Hit the new-to-me PFCU branch, hit the ATM machine, then went inside and dropped off a signature card for a new account. Grocery store, get Easter goodies, hit the checkout and open my wallet to get out my debit card.

It’s not there. @*!(*##(*@!!! Be thankful that I pulled cash out of the ATM machine, and check out. My mind is whirling at whether or not I am going to be able to get back the card assuming the machine ate it at the bank, and I didn’t drop it somewhere. Make my way to the car, unload the groceries and discover that I no longer have a wallet. At this point I look at the sky and yelled something along the lines of “Goddammit, Karma, you need to sit your ass down and take a breather!! You sent me grandma’s Alzheimers and I dealt with it! I WON. So stop screwing with me!”

As you might expect, this will get you some odd looks in a grocery store parking lot.

Back into the market where thankfully I had just left my wallet at the checkstand and not dropped it somewhere else. Get home, Avon order is here. Excellent – except that I have to unload groceries and call the bank to find out if I am SOL or if I can get the card back. Thank you PFCU for not having ATM machines that destroy captured cards. Back to the bank, get card.

Home again, break down Avon order, discover we will be having a houseguest this weekend, zip up to Glory Days to make deliveries and confuse the hell out of everyone as they normally never see me during daylight. Back home, breathe for about 5 minutes, collate catalogues and samples. Get rest of samples, demos and supplies slightly more organized.

Finally get things all settled, and find that the afternoon probably wouldn’t have felt like quite such a marathon had I not had the adrenaline rush of losing debit card, losing wallet, retrieving wallet and retrieving debit card.

I am also now realizing that I don’t think that I have eaten today, and I should probably do something about it.

– Carmen is about 91% back to normal. She still looks at the ceiling fans with a suspicious eye, but is back to hanging out in the living room, and decided food was the winner in the fear of ceiling fan vs. eating in the bedroom. It may seem silly that it worried me as much as it did, but it’s just a tiny bit heartbreaking to not be able to explain that the ceiling fan is not a predator. Lily still looks at the ceiling fans and then looks at me with an expression of, “Seriously, I don’t get the issue here.” Or it’s, “WTF, why is the fan off?” I’m not quite sure which it is.

– Is it wrong that when I come in and want to know where the kittens are I say, “Where are my single ladies?!” and then sing a few bars from Beyonce’s Single Ladies song? They do show up when I sing it. (And I use the term “singing” loosely.)

– Sharyn* called today, and I’ll admit my first thought when seeing her number on the Caller ID was, “WTF has my grandmother done???” Yes, I know I’m going to hell for that. But, it was just an update. First being that the hot water heater is ON – and to expect some calls about that. (I couldn’t even get her to voluntarily leave it on when we stayed with her. So I just turned it on and didn’t tell her.) But, she’s not been super great about showering of late, for several understandable reasons that I am completely speculating upon because she won’t actually tell anyone:

a) Afraid she’ll fall & hurt herself
b) Not like she’s out running a marathon
c) Doesn’t give a rat’s ass, cause she’s 87 years old
d) Hot water costs money

But Sharyn is getting her a shower seat (the shower has a built in bench, but she could quite easily slide right off it it – hell, *I* could slide off it were I not paying attention) and will be there so my grandmother knows if she has any issues, help is immediately there. (And as Sharyn said, “Hell, if she wants me to get naked too, I’ll do it.” God bless this woman.)

Additionally, we’d previously talked about Meals on Wheels for more hot food options**, but they’re kind of insistent on “coming in & helping” and my grandmother just is NOT comfortable having strangers about (which I think is a good thing) and Sharyn did a little more poking around and one of the local hospitals does a pretty kick ass meal plan that can be picked up, which is better for all helping out. Given my grandmother’s good financial situation***, it will cost……$4 a meal. Christ, our Chinese takeout tonight cost way more than that. And she was reading one of the menus to me – Swiss steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, salad & milk. Hell, where do *I* sign up for that?

I’m very glad she found this, cause she has been cooking up things to take over to my grandmother, which is awesome, but I’m really glad to have this off her plate (so to speak) because I do worry that she’s doing too much already, despite her protestations to the contrary.

* The angel sent from heaven to Sun City to prevent me from tossing my grandmother into the middle of traffic on Bell Road.
** My grandmother would live on sandwiches & ice cream if left to her own devices. I am at the point of “Whatever the hell she wants” but I am outvoted, LOL. She will eat *anything* you put in front of her, but will never admit that she’d like anything beyond sandwiches & ice cream. As I have said before, she’s taken self deprivation to an art form.
*** I have told my grandmother on more than a few occasions that if I had her resources at her age, I’d be ordering Lobster Thermador & a Cabana Boy every night. I will be getting the contact info for this hospital meal plan and a nice donation will be made so they can help a few more people who *can’t* afford it, because frankly, she’s being ridiculously undercharged for this service.

