Is it possible to have your sense of humor surgically removed?

I posted this photo of my (then) 86 year Nana on FB (via Easter 2008). I tagged family. I am new to FB but I knew the photo would hit their walls due to the tag. I did not know my commentary would go along for the ride. That is not an excuse, simply the truth.

I can not remember exactly what I wrote but it verged on my writing that she thought the L was for her first name and that I am mean to little old ladies that way. I did this knowing my family would get the inside joke.

I was wrong.

I had a first cousin and her husband insinuate that I was deliberately cruel. That it was wrong. That if I did not remove said photo, they would delete me from FB. Etc, etc, etc.

If you have met me, deliberate cruelty is not my forte. Yes, I can be sharp tongued, but I would not harm a fly. I was mortified and deeply hurt.

I did not mention this to said cousin for almost a day so I could get my bearings and not write to her with raw emotions. I needed to calm down,

I had anothter first cousin write that it was funny "and besides she is such a good sport".

I had an aunt write that the Easter Bunny should "leave Ex-Lax eggs in your Easter Basket, lol".

No go.... Kill joy still thought I was intentionally cruel. Ironically, the last note my cousin wrote was entitled "This note may contain sarcasm". I wanted to scream the note may contain it; however, do you UNDERSTAND it?????

I mentioned this to my grandmother today. Not my cousin's comments, nor those of her husband. Not the debacle with my cousin as I would not put my Nana in a frame of mind to know I was upset at another of her grandchildren. I wanted her to know. She is not a computer person and would have never seen this herself. I tell her when I post about her and print it for her to read. Unless it is about my mom's cancer, but that is a different story and not relevant now.

YES, I DID tell the woman the L stood for looser *after* snapping said photo. Alas, she had just lost a game. Her response that day was to snap me with a dish towel and giggle. Her response today was "have they lost their sense of humor?"

I told her this while she made her coffee whilst wearing pajamas adorned with sock monkeys. I asked if I could post that photo. She said no. Only because her hair was a mess and that she was not wearing lipstick. She is cool that way and I know that my sense of humor was handed to me from Mama via her.

I hope I am that cool if I make it to my 80s.

And as a side note, they did delete me, but not my German. I remedied that and deleted them from his account.

42 years in the making....

I sit here today pondering my 42 years on this planet. Yes, today is my birthday. I was born on April 3, 1966. It was a Palm Sunday in San Antonio, Texas where I made my debut. Believe it or not I had enough hair to pull up when I finally decided to enter the world.

I am an only child. I know, I know, there are so many clichés that go with that title. Yes, I am a tad bit spoiled even in my 40s. Don’t be hating on me because of it. I try not to ask for many things; however, my parents are very generous and I am very blessed. In all honesty, if the Lord asked me to pick any two people in the world to be my parents, I would have selected them. They are loving, loyal, compassionate, faithful, honest, caring people. I could use a thousand more positive things to describe them; however, I won’t. It would take pages to describe what good souls they both are and continue to be.

I have a multitude of first cousins. I am close to some but not all of them. It is a large generation gap in that some of my first cousins are actually older than my father. Kinda weirds me out when I think about it…. My paternal grandmother had her first child in 1915 and my Daddy, who is the baby, came along in 1939. Kinda all spread out… My maternal grandmother (Nana) gave birth to five children. My Mama is the middle child. They are a little spread out in that my youngest Aunt (Auntie D) is 11 years younger than Mama and 11 years older than me. She is like my big sister. I am grateful for her and love her tremendously.

Over the course of my 42 years I have learned many life lessons. Lessons that I would like to share with you now. So without further adieu let’s get started, shall we?

Do not under any circumstances define yourself by who you are in a relationship with at all! There was a time that people only knew me as Mrs. (name of first husband here) and did not actually know my name. It bothered me but not enough to speak up. Now I know better. I am not Mrs. or Frau (Mein Deutscher). I am Klinde, but you all know that’s not my real name but I digress…

Do not let people take advantage of you. Too many times I was burned because I would allow people to walk all over me. I was too intimidated to speak up for fear they would no longer like. I had the mad desire to please everyone all the time and would let people run me over. Now I speak up and make my voice heard and if someone disagrees or doesn’t want to be around me because of it, so be it. At least I got it off of my chest and I can not sit and sulk or worry over it.

