EYE IN THE SKY by Noa

My Son and the Blue Angels

This is my son, Chris (J Cage is his "stage" name for his radio show) and his flight with the Blue Angels. His pilot was the late Lt Commander Kevin "Kojak" Davis, who was the Blue Angels pilot that was killed on April 21, 2007, when his plane crashed during an air show. These are the kinds of things kids do that give mom's heart attacks. He also enjoys bungee jumping, white water rafting, being a member of the Polar Bear Club by jumping into freezing river water, and riding through a drive-thru car wash in the back of a pick-up.

This pilot loved what he did, and gave my son an experience he will never forget. Today, as we all experience the sixth anniversary of September 11, I thought I would focus on one great American who gave all for what he believed in.

Britney, Whoopie, Boobs, Gray Hair, and Sauce

My friend who is going through a divorce met with her ex, their lawyers, and a mediator this week. One thing she asked for was half of the medical expenses she has incurred since their separation. The total bills were a little over $300, his part of course $150. His reply was, "No, I'm not paying that. She's got 'em now. They're HER kids, and it's HER problem."


The other night her neighbor came over and said she had seen him come by on his motorcycle, hide it behind her house, and walk around the house a couple of times. Of course, no one was home. She has no idea what he thinks he's looking for. When she told me about it, we both remembered once when I was going through my divorce with the kids' dad, and she and I were at Dairy Queen getting ice cream. We were in the line at the drive thru, when a car pulls up beside us and suddenly snaps a picture of us with a bright flash. Guess he had someone following us to get pictures of me out having some wild affair, but his problem is he didn't know me well enough to know my wild affair is with hot fudge and ice cream. With whipped cream and nuts. And those were the only kind of nuts I was interested in at that time. But we got a good laugh out of it. I told her she'll get through this, and some day it will all actually be over with, but it can't be soon enough for her.


Her biggest concern is that he said to one of her children if she came up dead, he'd get SS benefits and not have to pay her a dime. Now she's afraid he might actually do something. I told her to write it all down in a letter and let me and my hubby put it up in a safety deposit box, in case the idiot does try something.


I watched The View today, and they were going on and on about Britney Spears and her paunch and poor lip syncing at the awards show last night. I'd like to look that good with a paunch, but I do think she could have washed her hair. I feel sorry for her in a way. I can't imagine being her age, having to deal with the press, the money, and the notoriety. I can't imagine having it in the papers every time I went to the bathroom. She needs some serious counseling.

I could actually do it for her. We'd begin with "How to Overcome White Trashy Ways" by an Alabamian who has to live down being from the South daily. I'd also tell her she had made one good move by dumping that lousy excuse of a thing she called a husband, and now she needs to hire a first class nanny and never leave the house without her, while the nanny is showing loving, care to the children, including making sure they are strapped in the car seats. She needs to buy some new underwear and clothing that covers her butt, and wear both. She needs to let her hair grow to some normal color and consistency. And then she needs to dump whatever manager is letting her get by with the press she has been getting.


Whoopie Goldberg also got fitted for a bra today on the View. Seems there was a reason she wore the peasant tops and long, loose vests--she hates those torture devices we call bras. They fit her in one, so now she can tug and squirm and get squished and squashed like the rest of it. I think she should burn it in BaBa Walters coffee cup myself. I used to think wearing one would prevent them sagging down to my waist, but alas, it didn't prevent a thing. I should burn mine in BaBa's coffee cup, too.


So then I flipped over to the Today show, to hear them say that it's now the "IN" thing to wear your hair naturally gray. Hey, I'm "IN" now. Wait until my kids find out.

I found some frozen Italian meatballs in our freezer. I have some spaghetti, but no jars of sauce. I did have some diced tomatoes, which I seasoned with some basil and oregano and am trying to simmer down to something that looks like sauce. If it works, my husband will have it for dinner. If not, we'll have to get take out. Either way, I couldn't care less. ha. At this point, it's the same number of dishes either way.

I hate dirty dishes. Like cooking, but hate doing the dishes

What a Week!

When we got back from the beach, my middle son called and said he was having trouble with our dogs. He took them home to keep at his apartment and we thought it was going to work out fine. They are both tiny dogs, get along well with each other, and he loves having the company. However, it seems one of them had begun to piddle anywhere and everywhere. This from a dog I had housebroken when I got him as a puppy. I realized he had never had to try to "go" on a schedule before. He was used to going to the door and I'd jump up and let him out into the back courtyard anytime he seemed to want to go out. With my son he had to go during a morning walk, then again at lunch when my son came home to eat, at five when my son got home from work, and then again before bedtime. He had also begun to cry at night.

We thought maybe he was going through mama withdrawal, since he'd always been with me. The other dog was doing fine. So I told my son to bring the pee-pot dog back home and I'd work with him and see if I could get any improvement. One thing my son requested was that I always take him out on a leash because he had such a time getting him used to "going" on a leash, and I agreed.

