Go Directly to Jail, Little Token

All twelve tokens from the U.S. Deluxe Edition Monopoly. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When I have played Monopoly in the past, I have always reached for the iron as my token. I know for a fact I have never played with another token. I never came across another friend who just had to have the iron too, so I guess that was good because I wouldn’t have played. I guess when you find a right fit  you just have to go with that one each time. And the iron and I made our way around to pass Go many, many times. So, imagine the horror when I heard today that Hasbro, the maker of Monopoly, is going to send one of the little steel tokens to jail……and they can’t even pass Go first.

What a great marketing ploy. Hasbro has set up a Facebook page and is letting people vote for which token gets to stay and which one will replace it. I went to the site to see how this was going to unfold.  The choices to vote for are the car, thimble, shoe, dog, ship, hat, iron, and wheelbarrow. I wish we could vote for which one gets to go, but alas, we were only allowed to vote for which one we wanted to stay.

It’s funny, but I think baby boomers are going to feel the same way about this that I do. Oh, sure, in the whole scheme of things, I really don’t give a rat’s ass about the impending doom of one of the Monopoly tokens, but yet again, off I went to vote to save my beloved iron.

The options to replace the permanently jailed token are a helicopter, a diamond ring, a cat, a robot, or a guitar. I immediately voted for the diamond ring. It makes sense and goes with the game. What the hell does a robot or a guitar have to do with Monopoly? Ok, I guess an iron doesn’t make much sense either, but you know, whatever.

So, baby boomer friends of mine, what token did you use when you played Monopoly?

 

 

SongPop

It’s really easy to get me addicted to new things. After my divorce, my friends talked me into coming over to Facebook….to farm. I did. Farmville kept me up late at night. Well, someone had to harvest the damn wheat crop. And then Pinterest reeled me in. I have over one hundred boards. Why the hell would I need one hundred boards? Yes, I’m easily addicted. I’m just glad I never started smoking.

Several months ago I started playing Angry Birds. I mean, what the hell is wrong with me? I play one game a day and am in a weekly tournament. And this on top of writing two books this summer. As I look around my living room, I notice that it is neat as a pin. Well, it should be since I have been on this damn computer most of the time. And now SongPop has invaded my life. But, I’m not too happy about this one.

SongPop is my newest obsession. A friend invited me just last week to play them in this fun Facebook game. I didn’t understand how to play at first, so I was already screwed for the week. A friend sends an invitation to listen to a few tunes and then you can pick the answer from four choices. No one told me there was a time limit. Right now I am playing about nine people. And I’m ready to throw in the towel and I will tell you why.

This game is a great test of reaction times. Most of the people I play are about 20 years younger than me and I can’t press the button fast enough. I know a lot of the answers, but it’s like I mosey on over to the button with my mouse. What the hell? This is a sure way to let me know that I am getting old. It’s actually pissing me off, because I am actually really trying and I just can’t ring in fast enough. I’d suck if I were on Jeopardy.

A Facebook friend wrote that she was done with SongPop due to the fact that she feels that she has a neuropathy problem. She is a sarcastic lass like me, and I hope she doesn’t really think that she has a problem.  I’m just pissed off that age has robbed us of our rapid fire response finger. We are getting old and SongPop has just slapped us across the face. We can’t play with the big dogs anymore. Well, I guess I should only speak for myself. I can’t play with the big dogs anymore.

But, that’s not all. I don’t know music like I used to. I still know all the words to Aqualung and Hotel California. I know my Disco and Classic Rock. I don’t know a damn thing about Modern Rap or Latin Radio. My daughter was home this week and she sat on the couch playing SongPop and would send me songs in the Latin Music genre. Thanks, sweetie.

The fastest I have been able to buzz in on a song is Ice Ice Baby. How sad is that?

In the end, I guess the older I get, the worse my response time will be. Pretty soon someone will take my car keys away from me for fear that I will hesitate and then pull in front of a truck or something.

But, then again, I always sucked at Hungry Hungry Hippo. Maybe it’s just me.

On Being Sick When You Live By Yourself

When I was a busy mother, I had no time to be sick. I even made fun of my husband’s dramatic entrance when he was sick. He would put on his green velvety man robe, house slippers, and would quit shaving. He would announce to us all, “I’m sick,” as he would slink into his wing back recliner. I would just roll my eyes, especially when he would take his temperature every thirty minutes.

“It’s 99.2.  That’s really high for me.” Magoo told me that his normal temperature normally ran a degree lower, so Dear God, 99.2 was deadly. But, I pampered him, just like I pampered my other two children.

