Funny Family Sayings

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All children when learning to speak often get the words wrong or syllables in the wrong order, or “their tongue wrapped around their eye tooth,” as my dad would say.  Normally, the child eventually learns to say the word or phrase properly and goes on with their life.

Not in our family.
We still to this day rattle off misspoken phrases from our childhood and call things by whatever name we fumbled as toddlers.  It’s an immaturity thing that we – as adults – still use these words and phrases in our everyday communication, but we don’t care!

Here’s some of them. 
(Names have been omitted to protect the guilty.)

  • “There’s a piss meecing.”  (There’s a piece missing.)
  • “I’ll do it my own self.”  (I’ll do it myself.)
  • pie-yoo  (pillow)
  • Mimi (Tammy)
  • “That yellow bread with the green things that poke up.”  (Garlic toast)
  • “The white stuff that goes round and round and little balls pop up.”  (Cottage cheese)
  • Ock-ee-butt (Redi Watt – the name of a local power company’s mascot)
  • Cock puss (peacock)
  • “Oooohh they’re going to get in trouble … they’re driving in pairs.”  (Upon seeing two people in the car up ahead.  It is believed she got it confused with ‘driving impaired’.)
  • “We’re driving in circles, I just know it!”  (Because most overpasses look the same and she thought we kept driving under the same one.)
  • “What’s your name, little girl?” asked a parishoner walking up to my niece in church one Sunday morning.  To which came the reply, “Dammit Tammy!”   (sorry Tam – couldn’t keep your name out of this one!)
  • Herk-a-mot-o-mus (Hippopotamus)
  • Hair Pork (Airport)
  • Short Jack Coppers (Long John Silvers)
  • Com-pit-ter (computer)
  • Slum gullions (Johnny Marzetti)
  • “Sitting there with my teeth in my mouth.”  (Not paying attention or basically not doing anything useful.)
  • “Mom, can I ‘duh’ you?”  (One of them asking permission to say ‘duh’ to her mother after her mother said something stupid.)
  • Lap dance therapy (lap band therapy)
  • Tiggy (TG&Y – the name of a southern general goods store)
  • “We love Tim because he first loved us.”  VBS Bible School Daily Bible Verse.  (1 John 4:19 (KJV) “We loved Him, because he first loved us.”  I could never figure out what my sister’s husband (named Tim) had to do with any of it.)

Song Title and Lyrics

  • “If you like peeing in the garden.”  (“If you like pina coladas” – with greatest apologies to Rupert Holmes.)
  • “Ohhh Olive….”  (“Who are you” The Who)
  • “Rocking in Atlanta at Taco Bell.”  (“Rocking in Atlanta at Tattletales” – from “Girls, Girls, Girls by Motley Crue)
  • “Virgin, virgin.”  (“Urgent” by Foreigner)
  • “One wing girl.”  (“White Wing Dove” from the song “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks)
  • “Bald-headed woman.”  (“More than a woman.” this only works with the Bee Gees’ version.  The Tavares version actually sounded right, I guess.)
  • “No time mal-oo-gas”  (“No time for losers…” from Queen’s “We are the Champions.)

Movie and Television

  • Da Wizard Da Boz (“The Wizard of Oz”)
  • The Princess the Diarrheas (“The Princess Diaries”)

Learning to Read

  • Fried Shrimp House (the sign outside Friendship House retirement home)
  • Catholic Doctor (street sign Charters Drive)
  • Ped-a-strain (pedestrian)
  • Spat-tool-uh (spatula)
  • Man-your pile (manure pile)
  • Fffff-bih (FBI)

 

 

 

 

 

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Sorry about my absence! Mom’s fault!

Tuesday, January 30, 2018; 11:30 pm.
Mom fell and broke her tailbone and they sent her to the hospital.  I dutifully followed.

Wednesday, January 31, 2018.
The next day, they discovered two more things:

1) that she had a stroke; and

2) that her blood pressure was doing flip flops depending on her position.  When she stands, her blood pressure drops dramatically making her faint and then she falls.

Orthostatic hypotension — also called postural hypotension —
is a form of low blood pressure that happens when you stand
up from sitting or lying down. Orthostatic hypotension can make
you feel dizzy or lightheaded, and maybe even faint.

Thursday, February 1, 2018.
On Thursday, they discovered the third issue when she aspirated her food and drink while eating, so they ran a test on her and found out her epiglottis (that flap that closes over your windpipe when you swallow) doesn’t completely close, so thin liquids and chunky foods are slipping by and getting into her trachea.