Now, when one takes the late shift, there is a better than good chance that you’re going to run into someone that started their happy hour at 1730 and is still going at it full bore at 0100 hours. Can’t really judge on that one either – it is what it is. We all have bad days. However, this has given me a few insights. One of them being that most of these folks seem to be from the defense contracting sector of the beltway world. (Perhaps just a inevitable issue of living where I live…but it tends to not happen with non-govt-contractors, so I cannot help but sense a trend. Possibly a weird coincidence, but I think not.)

That all being said, I can remain quite unfazed when someone walks up and says, “I’m quite inebriated, but…” Because I could tell you were six sheets (yes, twice the traditional three sheets) to the wind even before you opened your mouth. I will certainly not be offended by the fact that alcohol may have helped you walk up to someone you don’t even know and say something complimentary. Let’s face it, alcohol is essentially liquid Xanax when consumed in sufficient amounts. (And a hell of lot easier to wean yourself off when you don’t need it anymore.)

However, there comes a point where you’ve just had one Vodka Xanax too many. And you’re describing in Cinemax-worthy detail of the ways in which you would be a GREAT boyfriend. (Or the ways in which you *think* you’d be a great boyfriend.) That is when you’ve crossed the line from “courage to talk to a stranger” to “courage to be a total freaking idiot in front of a complete stranger”… This is the point I will create an invisible super-awesome boyfriend out of whole cloth if needed. (And oh yes, I will do that if I have to. I am not above that kind of deception when required.) Or an invisible boyfriend based on a real person who I know will go along with the story if needed*… And trust me, said invisible boyfriend will be all that and a bag of chips, far and away beyond anything you think you can offer. If you’re lucky this is the point where your spectaculary more sober friend will come up and distract you with something shiny before you embarass yourself any further. (And apologize profusely for your behavior. And 5 minutes later will say, “Crap, I lost him again!”)

I will not argue that alcohol can be an excellent social lubricant. There have been countless social and pseudo-social events I have attended over the years that have been made exceptionally more tolerable with a dirty goose martini to kick things off. But really guys, you need to know where that line is – and stay on the right side of it. Or at least have friends that will keep you from speaking to any strangers when you go careening sideways over said line.

Just sayin’…

*Thank you, twas a lifesaver.
Black 47: The Reels

However, the dog has a slightly different opinion of them, and not as positive as mine. He’s currently down in the basement – my brother can’t even hear the thunder down there and just came up and asked, “What have you been doing to the dog?!”

Despite the fact that I don’t even live in Maryland, their General Assembly is seriously annoying me. One of the big deals in front of the Assembly this session? Whether or not “Alchi-pops” should be classified as beer, wine or distilled spirits*. Actually, it’s not the need for classification that bothers me, cause it does need to be classified as something, but the fact that one of the sponsors of the classification bill talked about how this was important for the “parents of teenagers.” Guess what, it doesn’t matter WHAT it is classified as – it’s still illegal for teens to buy, possess or consume – a very weak argument in my mind.

Another FYI for the locals, but this is a good one – the Food and Wine Festival at National Harbor will be May 16th-18th. And the Water Taxi from Old Town Alexandria to the National Harbor will be (supposedly) running – so for the VA folks – if you can get to OT, you can get to the Festival and back, AND you get a couple boat rides in the deal!

In the “If I had the money I would be ALL OVER THIS” category: Land inside seven national parks in Virginia is available to the highest bidder. Seriously – if I could buy any of that land, I would be the best landowner in a national park that they could ask for. I might have a tiny cabin or something, but I wouldn’t be chasing hikers off my land the way I want to chase everyone else off the land that I do have. (Including my neighbor who I caught tramping through my front yard this afternoon rather than taking the extra 10 steps to stay on the sidewalk until he hit his driveway. GET OFF MY LAWN!! He’s lucky I didn’t have an unfortunate brake incident that would have resulted in my chasing him across said lawn with my Jeep, because he pulled this crap as I was pulling into my driveway!) Yes, I am turning into the “Get off my lawn!” lady. Even better – I am OK with that. :-D

* Yeah, I know in some places wine = distilled spirits, because in some cases wine is fermented then transferred to new casks, which in some cases is considered “distillation” because of the fact that the vessel has changed. I still consider them distinct categories.

Music of the Moment: The Pointless, Yes Poignant, Crisis of a Co-Ed, Dar Williams