I started my new job this week. Having never been a salesperson, I'm starting to take it personally that people I know already won't call me back or respond to my e-mails. I completely understand how sales should work, but it's hard to put that into practice when I'm an "untouchable" by modern communication.
I'm currently watching three shows simultaneously on Netflix, "Sons of Anarchy," "Breaking Bad," and "Friday Night Lights." I was late to the party on these shows, so I'm thrilled to have found good entertainment..not that I can't watch car repo shows currently 24/7, but at least I feel smarter after watching these shows. Also, I'm actively reading two books at once, John Irving's new one, "In One Person," and Jillian Medoff's "I Couldn't Love You More." They're both so good, I'm taking turns.
I went from having nearly nothing to do or to occupy my time to not having time to think or take a breath. I would imagine this is what being a parent is like, but add lack of sleep and doing all I'm doing in addition for caring for a tiny person. I don't know how people do it. I really don't. My sister has two kids, 10 and 5, a demanding full-time job, and she's like a perpetual motion machine. It makes me tired to even consider.
Now, I'm full of thoughts of how to market and sell myself, who's a potential client, why won't John Doe call me back, business cards, events, networking, Angry Birds, lasagna, monkeys in commercials....and you see how my brain is an insane asylum.
Also, we're still trying to put our Fultondale house on the market...maybe two more trips and we're done...(I think) I appreciate Merry Maids for existing so after we've done all this packing, they can clean the house, and we don't have to. I would rather ski down a razor blade into a vat of orange juice than clean the entire house after we've packed it. That's how appealing it is. Oh, anyone want a 3-bedroom, 2-bath house in Fultondale? It has an awesome front porch...:)...that I miss...a LOT.
Friday, June 08, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
The curse and bonus of a long-distance relationship with family
My mother had total knee-replacement surgery last week. I am very, very glad she did it, as her knee has progressively gone from annoying to acutely painful, and this type of thing doesn't resolve itself. She had been putting it off because she is the prime caretaker of my 92-year-old grandmother and my 49-year-old pill popping brother. My sister and I had explained to her that if she waited too long to have it done, it would be a far worse recovery, and she would be worse off having it at 75 than 72.
Here's the thing, and this happened when my dad was sick and basically dying. The closest I've lived since I got married is Birmingham, which is 2 1/2 hours away from Macon, where they live. When my dad was sick, I drove back and forth as much as possible and felt like the world's worst daughter when I had to leave to go home for work. I now live about 4 hours from Macon, and in the past week, I have driven from Albertville to Tuscaloosa, back to Albertville, to Birmingham, to Tuscaloosa, to Macon and to Albertville again. I really can't do the math on the gas I've used right now, plus math is stupid, but the point is, I couldn't stay.
On the day I left my mom in the swing bed in Macon on Saturday, they thought she might need a blood transfusion, and I offered my blood while thinking in the back of my head, "Will that make me woozy while driving?" I would've stayed the night, even though it would've meant dealing with my palsy-esque brother digging for Xanax wherever it may be, but they wouldn't take my stupid blood. You have to go through United Blood Services where they do all that stuff to it, which in theory, is smart, but when your mom needs blood and doesn't want a stranger's blood, I was considering a YouTube video on how to drain your own blood so I could give her mine. Stupid regulations. I have all this blood; if someone I love needs it, they should have it.
So I came back home Saturday, only to be calling home to check on my mother and grandmother at least twice a day. Almost every time I talk to them, they wish I could come back. I experienced this with my dad when he was dying. He always asked for me to come visit when I could and said I brightened his day. My mom and grandmother say the same thing, almost verbatim. It is so flattering to be a source of happiness to them, but it is literally heart-piercing that I can't just go visit every day. I need to talk to my mom's doctor and nurses and know what exactly her stats and vitals and situation is, but I have a husband and a life that is 200 miles away, and I have to be okay with that without feeling like the worst daughter/granddaughter in the history of the world.
It is so hard growing older and learning that you become the caretaker of your parents and grandparents, but you can't sacrifice your life for that, so you have to balance as best you can. I admit, that while I do what I can, I sometimes come home and cry to Smitty that I feel like a failure as a child/grandchild, and the situation with my drug-addicted brother compounds the issue. I don't trust him to take care of a rabid ferret, but I can't be there to constantly monitor the situation. We make our decisions, we live with them, and we do the best we can for all of our families...and that's all I'm trying to do. I am not perfect, I am not all-together, but I know what needs to be done in certain situations, and I can't understand why those closest to the situation can't get their acts together and act like adults. If I had independent income or such, I'd be there kicking asses and taking names and putting folks in rehab, but as it is, I'm here, trying to rule a mini-empire from afar.
Here's the thing, and this happened when my dad was sick and basically dying. The closest I've lived since I got married is Birmingham, which is 2 1/2 hours away from Macon, where they live. When my dad was sick, I drove back and forth as much as possible and felt like the world's worst daughter when I had to leave to go home for work. I now live about 4 hours from Macon, and in the past week, I have driven from Albertville to Tuscaloosa, back to Albertville, to Birmingham, to Tuscaloosa, to Macon and to Albertville again. I really can't do the math on the gas I've used right now, plus math is stupid, but the point is, I couldn't stay.
On the day I left my mom in the swing bed in Macon on Saturday, they thought she might need a blood transfusion, and I offered my blood while thinking in the back of my head, "Will that make me woozy while driving?" I would've stayed the night, even though it would've meant dealing with my palsy-esque brother digging for Xanax wherever it may be, but they wouldn't take my stupid blood. You have to go through United Blood Services where they do all that stuff to it, which in theory, is smart, but when your mom needs blood and doesn't want a stranger's blood, I was considering a YouTube video on how to drain your own blood so I could give her mine. Stupid regulations. I have all this blood; if someone I love needs it, they should have it.
So I came back home Saturday, only to be calling home to check on my mother and grandmother at least twice a day. Almost every time I talk to them, they wish I could come back. I experienced this with my dad when he was dying. He always asked for me to come visit when I could and said I brightened his day. My mom and grandmother say the same thing, almost verbatim. It is so flattering to be a source of happiness to them, but it is literally heart-piercing that I can't just go visit every day. I need to talk to my mom's doctor and nurses and know what exactly her stats and vitals and situation is, but I have a husband and a life that is 200 miles away, and I have to be okay with that without feeling like the worst daughter/granddaughter in the history of the world.
It is so hard growing older and learning that you become the caretaker of your parents and grandparents, but you can't sacrifice your life for that, so you have to balance as best you can. I admit, that while I do what I can, I sometimes come home and cry to Smitty that I feel like a failure as a child/grandchild, and the situation with my drug-addicted brother compounds the issue. I don't trust him to take care of a rabid ferret, but I can't be there to constantly monitor the situation. We make our decisions, we live with them, and we do the best we can for all of our families...and that's all I'm trying to do. I am not perfect, I am not all-together, but I know what needs to be done in certain situations, and I can't understand why those closest to the situation can't get their acts together and act like adults. If I had independent income or such, I'd be there kicking asses and taking names and putting folks in rehab, but as it is, I'm here, trying to rule a mini-empire from afar.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tolstoy had a point about families
This has been a stressful few days. I don't like to say that usually, because we all have stress and whining about it seems like a signal to put on my big girl panties, but I'm to the point that I need to say it. My mother had total knee replacement surgery on Monday. She's fine, well she'd be fine if she wasn't periodically looped out of her gourd on the pain pump and anesthesia, but she will eventually be okay. A few things happened as a result of her surgery:
1. I realized I could make a possible fortune recording post-anesthesia patients in their incoherent ramblings. My mom asked," How much money did I get for her leg," when I told her to pull up her gown in the front, she said, "But then they won't know how sexy I am," we argued repeatedly about whether or not she had actually had her surgery, and even though I showed her the gauze around her leg, indicated that we were in a hospital room, and told her I'd met her doctor, she wouldn't believe me until the nurse confirmed it. She also informed me that "I wasn't a doctor," when I told her she couldn't just get up and walk, but then later told me that I should be a nurse. That's a perfect indication of how whacked out she was.
2. I don't know what hospitals are thinking with the whole "chair bed" situation when someone is sleeping with the patient at night. It is literally Satan's recliner. It's vinyl, so you stick to it, it doesn't give, so your back will resemble George Burns in the morning, and you have to give them a damn kidney to even get a pillow. I've always said I could sleep anywhere, and I did, barring the hourly conversations with my mom "No, you can't get up; go back to sleep," but I felt like I had been in a fold-able taco for most of the night.
3. Some people suck in emergency/care-taker situations. They just do. I have an odd talent of being a flake about 80% of the time, but truly excelling at medical, emergency, etc...issues. I fed my mom, I repeated the same things over and over, I saw her butt more times than I care to count, but I felt good about it, because she's my Mama. I don't want her to suffer or be helpless or upset, even if she drives me around the bend sometimes, she's the only mother I have, and I love her and want her to be around for a long time. My sister is a good care-taker, too. She has kids, so she's probably better than me, but we are helpful people in these situations.
I will say this, because it's my blog, and I don't really give a flip who knows this, because as far as I'm concerned, denial and secrecy are a bunch of bullshit, my brother is a drug addict. He is addicted to prescription pain medication to the point that he can barely function. My sister and I try to maintain a civil relationship to keep the peace in the family, but I'm done with that. I don't make excuses for myself, and I'm not doing it for anyone else anymore. Addiction runs in our family, but that is no excuse at all. I've been in dark places in my life before, and I pulled myself out of them. I have no respect or sympathy for someone who has been handed everything on a silver plate his whole life, and has never taken responsibility for his own actions. For all I know, my brother could be dead in 5 years, and that makes me sad for the effect it would have on my mother and grandmother, but for me, it would almost be a relief. If that makes me a bad person, I don't care. I've had 34 years to witness the most selfish behavior a person can exhibit, and I'm done.
