Category Archives: UnProfessional Photography & Artwork

Pharmacy Giraffe

Posted on May 31, 2012 by funnygurl2

The Pharmacy Giraffe. I call him Giraffey.

When I was growing up, I lived within walking distance of a pharmacy. I would go there to buy candy. I would go there to buy poster board for school projects. I would go there to buy my mom Christmas stocking stuffers. I would go there for something to do. When I was a little older, I went there with my asbestos friend to look at the teen magazines, which once in a while we actually purchased. You would think they would have been grateful for my business. No. Instead they watched me like a hawk every time I was in the store, apparently expecting me to steal something.

[NOTE: Now, I know you are thinking, “A whole blog post about a stuffed giraffe? Really?” But if you hang in until the end, it has sort of a nice ending.]

The pharmacy had one corner of the store with gifty items. Figurines. Stuffed animals. And the largest stuffed giraffe I had ever seen in my life. I used to hug his neck every time I went in. I dreamed of taking him home with me. He was for sale, but I think his purpose in the store was more to draw the children over to that area. Which he did very well. I remember the price tag on him being $500. Someone else told me $2000. Either way, no one ever bought him.

I grew up and moved away. The pharmacy was bought by new owners and moved to a new location. I remember going in to the new pharmacy once and thinking how sterile, bare it looked. And I was sad to find there was no giraffe there.
A number of years later, after my asbestos friend had left town and moved back, she convinced me to ride on a Noah’s Ark-themed float for her church for the town festival [She is always tricking me into doing things like that. She is a bad influence.]. Anyway, I met her pastor, who was dressed up like Noah. And looked about nineteen. And his wife, who looked more like Mary looking for a manger than Noah’s wife [She was pregnant at the time].

As you may have guessed, they had animals on the float. Wood-cut outs, along with stuffed animals. The best one, if you asked me, was the stuffed giraffe. I told my asbestos friend that it reminded me of the giraffe from the pharmacy. She replied that it was the very same one. It made the eight year old in me a little excited. It rained that day and he got a little wet, but it didn’t seem to cause him too much damage.

Three years later, I was pregnant with my son. I saw a stuffed giraffe at work. I decided right then and there that my child’s room would not be complete without one. I hoped to get it for free or discounted through work, as that was a big benefit of working there. But I didn’t really want to spend the money. The giraffe work was selling was also way smaller than the one I was used to from my childhood.

When I mentioned this to my asbestos friend, as I do with all my obsessions, she told me that the pharmacy giraffe that had rode on the church float was still sitting in the church basement. It had flooded down there and he had gotten a little wet, but it didn’t seem to cause him too much damage. After a quick call, she confirmed that the previous owner no longer wanted it. But, the previous owner said it was CURSED!

From what I remember, as the story goes, the previous owner bought the giraffe at auction when the pharmacy closed for her mother. But apparently the mother said it was too big and didn’t want it. The previous owner had tried to get rid of the giraffe several times. But, apparently, every time someone tried to take him out of the Blissfield village limits, they would experience car trouble, or some other kind of incident.

I took my chances with the curse and hauled him home. Not a single terrible fate befell me. That tells me it was fate. I was destined to own him.

Once I got him home, that was not the end of the story. Do you remember how I said I used to always go in to the pharmacy and hug his neck? Well, I was not the only one. And it appeared that most people chose to rub his nose, because there was not much left of it. It was time for another one of my unusual sewing projects (ex. Werecart). I spent a Sunday very carefully reconstructing his nose, knowing that if I screwed it up I would be destroying a cherished part of Blissfield history of my generation. Even with all that pressure, it came out quite good.

Before


After


I truly believe the Law of Attraction is how the giraffe came into my possession. I wanted him so badly back then and truly believed he should be mine that it became reality. I can no longer ever deny The Secret of the Law of Attraction. Of course, once I put a bed and a crib and shelf and a dresser in my son’s room, it because clear that there was no room for a giraffe as well. So, he happily hangs out in my dining room for now. And maybe the old ladies at the pharmacy knew something I didn’t. I do have something from that store that I didn’t pay for after all:)

The End


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Bathtime

Posted on May 29, 2012 by funnygurl2

I guess every kid has an issue with something. My son (“M” for the sake of the blogosphere) has an issue with the bathtub. As an adult educated in the laws and reasons of science, I do not understand it. But, I am not 18 months old.

Baths for my son started in the usual way—in a baby bathtub, in the kitchen sink. He hated baths at first. But we just figured that was because he was probably cold. He was only 5 lb. 11 oz. when he was born. And at three weeks old, we realized our furnace had been running inefficiently for some time. Especially because it died and we had to buy a new one.

Once the weather warmed up and our baby fattened up, things started to go better. Throughout the summer and into the fall, we moved him into the big tub. It was a fairly smooth transition.