Learn to handle money. I was a victim of credit abuse. I loved the instant purchasing power that Visa gave me. I fell into debt that was in the five figure category. Thanks to my gracious parents, they bailed me out, not once, not twice, but three times. I no longer have any type of credit card because I know I can not control myself with them. If I can’t pay for it with cash, then I can’t have it, plain and simple. No, I did not learn this from Dave Ramsey, I did this on my own because I know how I am.

You have no biological children, so what? Yes, I know that a big dream of mine was to have a bunch of rug rats. God had a different plan for me. I do not understand it; however, I do accept it because He knows better than I. The caveat is that I hate not giving my parents a grandchild because that was always a dream of theirs. My bloodline ends with me. It is a depressing thought but one that I will live with gracefully. Don’t get me wrong, I am totally in love with my seven year old step son, but wanted one of my very own. I think most women feel that need to be a mom but it just wasn’t in the cards for me.

I have a very addictive personality. Admittedly so, and I am still a work in progress on this one. There are many hurdles. When I say addictive it does not refer to drugs and alcohol, but a multitude of sins. My current addiction is playing games online. Past addictions have included cross-stitching, pottery, UT football, needlepoint, and decorating just to name a few…

So after 42 years I would like to say I have learned a little something about this thing we call life. Hopefully there will be more valuable lessons learned as I venture on my path.

Lessons learned - NOT!

I have a bad habit... A really bad habit... I have the tendency to not think before speaking or twittering. After 41 years, you would think I would have learned, but no.... I come by it naturally, women in my family have done the same. Today I would like to share a few of these with you.

Example one, we play this stupid game as a family... Here's how it goes... You pick real words that end in the letter O and you make up a question about it as if it were one of the Marx brothers (Groucho, not Karl). Like what three Marx brothers are chips? Dorito, Tostito and Frito... Get it? I thought you would. Well Mama, Nana and I were sitting in Hobby airport to fly back to Nashville. Mama asked me what Marx brother was a "toy" and I said "Dildo". Nana looks at me and asks what a dildo is.. I begin to snort as does my mother. I don't answer and my mother doesn't either. This does not bode well with my nana. She asks again... Now I have tears rolling down my face and I have almost fallen off my chair. Don't get me wrong, it pleases me that a woman in her eighties does not know what a dildo is, truly it does. Well my grandmother is getting more upset that we are cackling and snorting so she stands up and loudly asks us (using both mine and Mama's first and middle names to really make her point) "what is a dildo"? Unfortunately, she had raised her voice and everyone around us went completely silent. I actually did fall off of the chair and then quietly told Nana what it was... Everyone was still staring at us... My grandmother turned to me and said "who the hell would want one of those"? Fortunately it was then time to board the plane and our fellow passengers broke out into applause.

Example two, I was at the doctor's office with my mother when the doctor came in my purse started buzzing. I casually told Mama to get the vibrator out for me... My mother did not bat an eye and reached into my bag knowing exactly what I meant... And what I really meant was to get my vibrating cell phone. I turned crimson and the doctor had to leave the room to regain her composure.

I promise example three is not about sex toys...

Example three, I was on the phone at the doctors office talking to HR about my leave of absence. I told her that I needed the insurance info so I could get my STD taken care of... What I meant (and HR knew too) was short-term disability for my being out with mono. Unfortunately everyone in my doc's office now thinks I have syphillis.

Me and my big mouth.

A journey begins with the first step

When I wallow in my depression I tend to do serious thinking as well. I try focusing on the positive aspects of my life and not dwell in the negatives. It can be difficult but the effort eventually pays off with a bit of respite from the doom and gloom I am mired in. With that being said I have been thinking about my spirituality and my faith.

I was born and raised Catholic. When I do manage to attend, I am still Catholic. My parents and Nana are all practicing Catholics. The German was born and raised Catholic as well. That makes for an easier piece in our marriage as we have very similar beliefs and were raised in the same faith.

Lately I have been putting my spiritual self to the side. I have not been feeding it as it should be. I have not protected it nor sheltered it. I have let it drift. I believe that there are three parts to each of us that must be maintained: Spiritual, mental and physical. I am working on both the mental and physical aspects by trying to get a handle on my depression and by loosing almost fifty pounds in the past two years. I am proud of the weight loss. It was a long process as I did not gain that much overnight; therefore, I should not expect to loose it instantly. However, that is now what this is about… As usual, I digress.