4. I can sometimes be a glass-empty person. If you know me well, you probably think I'm funny and dry and optimistic. At the heart of myself, I am optimistic, but my mind tends to go to the negative pretty fast. When the doctor ordered a standard pneumonia test for my mom, I immediately thought that she would have pneumonia and die from it, and I started crying. Granted, I had 4 hours of sleep and drove from Tuscaloosa to Albertville, but I started to think that I wouldn't have any parents anymore at 34, and my dad's death was devastating, but what would I do without my mom, too?
She's fine, no pneumonia, and I cried at that news, too. I want to have a better relationship with her. She sacrificed a lot for us as children and worked her ass off to better our family, and she deserves to enjoy her life. As sufficiently creeped out by her dating as I am, she deserves someone to appreciate her and show her a fun time.
I guess the majority of my realizations have been that life is too short to waste time on guilt and enabling and lost causes. I want to enjoy the love I feel for both my families, natural and in-lawed, and I want to strengthen those ties. I don't want to waste any more time being told to forgive a person who doesn't warrant it or feeling guilty for reasons related to that. I'm 34 years old, and I don't need to be told how to feel or act.
1. I realized I could make a possible fortune recording post-anesthesia patients in their incoherent ramblings. My mom asked," How much money did I get for her leg," when I told her to pull up her gown in the front, she said, "But then they won't know how sexy I am," we argued repeatedly about whether or not she had actually had her surgery, and even though I showed her the gauze around her leg, indicated that we were in a hospital room, and told her I'd met her doctor, she wouldn't believe me until the nurse confirmed it. She also informed me that "I wasn't a doctor," when I told her she couldn't just get up and walk, but then later told me that I should be a nurse. That's a perfect indication of how whacked out she was.
2. I don't know what hospitals are thinking with the whole "chair bed" situation when someone is sleeping with the patient at night. It is literally Satan's recliner. It's vinyl, so you stick to it, it doesn't give, so your back will resemble George Burns in the morning, and you have to give them a damn kidney to even get a pillow. I've always said I could sleep anywhere, and I did, barring the hourly conversations with my mom "No, you can't get up; go back to sleep," but I felt like I had been in a fold-able taco for most of the night.
3. Some people suck in emergency/care-taker situations. They just do. I have an odd talent of being a flake about 80% of the time, but truly excelling at medical, emergency, etc...issues. I fed my mom, I repeated the same things over and over, I saw her butt more times than I care to count, but I felt good about it, because she's my Mama. I don't want her to suffer or be helpless or upset, even if she drives me around the bend sometimes, she's the only mother I have, and I love her and want her to be around for a long time. My sister is a good care-taker, too. She has kids, so she's probably better than me, but we are helpful people in these situations.
I will say this, because it's my blog, and I don't really give a flip who knows this, because as far as I'm concerned, denial and secrecy are a bunch of bullshit, my brother is a drug addict. He is addicted to prescription pain medication to the point that he can barely function. My sister and I try to maintain a civil relationship to keep the peace in the family, but I'm done with that. I don't make excuses for myself, and I'm not doing it for anyone else anymore. Addiction runs in our family, but that is no excuse at all. I've been in dark places in my life before, and I pulled myself out of them. I have no respect or sympathy for someone who has been handed everything on a silver plate his whole life, and has never taken responsibility for his own actions. For all I know, my brother could be dead in 5 years, and that makes me sad for the effect it would have on my mother and grandmother, but for me, it would almost be a relief. If that makes me a bad person, I don't care. I've had 34 years to witness the most selfish behavior a person can exhibit, and I'm done.
4. I can sometimes be a glass-empty person. If you know me well, you probably think I'm funny and dry and optimistic. At the heart of myself, I am optimistic, but my mind tends to go to the negative pretty fast. When the doctor ordered a standard pneumonia test for my mom, I immediately thought that she would have pneumonia and die from it, and I started crying. Granted, I had 4 hours of sleep and drove from Tuscaloosa to Albertville, but I started to think that I wouldn't have any parents anymore at 34, and my dad's death was devastating, but what would I do without my mom, too?
She's fine, no pneumonia, and I cried at that news, too. I want to have a better relationship with her. She sacrificed a lot for us as children and worked her ass off to better our family, and she deserves to enjoy her life. As sufficiently creeped out by her dating as I am, she deserves someone to appreciate her and show her a fun time.
I guess the majority of my realizations have been that life is too short to waste time on guilt and enabling and lost causes. I want to enjoy the love I feel for both my families, natural and in-lawed, and I want to strengthen those ties. I don't want to waste any more time being told to forgive a person who doesn't warrant it or feeling guilty for reasons related to that. I'm 34 years old, and I don't need to be told how to feel or act.
Thursday, May 03, 2012
CSI: Albertville??
I've been trying to think of productive, yet entertaining ways to pass the time until I find a job. One idea I had was amateur crime solver, like Psych or The Mentalist. I am neither psychic nor particularly observant, but I thought the plan had some merit. My first self-assigned case is trying to figure out what in God's name our upstairs neighbors are doing that requires hammering that doesn't begin until at least 10 p.m. and doesn't seem to stop until around 4 a.m. They also have a small child you can hearing running around at any given time during these hours.
My theories so far are: meth lab or small sweat shop. I figure they could be loading the kid up on sugar and having him assemble Chinese toys or clothes. And outside of Breaking Bad, my knowledge of meth is pretty limited, so I don't know if you have to build a lab, per se, but I figure if you're already taking the meth, it gives you the energy to hammer until 4 a.m. Needless to say, I miss our house and the fact that the loudest thing we contended with was our mid-life crisis neighbor and his garage band. I need a little notepad and a sidekick. I'm working on the sidekick, but I hope to solve this mystery before Smitty breaks down their door and waylays them, Commando-style.
I've noticed a trend here in Marshall County, Alabama. People have yard sales like crazy. However, their idea of a yard sale is, any and all days of the week, to put all of their crap in the yard in no discernible order and then spray paint a "Yard Sale" sign. Now, I'm no snob (ha), but to me, this seems more like a career if you try to sell all of your belongings every day. I'm familiar with weekend yard sales that are a little more organized; this is new.
Also, why is the store Dirt Cheap's mascot a chicken? If you're not familiar, it's like a Dollar General, discount-type store...but there is a chicken on their sign. Is this because chickens peck around in dirt, do chickens also enjoy bargains? Did they cross the road to get to a sale? I don't understand.
One of my favorite quotes ever that weighs on my mind while looking for a job:
"I say beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes."
Henry David Thoreau
My theories so far are: meth lab or small sweat shop. I figure they could be loading the kid up on sugar and having him assemble Chinese toys or clothes. And outside of Breaking Bad, my knowledge of meth is pretty limited, so I don't know if you have to build a lab, per se, but I figure if you're already taking the meth, it gives you the energy to hammer until 4 a.m. Needless to say, I miss our house and the fact that the loudest thing we contended with was our mid-life crisis neighbor and his garage band. I need a little notepad and a sidekick. I'm working on the sidekick, but I hope to solve this mystery before Smitty breaks down their door and waylays them, Commando-style.
I've noticed a trend here in Marshall County, Alabama. People have yard sales like crazy. However, their idea of a yard sale is, any and all days of the week, to put all of their crap in the yard in no discernible order and then spray paint a "Yard Sale" sign. Now, I'm no snob (ha), but to me, this seems more like a career if you try to sell all of your belongings every day. I'm familiar with weekend yard sales that are a little more organized; this is new.
Also, why is the store Dirt Cheap's mascot a chicken? If you're not familiar, it's like a Dollar General, discount-type store...but there is a chicken on their sign. Is this because chickens peck around in dirt, do chickens also enjoy bargains? Did they cross the road to get to a sale? I don't understand.
One of my favorite quotes ever that weighs on my mind while looking for a job:
"I say beware of all enterprises that require new clothes, and not rather a new wearer of clothes."
Henry David Thoreau
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Politics, shmolitics
So it's pretty much set, President Obama will square off against R2D2, I mean Mitt Romney, in November. I think it's going to be a pretty interesting election. No one really likes Romney, but he's the best shot against Obama, and even loyal supporters of Obama are more than a little tired of waiting on results. It's going to be like an Ugly Sister contest. Whoever wins doesn't really win.
What I do find interesting are the increasingly bizarre things for which Obama gets blamed. Just this morning, I read a Facebook post that somehow blamed him for the breakdown of race relations in America. I'm sorry, you might not like or agree with the guy, but just like I can't blame everything on George W. Bush, the right-wing crazies can't blame everything on Obama. It's just not a sound argument.
At this point, I'm just sick of all the negativity surrounding politics. I've never understood why candidates can't stand on their own merits, rather than pointing out their opponents' flaws. Also, of course they're going to make promises, but can't they ever just keep 1/2 of them? That would be more than we've come to expect. It's just disillusioning.
On another note, I'm still trying find a home for Zoe, our German shepherd. I've had some pretty bad experiences with Alabama shelters so far. Either their phones are disconnected or their website information is old, or they aren't taking animals. What's the point of an animal shelter if you can rarely accept new animals? It's extremely frustrating...so I implore...PLEASE...anyone that wants a sweet, happy dog, let me know....
Ever think about how job searching is like dating? It has further reinforced that I'm glad I don't have to date anymore..Ugh
What I do find interesting are the increasingly bizarre things for which Obama gets blamed. Just this morning, I read a Facebook post that somehow blamed him for the breakdown of race relations in America. I'm sorry, you might not like or agree with the guy, but just like I can't blame everything on George W. Bush, the right-wing crazies can't blame everything on Obama. It's just not a sound argument.
At this point, I'm just sick of all the negativity surrounding politics. I've never understood why candidates can't stand on their own merits, rather than pointing out their opponents' flaws. Also, of course they're going to make promises, but can't they ever just keep 1/2 of them? That would be more than we've come to expect. It's just disillusioning.
