Barack Obama was elected for a second term. I did not vote for Barack Obama. In fact, wait for it, I didn't vote this year. It was a combination of abject disgust for the entire ordeal and an inability for Alabama to figure out when/where to send our registration forms. I feel sorrow for not having voted, as this is this first time since I turned 18 that I haven't, and I have always been politically active, but in good conscience, I couldn't do it this year.
I am extremely upset with Obama's record in the last four years. I say this with a heavy heart, because I knew when he spoke at the 2004 Democratic Convention, he was someone to whom idealists like me could hitch their wagons. He was smart, full of hope, said the right things the right way, and he was a viable alternative to the war-mongering, back room deals of the Republican Party. But, somewhere along the line, I think his ego got the best of him, and he became determined to pass things just to prove he could. He lost sight of the fact that average people like me are paying too much for gas and milk and the things that sustain us, and it pisses me off.
I gave him the benefit of the doubt for a long, long time, arguing with my husband about what he was trying to do, hoping the big picture would come into focus. It never did, not to me. But on the other hand, you have Mitt Romney, a Mormon, that suddenly right-wingers are happy to throw in with. Have you ever read the tenets of Mormonism? Magic underwear, people...plus, add the fact that universal healthcare was kind of his idea, yet, for the country, it's not acceptable, and this is a man that cannot be trusted. I couldn't vote for either of them, not in good conscience.
And here's what, to you people that tell me having Democratic beliefs are not Christian and that if I didn't vote, I don't have a say, and that Obama's second term is welcoming the Mayan prophecy that we're all going to die in 6 weeks....CHILL OUT...the drama has reached an unacceptable level and a nasty one...
I actually thought George W. Bush was the Devil Incarnate, and yet, I survived his second term...and by the way, he gave us this economy. Deny it all you want, say Obama's using it as a cop-out, that's fine, but facts don't lie. We got into wars that manipulated public opinion over 9/11 that threw us into massive debt. Who perpetrated 9/11? Osama bin Laden. Who caught him? Oh, yeah, that's right....our current and future President.
I learned during my campaign stint in '04 to listen to others' differing opinions objectively. You can learn a lot from rational people whose ideas happen to differ from yours. It was an enriching experience, for many reasons. I'm just saying, if you really think about and formulate what it is that bothers you so much about a second Obama term or what would make a first Romney term so great, I don't think there would be that much difference. And for God's sake, stop attacking ideals that are attached to your loved ones as though they are doomed to hell for their beliefs. Thank GOD for the First Amendment, and yes, I am a Democrat, or actually, an Independent, and I do believe in God. There seems to be some confusion on that point.
Wednesday, November 07, 2012
Friday, October 26, 2012
Life is hard; duh
I'm having a kind of of pre-mid-life thing at the moment. Here is what I know. I don't like most people. I applaud the idea that people get you through life. However, I can count on both hands people that I genuinely love and admire and lean on in gruff situations, so....that doesn't help me much. I find myself thinking and wishing that I could be an idiot, completely oblivious to what's wrong and right and what feelings should actually mean. Read "Flowers for Algernon," although it's the single most depressing thing I ever read. However, it really gives you the duplicate view of life.
I am grappling with this lovely mid-30s view of life. I don't particularly mind being my age, except everyone around me is either far exceeding or sadly far descending into a lifestyle to which I do not aspire. I think this is a strange age, mid-30s. When I was born, my mom was 37....gasp......but that was to a completely different generation. I may feel a failure on a couple of levels, but only one has a loud, ticking clock. I know you can't rush a baby, and I don't intend to, but my body has a bit of a timeline.
By the way, God, I really don't find it to be fair that you allowed the men to procreate as long as there were swimmers, but you set a clock for us females. I love you and appreciate you, but I feel you might've made an oversight there....because what you get is nice, functional people like me who want babies, but are trying to be prudent.....and are 35!........And maybe now, 35 year-old people don't know what they want, because they didn't get married right out of high school. Can somebody...anybody...just give me a damn break? A small demi-tasse damn break?