I realize that my journey is not on the correct path. That I have slipped from where I need to be in my walk with God is an understatement. I have not spent the time in prayer and meditation that I used to. I have not been speaking to God about blessings. It has merely been all about me and what He can do for me. There is no other way to put it… I have been a selfish Christian.

I do not like the hollow feeling that gives me. I worry about getting back on track and living what I believe not just thinking about it. I miss the high I get from feeling at one with God after prayer. I miss going to church. That is something the German and I agreed we would do as husband and wife and it has been over a year since either of us set foot in Cathedral. I worry about both of us spiritually. Yes, we say blessings together before meals. Yes, we pray together about certain things but mostly our faith is our own personal belonging.

I need to refocus and redirect my life back onto my spiritual path and back to the Lord. I need to rededicate my life to Him. I know in my heart if I do so all the other things which are overwhelming now will become trivial if I have the courage and faith to put them into His hands. I need to walk the walk and not just talk the talk.

Back to normal programming

I did not mean to take a blogging hiatus. Life has an annoying habit of getting in the way of things you mean to do. There has been an onslaught of things to do personally. The German and I have been preparing for the arrival of the Bubbie on Wednesday, November 28th. He is coming in for a children’s Christmas party that the German’s company throws annually. He goes back home to Jersey on Sunday, December 2nd.

The downside is that the German has to be out of town the Thursday and Friday that the Bubbie is here. I am pissed. Mind you, not at the German. It is not his fault. He told people a while back that his son was going to be here and that he could not travel during that time. We get the Bubbie infrequently. We have only seen him 16 days this entire year. And now that we get him for just four precious days, my German has to go out of town on business. Bubbie lands the evening of the 28th. The German has to depart either before Bubbie arrives or around 4a on Thursday. It slices his time with his son in half and I am livid.

Don’t get me wrong, I know this is not anyone’s fault. Business is business and something came up. I know that is out of everyone’s control. It just makes my heart ache for my husband and his son.

I love my step son with my whole heart. My parents adore him as he is the only grandchild they will ever know. The Bubbie even calls them Memere and Pepere which is the Cajun names for grandparents. He loves spending time with them and is spoiled completely rotten by them and my 86 year old Nana who lives with them. Who would not want that kind of attention? Of course my parents are utterly exhausted each day they watch him while I work (I wiped out my vacation in March going to Hamburg to meet my German’s parents).

Basically I needed to vent. I wanted to go visit my other friends in bloggyland as well after my two week stint of being offline. There will be more later on the visit as it is always a good time when the Bubbie comes to visit… Unless of course you are my cat... She remembers the previous visit.

Center Piece of your family

Reason number 1,107,727 why I love the German...

A little over three years ago, my parents called me, their only child, regarding an important issue... They wanted to move Nana here from San Antonio. She was about to turn 84.

This was way before the cancer diagnosis, and Mama gave her two options. Move here before Christmas 2004 or after Easter 2005. Pick one. She chose the latter.

I had no problem saying move her here. It was understood that Nana would live her final years with Mama and Daddy. Completely unspoken. Trust me, I lived close enough to her most of my life to know the drill.

Of course I had no issue. I know she is is aging. I know that encompasses change. I know that she has survived two husbands. I know she is a strong, proud woman. The youngest of a group of sisters. She grew up poor. She raised five children. She has eight grandchildren. She does crossword puzzles in black ink. She had a rotary dial phone. She plays a mean game of canasta. She rocks.

She turned 86 today. She was a widow for the first time at 42. I will be 42 next year and that fact scares the shit out of me. She was widowed again shortly before her 80th birthday.

She is a strong woman. She is a beautiful woman. Did I mention she still does crossword puzzles in ink?

So anyway, when Mama and Daddy had the family meeting (yes, we really do have family meetings) to let me know they wanted to move her here (we are still a family democracy so my vote counts) I said yes. They asked me what the German thought. Honestly, his opinion never crossed my mind. Sorry, this was about my Nana. I grew up with her, he didn't. It may be wrong, but it's the truth. We (Mama, Daddy and I) made a decision, wasn't that all that mattered? Mama in her ever politically correct way told me the German now had a vote. We lived together then, not yet engaged. I was planning a future with him. It mattered. His answer? The title of the blog. He told me that if Mama. Daddy and I were run over by a truck, his job was her. To take her back to her biological family unless she wanted him to be the care taker.... The answer is, she loves him, but no. Get her to Texas.