Well, yesterday, I took the dog for a walk in the morning, first thing, and he went. No problem. Then about ten o'clock he made a mad dash for the back door whining and I figured he couldn't wait any longer, so I ran to find the leash. I grabbed it, grabbed the dog, and fumbling with all that, got him outside, clipped on the leash, and all was well.....Until I decided he had finished and we needed to go back in. I had locked myself out. No shoes. No cell phone. No keys. Just a happy dog who got to pee and a mom who was pissed.

None of my neighbors are home during the day so I knew going somewhere to use a phone was useless. I decided I had to find a way to get into the house, since my situation was complicated by having food cooking in the oven and a husband not due home for several hours. Our back door has the top half covered by several small panes of glass, so I thought I'd just find something in the utility room off our garage to break out one pane and get inside. Well, it turns out we have been much safer all these years than we realized, because even with a hammer and my beating on that glass with all my might, that sucker would not break.

I guess it's some sort of safety glass, tempered glass, or something. I was really getting mad by then. It was hot outside, I had upset the dog by making all that noise with the hammer and he was whining. I had to get inside.

So I took a large flathead screwdriver and busted out the side of the door knob latch. (We also have a deadbolt on that door, which thankfully was not latched, so I knew we could secure the door with that until I could repair the knob. It worked and we got inside. I called my husband to tell him how happy he should be that we have such secure glass in our door but he didn't seem to be as thrilled about it as I was, especially when I told him what I had done to the door facing. He also didn't seem to believe that the glass was that unbreakable, so I actually demonstrated it to him with the hammer when he came home.

Then tonight, we were going to go to the temple to a Shabbat service. Well, tonight we got over there for the service that was posted in the bulletin we received last week saying the service was at 8 PM. We got there at 7:30, and found the parking lot full of cars. These folks usually all arrive about five minutes before services, so that was unusual.

We went inside and could hear the service going on inside as we approached the sanctuary, so we turned around and left. I didn't want to walk in and interrupt anything. It's not a short drive there either, so we wasted over a hour getting there. Maybe I was just being grouchy, but that really ticked me off.

I decided to go to the family reunion thing. I'm not sure which is more uncomfortable for me, going through the dread of going or the guilt of not going. I figured the guilt would be worse.

I hope next week will be better than this one.

I did try out a new recipe today. I made apple blintzes. They are made from crepes with an apple filling. It took awhile to make the crepes but in the end, the taste was great. I'll put a picture of them with this post.

450th Post to This Blog- And an Age Reminder

My husband, daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter, and I went out to eat at a local seafood restaurant in Gulf Shores one evening during our trip. The waiter seated us and handed each of us the large folded menu, then gave my husband and I each a smaller laminated menu that he didn't give the others adults.
Guess what it was...SENIOR MENUS. Guess what I did? I ordered off of it. Guess what else I did? I seriously considered dying this gray hair back to some other color.
In the end, I left the hair gray and just pigged out on my stuffed shrimp at a discount of five dollars off the normal price.
I remember the first time my mom was offered a senior discount. She was about my age, around fifty. We had stopped at McDonald's and ordered our lunches, the exact same things. I paid, and then she did. As we walked back to the table, she said, "Hey, you got the same thing I did. Why did yours cost more?" As she looked over her ticket, a look of horror crossed her face and she said, "Oh my God! I got a SENIOR discount!" She wasn't very happy about it. I guess it was easier for me to be happy about five dollars than for her to be happy over 80 cents.

Chillin' At the Beach

I am sitting here looking out at the ocean in Gulf Shores. Gulls are diving and padding across the sand, the little kids from next door are digging on the beach with their pails and shovels and I'm just relaxing. It's funny how you really don't know how much you need a vacation until you get one. We've been spending our days watching the ocean, playing with the grandbaby, stuffing ourselves with seafood, and napping.
We are vacationing in one of those "house up on stilts" that are so famous down here on the ocean, because of the tides, I guess. The only problem is when you lie in the bed at night you feel it shaking just like someone was standing there shoving it with their foot, back and forth. I tried to pretend I was sleeping on a float in the middle of an ocean. That didn't work. Finally, I got up and took an Ambien and couldn't have cared less the rest of the night what rocked and what didn't. It would seem to me a house protected from high water that still resides in a high hurricane watch area would not want to be perched up on sticks that rock in the wind. Creepy feeling. Nice house, though. Even has high speed internet access, we found out today, hence this post.
We're going home tomorrow. I miss being home. Vacations are usually good for me about five days at the most and then I'm ready to go home. I'm a home-body in every sense of the word. I like puttering around in my own kitchen, having my own supply of books I can read, and having my Tivo with my own shows recorded for me whenever I want to watch them. I also hate watching commercials. I had no idea how spoiled Tivo had made us. I realize now I could live fine without telephones (Sorry, Alexander Bell) but I'd go through serious mourning over my Tivo.
Well, a barge is going by, so I'm going to go ocean-gaze awhile longer. Something about sea air makes me so sleepy. A nap won't be far off.