getting that pill down him every morning. Day six, I check the cookies on the cat computer (told you they're spoiled) and find that Chatham has contacted a hit man to get me. HA again! I'll just be careful. Park down the street, sneak in through the back. Like that.

Guess the cat had had enough. Next morning when I looked for him, he's right out in the open. Hmmm... I know something's up. I'm cautious. Too cautious in fact. I'm a little tentative when I give the pill, and he manages to spit it out. I grab it, and when I do, the little beastie bites my hand. A deep piercing hook of a bite. I had to pull his tooth out of my hand. But I get that pill in. So there! Take that!

I wash the hand. I mean, it's just a cat bite for gosh sakes. I must have been bitten by a cat before. But no, wait, it's swelling up. Looking funny. Can't call the doctor for a cat bite! Too silly. Too trivial. Next day, the hand and arm are a lot of different, interesting colors, and really, really BIG. It's going up my arm. So I call the doctor's office, scared that they would laugh in my ear. No, they don't laugh. "GET IN HERE," they say.

Turns out that lots of people end up on intravenous antibiotics for cat bits. Not me. I'm tough enough for a cat. I just have to take antibiotics for 10 days.

Happy birthday Chatham...and many more.