So in a REALLY roundabout way, happy 86th birthday. You are the oldest person the Bubbie knows. You are the cornerstone of the "M" family. You are still a card shark. You still have the same laugh. You are still the same woman who could not get out of the wheelchair since Mama threatened you (insert "M" family joke). You still made me eat lemon egg (Jentina, I am looking at you).

You are the cornerstone of our family.

What does it take to make it to 43 years?

Let me start with apologies to my parents for not posting this on their actual anniversary of July 20th. I have been under the weather and blogging was not a priority like trying to feel good enough to go to work.

Well 43 years ago this past Friday, my parents ran off from San Antonio, Texas to Seguin, Texas to elope in front a justice of the peace. They have been married to one another since they were 25 and 20 years of age. I can not imagine being with the man I was with at either 20 nor 25 and sustaining it at the level they have accomplished.

Of course there has been ups and downs. I do not know any married couple who has not had those regardless of how wonderful everything is. People grow and change and not always at the same rate or in the same direction. Marriage, hell, ANY relationship takes work. It takes time, nurturing, patience, understanding, a give and take... Of course most people think a relationship is 50-50; however, there are going to be times when it is 70-30 or even 90-10 and you need to learn to roll with it in order to sustain and grow with it.

My parents have learned that. To say they have mastered it is an understatement. Their relationship has had it's hardships as have everyone else. Growing up, my father was in law enforcement and frequently worked odd shifts or "on call" and such. There were times when friends thought I was from a single parent family due to my father's work requirements. It was not the case; however, it did thrust me into a different relationship with my mother because of our time alone. That is a situation I have worked on remedying as I have grown older. But this is not about me, sorry, I digress...

I have asked questions regarding the longevity of their marriage. Mama has always told me that she knew Daddy would take care of her for the rest of her life. Even before her diagnosis with cancer he has kept that promise. He takes care of so many things for their household (which also includes Nana, Mama's 85 year old mother). Mama enjoys sleeping in and jokes constantly that he "does more before I get up than I do all day". They do have their different household obligations; however, Daddy has had to step up in a few more categories since Mama has been ill.

They take time for one another. Sometimes in small batches. It's hard for them at times since they have Nana and do not want her to feel excluded. I should do more to pick up the slack and give them time apart. I do not do nearly enough in that avenue. Writing this I realize there is so much more I should do to allow them time together, time they have earned, time they deserve just for one another.

At the heart of this, I have learned through observation that which seems to be their biggest secrets to a successful marriage.... Understanding, patience, communication, time together... Sounds easy in theory; however, so many marriages seem to falter. Thankfully theirs is not one of them.

So to my parents, happy belated 43rd anniversary. Thank you for being a role model not only to me but to others by your example of not just what a couple should be, but also what you both give to others as individuals. If God would have asked me to select who I wanted as parents, I could not have done a more amazing job. I am fortunate, blessed beyond measure for having you in my life. I love you both.

Madre, Mere, Mutter

They all equal out to one thing... Mother... We all have one regardless of our circumstances. Our individual relationships with them vary far and wide. I am blessed to have a fabulous one that I often refer to as the Munchkin due to her being all of 4'10"ish. I add the "ish" because she's lost about an inch in her 60 odd years on earth and she has always said that every fraction of an inch counts when you are under 5'.

We are over our misunderstanding of a few days back. I never made the phone call to her; however, she, Daddy and the Nana came over for lunch yesterday... Burgers the size of my head to be exact. Following my usual M.O., I digress.

We had good conversations, my mother and I. I am way over being upset and need to get skin just a few notches thicker. I am trying to enjoy the times I spend with the people I love and care about. After all that is what makes life worthwhile to me. I need to constantly remind myself of that little tidbit. Maybe I will put up post-it notes that will give me the "gentle reminder" I so often need when I am having a blue moment. Or maybe I should just tattoo it to my forehead. Not.

