Year End Top Ten

Ten things of no significant value that I have compiled into a list, just because I like lists. Do with them what you will.

10- How many fingers I still have. So what if one is just a tad bit shorter?

9-The number of times I mailed myself to Hollywood, California, in care of The Rock.

8- The number of times someone in my family has been in an emergency ward this year. The reasons follow. 1- collar bone 2-wrist 3-foot 4-thing with k2 that was so embarrassing that I promised I would never tell 5-finger 6-dehydration(see number 9 above) 7 and 8-ham string and neck, two family members, inexperienced at leg wrestling

7-Number of family member that either aren't human or are imaginary.

6- Why is six afraid of seven? Seven eight nine!

5-The number of hours spent yesterday trying to erect a winter tent to sleep in.

4-How many times my hubby moved out on me.

3- Number of favorite new swear words I've made up while on Christmas vacation. They are: Grunion Blut, Dill Wad, and Fole. Now go wash your eyes out for reading them.

2-The number of pounds I've lost between Thanksgiving and New Year.

1- The one best present received this year according to my kids, super sized package of toilet paper. It is big enough to sit on and use as a sled on our carpeted stairs. I didn't even have to wrap it.

Happy New Year!

Fill Out the Form

"Ms...Munkay?"
"Yes! That's me!"
"Step into my office, please."
"Yes! Good! I'm so excited to be here."
"You are? That's good. I'm Mr. Stick Opmibutt."
"Mr. Opmibutt, how soon till I get my new life?"
"This is an employment agency."
"Yes, same difference really. New title, new role, new life. How fast can I trade mine in?"
"Umm, lets have a look at your resume you have filled out here...You never bothered to complete it, Ms. Munkay."
"Yes, I had every intention to but my attention deficit kicked in and I was forced to rearrange your office while you made me wait."
"You rearranged my furniture without asking me??"
"Don't forget painting, it needed some color."
"How long where you sitting out there...Did you really..."
"No- no, only in my mind, it looks much better in there now."
"Ummm, mm, ok, so you are an interior designer?"
"Well, no. Doing that actual manual labor bores me but, hey, that's not what I want to do, what else you got for me?"
"Are you currently employed?"
""Yes, I'm ployed."
"Ployed? Ms. Munkay?"
"Yes, I cut things for a living."
"You cut things?"
"Yes. Cut and burn. Chop chop. Sizzle. Way too sterile environment for me really. I want to be someone else awhile."
"What do you want to be?"
"Something more edgy. Thrilling even. And glamorous. Oh bring on the glamour. Glam me up Mr Opmibutt."
"Got any examples then do you?"
"Opera singer. My heart longs for musical drama."
"Are you a trained singer?"
"Oh hell no. But for a good night gig, with a wardrobe and the right makeup.."
"Can you sing at all?"
"And the proper lighting, I even own my own helmet with horns.."
"No! Munkay, you cannot fake true musical talent!"
"Is it the weight thing? It's the weight thing isn't it! I can gain weight you know.."
"Ms, Munkay, please. How about something you have some experience in."
Blank look.
"Any ideas from your past work history?"
"No, I don't want to do any of that. That is why I am here.
"Your resume says your first job was a cabin girl/waitress."
"Yes, I moved out at the age of fourteen to live at a fishing resort for a season."
"How about that? Would you like to do that again? Learn anything you could use now?"
"I made less than minimum wage. The cost of the cabin they rented me and my meals ate up my paltry paycheck. I did learn, however, I could pass as a much older girl out at the resorts and buy alcohol, which I did make a profit off by selling to other minors."
"Ok, well that was a start, but did you learn anything legal."
"Yes! When the feds come, say, " I am only behind the bar here to wash the glasses, I never serve the devil drink.."
"Munkay!"
"Ok ok. Any one touches me and I run get Gary Boggs off the launch..."
"Hermm. Maybe we try a different approach. "What kind of education did you receive?"
"Please, Mr. Opmibutt, I didn't finish filling out your form. Think I would ever finish any graduate plan? My last credit class I pulled an A on, which brought my GPA up to 4.o. Perfect time to quite."
