I Used to Be a Good Speler

Okay I've changed the web address of this blog. I just the other day noticed my web addy was missplelled. It should've been drinkingalestellingtales, but instead I had drinkningalestelling tales. I don't know where that extra 'n' came from. Maybe I was having a beer when I set up my new blog...oh well..

And now..

...for the first time in public...Mr. and Mrs. MciPod! The happy couple were joined in rock and roll matrimony today at 8am and will share a huge library of Rock and Roll, Blues, Irish, Jazz and Motown music.

This is each iPods first marriage and after a honeymoon to the JBL Docking Station in the kitchen, the couple will reside in Central New Jersey.

Happy Birthday Maggie!

Today is my lovely wife's birthday! She is an amazing woman, truly she is. I am so very lucky and furtunate to have her as my wife.

She is funny, cute and she's also wicked smahht. Oh, and she's a great cook too.

She is a very giving and caring person and she is always putting the needs of others above her own.
She is a 30 year Hodgkins Disease survivor, a breast cancer survivior, and has had an artificial heart valve implanted. She never mentions this and never complains. The girl is tough as nails!

She, like me, is the most responsible child in her family. This sometimes causes her grief because everyone leans on her to do things for her elderly parents. She does this without word of complaint.

She was an incredible source of strength and support for me and my family in our two biggest times of crisis. The death of my Dad in 2000, which, when she learned he had passed, jumped into her car at that moment and drove 5 hours to Rhode Island to be with me and my family. And most recently when my sister Jen died.
She is always ready to lend an ear to a friend who needs someone to listen and ready to dole out some handy advice to that same friend. She is my biggest supporter and has helped me grow as a human. (As opposed to a houseplant I guess?)

She is beautiful and wonderful....I hope you have many more birthdays baby. I love you!

Mims Update

Mims' surgery went well. Just about two hours start to finish. The battery in her pacemaker needed replacing. So thankfully, that is one less thing to worry about.

Feel better Mims.

Go Ahead, Heap More Shit on...

Late yesterday, after my ranting post, the computer in my wife's car went. We don't know what it will cost to replace, but it has to be done. This morning, Maggie called her mom (who from here on in will be referred to as Bubs) and asked her what is going on. Maggies nephew, who lives next door to Bubs and J.W., was taken to the E.R. at 4 am because he may or may not have been having a heart attack. He's a young dude, early late 20's I imagine.
And my wife needs an Echo on her heart....She had an artificial heart valve put in three years ago and the Doc wants to make sure it's still functioning okay.
Will this fucking shit ever end? I'm slowly losing my grip. I've fucking had it.

Forget an Amen, Can We Just Get a Break??