On another note, I'm still trying find a home for Zoe, our German shepherd. I've had some pretty bad experiences with Alabama shelters so far. Either their phones are disconnected or their website information is old, or they aren't taking animals. What's the point of an animal shelter if you can rarely accept new animals? It's extremely frustrating...so I implore...PLEASE...anyone that wants a sweet, happy dog, let me know....
Ever think about how job searching is like dating? It has further reinforced that I'm glad I don't have to date anymore..Ugh
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Down to the basics....way down
I'm bored; I'm driving myself crazy. I am also driving Smitty crazy, as when he (human interaction) comes home, I am sometimes overcome with verbal diarrhea where I assault him with words and questions and general musings about my day...
I'm doing fairly well with housework and acting like a '50s wife, but somehow that doesn't seem to satiate my need for doing something...anything, where other people are involved. This is kind of ironic, as I am not really crazy about other people, and I know I'm idealizing working with them, but I do not do well by myself for long periods of time.
I should be writing constantly or reading "Anna Karenina" or something productive, but more often, I find myself watching Bravo and eating Piroulines. I am crazy applying for jobs, and I'm keeping my optimism as high as someone like myself can, so I do logically know this is only temporary, but still...
I have to give myself a slight pass, because I did have sinus surgery less than two weeks ago...as surgeries go, not a bad one, except now it feels like my nose wants to leave my body and is trying to accomplish this by pure, unadulterated pain that starts at the top of my head and radiates to my teeth. Have another follow-up Thursday, considering asking for a running Rx of Oxycodone...I honestly don't see how people get addicted to it..it does almost nothing...I don't think drugs work for me like they're supposed to. Honestly, the pain might be dulled slightly, but what's the addictive factor? I guess I'll ask Rush Limbaugh, should I ever be forced to meet him in some kind of Dante-esque experience.
Also, I'm trying to find a home for our German shepherd, Zoe. My mom is taking care of Norton, but she couldn't take Zoe, and I have driven to every shelter in Marshall County and been refused. I want her to go to a good family with kids that can run her around the yard, but we're having a tough time...I'll post a pic in hopes one of you or someone you know might want her...
I'm doing fairly well with housework and acting like a '50s wife, but somehow that doesn't seem to satiate my need for doing something...anything, where other people are involved. This is kind of ironic, as I am not really crazy about other people, and I know I'm idealizing working with them, but I do not do well by myself for long periods of time.
I should be writing constantly or reading "Anna Karenina" or something productive, but more often, I find myself watching Bravo and eating Piroulines. I am crazy applying for jobs, and I'm keeping my optimism as high as someone like myself can, so I do logically know this is only temporary, but still...
I have to give myself a slight pass, because I did have sinus surgery less than two weeks ago...as surgeries go, not a bad one, except now it feels like my nose wants to leave my body and is trying to accomplish this by pure, unadulterated pain that starts at the top of my head and radiates to my teeth. Have another follow-up Thursday, considering asking for a running Rx of Oxycodone...I honestly don't see how people get addicted to it..it does almost nothing...I don't think drugs work for me like they're supposed to. Honestly, the pain might be dulled slightly, but what's the addictive factor? I guess I'll ask Rush Limbaugh, should I ever be forced to meet him in some kind of Dante-esque experience.
Also, I'm trying to find a home for our German shepherd, Zoe. My mom is taking care of Norton, but she couldn't take Zoe, and I have driven to every shelter in Marshall County and been refused. I want her to go to a good family with kids that can run her around the yard, but we're having a tough time...I'll post a pic in hopes one of you or someone you know might want her...
Friday, March 23, 2012
We have a piper down.....a piper is down...
So, the pollen finally waylaid me. I feel a little better today, but yesterday, it felt like my head was stuffed full of pollen and mucus. (how I hate that word) Today, I mostly feel like my head is disconnected from my body, but I've been vastly more productive today than yesterday, when I slept for about 16 hours.
I'm addicted to games on my phone. At any given time, I am playing Draw Something, Words with Friends, Hanging with Friends, Scrabble, Word Scramble with Friends, and Poker. I am really, really horrid at Poker and not so great at Draw Something.
It brings back Pictionary trauma. I've really never been able to draw and after a few disastrous Pictionary games, I was smart enough to suggest another game when playing board games with a group of people. Now, my secret shame has been revealed. All my people are stick people, and pretty much all of my animals look like cats. My elephants just look like cats with giant ears and a trunk nose.
I had been playing Scrabble with random opponents, and one of them hasn't made a move in 2 days. I started to think, what if something happened to them? I mean, more likely, they just don't want to play Scrabble, but it's somewhat sobering to think that that Guest 4051 might've been hit by a bus on Wednesday, and I'll never know.
I'm addicted to games on my phone. At any given time, I am playing Draw Something, Words with Friends, Hanging with Friends, Scrabble, Word Scramble with Friends, and Poker. I am really, really horrid at Poker and not so great at Draw Something.
It brings back Pictionary trauma. I've really never been able to draw and after a few disastrous Pictionary games, I was smart enough to suggest another game when playing board games with a group of people. Now, my secret shame has been revealed. All my people are stick people, and pretty much all of my animals look like cats. My elephants just look like cats with giant ears and a trunk nose.
I had been playing Scrabble with random opponents, and one of them hasn't made a move in 2 days. I started to think, what if something happened to them? I mean, more likely, they just don't want to play Scrabble, but it's somewhat sobering to think that that Guest 4051 might've been hit by a bus on Wednesday, and I'll never know.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Diary of a bored white woman
I really need to stop watching the Real Housewives of Orange County...it ticks me off. One of them had a nose job under the guise of needing her sinuses fixed. Grr...but I cannot look away. It's like a spoiled train wreck.
My new plan to annoy our vampire neighbors is to make as much noise as humanly possible early in the morning. They appear to sleep until noon, which is annoying in and of itself, but the fact that at 11 p.m., I hear their demon kid running around, ugh....they are on my list. Also included on the list are Rush Limbaugh, cows, and people who drive Hummers who are not rappers or actively in a war.
I had this lofty idea that I would read and in some cases, re-read classic books. I have like 4,000 books, most of which are still at the unsold house, but I brought the ones I thought I would read to the apartment. So, "Atlas Shrugged" and "The Great Gatsby," among others, are mocking me from a bag while I read People magazine and play Draw Something on my phone. Maybe I have ADHD. I think Bloody Marys might cure that.
Besides my neighbors, dishes are my new albatross. I'm trying to be a good Martha Stewart-esque wife, making delicious and nutritious dinners every night, and that produces an entire load of dishes every day. So, in keeping with my "torture the neighbors" plan, I do them every morning, because this apartment has walls that are paper thin and every time the water runs through the dishwasher or shower, both floors can hear it...sigh....I wish Alabama had a lottery. I don't want to live near people I don't select anymore...
I also sing all day long, which is not particularly new, but for some reason, weird things like Run DMC and Snoop Dog are creeping in. What's THAT about? I think my monkey DJ needs interaction, too. He's starting to lash out.
My new plan to annoy our vampire neighbors is to make as much noise as humanly possible early in the morning. They appear to sleep until noon, which is annoying in and of itself, but the fact that at 11 p.m., I hear their demon kid running around, ugh....they are on my list. Also included on the list are Rush Limbaugh, cows, and people who drive Hummers who are not rappers or actively in a war.
I had this lofty idea that I would read and in some cases, re-read classic books. I have like 4,000 books, most of which are still at the unsold house, but I brought the ones I thought I would read to the apartment. So, "Atlas Shrugged" and "The Great Gatsby," among others, are mocking me from a bag while I read People magazine and play Draw Something on my phone. Maybe I have ADHD. I think Bloody Marys might cure that.
Besides my neighbors, dishes are my new albatross. I'm trying to be a good Martha Stewart-esque wife, making delicious and nutritious dinners every night, and that produces an entire load of dishes every day. So, in keeping with my "torture the neighbors" plan, I do them every morning, because this apartment has walls that are paper thin and every time the water runs through the dishwasher or shower, both floors can hear it...sigh....I wish Alabama had a lottery. I don't want to live near people I don't select anymore...
I also sing all day long, which is not particularly new, but for some reason, weird things like Run DMC and Snoop Dog are creeping in. What's THAT about? I think my monkey DJ needs interaction, too. He's starting to lash out.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
The life of a rural housewife
I'm driving myself crazy. I have all this free time now until I have surgery in April, and I am so over myself. I've started to think bizarre things like:
1. Our neighbors are really annoying. They make a lot of noise and stay up all hours of the night, which leads me to believe they are either in abusive relationships or are making meth. It's probably neither, but they are driving me crazy.
2. When I'm done taking a shower, I have to turn on the super cold water to "refresh" my feet. Does everyone do that, or am I a freak?
3. You can only do so much with ground beef. I'm quickly running out of original dinner ideas, but it's the most I accomplish all day.
Did you know at any given time of the day, you can watch "Law and Order" and "Kitchen Nightmares?" They are on 24 hours a day. I watched an episode of "Law and Order" for the first time, and I don't get the appeal. I do like the little "ching ching" noise, though.
I'm going to use this time, starting tomorrow, to teach myself how to knit. That may end in cursing and drinking, but I'm gonna give it a try. Maybe I can open a craft booth in Boaz. I'm trying to adjust to small-town life again..I dunno how I'm faring. I don't really want to know or speak to my neighbors (also, they are are trashy), I don't know anything about guns or farming, and I feel like a huge snob every time I even try to have a conversation with anybody. Sigh....
Any more suggestions as to what I can do are welcome..I would like to avoid the padded room and jacket that ties in the front....
"Someone's boring me. I think it's me."