Anywho, the test results are back... Finally... News is of the good. No visible signs of cancer... The fluid surrounding her heart is nothing to be worried about and simply is a side effect of the radiation. The other problems are being addressed in the ways the docs see will suit her best. Everything will be monitored accordingly.

She did do one thing of which I was quite proud... She asserted herself with the oncologist by letting it be known she wants a brain scan. Seems lung cancer all too often metastasizes to the brain. Dr. Sandler does not think this has happened to her; however, he supports her being proactive and the MRI will be on Sunday, July 1st.

Things are looking good, no, better, than expected. If you or a loved one is ever put in the situation that Mama is in, I highly recommend Vanderbilt Ingram Cancer Center. I am a researching fool and it was good to find a facility accredited by the the National Cancer Institute. I will tell you up front that I pray that you and yours are never in need because this is not of the good.

Lessons learned? Follow God's commandment to Honor your Mother and Father. You will be blessed all the more for having done so.

Tricks to play on little old ladies...

The Nana's first name begins with L... We convinced her this is what we meant when we had her pose this way..... The German added the "antennas"...

We can be mean that way...

die Stiefmutter

die Stiefmutter = Step mother

Let's set the record straight regarding the Bubbie.... He is not mine by birth... He is mine by marriage... He is six. He will be seven next month. He is by all accounts, beautiful, brilliant and quite mature for his age. That is if there is such a thing as a mature six year old...

Not being physcially able to have my own offspring increases my love for the Bubbie even more so. He is a smaller replica of mein Deutscher. Not much smaller mind you as the kid is about 4'3" (or less than a foot shorter than me if you must know).

I am sorry we do not get to see him very often; however, he lives in New Jersey so visits are hard to come by since it involves flights and possibly hotels and rental cars if we just go to see him. Gets pricey quickly... Especially if you would actually like to do something with him or (gasp) eat...

I think I am taking on the role of "Stiefmutter" quite well. I treat him with honesty, integrity and respect. I cheer his successes and kiss away the boo-boo's. It's a given that I love the Bubbie. I have known him since the day he was born. Used to baby sit for him when the German was married to his ex-wife. My whole family has embraced him as well. With my being an only child, he is the only grandchild Mama and Daddy will know. The Bubbie refers to them as Memere and Pepere, the Cajun nicknames for grandparents. The Bubbie delights in the Nana having lost his last biological great-grandparent 4 or 5 years ago. Mama, Daddy and Nana love having him around and are utterly exhausted upon his departure having played, cuddled and loved on him the entire time he visits.

With the notable exception of the cat being totally petrified of him, there is no problem in the world with the Bubbie. Wherein the problem lies is the mother of the Bubbie... She and I were never close. I was always the German's friend, not her's. I had known him for almost four years before they even met. She expects us to take the Bubbie according to what fits her schedule. She expects my German to be the one who has to take a full day off from work to pick him up while she is the one that can conveniently retrieve him on a Sunday. Do not get me wrong, mein Deutscher has no problem taking a day off from work to retrieve his son - that is not the issue. The problem is the expectation on her behalf that my German make the sacrifice of doing so to bring him for a visit because she, in her own words, "does not want to waste a vacation day". Selbstsuchtig = selfish anyone?

She does not adhere to a phone schedule with him. Mein Deutscher calls almost everyday. Usually with no joy as both the house and cell phone go unanswered. Two or three days later she will call and leave a message about how the Bubbie "did not feel like talking on the phone" for one reason or another. I get a bit huffy on that one... He is six, tell him he needs to talk to his Papa before he can watch Nick Jr or before he gets to go play outside. Even if it is just 60 seconds, I love the way my German's face lights up just hearing that little voice pipe up with "hi, Papa". Not being a full time mom or step mom, I am not sure if he is always that way; however, if it were me, my mother would tell me I needed to talk to my father before moving on to another thing... Oh wait a minute, that really did happen! Daddy traveled extensively when I was younger and that was the rule....

She approaches me with issues, questions, travel plans; however, when I breach the subject of travel first I am told I "am not his parent". True; however, fair's fair. If you approach me allow me the same courtesy to approach you. I am not trying to be his mother. He has a mother and when I married the German, I sent her a very heartfelt note telling her that I know my role is to cherish and encourage and love the Bubbie and watch out for his well being.