"That's some screwy reasoning there Munkay."
"Works for me. Keeps me number one. In my book."
"What else. What other experience can we draw from? Oh I see here, you once danced for money?"
Blink
"You danced for money, did you?"
Blink Blink
"You made enough to buy a car?"
Stare
"You do have some stage experience then!"
"That was a long time ago. I'm not even sure, if it was me, I mean. It was my evil twin. Really. And it was much more a shake than a dance. And we are only talking about a Toyota..."
"You have any skills that are untapped? Any hidden talents?
"ANCHOR BOLTS!"
"Excuse me?"
"Anchor bolts!! I can set up a theatolight laser beam to check the corordinates of a location. Give me a blue print and a set degree and I can tell you if your building is on the nuts! And I can talk the lingo."
"So you can do survey and layout?"
"I can snap a line and shoot a target You don't want any sky scraper planned on what I tell you, mind, but I can tell you if your footings are off."
"There you go Munkay. Off to the survey company office."
"No. Not so fast. I can't stand still out in the cold Especially without a bathroom. And where is the glamour?"
"What else you got? Talent wise?"
"I'm a killer tetherball player. I can decapitate you if one of my serves."
"Munkay. Get serious."
"Knock your head off from here right now. Boom!"
"Any office skills?"
"I worked in an office for two years!"
"How many works per minute? Can you spread sheet and Word?"
"Oh hell no, I type with two fingers."
"How did you last two years in an office?"
"The boss said I knew how to sit a good lap."
"Your boss was a pervert."
"Yes, that's what I told him when I married him. Too bad he fired me after I redecorated his office so nice.."
"You are married. With children?"
"Yes."
"Then you must have some marketable skills that comes with being a parent, I'd assume?"
"Yes, I can drive a stick, while eating an ice cream cone, and talk on the phone, all at the same time, and still be able to do a reach around slap upside the head as needed. Are you thinking taxi driver? I'm not doing taxiing, unless we go where I want. Thats the standing rule now. That and when I'm behind the wheel, we listen to what I want. Period."
"I'm scared to ask, but do you have any other usable skills or talents?"
"I was an antique dealer for a spell."
"How was that then?"
"Oh the money! If I had all the money I spent on crap, well I could furnish my house with piles money instead of crap."
"Now you are exaggerating are you not?"
"A natzi flag, Mr. Opmibutt. What was I going to do with that?"
"Why would you buy a natzi flag Munkay, I ask, scared even as the words leave my mouth?"
"Well it was an action wasn't it. And there was only a sick skin head bidding on it. I mean yes, I did bid up the price of the helmet and handbook and other junk he was bidding on so he had to pay a racist arm and a leg for it, but I really didn't think he was going to stop bidding so soon on the flag. That was one expensive fire we roasted our mellos over that night I tell you."
"What else you got Munkay?"
"That flower thing?"
"You have worked with flowers?"
"More like I fought flowers."
"Was that a bad pay for view or reality show?"
"Could have been. "The Ferral Florist." I scraped with everyone, everything. Customers, delivery drivers, equiptment. Had a knock down brawl in the shop with my own sister. That bitch thinks she fired me but I quite, I did. But it was those damn roses that almost killed me. Come to find out, alergic I am."
"Thats a negitive when you can't even work well with others. Anything you can do solo?"
"I can hold really hot things in my mouth."
"You can hold..."
"Yes I can. Stuff can be to hot for my fingers up yet there I am able to taste and eat really hot things."
"And so you could be ah..,a.., mini refridgerator..."
"I'm thinking flame eater in the circa solei or blue mans group pehalps."
"Yes, that's it, perfect! Get right on that! Out of my office, out you go.."
"Can you tell me if they got medical insurance?"
"Now that is not the question for me, but for the union, Munkay."
"If I worked only nights, does that qualify as my day job as long as it is full time?"
"Off you go now, don't let my door catch you in the tail on your way out."