Friday, February 2, 2018.
Mom was released from the hospital and sent back to the skilled nursing facility where she lives with an entire dossier of new instructions.  We had to meet with the social worker to get all her paperwork filled out for her “bed hold,” Medicare, Medicaid, and whatever else.

Needless to say, between Tuesday night near midnight and Friday afternoon around 2:30 in the afternoon, I had gotten a TOTAL of around 5 hours of sleep and missed three days of work.

Saturday was spent blissfully unaware in my bed with my two dogs and my cat – all day!

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Yes, I have a queen-sized bed; and yes, they are all three crammed
up on my side laying on top of my legs.  Filed under:  SPOILED!

Sunday I visited Mom.
She was surprisingly in decent spirits, despite being reminded “EVERY 5 MINUTES,” that she needs to call for assistance when she needs to stand up – to which she replies without fail, “I’ve been going to the bathroom by myself for 90 years.  I think I know what I’m doing,” and with complete disregard for the actual reason she needs assistance — that being she simply needs help to stand.

She is also now on a nectar-thick diet for liquids and needs to have her foods pureed.  Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, she is having speech therapy (to help with her swallowing) 3 times per week, and physical therapy (to improve her leg strength) 5 times a week.  The 95-year-old gets more exercise than I do now!

I’m so glad she’s still around!  She’s my Mom!

File this under:  I don’t want to get old!

 

 

Happy Birthday, Momma!

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My Mother!  95 Years Old today!
She was born in 1923, lived through the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and “Make Love, Not War.”

She outlived her son David, her daughter Carole, her husband Lou, her brother Paul, and both her parents.

She soldiered on through my bratty elementary years, then my completely rampant teenage years.  I was a precocious child, and a wild teenager (in my defense, I was a preacher’s kid – I HAD to be wild!  It was prerogative!)  Case in point.  I must have been about four years old, and my mother sat a bowl of soup down in front of me, giving me the motherly warning, “be careful, it’s hot.”  Me, being the spoiled, mouthy child I was, exclaimed haughtily, “it’s NOT hot!”  Then, I proceeded to put a spoonful in my mouth and burn my tongue; to which I exclaimed, “it’s warm though!”

She rolled her eyes and yelled for a good while every time I brought some new animal home.  Dogs, cats, horses, ferrets, gerbils, birds, frogs, snakes, newts, fish, mice, rabbits, rats, hamsters, guinea pigs, and more.

She should have headed the warning she received early on that her home would be a constant influx of beasts when at two years old I asked her for a pet bird and she slyly told me that if I can catch one I could keep it — never in a million years guessing that I would actually do so.  But, one morning, in through the back door I toddled with a fledgling Robin that had just fallen out of its nest.  Of course, she didn’t let me keep it – something about lice and other grotesque propositions – and my world crumbled because she had “lied to me.”

She drove me to and from my riding lessons, dusted me off when a horse would buck me off, or when I would face plant when being unbalanced in my 2-point position over a three-foot vertical or oxer.

She planned the most awesome birthday parties for me, made crafts with me, caught butterflies with me, signed me up for summer-long classes at the Dayton Museum of Natural History (now Boonshoft Museum of Discovery)  (my most awesome summers EVER), and took me grocery shopping with her.

She also yelled at me, reprimanded me, and grounded me when I needed it; and somehow managed to not choke me out in my sleep.

I’m fairly certain it is from her that I got my loud mouth.  My father was the preacher at a small country church in the middle of nowhere – literally!  Corn fields in front, bean fields behind, and vice versa for crop rotation purposes.  We lived in the parsonage next to the church building.  One of the Elders and his family lived on the other side of us.  Small country homes and farm houses progressed sparsely up our street in a manner in which you could probably fit 2 or 3 more houses in between each.

One morning I apparently wasn’t feeding my rabbits fast enough for her and she was standing on the back porch just telling me about myself.

A few minutes later, I boarded the little country school bus, which then picked up David Gorman next door, before stopping three more houses down to pick up Mary Neatherton.  Mary boarded the bus and we always sat together.  This day, she boarded the bus just laughing her head off.  I asked her what was so funny, and she said she and her mom were standing out in the yard waiting for the bus when her mother looked at her and said, “Is that the preacher’s wife down there cussing like a sailor?”  It’s true.  I’m still not sure to this day that my name isn’t really Dammit Anyhow Lowery.

Don’t get me wrong, though.  She was an awesome Mom!  She fed us, kept a clean house, took great care of me and dad, doted on me when I was sick, and loved to laugh.  At everything.  She’s hilarious and quick witted.  She has the dry, sarcastic wit that I’m so famous for.  Guess that’s where I get it from.

