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Have I told you how Yankees (Carolyn) gave me my nickname, Fogprincess? It was after I first got SIDESWIPED with FMS. She’d keep me “grounded” and focused, much like a Service Dog does \wink/ by blabbing on the Net with me. I would say some of the most off-the-wall stuff and was superb at CRS (“can’t remember squat.”) We soon discovered that, if I didn’t keep a sense of humor, I’d cry myself to death. In her gentile Southern way, she laughed with me, not at me, and re-named me oh so appropriately! Actually, I’ve had a lot of COMPLIMENTS on that nickname! Many a folk have gotten a good chuckle out of it. Do you tend to “fog-get” stuff like what you were doing, what you were saying, how you should say it, where you put stuff, where you were going, where you are?!?! We’d love to publish your “funnies” and even some of the “not-so-funnies.” Contact us at fibromom@bittermansbanners.com to add your story here. ######################################### “Boiling is NOT Brewing” by Fibromom: While trying to get settled in our motorHOME [“home” being the key word here] on our land which I hope we soooooon permanently relocate to, I’ve got the little “perk” coffee pot going Great Guns on the “gas” stove. HHmmm, it’s been perking now quite awhile (??? days, perhaps??? \wink/) yet, I don’t smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. So, I go over to check things out. Hello, Dingbat!!!! You forgot to put COFFEE GROUNDS in the filter!!!..... wow. Sure hope I didn’t run us out of propane!!! “Red is for Furiously Frustrating!” by Fibromom: After a very hectic two weeks of having our home blessed with wonderful, loving, encouraging friends and siblings in Christ, I am alone today, attempting to recoup. Because the mountains of laundry are hauntingly calling my name, I come downstairs to start a load of wash. Things seem to be swish-swashing right along until I hear the HORRIFYING SOUND of WATER FLOODING THE BASEMENT FLOOR... and I remember... we had blocked the drain pipe from the washer/toilet to the septic line while we were tiling the bathroom floor (in the eternal remodeling process) to stop the back draft odors. Days later, NOBODY remembered to remove the towel that blocked the drain. Now, GALLONS OF WATER ARE GUSHING OUT FROM BEHIND THE WASHER AND ONTO THE UNFINISHED, UNCALKED BATHROOM LINO-TILE WORK. I am in excruciating pain, almost to tears with muscle spasms from mopping, sopping, ringing, mopping, sopping and ringing out the towels, mops, rags, and whathaveyou just to “stop the bleeding” from the leakage onto the bathroom floor. My feet are screaming in agony from being bare-footed in cold water on concrete. Worst of all, my husband just pulled into the driveway. How in the world do I break this news to him? Father God, please shield this home, specifically all the tile work that we all sweated to set in place. “Laverne or Shirley?” by FaithAlways: I had been drinking a glass of Pepsi over ice and went to refill my glass, reached into the fridge, thinking how good it was gonna taste, got the milk, and poured it right in over that ice. Oh Boy! Flashback to watching Laverne and Shirley!
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