Have a knock-out Christmas! Watch out for killer trees. Love Munkay, K1, Spare Kid, and K2.

Running threw the forrest heavily armed with axes and saws we hunt the elusive wild tree to kill in the spirt of Christmas.....

Why is the question you have to ask when looking at this picture. Why does Wolfy have such a peculair expression on his face? Because he just discovered this ancient mooring pin and he is asking himself that very question? Why would anyone put it all the way up here when the water is all the way down there? Plus there is fear and excitment on his face. Who put it here? Explorers? Immigrents? Vikings? How many years of water errosion caused the mooring pin to be this high and the water level now so far down? Who could be srtong enough to drive it into the rock? Then you got to ask yourself why a parent would let their kid rock climb in only a swim suit. And what is in his other hand? I let him climb dressed like that because he thought he could. Not only did he climb but held my car keys in an old film container incase they dropped into the current below. Why did I name this child Wolfy? It is a strong name and it fits him. Not only do I bieleve this kid can climb mountains but move them as well.

One highly unflattering picture of me in Augest Lalli flowers. Beauty of this is not the flowers, or obviously the exasperated look on my face as I am saying, "The middle button. Right there on top. The big one. Just hold it down till it clicks. Can you see me now? Just push it down." Look close in the cooler doors. The magic is my Sis, who will not let her picture be taken, her soul be stolen, took this picture, and caught herself.

If you have seen "Full Metal Jacket", this is my CHarlene. Like the crazy-assed solder, who named his rifle, Charlene is an extension of me and goes everywhere with me. "I don't get mad, I get stabby!"

"What else. what else? So far our list says, ps2 games, a bow, a sterio, hair gel..."

"What the hell is that? You painted the bottom of some trees?" "No, look closer." Oh, a stick covered in snow?" "NO, it is wild pigs." There ARE no wild pigs that live in snow. There are razor back boars, but they live down in Texas where there is no snow." "There are wild pigs in France, they are used for finding truffles. And I bet there is snow there too." "Chocolate hunting French pigs??? I never heard of it!" "Shut up. I painted a family picture that is what this is. There is the Daddy pig on the left, staying behind looking at his two little piggy's run off." "Your crazy woman, paint me a duck." "Get a job in France, bring me back some chocolate."

"If you give a Munkay a loaded Gun....he will get cold and tired and stare at the ground." (My little huntin chimp's name is Gunny.)

Here is the 127.00 per day anti-rejection drug habit I am on. That is the cost after insurance. There is a reason the highest mortality of transplant receipents occur two years after their surgery. Not because their new organ fail, but because their insurance stops paying the exorbited medical costs. I thought it was ironic when I threw my old medica alert emblem into this picture, it landed in the form of a question mark. How long will my new cells continue to live and will they regenterate, or will something happen that I can no longer afford them?

"I LOVE SUMMERRRRR! SPLASH"

What's wrong here?

One Block

One part of one phase of one section of one project my husband built somewhere. You tell me.I just know by the snow it couldn't be any further south than Oklahoma. Could be the Smithsonian out on D.C. Might be a convention center in Green Bay. Or a Radison in Mpls. Or a hospital. Even a shopping mall plaza somewhere in North America.Chances are it is a casino-anywhere. We have a bizillion pictures like this on the computer. In every one there is a mistake a contractor had made in the picture, and hubby documents them away in his job log program files before sending them on to the architect/owners/lawyers. All in all, just another brick er block in the wall.

K2 following K1 with Sis way up there in the lead paddling for our lives. (This river is 90 feet deep in spots, and we have not yet learned to "right" a tiped kayak. Or swim very well for that matter.) Shortly after I took this picture, my arms fell off from exertion, and drifted down to the pacific ocean.