I am blessed to not be a product of divorce. The German is as well. None of my closest friends are the children of divorced parents nor are they step parents. Same thing with my boat-load of aunt and uncles. It is a slippery slope and I have no frame of reference for it. Never do I want to be compared to what seems to be the negatives of being a step mom. It is far too Cinderalla-esque for my tastes.

So I am calling all mom's and step mom's for advice as to how to handle the situation. Thoughts? Suggestions? All are welcome.

Count your gesegnets...

Gesegnet = blessing...

Count 'em, folks. They are plentiful even in your darkest moments.

Even when Mama was diagnosed with cancer, I was counting the blessings in my life. My faith and my family are amongst two of the largest. I am a fortunate person inasmuch that I not only love, but I also actually like my parents. I dig spending time with them. Unfortunately I can not right now because the German has the lingering effects of a cold he brought home last weekend and I still may be an incubator.

Can't be around the parents and the Nana if there is a chance I could get any of them sick. No germs from the German are to be shared in such a fashion.

So today I thought I would share funf (5) Gesegnets with you:

1. Being a complete bum all day was decadent and refreshing.
2. The mango margarita I had a lunch was quite the tasty treat.
3. Being rolled onto NiT today made me very happy!
4. The German and I have decided to quit smoking. Now we just have to pick our quit day.
5. I am almost ready for bed....

Unfortunately, your word of the day...

Lunge Krebs (bet I do not need to translate to lung cancer, do I?)

Over a year... 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days... It was a year April 24th... That was the day the wonderful Dr. Bill Putnam of Vanderbilt cut the horrible cancer out of Mama... One of the best and worst days of my life as I remember it. I know Daddy was as scared as I was. After all, he's known her over 44 years and I had only known her the 40 I had lived through to that point.

I remember when she was first diagnosed (in March 2006) with non-small cell lung cancer. The pulmonologist told us it looked like IA and that it should easily be removed with a wedgectomy His prognosis was no radiation and no chemo, that's it. I remember he actually said the other "C" word.... CURE...

I remember on the 24th of April when Dr. Putnam called to have Daddy and I come up to discuss the surgery with him. I was so anxious because her first CT scan showed something the size of a quarter and now the pure evil should be removed from her petite body. I was nervous, anxious, jittery and about to throw up.

He led us into the room to speak to us. I had my trusty notebook and pen at hand, you never know when you might need to take notes. It was worse than he thought.... Hidden behind the quarter-sized tumor was a much larger grapefruit-sized one that did not light up during all the preliminary tests. It was wrapped around some lymph nodes... How many? Lots. Had to take those too. Fortunately the right lung looked clear and there was nothing else showing cancer.

Prognosis? Much different than the pulmonologist's original thought... Now there will be chemo - about 12 weeks worth of it. Now there will be radiation - about 6-8 weeks of it. Chances of it spreading? Yep. Now I really want to puke.

The look on Daddy's face must have mirrored my own. Complete, utter devastation and worry. My immediate family is a family of three. An oddity in Catholicism. We are a tight knit crew and we have the large extended family to prove it. Daddy is the baby of ten and Mama is the middle of five. Cousins out the wazoo.... However, we are the only part of the contingency in Tennessee... Oops, forgot to mention that the Nana lives with the folks. The Nana is the Mama's mother... I was living with the German (and about to get engaged in eight days unbeknownst to me) and, unfortunately, he was out of town on business this day. Daddy and I had to be there for one another and our one rule was to not cry in front of Mama.

Chemo and radiation are a bitch. I never want to go through the pure hell Mama went through. Ever. Wouldn't wish it on another living soul. Period.

She got a diagnosis of "no new visible sign of disease" back in the fall of 06. It is time for the next Cat Scan results next week and we are praying, hoping, wishing, crossing our fingers and everything else that this will say the same... No visible sign of disease.

Cancer is a vicious, evil beast and shows no discrimination or regard to any that fall victim to it. I say that even more so because Mama is not a smoker, never has been... It's just "one of those things".

People, those that know me and those that do not, I ask for your prayers for Mama. If you are not a prayerful person, I ask for your kind thoughts and well wishes for her. 63 years and some odd months is way too short a time for her. I want my parents to happily and healthfully celebrate their 50th anniversary in 6+ years and many more to come.