--Dylan Thomas
1. Our neighbors are really annoying. They make a lot of noise and stay up all hours of the night, which leads me to believe they are either in abusive relationships or are making meth. It's probably neither, but they are driving me crazy.
2. When I'm done taking a shower, I have to turn on the super cold water to "refresh" my feet. Does everyone do that, or am I a freak?
3. You can only do so much with ground beef. I'm quickly running out of original dinner ideas, but it's the most I accomplish all day.
Did you know at any given time of the day, you can watch "Law and Order" and "Kitchen Nightmares?" They are on 24 hours a day. I watched an episode of "Law and Order" for the first time, and I don't get the appeal. I do like the little "ching ching" noise, though.
I'm going to use this time, starting tomorrow, to teach myself how to knit. That may end in cursing and drinking, but I'm gonna give it a try. Maybe I can open a craft booth in Boaz. I'm trying to adjust to small-town life again..I dunno how I'm faring. I don't really want to know or speak to my neighbors (also, they are are trashy), I don't know anything about guns or farming, and I feel like a huge snob every time I even try to have a conversation with anybody. Sigh....
Any more suggestions as to what I can do are welcome..I would like to avoid the padded room and jacket that ties in the front....
"Someone's boring me. I think it's me."
--Dylan Thomas
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
I don't do windows...among other things...
After declaring at Christmas to Smitty when wrapping presents, "I don't do wrapping paper," he found this to be quite amusing. The reason I don't do wrapping paper is because when I wrap presents, it looks like I made a 4-year-old do it. This was charming when I was younger, but I'm 34, and I cannot wrap presents. This is why I buy gift bags in bulk. That, I can do.
I told my doctor yesterday, the one who's given me 5 shots in 3 weeks, a blood test, and an MRI this morning, that I lived close enough to walk. I had to tell her this so she would give me the shots for the headache I've had for 3 weeks. I later explained to Smitty, "I could walk there...but I don't do that..walk to places." He suggested I compile a list of things I don't do for future reference. So, while he was kidding, he presented me with a challenge. Here are things I don't do:
1. Camp. Camping is dirty and involves hiking and pooping/peeing in the woods. It's either too cold or too hot, and you're eating sloshy food cooked inside a can or shiny thing that I can't remember the name for. I don't care if there's a tent, wolves can eat through tents...also, bears. Did I mention vacating your bladder and bowels in the woods. I did camping for one guy, and it was as stupid and pointless as he was. No more camping.
2. Pushing an industrial broom or mop. I will clean the house, I will Nazi-fy the kitchen, but what I don't do, is function as a janitor. And, oh, how I appreciate these people, but I remember in school, people throwing up, the janitor putting that weird, smelly sawdust over it, and then sweeping it away. That is not a job I could ever perform.
3. Decorating. I like things that are pretty, and I can envision some of them in our house. But there are those people who have little bric-a-brac just perfectly placed, and their carpet and furniture is perfectly accented with the paint and on and on...I need to be rich enough to hire a decorator that I can tell, "We like dark wood, dark metal, and hardwood floors. Also, I like red. Go." I don't have the patience or spatial awareness to deal with decorating.
4. Planning major events. Planning my wedding was one of the suckiest things I've ever done. It may've been different had I been left alone to choose the things I wanted. I don't know, but that was the biggest, most stressful thing I've ever dealt with, my father's death not counting. My mother turned into a demon of some sort, and we had a wedding that got us married, not the wedding either of us would've chosen. We're so having a renewal of vows or something at year 20ish, that is OUR decision. I'm picturing Elvis impersonators and a big-win at the slots in Vegas, that's just me.
5. Not fighting for myself. In life, it seems that we make sacrifices and compromises and let people treat us and speak to us however they want, and we stay silent and passive and just let it happen. I vow to do this no more. No matter what my future holds, whether this MRI tells me I have a giant tumor (which I'm not expecting), I'm not "watching my life" happen anymore. I will make things happen. I've started a book, and I'm excited about it, and I feel like it could be the beginning of something great.
I miss not living with my husband, and I'm working toward doing something about that as well. The thing about that is, we love each other so much, I don't worry about our relationship, I just worry that we're missing out on our lives together, the little things that make a life. I write this on Valentine's Day, in which neither of us believe, but still wish each other, but practice every day of the year. We love each other so much that we always think Valentine's Day is so dumb, because we celebrate our relationship 365 1/4 days a year and are a little sad for those who make such a big deal of it and spoil children with it, and are sucked in by such commerciality. But, I say, whatever works for them, they should do. We have our thing; they have theirs.
I told my doctor yesterday, the one who's given me 5 shots in 3 weeks, a blood test, and an MRI this morning, that I lived close enough to walk. I had to tell her this so she would give me the shots for the headache I've had for 3 weeks. I later explained to Smitty, "I could walk there...but I don't do that..walk to places." He suggested I compile a list of things I don't do for future reference. So, while he was kidding, he presented me with a challenge. Here are things I don't do:
1. Camp. Camping is dirty and involves hiking and pooping/peeing in the woods. It's either too cold or too hot, and you're eating sloshy food cooked inside a can or shiny thing that I can't remember the name for. I don't care if there's a tent, wolves can eat through tents...also, bears. Did I mention vacating your bladder and bowels in the woods. I did camping for one guy, and it was as stupid and pointless as he was. No more camping.
2. Pushing an industrial broom or mop. I will clean the house, I will Nazi-fy the kitchen, but what I don't do, is function as a janitor. And, oh, how I appreciate these people, but I remember in school, people throwing up, the janitor putting that weird, smelly sawdust over it, and then sweeping it away. That is not a job I could ever perform.
3. Decorating. I like things that are pretty, and I can envision some of them in our house. But there are those people who have little bric-a-brac just perfectly placed, and their carpet and furniture is perfectly accented with the paint and on and on...I need to be rich enough to hire a decorator that I can tell, "We like dark wood, dark metal, and hardwood floors. Also, I like red. Go." I don't have the patience or spatial awareness to deal with decorating.
4. Planning major events. Planning my wedding was one of the suckiest things I've ever done. It may've been different had I been left alone to choose the things I wanted. I don't know, but that was the biggest, most stressful thing I've ever dealt with, my father's death not counting. My mother turned into a demon of some sort, and we had a wedding that got us married, not the wedding either of us would've chosen. We're so having a renewal of vows or something at year 20ish, that is OUR decision. I'm picturing Elvis impersonators and a big-win at the slots in Vegas, that's just me.
5. Not fighting for myself. In life, it seems that we make sacrifices and compromises and let people treat us and speak to us however they want, and we stay silent and passive and just let it happen. I vow to do this no more. No matter what my future holds, whether this MRI tells me I have a giant tumor (which I'm not expecting), I'm not "watching my life" happen anymore. I will make things happen. I've started a book, and I'm excited about it, and I feel like it could be the beginning of something great.
I miss not living with my husband, and I'm working toward doing something about that as well. The thing about that is, we love each other so much, I don't worry about our relationship, I just worry that we're missing out on our lives together, the little things that make a life. I write this on Valentine's Day, in which neither of us believe, but still wish each other, but practice every day of the year. We love each other so much that we always think Valentine's Day is so dumb, because we celebrate our relationship 365 1/4 days a year and are a little sad for those who make such a big deal of it and spoil children with it, and are sucked in by such commerciality. But, I say, whatever works for them, they should do. We have our thing; they have theirs.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
I want to be Julia Sugarbaker, among other things
I'm completely obsessed with Designing Women. It comes on four times a day on the TV Guide Network, and I DVR every episode. I delete the later ones with Jan Hooks, Julia Duffy, and whoever that drag queen that played PJ was, but oh how I love the first few seasons. when Dixie Carter sashays through their office and just starts blasting someone for being un-PC, sexist, racist, etc....I miss Dixie Carter. And Delta Burke was priceless. And who wouldn't want to work with their closest friends??
I heard this morning that 8 or so sea lions were found shot in Washington state. What is wrong with people? How could you be such a jackass that a sea lion would make you shoot it? I mean, obviously, the sea lions weren't doing anything, these people were probably on meth, but, seriously...shooting cute little frolicking sea lions for sport? I'm not a tree-hugging hippie or anything, but I think crimes against animals deserve their own special punishment. They can't defend themselves. It's like when people hurt babies or little kids. I don't even like hunting, but whatever, if you want to get up at 5 a.m. to sit in a tree, shoot an unarmed animal, and pretend it's a sport, whatever.
People in power positions need to learn how not to be poopheads. I don't care if you're the manager of Burger King or the CEO of Google, you need to not treat suboordinates or imagined suboordinates like they're you're indentured servants. You can lose your position in the blink of an eye, so acting like a despot isn't going to help your cause later on...plus, it's jerky. If I were a boss, I would be the coolest boss ever. We'd have happy hour and a ping pong table and a pool. We'd work, don't get me wrong, but I firmly believe in working hard and playing hard, and happy employees make the most productive employees.
I think I'm going through early menopause. I am hot all the freakin' time. It could also be that my body was waiting for winter and since it hasn't happened, some sort of weird, hormonal thing is taking place as protest, I don't know, but as I sit here, my face is bright red, and I could easily and happily bathe in ice water.