On a less pissy note:
I am grappling with this lovely mid-30s view of life. I don't particularly mind being my age, except everyone around me is either far exceeding or sadly far descending into a lifestyle to which I do not aspire. I think this is a strange age, mid-30s. When I was born, my mom was 37....gasp......but that was to a completely different generation. I may feel a failure on a couple of levels, but only one has a loud, ticking clock. I know you can't rush a baby, and I don't intend to, but my body has a bit of a timeline.
By the way, God, I really don't find it to be fair that you allowed the men to procreate as long as there were swimmers, but you set a clock for us females. I love you and appreciate you, but I feel you might've made an oversight there....because what you get is nice, functional people like me who want babies, but are trying to be prudent.....and are 35!........And maybe now, 35 year-old people don't know what they want, because they didn't get married right out of high school. Can somebody...anybody...just give me a damn break? A small demi-tasse damn break?
On a less pissy note:
   “How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.”-- Oscar Wilde |
Sunday, August 05, 2012
God help you if you are a phoenix and you dare to rise up from the ash
I am sick of hypocrisy. Mainly, I am sick of people who talk about religion constantly and whose actions immediately cancel whatever good they may've exuded. I am a spiritual person and a Democrat (gasp), but I don't feel the need to talk about God, what you shouldn't do and why you can't be friends with a certain type of person. That's not the God I believe in. The God I believe in would want to demonstrate what a Christian and good person looks like and witness to those who haven't experienced that yet.
Pouring judgment and generally hypocritical does nothing but show that you are not living a Christian life, so why would a nonbeliever want to listen to you? I heard Rick and Bubba, who I almost never listen to, the other morning talking about how Brad Pitt's mother was receiving death threats for coming out (no pun intended) as being against gay marriage. They then went on to say that liberals who got upset over opposing views were the meanest, nastiest, most dangerous people you could come in contact with...really???
Not the anti-abortion zealots who kill doctors or the people who stand outside the clinics yelling, "God hates you," or Ann Coulter or Rush Limbaugh...no, those people aren't nasty or hateful at all. I once had an anti-Kerry person SPIT on me, just because I wanted to talk to her about John Kerry. A simple "no" would've been much more civilized and would've kept me from being convinced I was going to catch hepatitis.
I've seen so many people use the name of God for their own purposes and then turn around and talk about everybody in their church and how they couldn't possibly let a lesbian sing in the choir. This is your witnessing? Mary Magdalene, one of Jesus' most ardent disciples, was a prostitute. Did he say, "Mary, I appreciate your helping spread the gospel and all, but you are, in fact, a dirty whore and you're making me look bad." NO. These were the people he felt he needed to witness to the most. I just don't, and will never, understand, talking out of both sides of your mouth.
Yes, I drink. I'm 34 years old, and I have occasional cocktails. I don't drink and drive; I don't drink and fall asleep while taking care of my children, and I don't drink and mix it with methampetamine. So, don't look down your nose at me for admitting I drink and then go drink a 12-pack while having a weekend at the river. That's all I'm saying. You can bet I don't care what YOU think, but I do care what HE thinks. Maybe you should worry about that as well.
Pouring judgment and generally hypocritical does nothing but show that you are not living a Christian life, so why would a nonbeliever want to listen to you? I heard Rick and Bubba, who I almost never listen to, the other morning talking about how Brad Pitt's mother was receiving death threats for coming out (no pun intended) as being against gay marriage. They then went on to say that liberals who got upset over opposing views were the meanest, nastiest, most dangerous people you could come in contact with...really???
Not the anti-abortion zealots who kill doctors or the people who stand outside the clinics yelling, "God hates you," or Ann Coulter or Rush Limbaugh...no, those people aren't nasty or hateful at all. I once had an anti-Kerry person SPIT on me, just because I wanted to talk to her about John Kerry. A simple "no" would've been much more civilized and would've kept me from being convinced I was going to catch hepatitis.
I've seen so many people use the name of God for their own purposes and then turn around and talk about everybody in their church and how they couldn't possibly let a lesbian sing in the choir. This is your witnessing? Mary Magdalene, one of Jesus' most ardent disciples, was a prostitute. Did he say, "Mary, I appreciate your helping spread the gospel and all, but you are, in fact, a dirty whore and you're making me look bad." NO. These were the people he felt he needed to witness to the most. I just don't, and will never, understand, talking out of both sides of your mouth.
