Number 7

Good Morning, Friends!

I am here to report that Grandbaby number 7 has arrived! I’m thrilled to be gramma to another boy, born April 27, 2023. He and mommy are doing well and back home from the hospital. I hear that big brother is thrilled to have a little brother and my son is proud as can be, of course. This baby makes 7 great-grandkids for my dad. He loves kids and it would make him so happy to have them all around him.

The other day I mentioned to someone that I was proud Gramma to 7 littles, and I was “informed” that number 2 is not biologically my granddaughter so she doesn’t count. That’s about as effing ignorant as Marjorie TrailerTrash Green telling a step-mom that she’s not a real mom. It takes more than biology to make a mom. Don’t we say that about men being a father? That it takes more than blood to make a good dad?! Same concept.

Anyway, I informed the person who made this comment to me that I don’t have to explain anything to her but for her information, I accepted number 2 as my granddaughter before I knew she was not my granddaughter by blood. I told her it doesn’t matter to me that my son is no longer with her mother. DNA doesn’t matter. Number 2 is still my granddaughter because of the love and bond that formed between us during the years that my son and her mother were together. DNA doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it! She and I still have a special bond that will never die. She’s still my granddaughter and she calls me Gramma. Nothing else matters.

As for Marjorie TrailerTrash Green, I wish someone would stuff a sock in her mouth to shut her up. She says the most ignorant things! If you don’t agree then you’re not paying attention.

On that note, I’ll close this post. Otherwise, I’ll be ranting for hours. Have a great week, everyone.



“Your love of cats explains your taste in music.”

“Cats are stupid and so are people who like them.”

“Cat people are ridiculous.”

“Don’t you have any other interests besides cats?”

“Why do you have cats?”

“You must be a liberal if you’re a cat person.”


Seriously? What the hell does having cats have to do with my taste in music or that I have liberal views? Those are just a few of the remarks people have made about my love of cats.

Everyone has their own set of likes and dislikes, hobbies, and interests. I have a great love for animals, but cats are my favorite. I also like ferrets, rats, Guinea pigs, birds, and squirrels. My hobbies are crocheting and jewelry making. I love bird watching and photography. I used to make soaps and other bath & body products. I used to create web pages. I used to be a cross-country backpacker. I have some medical training. I love all things Celtic and I am drawn to castles. I love to research and learn anything that tickles my fancy.

You see, I have many interests other than cats.


My cats are my furry children. They are part of my family. If you prefer dogs over cats, you most likely feel the same about your dogs. They are your family.

Why must people make mean and rude remarks about someone else’s likes and dislikes? Are they so small-minded they don’t understand that their love for anime might seem stupid to someone else? Their love of video games might seem exceptionally ridiculous to others. If they’re into comic books and superheroes, they might seem childish to others. Everyone is different. It would be nice if others would shut their pie holes regarding what someone else likes or what someone else does in their own home or on their own free time. They can think whatever they want, but being rude to someone is unacceptable.

Am I a “crazy cat lady”? Maybe, but loving cats is no different than loving dogs. I found some “cat people” memes you might enjoy. There may be a sliver of truth in some of them!

All funny but really what it all comes down to is this:





Throwback Thursday #TBT

Many moons ago…

This photo was probably the last photo taken with any of my cousins. It was 1987, the year my Papa passed away. He was my paternal grandfather.

I was pregnant with my first child, second from the left. Yeah, that’s me. Young. Thin. The last time I would ever be thin in my life! Even pregnant, I had only gained 27 lbs. total and still looked good. I just wish I would have known that then.

What strikes me about this photo is the fact that everyone is smiling except for me and my sisters…well, maybe there’s a tiny smile there, but not really. I don’t recall, and most likely have blocked it out for good, but I’m sure our lack of enthusiasm had something to do with my mother. Granted, funeral services aren’t supposed to be fun but it was usually my mother who sucked the wind out of our sails, made games UNfun, and mountains out of molehills.


Image Copyright Being Aunt Debbie

So, That Was Christmas

I haven’t put up a tree in many years. Christmas had turned into a depressing time of the year for me. This year, I was determined to get into and stay in the Spirit of Christmas and not let past events and disappointments get the best of me.

I have a lot of holiday decor in storage, including a beautiful white tree with purple ornaments but aside from not having room for any of it, I’m just not physically able to decorate like I used to. So, I decided to go with a little table-top tree and very little decor.


The entire week before Christmas I was busy baking cookies. I made double batches but I baked only one kind of cookie per day so my pain wouldn’t get the best of me. I made my famous “not-so-famous” popcorn cake the day before Christmas Eve. That was one less thing I’d have to do the next day! One of the most important (and fun) of my family traditions – the making of pizza balls – was saved for Christmas Eve. My son came over early to help. I rolled the pizza balls and he fried them up!


I was taking short breaks to rest so my pain – again – couldn’t get the best of me. I had maybe 12 pizza balls left to roll when I decided to sit down in the old office chair I have sitting in the kitchen. After my brief rest, I started to get up…when all of a sudden the chair started to tip sideways…and down…I went. Hard. I landed on my left hip and thigh; the bad side…or more appropriately the worst side.

Once I hit the floor I rolled to my tummy and started making a mental assessment of my aches and pains. The pain was just shooting through my lower body like I had been hit by a bus. When I realized I hadn’t injured myself, I rolled over and sat up. Thankfully, my son was here to scoop me up off the floor! I tried to get up on my own but I couldn’t. If Dad had been the only one home, he would have had to call for help. There’s no way he could have helped me to my feet alone.

When I knew I would be ok to finish those last few pizza balls, my son left to go pick up his wife and my grandbaby. I knew that I wasn’t seriously injured but at the same time, I knew…I felt it in my bones quite literally…that I would be feeling pain the next day.

The evening went very nicely. We had laughs, the exchange of gifts, a Christmas movie, and a lot of good eats! My grandson was full of smiles and near-laughs most of the night. He had his cranky moments, of course. He had been out of his normal element all day and it was taking its toll on baby’s usual easy-going demeanor. He was happy to get home, I’m sure.

The next morning, I was hurting so bad from the fall that I was walking with 2 canes and even slower than normal. The “massive” bruise I had on my left hip was ridiculous! It was literally the size of a nickel. WTF? After such a hard landing and all the pain I was experiencing (not to mention the pain all night long) I expected a much larger bruise! I mean seriously. That’s all I get? A tiny bruise?

Anyway, I knew I still had a ham dinner to cook so I asked my son if he could come help. He had planned on coming by anyway, but he came by a bit earlier to help. We had (store-bought) cinnamon rolls and then we started thinking about what time to start the ham. Unfortunately, he had to leave before he could even help me get that started, so I had to rely on Dad to help me if I needed it. (I don’t like to rely on him too much because he’s nearly 82 now and sometimes a bit unsteady on his feet himself.) I managed to get the ham done BUT I forgot to add the glaze at the last 30 minutes of cooking. Oh well. It was still good.

Here it is Friday, the last Friday of 2018, and I’m still using 2 canes off and on. I’m still feeling the “after-shock” of that stupid fall. I guess the pain will subside eventually, but for a few days longer I’ll take it easy.

I hope your holiday was a fantastic one, with no injuries, fights, falls, or any other mishaps to put a damper on things. Here’s to a wonderful 2019 to us all!