I can never in my 54 years remember that woman EVER being sick – like cold or flu sick.  I remember her getting food poisoning once from a bad fast food breakfast burrito, but never random illness.  I’m sure she did, but she would never let that stop her or let us know she didn’t feel well.

She had a hip replacement in her early 80s and a heart valve replaced in her late 80s, but that is all I can ever remember of her being down for any amount of time.

She is now in a wheelchair on the skilled nursing floor of the facility where she lives.  She loves the place, but says she’s bored out of her mind.  They take great care of her and I know she is safe and well looked after.

Her mind is hit or miss.  Most days she’ll ask you the same question 5 times, and I just answer her every time like it’s the very first time she’s ever asked.  She can, however, remember crap that happened 30 or 40 years ago with so much detail and clarity.

At 95, she’s still an awesome mom, even though it’s me taking care of her, and I love her more than anything.

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Mom and Val and MacKenzie and Ashley – July 2017

 

 

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Here is my mom receiving a Jefferson Award for volunteer service – 2000-ish?

 

 

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My Sissy

Today, my sister would have been 73 years old. 
Carole Jeanne was born in 1945.  My sister was 19 years older than me – old enough to have actually been my mother – and I believe sometimes she thought she was.  My mother gave birth to her while my father was stationed on Saipan and/or Tinian, or one of those Northern Mariana Islands during World War II.  I remember seeing the actual telegram sent to my father overseas announcing the birth of a bouncing baby girl.  STOP.

I didn’t see my sister often.
She was married to a civil service guy, Tim, who was stationed either at Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi; or Eglin Air Force Base near Crestview, Florida; for most of my childhood.  But, my mom and dad and I always drove down from Ohio for Christmas.  It was always awesome.  I loved spending time with my nieces, who were so much closer in age to me than my sister – Tammy (4 years younger than I); and Tracey (6 years younger than I).  These two were like my sisters growing up – and still are to this day.

As an adult, I saw her more often.
After Sissy’s divorce and our father’s death, I would drive my mother down to my sister’s house in Panama City, Florida, every winter, where my Mom would stay until I would fly down to get her in the spring and drive her back.  No way she could fly down and back because my mother would pack her car with everything under the sun to take with her, including her sewing machine – a cabinet one, not a portable; nearly all of her clothes; and food for days.  Oh, and apparently they don’t sell dog food in Florida.

I called her Sissy, even as an adult.
If I ever addressed my sister as Carole, I have absolutely no recollection of it.  Eventually, Sissy was shortened to “C,” which is actually the last syllable of sis-sy, although my mother thought I called her C because it was her first initial.

We became good traveling buddies.
We would traipse around the United States (mostly Florida and Tennessee) and have a good ol’ time.  My favorite thing was to plan a surprise get-away and mail her a tour “brochure” I would put together.  I would make her call me so I could hear her read the tour brochure out loud so I could hear the excitement in her voice (no Skype back then).

Two of the most memorable vacays we took together were Orlando and Tampa.  The Orlando trip included a luau, Epcot, Pirate’s Dinner Theater, and most-memorably, Discovery Cove, where we got to swim with the dolphins.  Being able to touch and interact with a live dolphin is still one of the most profound experiences I’ve ever had – even to this very day.  My sister was terrified of fish her entire life, so imagine my surprise when she walked right into the ray pool, where you could swim alongside the rays at your leisure.

The Tampa trip included a Bay dinner cruise and Busch Gardens and Animal Kingdom.  SO.MUCH.FUN

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My sister was first diagnosed with breast cancer in 1992.
She was 47 years old.  I don’t recall ever knowing the details of her breast cancer – the type of tumor, the stage of the tumor, whether it was triple negative or not – but I remember she had to undergo chemotherapy, radiation, and mastectomy.  I believe she had hormone therapy, but I’m not certain.  She still lived in Florida, so I didn’t have a lot of detail.

Her second diagnosis was in 1999 when she was 54 years old.  I believe she went through all the same treatments she did with the first go around ending in another mastectomy.  Again, she was still living in Florida, and I didn’t have much knowledge of her treatment.

In February 2006, at the age of 61, my sister passed away from pancreatic cancer, which the doctors believe had metastasized from her previous bouts.  She had moved to Ohio by then and lived with me on my little 5 acre farm.

When they told her about her prognosis, she didn’t want to “go through all that again” and to just let it “play out.”  So, she lived her final months of her life being her happy-go-lucky self, spending time with my horses, and laughing heartily at everything funny.

I really miss her.

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Me and my sister – Christmas 2001

 

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My sister at some point in high school – late 1950s or early 1960s.