When I was sick with a high fever, Magoo would take care of me, too. He made me homemade chicken noodle soup, which was to die for, until mine started tasting better. He would ask me countless times if there was anything he could get me. But, and there is always a but with me, I could never be sick for more than 24 hours. No, that was the ultimate time limit for sick pampering. After that, I was on my own. I mean, on my own. It was like I wasn’t even there. After that imaginary buzzer went off at the top of the hour, I had to fend for myself. So, if I had a high temperature, it better be gone within the day or I had better hoard stuff on my nightstand. Which I did.

Well, Magoo and I divorced three years ago and I live by myself now, and I find that I am perhaps  a little bit of a whiner when it comes to having a fever.  I really haven’t had a high fever for a few years. When it gets higher than 101.0, I call it the “Shuffle Flu” because my head pounds as I walk. And I am sure that I am the only one in the whole world who gets a hight fever from the flu.

When you live alone, there is noone around who will be audience to your dramatics. I am lucky in the fact that I have my cat, Whiskers. Whiskers is seventeen years old and sleeps right by my head most nights. She was probably wondering why the hell I was getting under the covers so early last night. One time, several hours later, feeling like crap, I took my temperature, noting it was 101.0. I thought I should mention something to the cat.

“I’m sick, Whiskers…..I have a fever.”

She understood, I am sure. She gave me a couple head nudges and then curled up at the foot of the bed. She knew that I was contagious. Smart cat.

At 1:30am. “Kitty, I can’t sleep.”

At 2:30am, tossing and turning- “Oh, Whiskers, this is not good.”

And so it continued.  I apologized at 5:30.

“Aww, sweetheart, I am so sorry I am keeping you up.”

I got up for the morning, in a sweat. I was soaked. My temperature broke like that twice in the night. My temp at 7:00am was 99.0. Yay. Maybe this was just a 24 hour bug. I really don’t like missing school.

But, as a teacher, I realize that temperatures are at their lowest in the morning. I had places to go this morning. Mainly because I had no food in the house. Well, I did, but I had no Coke. I will truly die if I don’t have a Coke at least once a day. Truly.

So, I had to go to Walmart. with a fever.  I rushed and came back. My fever of 101.3 was greeting me when I came back.

I’m mad because just the other day I knocked on wood. Knocking on wood is supposed to keep you from getting sick. Well, whoever made that up is a liar. Liar. I still got sick.

One great thing about going to Walmart when you are sick is that you can even go in your jammies if you wanted to. I don’t, because I’m high class. I did take a shower, which is good for Walmart shoppers. I’m sorry to report that I used a copious amount of water in my shower. I did not want to get out. I am so not good to the Earth. It is awful getting out of the shower when you have a fever. You know you have to slide that shower curtain to the side, and  that Arctic blastic hits you. My cat was sitting by the shower curtain.

“Oh, Kitty, it is so freaking cold.” Well, it was.

In the end, I realize that I like to whine when I have a fever. I posted that I was sick on Facebook.

“Blah. Had a 101.3 fever last night and was up all flippin night. I need a cup of “Oh, you poor baby” and a Coke. “

Well, I did. And my friends and family gave me a bunch of “Oh, you poor baby.” And that sufficed. Well, except for one, who said he could only offer a Diet Pepsi and a “Buck up,” which is my most hated phrase in the world. And he knows that. What he didn’t know is that, along with a fever, I also have a low tolerance for half-friends, so I pushed the delete button on him. I will no long have to read his whining posts either. Works both ways, Bud.

I like to think of myself as being pretty independent since my divorce. But, when it comes to having a fever, it’s nice to be pampered.

Even if you have to depend on your cat.

“Thanks Kitty….I hope you don’t get this.”

I wrote this because I know that many people live by themselves. I just want to let you know that it is ok to talk to yourself when you are sick. I mean, Tom Hanks got through rough patches on “Castaway” when he made friends with a soccer ball, “Wilson.”

And the animal shelter is always full of good listeners.

Oh My God, Here Comes a Flood

I have to drive the back roads to get to my school each morning. You city people just have no idea. You can hop on the A subway train and just hold on until you get to your destination. Sure, you may have to walk up and down stairs to get to the subway, but it isn’t a real chore. A real chore is driving from the country INTO the country.