I just needed to get this off my chest. The nervous, anxious, jittery thing is kicking in again. Thank God for a nice cold Yazoo Dos Perros to wind down this week.

There will be a much lighter, happier German word the next time. Promise.

Immigration Issues

If you have paid a bit of attention you will realize that I am married to a German. Not just someone with German ancestry, but a bonafide German national citizen. He legally migrated to this country over ten years ago.

Aside from voting privileges he has every other right afforded a naturalized or native American. My German did it the right way... The legal way... He moved here, applied for all the necessary paperwork and waited until receipt of said papers before seeking employment. He also honed his skills in learning the native tongue of Nashville - English. It was six months before his paperwork came through and he could seek employment. I can tell you during that six month sabbatical the yard and house never looked so good.

I am a second generation American on Mama's side. The Nana came across the border from Mexico at a very tender age. She was here legally as well. She was naturalized in the mid 80's. I joke about being able to vote in my first election (1984, but I digress) before she would have the same right. Again, she did it the way the German did, legally.

I have a very big issues with people not doing things legally. It really pisses me off if you want the truth. The German and I have spoken about this at length. He feels just as strongly and, in my humble opinion, has the right to rant and rave about the subject. Since he is blog-free, I am taking the opportunity to do so for us both.

The German and I have spoken about moving to Germany sometime in the future. Probably for a bit of time when we retire as I am an only child and Mama is one year clean from IIIB lung cancer. (On a completely separate note, no, she was not a smoker, so don't even go there.) I told him that I would not be comfortable living there until I mastered (dare I say "conquer"?) the German language. Most folks in his home town speak my native tongue so I really do not have to learn German; however, it is the right thing to do... Let me repeat that, IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO BECAUSE THEY SPEAK GERMAN IN GERMANY. I do not expect nor assume that everyone around me would speak English. After all, it would be German spoken there as the native language. I have not dialed a number in Germany and was offered the option to press "2" for English... Everything spoken was in German because, well, because we were in Germany. Go figure.

I am all for people coming to America to realize the American dream; however, do it the right way, the legal way. Follow the rules of engagement and do what you are supposed to do. No, it is not easy. No, it is not a short process. But damn it to hell, it is the RIGHT thing to do. If you live here, learn the language, follow the rules... Do not expect me to cater to you because you do not. My German struggles at time with things written in English; however, he realizes he is in America and that's just how things go. He seeks assistance, usually from me, his trusty "interpreter" and does not expect things to be written nor repeated in German for his benefit because guess what? This is America and we speak English here.

Times a wastin'... Or to be honest, wastin' time...

I am a tad bored.... The German is sick with a bad head cold and is taking his second or third (I lost count) nap of the day. The human petri dish was earlier spotted sniffing and sneezing his merry way throughout the house spreading his germs to all with nary a thought of my not wanting to share.

We had much planned today. He was to get a hair cut, there was a flower bed screaming out for mercy from the weeds that have taken over, there was shopping to attend to... The usual weekend drill in Hermitage has come to a grinding halt due to a raging case of the sniffles. God forbid I weed alone. That is one of the perks of being married, isn't it? You have a partner to battle the nefarious weeds that threaten to take over any spot in the yard. The only good thing about not having rain in eons is that I am not left the task of mowing said yard. I am far to prissy to use the weed eater, not to mention the fact that the damned thing intimidates the hell out of me... But that's a completely different story.

So here I sit with the trusty lap top that Nana got me for my 40th birthday. BTW, thanks, Nana, you rock! I sit, I type, I take sips from the liter bottle of Dasani. The German slumbers in the Bubbie's room while the evil siamese curls up on the sofa having exhasuted herself from too much time outdoors stalking lizards. Speaking of the evil siamese, today she is eight. Hard to believe the little "bundle o joy" and I have been together for so long.

As I sit and type, I think to myself "Klinde, do you think you can find a Blogging for Dummies book at Barnes and Noble"? I mean they have everything else for dummies... Like how to make balloon animals, how to remove gum from your shoe and so forth and so on... Certainly there must be a book to help me along because I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants and learning as I go... I need to find a support group that will help me along with my new blogging ventures. Maybe a twelve step program... "Hello, my name is Klinde and I do not how to do many things on my blogs". Everyone in unison will shout out "Hi Klinde" and then some kind soul will become my blog mentor.

Told you I was bored.