In November of 2011, M had to get a tube put into his left kidney that went out to an external bag that we had to hang on his back. He had the bag through January of 2012. In that time, we gave him sponge baths. In the living room. My mom thought we should have given them to him in the kitchen sink. I stood by the fact that he was too big for that now, and might rip the faucet off or something. And, truth be told, I liked to watch TV while we bathed him. He got to where he hated this, and would cling to one of us (mom or dad) screaming, while the other (dad or mom) did the best they could to wash him as quickly as possible. (As it was winter again, we chalked it up to that he was probably cold.) Sometimes this ritual would be followed by changing the bandage over his tube site. It wasn’t oozy or anything. We changed it to keep it well covered and keep infection out. But it required much screaming (by my son) and anxiety (from the parents). That may not have helped the situation either.

A week after the tube was removed I was very excited to return him to a more standard bathing routine. I plopped him in the normal tub in about an inch of water and…he screamed his head off and stood up and clutched my shirt as if I was trying to drown him. This went on for what seemed like an eternity. In reality, it was probably only a few months.

I asked the pediatrician what she thought. She hypothesized that he was just so traumatized by having the same major surgery twice and being stuck with needles by strangers, etc. that it was bound to manifest itself in some way. A great idea with probably some truth, but not a help in revolving said situation. I asked for advice from family members. Sister-in-Law suggested I let him play in the tub without water in it. I did. He was fine with that. But somehow, that ease of attitude didn’t translate to being naked in the tub with water.

So, he was standing and screaming and clutching. Until, one day, out of the blue, he figured out that he could splash his foot in the water. His right foot, to be exact. Then the screaming seemed to stop. He began to hold on to the side of the tub and, while standing, splash his right foot in the water. So no more clutching my shirt. And he would splash his left foot sometimes now too. I can wash pretty much any part of him, and he doesn’t mind, as long as he can splash his feet.

You are right, this is a big improvement, except HE IS STILL STANDING UP! He holds on to the bathtub edge for support, and it gets all slippery with water and soap. He is leaning down the whole time to watch his foot splashes. With his head hanging over the edge of the tub. One time, early on, as he was doing this, I was sitting in front of him. All of a sudden he had fallen head first out of the tub and done a sort of somersault into my lap. Suddenly I had a wet, slippery baby in my lap. I put him right back in the tub and he was unphased. He went back to stomping his foot and splashing the water.

If I try to sit him down in the tub, he screams. I have bath toys floating around. He might try to step on one with his foot if it floats by, but otherwise he ignores them. Have you ever tried to wash a child’s hair when their head isn’t even inside the tub, but hanging over the edge? I try to rinse it out and I end up with wet knees and a wet bathmat.

I fell like, if we can get over this hump of him sitting down in the bath, we will be caught up to where we should have been by now. If we hadn’t of lost three months to the nephro tube and sponge baths. It does seem as though persistence pays off eventually with him. I know it did with him falling asleep at bedtime. Hmmm…Maybe I could avoid all this by just giving him a shower instead?

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MEMORIAL DAY IS HERE AGAIN!!!!

Posted on May 27, 2012 by funnygurl2

Those of you who read my blog last year at this time, know that Memorial Day is my favorite holiday. I will be busy today trying to fit in the Annual Memorial Day Pancake Breakfast at the Palmyra, Michigan Fire Department, a Memorial Day Parade in Blissfield, Michigan, and a BBQ Chicken lunch at the American Legion Post 325. Oh, how I love Memorial Day. I hope the weather is nice.

And now, I present you with a parting picture for this fine holiday. Enjoy:)

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My Fake Family

Posted on May 24, 2012 by funnygurl2

Growing up, I was the only child of a single parent. I was creative with a very good imagination. So naturally, I always imagined having a large family. The earliest imaginary family I can remember, I had six sisters (Brady Bunch influence?) and one brother named Hellmann (Yup, like the mayonnaise). All the girls lived in the attic together (Boy, would that be totally NOT fun in real life!). Hellmann would come up and run through the room very fast and we would all spin around and our belongings would fly every which way (Yes, just like in a cartoon) and we would all yell “Hellmann!”

There were various other imaginary families after that. But once Punky Brewster debuted on NBC, it was important that I somehow work her into all my imaginary adventures. (In case it isn’t clear, I viewed myself to be Punky:) So, here is the Brewster family I created. There were so many kids with so many names, I had to make a cheat sheet family photo. Then, because I lived to draw, I made many, many family photos. I think part of it may have been to see if I could draw the same people over and over to look the same each time, like Charles Schulz did with his characters. All these pictures have just been sitting in my file cabinet for like 28 years (Yes, I save everything). In the real world, my mom is a hermit and not big on keeping in touch with family. That means, at a point in time, I knew more about these imaginary people than I have ever known about some relatively close member of my own real family.

Family Photo with names and ages.

House Floor Plan. Wow, 4 bathrooms! Must be David & Sheri got married if they started sharing a bedroom!