My drive to and fro is in what I call segments. There is one segment from where I live to over Manley Chapel Road to Route 19. Most of you have no idea what I am talking about, so just think small country roads with no berm and a bunch of dead deer on the side. One dead deer has his little leg lying right in the road. Move over, dead deer. Anyway, this segment is where I shall die, I am sure. The road is paved and the two lane weaves and turns and meanders up and down and around. And trucks really enjoy driving left of center. So, drivers on both side love to speed and take the curves like they are wearing a helmet and an outfit of corporations’ logos. Yes, this is where I will die, no doubt about it. I was hoping it would be in my sleep, but things don’t always go my way.

The second segment is a fisherman’s paradise…if one enjoys fishing in pot holes. The pot holes on Idamay Road are gigantic. I really think they could stock them with fish. This road climbs a little in altitude and this is where I lose my cell phone service at times. Every once in a while you will see a couple of parked cars on the top of Idamay hill, talking on their cell phones.

The third segment is the Farmington to Fairview Road. This is where I stop at Subway to get my 6in. turkey breast on Italian, provolone, little lettuce, little onion and 1 narrow line of mayonaisse about three days a week. They see me coming and start preparing it. How’s that for service? I also have someone pump gas for me at this intersection also.  Segment three, not so bad. I don’t mind this portion of my daily drive.

It takes me higher in the sky and big hills that are not fun in the winter. But, this is also where I usually get behind old people drivers. I then cross the railroad tracks over a bridge and into the town of Fairview. Now, this is where I stop at the Dairy Mart. If you are ever in Fairview and stop at the Fairview Dairy Mart, watch where you walk, ok?  Just warning you, because the coal miners who stop here after work for their bottle of beer really enjoy spitting out their chewing tobacco in the parking lot. It’s so much fun tip-toeing around it. I end then at my school and all is right with the world. I have made it another day.

But, today just sucked. Sucked, I tell ya. Because we had a little bit too much rain. Now, you have to understand, city people, that our county  has a lot of streams that run beside our winding ass roads. I can get home several different ways. But, today’s drive home turned into a race to see what roads weren’t flooded….the worst.

It rained all damn day. I didn’t mind it, because at least it wasn’t snow. But, it rained. The windows in my classroom were leaking. I had kids running for paper towels so I can blot the long window sill. When I left at 3:45, I had no idea it would take me so long to get home. The first two segments on my return trip weren’t that bad. Sure there were a couple of places where the water ran over the road, but it wasn’t bad. I just remember thinking that the water was a bit high. I cursed as I hit the fishing pot holes, as they were hidden by the water on the road.

The third segment was a totally different story. First, I had to deal with rocks in the road. Many many rocks and mini landslides.

Many portions of this road where covered with rocks. This is farmland. You would not believe all of the flooding land. I saw some cows wearing life vests as they floated by. That farmer was thinking when he purchased those vests. Cowabunga, Dude.

This is where I started talking out loud. My “Oh my God” repetition first started like a Valley Girl remark. “And like, Oh my God.” But, the more my poor tires had to creep over small boulders (I laugh at my oxymorons), the more my “Oh my God” changed. I sounded like a damn pet store parrot. “Oh my God….Oh my God…..Oh my God…..Oh my God…..” But, really, “Oh my God.”

And then I came upon raging water. Crossing the roadways. What the hell? I mean, “Oh my God!”  Notice, I am using an exclamation mark now. I had never seen it this bad before. What is crazy is that this road is not in a valley where you would think it would flood. Little pockets of rivers were now crossing my path. Ok, I just looked back. Maybe “raging” was a bit much. If it was raging, it would have taken my car. Wow, didn’t think about that.

Then, a traffic back up at the top of the final hill on Manley Chapel Road. Little cars had pulled over onto the berm. Oh wait, there is no berm on that road. Little cars stopped. So, some big trucks went around them. Those little cars knew something that I did not know. Oh shit.  I mean, “Oh my freaking God.” There in front of me, at the base of the hill was a river crossing the road. Trucks were trying to get through it one by one. I was behind a Jeep. I was in a Santa Fe. The problem with that is that I FORGOT I was in a Santa Fe. I was in a truck.

I decided the best thing to do is drive like an idiot and hope I didn’t stall out. I rushed through it, holding onto the steering wheel for dear life. The water was spewing up by side windows. Muddy water. I got through! On the other side, a guy in a big pick-up smiled and gave me the thumbs up. He was impressed with my stupidity.

I didn’t take a picture of the Mississippi River crossing Manley Chapel Road. I was too busy with my hands planted 2 and 10 on the steering wheel, uttering, “Oh my God.” I finally got through and took the above picture. This is actually what it looked like in about seven or eight pockets on this section of road. Notice there weren’t any little cars in the photo. Because little car people have brains.