Some northern Minnesota Boondock town. While driving up to visit my brother in the hospital. The boys, so board on the road trip, spotted the Kraft building in the background. I was forced off the road for the love of macaroni and cheese. Who knew noodles would be kept behind a high security gate? Closest we could get was this gas station, where we bought cheese curls instead and vowed to never again eat mac and cheese.

Having my Scottish Highlander Bull swallow my hand while feeding them marshmello's. Guess which wooly beast is me?

Twelve Days of Pictures

For Christmas I thought I'd give you a picture a day of me and my family since I started writting this. (I know there is thirteen days till Christmas, but I gave myself an extra day, in case I happen to run off or anything. Here is my earnest picture.

Paranoid Fishavior

Today found the boys and I in the local sorting goods megashopalis doing some Christmas browsing. Hubby wants new replacement depth finder for his boat. (Long gone are the days of sticking the trusty oar into the water to measure the waters depth.) We were seriously overwhelmed by the array of technical gadgetry devised to find aqua marine live. Contraptions to tell us water temperature, clarity, movement, time of day, bottom conditions and GPA. We were all suffering from too much technical information overload to make up our minds. That is, until K2 found the fish shaped camera that extends under the side of the boat to actually see the fish underwater on a screen that you mount on your boats council. Much fun was had as the boys and I tried our best fish impersonations for the camera with the attached display screen. The salesman didn't find it nearly so funny when we shoed us away from his pricey fish parafinallia. It was at the check out counter, ware we were buying a simple red and white lure, that K2 looked up and spotted the security camera trained on us. "Mom! What if fish are spying on us!!"
I think he's onto something.

Dancing With Jack Raw

Frost's finger up my ass
bladder trembles threatens to shatter
winter sucks cold shit popsicles

Spark for Hire

I get up in the eveningand I ain't got nothing to sayI come home in the morningI go to bed feeling the same wayI ain't nothing but tiredMan I'm just tired and bored with myselfHey there baby, I could use just a little help

Yes, I remember the very first fire I started. It was such a long long time ago...

You can't start a fireYou can't start a fire without a sparkThis gun's for hireeven if we're just dancing in the dark

"Mom! C'm on Mom! I'm hungry. Let me try". All I wanted was a roasted hot dog. I had it all planned out in my four year old mind. It was the dead of winter and there was a fire crackling in our kitchen's woodburner. I had the hot dog, and a piece of Lincoln Log for a stick. Mum was definite in her no's. Made that morsel of chard meat all the more desirable. "You will burn the house down", was her finale answer. I just waited patiently until she bundled up in her winter clothes to do the out side chores and get the mail. That was an easy if not frightening fire to dispose of. I just threw the flaming toy into the round hole in the stove and covered the evidence with the heavy metal lid. And continued to whine with hunger until dinner.

Message keeps getting clearerradio's on and I'm moving 'round the placeI check my look in the mirrorI wanna change my clothes, my hair, my faceMan I ain't getting nowhereI'm just living in a dump like thisThere's something happening somewherebaby I just know that there is

The next fire was a little larger, I think, although I never really seen it. There we were, in our ninth grade home economics class. It was the last class of the day, right before the Christmas holidays were to begin. My kitchen partners and I had decided to make home made caramel as our final big project. Sherry, Elaine, Mark and I had never made it before, but Sherry had seen it done, so she was in charge. I remember her voice, "Stir! Stir! Stir!", like a rowing cadence she urged. She stressed the importance of stirring the concoction so not to scorch the bottom. We had taken turns stirring for an hour and it still wasn't candy yet. We had no idea it would take us so long to make caramel. As the finale bell of the day approached we formulated our plan. Once the bell rang, my partners would all leave the class to gather their coats and books before boarding the busses. Our lockers were on the third floor. Smiley Nelsons home ec class being on the second floor, I would stay and stir, while the others bring me my things so our caramel could continue to cook the additional fifteen minutes before the busses departed. The bell sounded, and all the students flooded out of the classroom, except myself. Smiley Nelson, our teacher, always snuck out early to have a smoke in the teachers lounge and talk with her husband the guidance counselor, before coming back to lock up her empty classroom. Elaine and Sherry returned with my coat and books, but Mark, who lived in town, and was to stay until the caramel thickened into candy, had ditched us. "Mark said he has curling after school, but he would get Smiley to finish." When we peeked out the classroom door, there was Smiley headed in our direction. I left that wooden spoon right were it was in that bubbling hot syrup and dashed off to my waiting bus without a backwards glance. When we came back from break, the stove was no longer there and the counter next to it had dark brown marks in the disfigured laminate. Smiley, would not explain, for fear of self inditement, what had happened.