Julia Sugarbaker:
Julia: Yes, and I gather from your comments there are a couple of other things you don't know, Marjorie. For example, you probably didn't know that Suzanne was the only contestant in Georgia pageant history to sweep every category except congeniality, and that is not something the women in my family aspire to anyway. Or that when she walked down the runway in her swimsuit, five contestants quit on the spot. Or that when she emerged from the isolation booth to answer the question, "What would you do to prevent war?" she spoke so eloquently of patriotism, battlefields and diamond tiaras, grown men wept. And you probably didn't know, Marjorie, that Suzanne was not just any Miss Georgia, she was the Miss Georgia. She didn't twirl just a baton, that baton was on fire. And when she threw that baton into the air, it flew higher, further, faster than any baton has ever flown before, hitting a transformer and showering the darkened arena with sparks! And when it finally did come down, Marjorie, my sister caught that baton, and 12,000 people jumped to their feet for sixteen and one-half minutes of uninterrupted thunderous ovation, as flames illuminated her tear-stained face! And that, Marjorie - just so you will know - and your children will someday know - is the night the lights went out in Georgia
I heard this morning that 8 or so sea lions were found shot in Washington state. What is wrong with people? How could you be such a jackass that a sea lion would make you shoot it? I mean, obviously, the sea lions weren't doing anything, these people were probably on meth, but, seriously...shooting cute little frolicking sea lions for sport? I'm not a tree-hugging hippie or anything, but I think crimes against animals deserve their own special punishment. They can't defend themselves. It's like when people hurt babies or little kids. I don't even like hunting, but whatever, if you want to get up at 5 a.m. to sit in a tree, shoot an unarmed animal, and pretend it's a sport, whatever.
People in power positions need to learn how not to be poopheads. I don't care if you're the manager of Burger King or the CEO of Google, you need to not treat suboordinates or imagined suboordinates like they're you're indentured servants. You can lose your position in the blink of an eye, so acting like a despot isn't going to help your cause later on...plus, it's jerky. If I were a boss, I would be the coolest boss ever. We'd have happy hour and a ping pong table and a pool. We'd work, don't get me wrong, but I firmly believe in working hard and playing hard, and happy employees make the most productive employees.
I think I'm going through early menopause. I am hot all the freakin' time. It could also be that my body was waiting for winter and since it hasn't happened, some sort of weird, hormonal thing is taking place as protest, I don't know, but as I sit here, my face is bright red, and I could easily and happily bathe in ice water.
Julia Sugarbaker:
Julia: Yes, and I gather from your comments there are a couple of other things you don't know, Marjorie. For example, you probably didn't know that Suzanne was the only contestant in Georgia pageant history to sweep every category except congeniality, and that is not something the women in my family aspire to anyway. Or that when she walked down the runway in her swimsuit, five contestants quit on the spot. Or that when she emerged from the isolation booth to answer the question, "What would you do to prevent war?" she spoke so eloquently of patriotism, battlefields and diamond tiaras, grown men wept. And you probably didn't know, Marjorie, that Suzanne was not just any Miss Georgia, she was the Miss Georgia. She didn't twirl just a baton, that baton was on fire. And when she threw that baton into the air, it flew higher, further, faster than any baton has ever flown before, hitting a transformer and showering the darkened arena with sparks! And when it finally did come down, Marjorie, my sister caught that baton, and 12,000 people jumped to their feet for sixteen and one-half minutes of uninterrupted thunderous ovation, as flames illuminated her tear-stained face! And that, Marjorie - just so you will know - and your children will someday know - is the night the lights went out in Georgia
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Breathe in, breathe out, ignore the sirens if you can
I had a tornado panic attack. I'm not ashamed of this, as in retrospect, the whole tornado, death, destruction scenario is very, very real in Alabama, plus I don't think it's weak admitting when you're jarred from sleep at 3:30 a.m. by yourself, only to hear that a tornado is headed straight for you, is terrifying. In April, the "Day of 1,000 tornadoes," I had to get in the bathtub, cover my head with a comforter, and tearily tell Smitty as he went to the guest bathroom, "I love you," thinking I might never see him in this life again.
We were lucky, and I emphasize lucky. That destructive tornado passed literally less than half a mile a way from our house, completely destroying structures in its path. We had no power for 27 hours, no cell phone service, no gas for more than 20 miles away, and total neighborhoods in our area were destroyed. I didn't think I would have to deal with this again until at least the spring. Nope...now, Smitty's living and working in Albertville, and I perched myself on the edge of the bathtub while trying to think about bringing the dogs inside and where to charge the phone.
The power went out, which is terrifying enough, but when it's pitch black outside, it's more so, and it brought back memories of squatting in the bathroom while a tornado literally passed over our house in April. Luckily, the storm passed over us and hit another area of Birmingham quite hard, but I ended up being awake from 3:30 to 6:45, when I had to get up for work. I slept for about 45 minutes, which intensified my apparent post traumatic stress situation I didn't know existed. I got to work, completely drained, and realized I was on the edge of tears. This only seemed to gain traction as when each caller had an issue and was nasty about it, I had to put them on hold so I could cry and take deep breaths. I said "Monkeys are fun; Smitty loves me," and took deep breaths, but it didn't work.
I finally dissolved in total tears and realized that I didn't need to interact with the public, came home and took a nap. I'm fine today, but I am not kidding you when I say, I can no longer handle tornadoes. I don't care where I'm living, I want a shelter. I will dig a damn hole in the ground myself, worms be damned, I cannot deal with tornadoes showing up willy nilly whenever they want, to scare the bejesus out of me. It's still too freakin' hot this January, which means more of this weather is coming, and I can't take the idea of constantly dealing with this with Smitty living 75 miles away. I am putting my foot down. I need a shelter or I want to move to Alaska or somewhere with no tornadoes..whichever is easiest.
The point is: I am not crazy...well, depending on your crazy spectrum, I may be, but I think it is okay to have anxiety when tornadoes occur, considering the last one made me think I'd never see my husband again. I'm like a dog with panic attacks who need storm Valium...is there such a thing? Give me a damn break, I'm dealing with a lot of changes, and I thought I'd be trapped in the bathtub.
We were lucky, and I emphasize lucky. That destructive tornado passed literally less than half a mile a way from our house, completely destroying structures in its path. We had no power for 27 hours, no cell phone service, no gas for more than 20 miles away, and total neighborhoods in our area were destroyed. I didn't think I would have to deal with this again until at least the spring. Nope...now, Smitty's living and working in Albertville, and I perched myself on the edge of the bathtub while trying to think about bringing the dogs inside and where to charge the phone.
The power went out, which is terrifying enough, but when it's pitch black outside, it's more so, and it brought back memories of squatting in the bathroom while a tornado literally passed over our house in April. Luckily, the storm passed over us and hit another area of Birmingham quite hard, but I ended up being awake from 3:30 to 6:45, when I had to get up for work. I slept for about 45 minutes, which intensified my apparent post traumatic stress situation I didn't know existed. I got to work, completely drained, and realized I was on the edge of tears. This only seemed to gain traction as when each caller had an issue and was nasty about it, I had to put them on hold so I could cry and take deep breaths. I said "Monkeys are fun; Smitty loves me," and took deep breaths, but it didn't work.
I finally dissolved in total tears and realized that I didn't need to interact with the public, came home and took a nap. I'm fine today, but I am not kidding you when I say, I can no longer handle tornadoes. I don't care where I'm living, I want a shelter. I will dig a damn hole in the ground myself, worms be damned, I cannot deal with tornadoes showing up willy nilly whenever they want, to scare the bejesus out of me. It's still too freakin' hot this January, which means more of this weather is coming, and I can't take the idea of constantly dealing with this with Smitty living 75 miles away. I am putting my foot down. I need a shelter or I want to move to Alaska or somewhere with no tornadoes..whichever is easiest.
The point is: I am not crazy...well, depending on your crazy spectrum, I may be, but I think it is okay to have anxiety when tornadoes occur, considering the last one made me think I'd never see my husband again. I'm like a dog with panic attacks who need storm Valium...is there such a thing? Give me a damn break, I'm dealing with a lot of changes, and I thought I'd be trapped in the bathtub.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
I just don't know where to begin
It's the new year...fake winter. I predict, based on no information whatsoever, that the end of Feb/beginning of March will be a bitch of a winter. It was 62 today with freakin' thunderstorms that reminded me of the April tornadoes. Did I mention that since the April tornadoes, if there is even the remote threat of a severe storm, I kinda freak out? I'm sorry, yes, I'm dramatic, but crying with a comforter over me BY MYSELF in the tub when the power zapped out while a tornado literally passed over our house and I seriously sang "Amazing Grace" in my head, when I hear sirens, see lightning, I wig out.
I was on my way to work at 9ish a.m, and the lovely (douchebag INFINITY) gentleman in front of me chose to drive 15 mph, and I could never pass him. Awesome. Every day, I grow more and more accustomed to not so much believing in my fellow man. My fellow man is dumb. Having worked at newspapers, I know that newspapers print at a 3rd grade level. That is stupid enough, but if you have the sheer joy of working directly with the populace, it actually makes perfect sense.
I am at a point, where I don't know what to do. I need my job and the money it provides, but I need something else for which to aspire. I think I should teach, and I think I need to earn my degree to make that happen. We have a house in Fultondale and an apartment in Albertville. Would you like to buy our house? It's awesome, and it would help out greatly......Que sera, sera...I'm trying to see the big picture, but I did not get married to see my spouse 3 days a week. I would suck right out loud as a military wife, and I don't intend to be a long-term wife situation, but, damn.....we need to solve this dilemma....I will write my book. Situation: Over. HA.....
Don't vote for Newt Gingrich...out
I was on my way to work at 9ish a.m, and the lovely (douchebag INFINITY) gentleman in front of me chose to drive 15 mph, and I could never pass him. Awesome. Every day, I grow more and more accustomed to not so much believing in my fellow man. My fellow man is dumb. Having worked at newspapers, I know that newspapers print at a 3rd grade level. That is stupid enough, but if you have the sheer joy of working directly with the populace, it actually makes perfect sense.
I am at a point, where I don't know what to do. I need my job and the money it provides, but I need something else for which to aspire. I think I should teach, and I think I need to earn my degree to make that happen. We have a house in Fultondale and an apartment in Albertville. Would you like to buy our house? It's awesome, and it would help out greatly......Que sera, sera...I'm trying to see the big picture, but I did not get married to see my spouse 3 days a week. I would suck right out loud as a military wife, and I don't intend to be a long-term wife situation, but, damn.....we need to solve this dilemma....I will write my book. Situation: Over. HA.....