Manley Chapel intersection via Facebook Denise Gum Ice

After getting through several areas of more water over the roadway, I passed several homes that were surrounded by water. On Facebook, people were posting pictures of what it looked like in other parts of the county. It was unreal. Many people weren’t on Facebook because they were trying to stop the water coming down into their basements. I drove into a nice dry garage. I was home.

So, I am writing this, courtesy of a two hour delay we have this morning. I’m usually out the door by seven. Only four of the 55 counties in the state of West Virginia have a delay. It’s always nice getting that call in the morning. So, I thought I would sit down and write a post about my drive home before I head off on that same road, hoping that the small boulders (oxy) are now on the side of the road.

I guess I could have just said, “Oh my God, the roads were covered with water.”

“Like, Oh my God.”

Weather Dork Report

I’ll admit that I am a weather dork. I enjoy watching the Weather Channel and monitoring an impending snow storm. I even report on it on my Facebook status with my Weather Dork Report.  My friends depend on me. They do. Really. I wish I had this when I was younger.

I used to sit and watch the weather man on WTAE Pittsburgh.  We only got three channels back then. Can you imagine? We had ABC, NBC, and CBS. That was it. As my dad read the paper for what seemed like hours, sometimes with a pipe coming out of his mouth, I would listen to the weatherman. I would then turn around on the couch, on my knees, push back the curtains and watch for the first snowflakes to fall.

I learned early on that most storms came from the west, and I knew where to look for the storms. I was so excited to see the first snow fall. It’s funny, because I hated to go outside in the snow. I hated to be cold. Still do. I’d get all bundled up to go outside, and my lips would turn blue immediately after being outside for just a short time. I earned the nickname “Bluey” because it really looked like I applied bluish purple lipstick to my mouth. I would shiver, get on the sled a couple of times, and then head to the house.

Back then you would only find out about the weather at 6:00p.m. and 11:00p.m. newscast. Since I was young, and a bit hyper, I was put to bed early. Oh, but that didn’t keep me from finding out about the weather. I  would sneak out into the living room when my parents were sitting in the kitchen, and stand behind the ugly white and gold curtains that ran to the ground. I was tiny, so I could stand right in front of the huge picture window and watch the snow come without being noticed. “Don’t pay attention to that child behind the curtain.” I do remember a neighbor, Joe Minco, driving by slowly, waving at me as he entered his garage. I watch for the snow, and then turn around to see if the 11:00 weather man was getting ready to talk again. It’s a wonder I got up in the morning for school. I never slept. I guess hyper kids don’t need sleep.

It didn’t seem like we had many snow days off school back then. Then again, I don’t really remember for sure. I do remember that after we would have a big snowfall that we could built a snow fort and it would last for a very long time. It was cold. But, the main thing I remember  is that my mom would make homemade bread or refrigerator cookies when we didn’t have school. I ate cookies and watched for more snow all damn day.

“Vickie!!! Vickie, get in here………….Why are there so many cookie crumbs here?” (Pulling aside the curtain in front of the picture window)

There were crumbs all over the floor. Well, refrigerator cookies broke off a lot. My dog, Susie, didn’t particularly care for them. So, they sat where they dropped. Little kids don’t bend over to pick up cookies. Why would they?

Fastforward many years. We now have internet and many channels to get our weather information from. And that brings me to the Weather Channel. I could leave the Weather Channel on in the background all day long. Oh, and believe me, I have. I get excited when I know there is a snow storm coming. I’m a teacher, so we love snow days. Some of my friends on Facebook tell everyone to wear their pajamas on inside out and do a snow dance. I don’t know where the inside-out pajama ritual came from, but I guess if you wear them inside out and dance, snow will come and there won’t be any school. Yeehaw! I love feeling like I’m getting away with something. I have a friend, Suzanne, who is the ultimate snow momma. She would love it to snow every day of the year. I tease her, but understand her love of snow.

When my kids were little and I was a stay-at-home phenom, the kids would watch tv for the Snowbird Report on WBOY tv, channel 12. There was a jingle that would come on first, and my kids would run to the tv to see if Marion County schools were canceled that day. It would just make me smile.

And then I would make cookies.

So, yeah, I’m a weather dork. I watch and report the weather, especially when the snow flies.

I’m 55 years old going on 7. Like a giddy little kid, I still enjoy sitting on the couch, cookie in hand, waiting for the first snow flakes to fall.

I may have the internet for precise information, and Jim Cantore from the Weather channel broadcasting live from the epicenter of heavy snowfall prediction, but nothing beats quietly looking out the window, and smiling when it begins.