You can't start a fireyou can't start a fire without a sparkThis gun's for hireeven if we're just dancing in the dark

Granted, at every kegger there is a bonfire, it's a given. And at Clemenston, we had some doozies. They lasted all night. If someone didn't get lost, or fall in the rapids, it was considered tame. We had partied by the river until the cops showed up, then about twenty or so cars of partyers moved it to the bait store. Another bonfire was light outside, but it was getting cold, that Friday before deer hunting season, so the party was moved inside. I was enjoying *Gonzo's impression of Billy Idol using a pool stick as microphone, and was sad when him and **Fry had to leave at around 3:am to be ready for hunting. Watching the two of them climb into Fry's old low ridding thunderbird, I came up with an idea. Before their car turned on to the highway, I ran out the store and waved them back to where I was standing. Unable to make a u-turn, they simply backed all the way up to where I was. I just happened to be standing near the earlier bon fire, that I assumed to be out, had blazed. "Hey Gonzo! I bet you my "Rebel Yell" tape you don't get a deer at sun up", was my parting wager.
I never did rub it into Gonzo that his opening hunt was unsuccessful. Seams as he and Fry had driven straight to their hunting destination, to catch a few hours of sleep before sun rise and opening hunting. Unfortunately it was not day break that woke them from their drunken slumber, but the sound of shots from their own trunk. Having driven over the embers of the bonfire had caused the underneath of their thunderbird to catch fire, discharging the rifle shells stored in their trunk.


You sit around getting olderthere's a joke here somewhere and it's on meI'll shake this world off my shoulderscome on baby this laugh's on me

The fire in Carrie's basement apartment was by far the scaryest yet for me. We had been up late the night before trying to impress some baser guys. Carrie, being an excellent cook, and me, who literally couldn't even boil water at that time. Carrie had made Asian food. Chow mein and homemade egg rolls. The food had been much better than our company. I just remember the next morning, walking past Carrie, who had just light a cigarette and plunked down on the sofa in front of her soap opera. I went into the kitchen and turned the gas on under her tea kettle. It was when we seen the reflection of flames shooting out of her oil filled wok, on the T.V. screen, that I realized I had lit the burner under her wok instead of the tea kettle by mistake. Squealing, we both rushed into the tiny u shaped kitchen and started pulling open cupboard doors to find either a lid big enough to cover the wok, or some flour to put out the flaming oil. We found neither in our hast. So I grabbed up the wok and planned on running it outside. As I picked it up, and swung around holding it as far away from my body as possible, I set the cotton dish towels and their holders on fire that hung on the cabinet doors. Then the paper towel holder. And the message pad. And the spice wreath. The whole kitchen was fast becoming engulfed. I knew I would not make it out the door and up the stairs, so when I started heading for the sink. Carrie hit me with a phone book to keep me from running water into it and splattering more fire. I had no plans on doing anything so stupid tho, I simply poured the flaming oil down the drain. Thank God for metal pipes. And sugar, that will work almost as good as flour, but leaves an odd smell. Carrie had to light a new cigarette after that, as we were still shaking as we went back to watch "Days of Our Lives."

Stay on the streets of this townand they'll be carving you up alrightThey say you gotta stay hungryhey baby I'm just about starving tonightI'm dying for some actionI'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this bookI need a love reactioncome on now baby gimme just one look

That implosion in the microwave that happened in class down in Austin, well there just should of been something in the syllabus about fires. And I swear that Iranian dude had more to do with it than he can admit.