Don't vote for Newt Gingrich...out
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Edward Norton Gaither Smith, you're not going anywhere yet
So, for those of you that don't know me that well, I have a dog named Norton. His full name is in the blog title; he agreed to take Smitty's name after much sniffing and treats, and I have had him since March '00. I got him at Animal Control in Huntsville, he's a total mutt, part Beagle, German Shepherd and Chow, and he is quite simply the most awesome dog ever. I got him when I was living in a house full of other dogs and just decided, in the way that you do when you're 22 and don't consider responsibility thoroughly, "I totally need a dog."
When I picked him out, he was with three siblings who looked almost exactly like him, but I was drawn to him immediately. He looked scrappy and seemed to exhibit the friskiest personality. I took him into a little room where they let me hold him to decide, and I was hooked. I put his paw up to the fence to tell his siblings that he was leaving, that I promised to take good care of him, and he would be loved. I think one of them sneezed on me and walked away.
Norton was one of my first real forays into responsibility. We had dogs growing up, but my dad was really the sole caretaker, the one that made sure they were fed and had their shots. We just played with them and did the fun part. The next thing I'm about to say is really, really gross, but when I first got him, he had worms. I had no idea what this was and thought maybe he had eaten spaghetti or a power cord. My roommates advised me I was incorrect, and being that he was my dog, I had to clean up the offending poo. I picked it up, disposed of it, and then ran to the bathroom and threw up. I made sure he had all his shots, I had him neutered, for logical reasons and for fear the patchouli hippies from Animal Control would sic a wombat on me if I didn't, and I house-trained him.
He has lived in six places in 11 years, has ridden with me back and forth from Huntsville to Mississippi more times than I can count, held his bladder the night I broke my ankle because I couldn't take him outside until reinforcements arrived (he peed for 5 minutes straight when he finally could), slept on my bed, rightfully sussed out the good/the bad/and the ugly where boyfriends were concerned, and stolen food from plates, only to make a "hhhahh" noise realizing it was too hot and flung it on the floor, just to name a few things...he's my furry little heart.
This morning, when I went out to feed him and Zoe, our hyperactive German shepherd, he started walking how I can only describe as sideways, like part of his body was numb, and then he collapsed and couldn't get up. I completely freaked out, called Smitty, ready to commandeer a dog ambulance, if necessary and then realized (or maybe Smitty rationally told me) that I needed to calm down, he's had arthritis, and give him an aspirin. I did this, begrudgingly went to work and worried all day, and came home to a perfectly frisky tail-wagging dog.
I'll spare the story of how when I let him out of the fence to let him in the damn house to keep an eye on him, which we NEVER do, he briefly ran away. I had to pick him up in the car after driving with the windows down calling his name like an idiot, and then carry him in the house, where he paced like an expectant father for an hour because he clearly thought I was up to something. I love that freaking dog. I'm not a child, I realize that pets die, and I know he won't live forever, but I'm not quite ready to let go of him yet. I had to let go of my father, I don't want to lose my dog, too. So, there.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
I just don't understand
This morning I was listening to NPR, yep, I'm "that" girl, and they were talking about the '12 election. I have almost actively tried NOT to pay attention to politics recently, as there are other things to worry about, and I know what a nutcase I'll be when the election is actually at hand. However, it creeps in or more truthfully, I can't really not pay attention. It's in my blood.
Specifically, they were talking about the New Hampshire primary and the Iowa caucus, which are really two merely symbolic contests, more than anything. Example, four years ago, Mike Huckabee won the Iowa caucus..who? you ask..that guy who has a show on Fox that looks like your sweet grandpa. But, NH and Iowa aren't giving up their symbols anytime soon, so..what are you gonna do.
Naturally, all candidates and media are in New Hampshire and Iowa, y'know, relating to the common man, which is so condescending when you think about it. When else do they give a whit about shaking hands and talking to Sally the Teacher about her problems? Politics really is so gross. Anyway, the media is out talking to locals, straw polling, etc.., and they spoke to a stay-at-home mom who said she liked Michelle Bachman, but wouldn't vote for her because, "Well, I'm a woman, and I don't really know that we have what it takes to be President. I mean, women probably really shouldn't lead the country."
Wow. I hope this person doesn't have daughters. It will be 2012 when this election takes place. Hilary Clinton was an inch away from becoming our last President, and we're still having this debate about whether woman can be President? So, we should teach our daughters and nieces and granddaughters, "It's okay to be whatever you want...to a point." If I had ever wanted to be President, by God, you better believe I would've run for (still may, hahah) President. Frankly, if I have a daughter and she wants to be a quarterback, I will tell her she can do whatever she puts her mind to. I really can't believe a woman would even say this. I'm guessing her self-esteem is not the greatest.
Also, what is this business with Lowe's pulling its ads from "All-American Muslim" on TLC, a show that is actually trying to show that not all American Muslims are out to jihad us. How does that teach any semblance of tolerance or willingness to learn about a culture that we really don't understand? These are the things we do, like burning a Koran, etc..that serve to demonstrate how intolerant we are of anyone that's different, that we are too ignorant to even try to get along. Sometimes, I'm amazed the Civil Rights Act was ever passed. We seem to have devolved as a country, which I find immensely terrifying.
Specifically, they were talking about the New Hampshire primary and the Iowa caucus, which are really two merely symbolic contests, more than anything. Example, four years ago, Mike Huckabee won the Iowa caucus..who? you ask..that guy who has a show on Fox that looks like your sweet grandpa. But, NH and Iowa aren't giving up their symbols anytime soon, so..what are you gonna do.
Naturally, all candidates and media are in New Hampshire and Iowa, y'know, relating to the common man, which is so condescending when you think about it. When else do they give a whit about shaking hands and talking to Sally the Teacher about her problems? Politics really is so gross. Anyway, the media is out talking to locals, straw polling, etc.., and they spoke to a stay-at-home mom who said she liked Michelle Bachman, but wouldn't vote for her because, "Well, I'm a woman, and I don't really know that we have what it takes to be President. I mean, women probably really shouldn't lead the country."
Wow. I hope this person doesn't have daughters. It will be 2012 when this election takes place. Hilary Clinton was an inch away from becoming our last President, and we're still having this debate about whether woman can be President? So, we should teach our daughters and nieces and granddaughters, "It's okay to be whatever you want...to a point." If I had ever wanted to be President, by God, you better believe I would've run for (still may, hahah) President. Frankly, if I have a daughter and she wants to be a quarterback, I will tell her she can do whatever she puts her mind to. I really can't believe a woman would even say this. I'm guessing her self-esteem is not the greatest.
Also, what is this business with Lowe's pulling its ads from "All-American Muslim" on TLC, a show that is actually trying to show that not all American Muslims are out to jihad us. How does that teach any semblance of tolerance or willingness to learn about a culture that we really don't understand? These are the things we do, like burning a Koran, etc..that serve to demonstrate how intolerant we are of anyone that's different, that we are too ignorant to even try to get along. Sometimes, I'm amazed the Civil Rights Act was ever passed. We seem to have devolved as a country, which I find immensely terrifying.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
The holidays make me a little nutcracker
And the stress/happy/family-filled season is off! Thanksgiving was almost a marathon event with having Thanksgiving dinner with one family on Thursday and with the other family on Friday. We drove in to Mississippi Thursday morning and left Mississippi Friday afternoon. I miss being in school, where you have an actual weekend. I never thought about it until I didn't live in the same vicinity as my family, and now I feel I spend holidays in the car. And Smitty has been balking lately about letting me sing on road trips, so I don't get to get all that anxiety out in musical form.
Heard at Thanksgiving by my 91-year-old grandmother:
"When people here die, they move to Oxford."
"I guess I'll see y'all at Christmas, I might be at the nursing home." (the same nursing home on whose waiting list she's been since 2002)
"I thought I was going deaf, but the volume on my phone is just turned down."
I also found a cookie that had been living on the floor of my mom's kitchen God knows how long, uncovered leftovers in the refrigerator, a block of cheddar cheese you could use as a doorstop, and ants in the dishwasher. Ah, familia.
On another note, I set off the damn security system at home yesterday when I selected "Stay" on the key fob instead of "Off." Apparently, we set a code I forgot about, and while a mean little timer ticked down 60 seconds, I punched in every combination of numbers I could recall, and then "WAH WAH WAH," so that I had to call Smitty while this was happening to have the phone immediately disconnect so he could give me at least 3 combinations before I found the right one. Emergency averted. Alarm, one. Emily, zero.
I love online shopping. Oh, dear God, how I love it. I can remember being in college and literally buying my last two presents on Christmas Eve. I don't know why, but it used to make my mom so mad when I'd come in to spend Christmas Eve with them and have to spread out all my wrapping paraphernalia because I also hadn't wrapped anything at all. Now, I'm also a huge fan of gift bags, which require no wrapping and therefore, no mockery at my crumply, 5-year-old-esque wrapping job. I always liked to think it was charming and homespun to look at my wrapping, but is decidedly less so as I'm approaching my mid-30s.
My only holiday issue now is decorating. Smitty is out of pocket working a lot this season, so decorating (or not) is left up to me. I'm thinking of only putting up a few things, like the Christmas "manuh manuh" Muppet, and the stuffed dog that barks "Jingle Bells," stockings, and the glass lighted tree that we call the Dr. Seuss tree. That way, I still feel festive, but not like I'm sitting amid a sea of the inflatable Nativity with dark thoughts surfacing due to that super-loud noise they make. Does anyone put inflatables inside their homes? I really don't like them at all, in any capacity; I think because they look cartoon-y and speak to my weird phobia of exaggerated features, but I just wondered that.