Where do I begin? Since the passing of my sister Jennifer, neither Maggie nor Meself has been sleeping. And I don't mean that in the way whiny people mean it. Like "booo-hoo I only had nine hours of sleep last night and I have that big meeting at the Cheese Club in twelve hours..wwaaa" No I'm talking neither of us has gotten more than five hours of continuous sleep since like June 4. We toss, we turn, we lay awake staring at the ceiling. I think I had five on Thursday night, but only because my wife slipped me a mickey-thing and knocked my little ass out. Lucky me. My poor wife though, was downstairs loading and running the dishwasher, cleaning the lint from all the furnace filters, straightening all the threads on the ends of the living room carpet and attempting to replicate the Mona Lisa in the litter box by pushing around all the..oh never mind. No wait, that was me on Tuesday night..sorry hun.
Mr Sandman has not visited us in quite some time and if he ever finally shows up, I'm tying the little bastard to a chair and give him a beating to rival that of the famous 'cop scene' in resevoir Dogs.
Weboth are filled with worry about my neice Cassie. We both have bad dreams, nightmares at times and on top of all that, we live in one of the noisiest neighborhoods in the entire Western Hemisphere. I mean it's not Carnival..but still. A little respect from our neighbors would be nice. But I digress..I was looking for a break right?
Yesterday we got a call from my sis-in-law, (who will be referred to from here on in as Steph), about my father-in-law. They have a home up in upstate New York. Out in God's country. This house is so far out of the way squirrels don't go there for fear of being lost to the wilderness forever. Arnold Ziffle is still a big deal there as is cable t.v. If'n ya'll can get it, that is...
Anyways my father-in-law (who from here on out will be referred to as 'J.W.') apparently had a 'mini-stroke'. Now you've got to understand, the man is in congestive heart failure. He is nearing 90. He is an ornery ol' guy. Tough as nails. He had open-heart surgery just about two years ago. Had an artificial heart valve put in and was home riding his John Deere two weeks later. Seriously. We rushed over to see him and he seemed terribly tired. Almost weak. But, he seemed with it and talked with us for a couple hours. Today he seemed a little better, but still tired. He refuses to go to the doctor. We will be keeping a close eye on him.
Today Mims called my wife's cell. As a matter o' fact we realised this as we were leaving J.W.'s house. She left no message. This means bad news. We worry ourselves sick about my niece Cassie. We, being Irish, naturally assume the worse. I grab the phone once home and call Mims. Our conversation went kinda like this.
Me: Ma, what's goin' on?
Mims: Connor, I tried calling your wife earlier.
She is talking very quietly. My mom doesn't have a big mouth but she is speaking quieter than usual. another bad sign.
Mims: I need surgery.
Me: What? What's wrong??
Mims: ( Matter of factly, like she's relaying the weather.) My pacemaker ( for her heart) isn't working. They'll do it tomorrow. I should've checked in at noon, but had no one to bring me...
Me: (about to experience a very good heart-attack) What is wrong with it? Didn't you have that one done only 3 years ago?
Mims: Ahh, I'll be home Sunday.
I gather what's left of my nerves and make sure she doesn't need us to come. It is a five hour drive but I could do it in 4. I am now worried about Cassie. She just lost her mom and if anything happened to Mims I think she'd have a little meltdown.
CassieKid is with her Dad and my mother has a wonderful set of sisters. They came through for the fam big time when Jen died. My Aunt Chris even gave Mims a cemetery plot for Jen. So I know she'll be in good hands. I was debating going and told Mims this
Mims: You don't need to be here..I'll be fine...really Connor.
Me: But Ma, who's gonna be taking care of ya?
Mims: I'll be fine don't worry. You do not need to be here.
I tell her I will not come but have debated going anyways. But really, there's be nothing I could do. So I think I'm staying here with Mags in case J.W., God forbid, has any problems.
So you see. We are both fried. Toast. Creamcrackered. We are both in need of like 15 hours of sleep. We need the phone to not ring for like 4 days and we need everyone in our neighborhood to fall into a 24 hour coma so we can get some sleep. Is that too much to ask?

Yikes! This is Why I Hate Insects

Look Into My Eyes.....

Here is our kitty. His name is Smoke but we call him many other things..Moke, MokeMan, Dooood, BigHead, Chainsaw, FuzzButt...

We adopted him from my brother-in-law. Moke was a 'barn cat' at my Father-in-law's farm and we got him there. He took to living indoors like an Irishman takes to a free pint o' Guinness. He is a mix. Part mutt, part Russian Blue. He is very vocal, he is always 'talking' to us. He even can tell time! True story! He tells us when it is time for his feedings. He starts to carry on near 7am, 5pm and he needs his nightime snack at 10pm. At about 950 he'll park his fat butt right in front of us and just stare. Trying to use his kitty mind-powers no doubt, to make us feed him. He'd actually eat non-stop if we let him. He'd eat until he exploded I'm sure of it.

He can also open doors in the house. He's very long and gets on his hind legs, wraps his arms around the doorknob and wiggles it until it pops...pretty amusing...well unless it's 230 am and he is looking to be fed. Then it's not cute.

He is, for the most part, a fine lad. Until, of course, he tries to tackle me and take me down like a lion on a pygmy. That's not too funny. Well, it tickles my wife when he tackles me. So at least two of them are having fun.

There is an entertaining story about Moke, but that's for another time...