You can't start a fire sitting round crying over a broken heartThis gun's for hireEven if we'rejust dancing in the darkYou can't start a fire worrying bout your little world falling apartThis guns for hireEven if we're just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkHey Baby

Sure, create a dessert called a flaming monastery and some fire is bound to happen.
Red wine reduction sauce, something that needs to boil down to almost nothing and includes alcohal, is just begging for trouble.
But put a grill next to a stack of terry cloth potholders, and come one. Yes the alarms will go off and all the doors will lock and the code orange will blare across the loudspeakers. I know I have a leeway of fifteen seconds to dump the flaming material into the industrial sized trash and contain it in the sensor free freeze. Not that I have, mind you.
***It was dark and the middle of the night as I danced when my house burned to the ground. Hey Baby.


*Gonzo so named after numous hockey accidents that left his nose headed in many diferent directions all at the same time.
**Fry so burned out by partying he was known as just plain Fry.
***I was three hours away. I have witnesses. Ask Clarence.

Dancing With Jack

The winters solace has begun
frost's stinging kisses cause my stiff minuet
snow blind by his touch

My First Meal

Somewhat similar to a death row prisoner planning his last meal, I planed what I would eat as my first repast after my transplant. I had enough time to think of it. I had thirty plus years as an insulin dependent diabetic and eleven and a half months on the waiting list waiting for my pager to sound alerting me that a donor had been found.

Of course I had eaten sugary foods in the interim. When I was human, and ate like I was a normal person, I could never truly enjoy what ever guilt ridden goody I was sneaking. And the after math of being nauseous and tired sucked the joy right out of eating it.

There were times, when my blood sugar was to low, that I had to eat sweets. But it was hard to savor or enjoy any decadence when hypoglycemic. A big glass of orange juice laced with extra sugar was the old stand by staple when my blood sugar bottomed out, and I could no longer function enough to chew. The times I would slip into a diabetic shock, often in the middle of the night, I would return to conscious on my bedroom floor soaked in the sugar thicken juice. My husband just didn't have it in him to inject me with the emergency glycogen shot which would enable my body to release it's own sugar stored in my liver to save my life. Instead, he pour the juice, sometimes by the tablespoon in my mouth. Most of it would land on my neck and in my hair if I was in a grand mal seizure. I was always frightened I would choke to death or drown instead of dyeing of insulin overdose. As much and often as I told him I felt nothing at that point, he could just not poke me with a needle. I, on the other hand just couldn't drink orange juice anymore.

When I realized I would be able to eat normal for the first time in my life, I started making lists. I wanted Snickers bars. Then I changed it to ice cream sundays with brownies. Carmel popcorn. Then I wanted all the wonderful deserts my Mum had to stop baking once I was diagnosed. Strawberry Fluff. Poppy Seed Cake. Wild blueberry pie. All good. I wanted them all. My top choice changed daily. It was boggling for me, I just couldn't make up my mind.

At about month eleven, four week before they were going to take me off the waiting list, I finally had my answer of the one supreme taboo victual. I wanted a tall glass of orange juice, no added sugar.

Unfortunately, after my procedure, I felt so bad, I never wanted to eat again. My dinner tray would come and the nurses would try coaxing me to eat. "Come on Munkay, you gotta eat. You need to feed your new cells." For the first two days, I sent my trays back untouched.

Once I stared to come around and was able to look at the food, I realized I was on an even stricter diet that before. I was well versed in the carb counting and exchange meal plans, but now I was low glycemic diet as well. Good by potatoes, breads and rice. When they brought me chocolate ice cream, I thought it was a cruel joke? "Was this a mistake? There's ice cream on here?"

It's ok now. I will always watch what I eat, as not to tax and overload my new cells. I can eat a piece of cheese cake with less negative consequences than a rice ball. I still can't choke down orange juice, spiked with added guilt or not. Oh well.