The thing is, I like the holidays, really I do, the actual fire-burning, cheer-filled, kids being excited, fudge, OH MY GOD, fudge, that warm, fuzzy feeling Christmas gives you, and the times you look at your family and remember why you didn't kill these people when you were young and are thankful that you married into a warm, embracing family...and fudge.
"A perpetual holiday is a good working definition of Hell."
George Bernard Shaw
Heard at Thanksgiving by my 91-year-old grandmother:
"When people here die, they move to Oxford."
"I guess I'll see y'all at Christmas, I might be at the nursing home." (the same nursing home on whose waiting list she's been since 2002)
"I thought I was going deaf, but the volume on my phone is just turned down."
I also found a cookie that had been living on the floor of my mom's kitchen God knows how long, uncovered leftovers in the refrigerator, a block of cheddar cheese you could use as a doorstop, and ants in the dishwasher. Ah, familia.
On another note, I set off the damn security system at home yesterday when I selected "Stay" on the key fob instead of "Off." Apparently, we set a code I forgot about, and while a mean little timer ticked down 60 seconds, I punched in every combination of numbers I could recall, and then "WAH WAH WAH," so that I had to call Smitty while this was happening to have the phone immediately disconnect so he could give me at least 3 combinations before I found the right one. Emergency averted. Alarm, one. Emily, zero.
I love online shopping. Oh, dear God, how I love it. I can remember being in college and literally buying my last two presents on Christmas Eve. I don't know why, but it used to make my mom so mad when I'd come in to spend Christmas Eve with them and have to spread out all my wrapping paraphernalia because I also hadn't wrapped anything at all. Now, I'm also a huge fan of gift bags, which require no wrapping and therefore, no mockery at my crumply, 5-year-old-esque wrapping job. I always liked to think it was charming and homespun to look at my wrapping, but is decidedly less so as I'm approaching my mid-30s.
My only holiday issue now is decorating. Smitty is out of pocket working a lot this season, so decorating (or not) is left up to me. I'm thinking of only putting up a few things, like the Christmas "manuh manuh" Muppet, and the stuffed dog that barks "Jingle Bells," stockings, and the glass lighted tree that we call the Dr. Seuss tree. That way, I still feel festive, but not like I'm sitting amid a sea of the inflatable Nativity with dark thoughts surfacing due to that super-loud noise they make. Does anyone put inflatables inside their homes? I really don't like them at all, in any capacity; I think because they look cartoon-y and speak to my weird phobia of exaggerated features, but I just wondered that.
The thing is, I like the holidays, really I do, the actual fire-burning, cheer-filled, kids being excited, fudge, OH MY GOD, fudge, that warm, fuzzy feeling Christmas gives you, and the times you look at your family and remember why you didn't kill these people when you were young and are thankful that you married into a warm, embracing family...and fudge.
"A perpetual holiday is a good working definition of Hell."
George Bernard Shaw
Thursday, November 17, 2011
I am a screaminger, and I love it!
So, I saw this skit the other night on "Saturday Night Live," which nearly perfectly describes me. One of the characters had lost out on a promotion, and her co-workers were taking her out to cheer her up. She stayed behind a little while to blast Adele's "Someone Like You," and wallow in self-pity for a little while. One by one as they came to find her, they wanted in on the crying action to relieve their individual stresses.
I did that frequently in high school. I had some old stand-by's, Jane's Addiction, "I Would for You," Nine Inch Nails, "Something I Can Never Have," and Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle," to name a few. I would be very sad and deep and write horrendous poetry in my journal until I felt I had suffered enough. Dramatic? Me? Noooo
Now, I am addicted to songs that I can really "sing scream" to...like Concrete Blonde's "Joey," (which is probably Smitty's least favorite song because of this), Pat Benatar's "Hit Me with Your Best Shot," and now my new favorite, Adele's "Someone Like You." And I'm sad because she had surgery for a throat polyp, which threatens her luminous voice. I feel sure she'll pull through. We big girls are tough. That was Amy Winehouse's problem..she needed to eat a cheeseburger, oh, and not smoke crack.
You know what I don't like, though? Incessant Christmas music. I feel angry when it takes over a radio station the week before Halloween. That's like a full 60 days of Christmas music. I like Christmas music, like the classics, like Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole, even Elvis, but some of the tripe they're playing is making Christmas music sad...and baby Jesus is crying.
Also, where did they holidays come from? Has this not been the fastest year ever? It's crazy. I'm looking forward to just relaxing family time..or is that an oxymoron? We'll give it a try...optimism...glass half-full...we can do it. (the royal we---me) I still feel an ache for my dad during the holidays, and I know that won't go away, but he would be really mad if it cast a pall every year. So, I won't let it. There are new memories to be made, and I have in-laws that welcomed me with open arms, so I'm blessed with two familes.
No progress yet on the knitting; I think this may be a Christmas wish, as everything is crazy loco nuts right now. Smitty fractured his arm moving some stuff, so he is only partially functional. I like to think my clumsiness rubbed off, but if something had to rub off, I wish it could've been something else, like the singing for no reason. I'd enjoy that. But I'm being "nurse-y" as best I can; that's not so much an innate quality I have. I make him take his pain pill if it hurts, although I have also been calling him "gimp," which is probably not as helpful.
You know what makes me happy? Baby carrots and balsamic vinaigrette...my goodness, it's a little sliver of heaven in your mouth.
I did that frequently in high school. I had some old stand-by's, Jane's Addiction, "I Would for You," Nine Inch Nails, "Something I Can Never Have," and Harry Chapin's "Cat's in the Cradle," to name a few. I would be very sad and deep and write horrendous poetry in my journal until I felt I had suffered enough. Dramatic? Me? Noooo
Now, I am addicted to songs that I can really "sing scream" to...like Concrete Blonde's "Joey," (which is probably Smitty's least favorite song because of this), Pat Benatar's "Hit Me with Your Best Shot," and now my new favorite, Adele's "Someone Like You." And I'm sad because she had surgery for a throat polyp, which threatens her luminous voice. I feel sure she'll pull through. We big girls are tough. That was Amy Winehouse's problem..she needed to eat a cheeseburger, oh, and not smoke crack.
You know what I don't like, though? Incessant Christmas music. I feel angry when it takes over a radio station the week before Halloween. That's like a full 60 days of Christmas music. I like Christmas music, like the classics, like Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole, even Elvis, but some of the tripe they're playing is making Christmas music sad...and baby Jesus is crying.
Also, where did they holidays come from? Has this not been the fastest year ever? It's crazy. I'm looking forward to just relaxing family time..or is that an oxymoron? We'll give it a try...optimism...glass half-full...we can do it. (the royal we---me) I still feel an ache for my dad during the holidays, and I know that won't go away, but he would be really mad if it cast a pall every year. So, I won't let it. There are new memories to be made, and I have in-laws that welcomed me with open arms, so I'm blessed with two familes.
No progress yet on the knitting; I think this may be a Christmas wish, as everything is crazy loco nuts right now. Smitty fractured his arm moving some stuff, so he is only partially functional. I like to think my clumsiness rubbed off, but if something had to rub off, I wish it could've been something else, like the singing for no reason. I'd enjoy that. But I'm being "nurse-y" as best I can; that's not so much an innate quality I have. I make him take his pain pill if it hurts, although I have also been calling him "gimp," which is probably not as helpful.
You know what makes me happy? Baby carrots and balsamic vinaigrette...my goodness, it's a little sliver of heaven in your mouth.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
I (want to) knit, therefore I am (will be)
So, I spent a good hour in a fabric store in Tuscaloosa yesterday. My nephew is an angel in an upcoming Christmas pageant, and my sister is having a little costume made for him. God bless her, I would've just cut a hole for his head in a sheet and been done with it. However, I realized while I was in there, 1. There are some bizarre people that frequent a fabric store, and 2. My new goal in life is to learn to knit.
I've been thinking about it for a while when I heard a story on NPR about how knitting was seeing a resurgence with the downturn of the economy because people were getting back to basics and doing activities on the cheap. I'm simultaneously fascinated and terrified by the giant needles involved, but I think after I poke myself a few times, it'll be okay. It just seems like a really neat thing to know how to do.
I'm trying to figure out the best way to dip my metaphorical toe into the yarn game. I feel like a class or lessons would be helpful, but I also have a feeling I'm not going to be good at this for a while. I don't want a repeat of my Step Aerobics class from college that I ended up having to drop because someone asked me if I had inner ear trouble that affected my balance. I'm thinking a beginner's book, a starter kit, and You Tube are gonna be my keys to top-notch scarves, socks, and hats. I like the idea of being able to knit for my children, well, child, as I only plan to have one and actually have put thought into things that I make for others. Smitty says he wants some underwear, I dunno about all that, I think he was mocking me. That seems like a potential for a doodle to pop out unexpectedly.
On a completely unrelated note, I find myself looking forward to the holidays this year. I wasn't really into them last year since my dad had just passed away, but I'm actually ready for all the family time and treats and decorations. Thanksgiving is really my favorite holiday, largely due to not having to buy gifts. I detest shopping, and I like the idea of being thankful and stuffing your face with dressing and cranberry sauce. I once ate an entire can of cranberry sauce by myself. I'm not proud of that, mind you, but it's something of note.
I wish we were more thankful all year, though. I think it's nice to let other people know that you appreciate them. That's my personal goal, to let those that are important to me know how much I value their presence in my life. I've already started, in fact, but be aware, there may be a thank you headed your way. This also goes for my dogs...but they can't read or understand me, so I guess that's just an unspoken thanks.
I've been thinking about it for a while when I heard a story on NPR about how knitting was seeing a resurgence with the downturn of the economy because people were getting back to basics and doing activities on the cheap. I'm simultaneously fascinated and terrified by the giant needles involved, but I think after I poke myself a few times, it'll be okay. It just seems like a really neat thing to know how to do.