So, here are some pictures of my fake family. I drew them when I was young. Yes, some of the names are badly misspelled. The fashions are very 80’s. You probably can’t tell from the scan, but from the info on their T-shirts, the family seems to live in Greenville. Greenville: where families have a mom and a dad, older brothers have a nice, pretty girlfriend, younger brothers are always covered in mud, people have look-alike cousins, newborn babies eat cookies, ponytails are sideways, both grandma and grandpa are alive, and houses have four bathrooms. The burning question that remains in my mind, looking back on these pictures so many years later—why the fuck didn’t this family have a dog?!!

Oldest brother David’s girlfriend Sheri. Notice how she signed AND kissed the picture;)


Newborn picture of youngest sister “Mealisa”. I even did this picture on an index card, so that it would look smaller, like a real picture. Notice she is holding a rattle AND a cookie.


Petrisa “Punky” (me), look-alike Cousin Ann (equals twice the fun), and friend Prisilla


Older sister Julie going to a dance. Awesome 80’s fashion. Truly outrageous.


With Grandparents


Dad macking on the oldest son’s girlfriend. More awesome fashion.


Family at the hospital for birth of Mealisa.


One more. This picture is incomplete, but I felt it necessary to show that imaginary Mom could get dressed up and look damn good:)


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Squirrels Cannot Be Trusted

Posted on May 22, 2012 by funnygurl2

Doesn’t this totally look like a pot-smoking squirrel, using his nut as a bong?


I hate squirrels. I see them as worthless vermin. Some people feed them and think they are cute. Not me. Some people buy greeting cards with pictures of squirrels on them. I use those cards as a dart board.

My distrust stems from an encounter I had with a squirrel when I was young, a preschooler. Apparently someone in the small town I lived in had raised a squirrel from when it was a baby. Hence, eradicating it’s natural fear of humans. But it grew up and they released it into the wild. Now, I refer to this as half-tamed. Apparently the squirrel had attacked a girl down the street. But no one tried to catch it.

Then one day my mom and I were sitting on our front porch, minding our own business. She was reading a letter from her friend in California. Luckily for me, they wrote each other thick letters. The half-tame squirrel ran up and attacked me. I don’t really remember it, I remember my mom telling me about it. (I probably blocked it out of my memory for continued sanity.) He scratched and bit me. My mom beat him off with the letter.

Our next door neighbor was an RN, so she fixed up my wounds. My mom rented a live trap from the DNR and finally caught the thing and they hauled it off. I have hated squirrels ever since. Which, is like, over 30 years. I am good at holding a grudge.

One time I was taking a walk at work with my green-haired co-worker while we were on break. We saw a squirrel and she threw a stick at it. The stick hit close to it, bounced, and the squirrel ran—in the direction that the stick bounced. Hence, the stick totally hit him right in the head. The funniest damn thing I have ever seen! I wish we had taped it for YouTube.

In my current house, we have a big old maple tree in the backyard that the squirrels love to live in. If we were in the country, I would shoot them with a gun. The squirrels drive my German Shorthair Pointer nuts. They sit in the tree and “bark” at my dog. Sometimes they sit up there and scratch themselves. I just know they are flicking their fleas and lice down at me. Yuck. Filthy, gross beasts. The worst is probably when the dogs are on the 20 foot lead. The squirrels know that. They will stay just beyond where my Pointer can reach them and taunt him.

My house if over 100 years old. Several years ago, we redid the dining room ceiling, removing the plaster. As we hit the ceiling to break up the plaster, we could hear nuts up above the lathe. In the past, those nasty animals were living IN my house. Last year one squirrel moved into our garage. It isn’t a finished and nice garage, but I still don’t want vermin in it. I would open the garage door and startle the squirrel that would scurry away, in turn startling me. Sometimes he would dive across the small distance between our house roof and the garage roof, just as I was letting dogs out, driving them crazy.

A couple months ago, I let my dogs out into the backyard and was standing around, minding my own business while the dogs tended to theirs. Just then there was a commotion and all of a sudden I had a squirrel running at me at full speed, with my Pointer just inches behind him. Parker must have smoked him out of his hiding spot by the house somewhere. I screamed and jumped, which is the natural reaction when you think a squirrel is going to jump up your leg. The squirrel, realizing I was between him and his favorite tree, made a hairpin turn and headed for the garage instead. He leaped up onto the fence gate, that is attached to the garage. He stumbled, and Parker almost got him. But no such luck. The squirrel clawed his way up the garage siding, leaving me and my dog with our hearts beating out of our chests.

When I envisioned this post six months ago, I didn’t have a good ending for it. Now I totally have great closure. The stupid squirrels would use a barrel that sat next to the garage to help them climb to the roof. I had not noticed the squirrels jumping up that way for a few months. Then our neighbor realized there was a dead animal in the barrel. Everyone thought it was a raccoon. When my husband removed the carcass, it turned out it was two dead squirrels. Wow. Mother’s Day had come early. I couldn’t have been happier. Couldn’t have happened to a nastier animal. Except maybe bats. One time we had one of those drown in a storage container in the attic. But, that’s a different topic.

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