I'm trying to figure out the best way to dip my metaphorical toe into the yarn game. I feel like a class or lessons would be helpful, but I also have a feeling I'm not going to be good at this for a while. I don't want a repeat of my Step Aerobics class from college that I ended up having to drop because someone asked me if I had inner ear trouble that affected my balance. I'm thinking a beginner's book, a starter kit, and You Tube are gonna be my keys to top-notch scarves, socks, and hats. I like the idea of being able to knit for my children, well, child, as I only plan to have one and actually have put thought into things that I make for others. Smitty says he wants some underwear, I dunno about all that, I think he was mocking me. That seems like a potential for a doodle to pop out unexpectedly.
On a completely unrelated note, I find myself looking forward to the holidays this year. I wasn't really into them last year since my dad had just passed away, but I'm actually ready for all the family time and treats and decorations. Thanksgiving is really my favorite holiday, largely due to not having to buy gifts. I detest shopping, and I like the idea of being thankful and stuffing your face with dressing and cranberry sauce. I once ate an entire can of cranberry sauce by myself. I'm not proud of that, mind you, but it's something of note.
I wish we were more thankful all year, though. I think it's nice to let other people know that you appreciate them. That's my personal goal, to let those that are important to me know how much I value their presence in my life. I've already started, in fact, but be aware, there may be a thank you headed your way. This also goes for my dogs...but they can't read or understand me, so I guess that's just an unspoken thanks.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Needing a sensory break
Some things make me really mad. Some things mildly irritate me, but there are those particular things that cause irrational, spitty-esque, Yosemite-Sam anger. These are in no particular order, just as they fly into my head, making me ponder anger management classes.
1. Discussing politics in a clearly biased fashion with no regard as to whether it's appropriate or without any regard to whom you're speaking. Yes, I worked for John Kerry. However, I can discuss politics in a rational manner. In fact, that experience taught me to do so. It's incredibly interesting to talk with intelligent people who have different views. If people weren't able to do that, very little would get done, in fact.
But when I start to talk, and someone says "Obama's a terrorist," or something similar, we really have nothing else to say. Furthermore, if you say things that indicate that a. Democrats cannot possibly be Christians, b. Obama is a Socialist who wasn't born in the United States, c. All Muslims hate us, and d. Not supporting the war means you don't support the troops...we don't actually need to talk about anything...except that I am super glad we don't agree.
2. Meddling in other people's business. It's the age of the 24-hour news cycle, Facebook, Twitter, myspace...we MUST know what is going on with our friend, our boss, our sister's friend we've never met...that's fine, but when you're using online networking sites to just spy or stalk people for your own personal judgment...you got some issues..It's generally my experience that when you're oh-so-very concerned about what other people are doing, you're either lacking something in your life or avoiding your own little area. So...STOP it...or I keeeel you!
3. Any sense of entitlement. I've come to the conclusion, working in a customer-service environment, that we are in the economic mess we're in because we're far too dumb to handle our own money. Thus begat the housing crisis, and so on and so on. We are a country who has an average of 3 vehicles per household, and SUVs, which may as well just take money as fuel, are still very, very popular.
People, including myself, have no concept of sacrifice. If you are broke, don't go on a vacation. That one, I do follow...I'm not sure what a vacation is...But I get soooo tired of hearing reasons why people can't pay their bills. We may not be rolling in money, but we're not behind on bills. We have no concept of cutting back or budgeting properly. That's why most of our credit scores are horrible, and it's not like we're teaching great values to youngsters and little people..(children, not midgets)
Yes, eating out is nice, but you spend a ridiculous amount of money doing it. I'm actually shocked by how often people eat out when they're not making a huge amount of money either. Trust me, if I can learn to cook, anyone can learn to cook, and you literally save hundreds of dollars a month. it's crazy. Plus, you're not waiting 3 hours at Outback on a Saturday night with all the Alabama fans..or what have you..
My point is, don't say you're "broke" if you own 3 BMWs or eat out 5 times a week or took 4 vacations last year. That means you're "spoiled," and will come up with money to do what you want. That is our whole problem as a country. "No, we can't raise taxes," umm, people, you made $22,000 last year and took on a $2,000/month mortgage..you kinda helped cause this mess. If we accepted our limits and placed ourselves within those limits, the government, too, we can get back to where we're supposed to be. Ask somebody who grew up in the Great Depression about sacrifice. They'll call the lot of us major wussies.
There, soapbox complete for now. Enjoy the beautiful weather...it's free.
1. Discussing politics in a clearly biased fashion with no regard as to whether it's appropriate or without any regard to whom you're speaking. Yes, I worked for John Kerry. However, I can discuss politics in a rational manner. In fact, that experience taught me to do so. It's incredibly interesting to talk with intelligent people who have different views. If people weren't able to do that, very little would get done, in fact.
But when I start to talk, and someone says "Obama's a terrorist," or something similar, we really have nothing else to say. Furthermore, if you say things that indicate that a. Democrats cannot possibly be Christians, b. Obama is a Socialist who wasn't born in the United States, c. All Muslims hate us, and d. Not supporting the war means you don't support the troops...we don't actually need to talk about anything...except that I am super glad we don't agree.
2. Meddling in other people's business. It's the age of the 24-hour news cycle, Facebook, Twitter, myspace...we MUST know what is going on with our friend, our boss, our sister's friend we've never met...that's fine, but when you're using online networking sites to just spy or stalk people for your own personal judgment...you got some issues..It's generally my experience that when you're oh-so-very concerned about what other people are doing, you're either lacking something in your life or avoiding your own little area. So...STOP it...or I keeeel you!
3. Any sense of entitlement. I've come to the conclusion, working in a customer-service environment, that we are in the economic mess we're in because we're far too dumb to handle our own money. Thus begat the housing crisis, and so on and so on. We are a country who has an average of 3 vehicles per household, and SUVs, which may as well just take money as fuel, are still very, very popular.
People, including myself, have no concept of sacrifice. If you are broke, don't go on a vacation. That one, I do follow...I'm not sure what a vacation is...But I get soooo tired of hearing reasons why people can't pay their bills. We may not be rolling in money, but we're not behind on bills. We have no concept of cutting back or budgeting properly. That's why most of our credit scores are horrible, and it's not like we're teaching great values to youngsters and little people..(children, not midgets)
Yes, eating out is nice, but you spend a ridiculous amount of money doing it. I'm actually shocked by how often people eat out when they're not making a huge amount of money either. Trust me, if I can learn to cook, anyone can learn to cook, and you literally save hundreds of dollars a month. it's crazy. Plus, you're not waiting 3 hours at Outback on a Saturday night with all the Alabama fans..or what have you..
My point is, don't say you're "broke" if you own 3 BMWs or eat out 5 times a week or took 4 vacations last year. That means you're "spoiled," and will come up with money to do what you want. That is our whole problem as a country. "No, we can't raise taxes," umm, people, you made $22,000 last year and took on a $2,000/month mortgage..you kinda helped cause this mess. If we accepted our limits and placed ourselves within those limits, the government, too, we can get back to where we're supposed to be. Ask somebody who grew up in the Great Depression about sacrifice. They'll call the lot of us major wussies.
There, soapbox complete for now. Enjoy the beautiful weather...it's free.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
A sickly gal can't catch a break...
Oh, how I love fall...football (weird, right? Thanks, Smitty), sweaters/boots, Thanksgiving, the possibility of snow and lying on a bearskin rug in front of a toasty fire..okay, that last thing may never have happened, but it could. However, this fall has kicked my allergy-shot, no immune system-having butt. Since there has been even the whisper of falling leaves, my whole head has felt like a giant bowling ball..and not the good kind, like in "The Big Lebowski," the cheap kind.
I literally slept about 30 hours this past weekend, trying to drug up and get better. All that did was make me sleepier. I take shots, daily allergy meds, stick bottles of salt water up my nose, chant to the monkey gods, leave an offering for the Mafia, nothing works definitively. As much as I hate needles, I would let Michael J. Fox ply me with them in the hopes that acupuncture might alleviate this constant inability to breathe and function.
I snore like a lumberjack now, thanks to my devious septum..that crafty little bugger is shaped like a question mark, and up to no good. Surgery is a possibility, but they can't guarantee with the litany of things I'm allergic to, that it will do any good. Therefore, no sharp objects are going up my nose. It's against my religion.
On a completely unrelated note, are there seriously going to be like 50 GOP debates? It's like watching a high school debate team made up of the kids no one wants to hear. I think the pizza guy is going to school them all. What an odd world it is. On that subject, the Doomsday guy who said we were going to have Armaggedon in May has changed his mind to say it will be on Oct. 21. I wish people would stop trying to predict the end of the world. There is no way any earthly person will know that information; plus, it clutters up my Facebook.
I literally slept about 30 hours this past weekend, trying to drug up and get better. All that did was make me sleepier. I take shots, daily allergy meds, stick bottles of salt water up my nose, chant to the monkey gods, leave an offering for the Mafia, nothing works definitively. As much as I hate needles, I would let Michael J. Fox ply me with them in the hopes that acupuncture might alleviate this constant inability to breathe and function.
I snore like a lumberjack now, thanks to my devious septum..that crafty little bugger is shaped like a question mark, and up to no good. Surgery is a possibility, but they can't guarantee with the litany of things I'm allergic to, that it will do any good. Therefore, no sharp objects are going up my nose. It's against my religion.
On a completely unrelated note, are there seriously going to be like 50 GOP debates? It's like watching a high school debate team made up of the kids no one wants to hear. I think the pizza guy is going to school them all. What an odd world it is. On that subject, the Doomsday guy who said we were going to have Armaggedon in May has changed his mind to say it will be on Oct. 21. I wish people would stop trying to predict the end of the world. There is no way any earthly person will know that information; plus, it clutters up my Facebook.
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