Yes, I drink. I'm 34 years old, and I have occasional cocktails. I don't drink and drive; I don't drink and fall asleep while taking care of my children, and I don't drink and mix it with methampetamine. So, don't look down your nose at me for admitting I drink and then go drink a 12-pack while having a weekend at the river. That's all I'm saying. You can bet I don't care what YOU think, but I do care what HE thinks. Maybe you should worry about that as well.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
A pending farewell to the best grandmother ever
My grandmother is sick, nothing they can put too fine a point on, but let's say her 91 year-old body has had enough of this world. She's rarely been sick a day in her life, in fact, I was certain she would enter the Guinness Book of Records by living to 150. The doctor hasn't given her more than weeks to live and so we've set about preparing for the inevitable.
It's very hard to see her helpless and nearly non-functioning in a hospital bed. My niece pointed out, that just at Christmas, she was trying to demonstrate touching her tongue to her nose. I'm named after her. My middle name before I got married was Beryl, and I detested it like any other kid who has a difference on which others can capitalize. Then, I realized in my 20s how stupid that was. Not only is it a truly unique name in a sea of same-named peers, but I got to be named after her, a spitfire of a woman that doesn't and never has taken crap from anyone.
We could argue, oh, how we could argue, but as the Indigo Girls song says, "After the battles and we're still around, everything once up in the air has settled down, sweep the ashes. Let the silence find us. The moment of peace is worth every war behind us." We argued because we were both hard-headed, and we always apologized the way people who love each other apologize, with tearful phone calls or hugs. I know that if she passed away tonight, she knows how loved she was, and our relationship was strong.
Especially since my dad died, I've come to see how important it is that things aren't left unsaid with your loved ones. You don't get to go back and make things right when they're gone, and then you have useless regret and guilt weighing on you for no reason. With my dad, now that the void he left isn't so painful, I can think about him and the countless happy memories we had and smile and know that relationship was good and important in my life. That's how I feel about my grandmother, "Mamaw."
My sister and I used to spend the night with my grandparents all the time; it was such a treat. She drove me to talent shows, spelling bees, hair appointments. She picked me up from school when I was sick, and one on eventful day, she called the doctor to make sure I wouldn't die from eating glue-covered popcorn from a kindergarten project. She also worried and still does to this day about my sister and I driving anywhere after dark or that's longer than an hour. She's by far the most nurturing member of our family, and I have yet to comprehend the loss when it's her time.
I know that it's in His hands, and he has given her a wonderful life. She'll get to go be with my grandfather, the 50 years+ love of her life, and they will watch over us, along with my dad. I'm almost jealous that they will all get to be together while we have to wait, but I know that's the way it needs to be. She and Daddy will probably fight anyway for the first 10 years.
It's very hard to see her helpless and nearly non-functioning in a hospital bed. My niece pointed out, that just at Christmas, she was trying to demonstrate touching her tongue to her nose. I'm named after her. My middle name before I got married was Beryl, and I detested it like any other kid who has a difference on which others can capitalize. Then, I realized in my 20s how stupid that was. Not only is it a truly unique name in a sea of same-named peers, but I got to be named after her, a spitfire of a woman that doesn't and never has taken crap from anyone.
We could argue, oh, how we could argue, but as the Indigo Girls song says, "After the battles and we're still around, everything once up in the air has settled down, sweep the ashes. Let the silence find us. The moment of peace is worth every war behind us." We argued because we were both hard-headed, and we always apologized the way people who love each other apologize, with tearful phone calls or hugs. I know that if she passed away tonight, she knows how loved she was, and our relationship was strong.
Especially since my dad died, I've come to see how important it is that things aren't left unsaid with your loved ones. You don't get to go back and make things right when they're gone, and then you have useless regret and guilt weighing on you for no reason. With my dad, now that the void he left isn't so painful, I can think about him and the countless happy memories we had and smile and know that relationship was good and important in my life. That's how I feel about my grandmother, "Mamaw."
My sister and I used to spend the night with my grandparents all the time; it was such a treat. She drove me to talent shows, spelling bees, hair appointments. She picked me up from school when I was sick, and one on eventful day, she called the doctor to make sure I wouldn't die from eating glue-covered popcorn from a kindergarten project. She also worried and still does to this day about my sister and I driving anywhere after dark or that's longer than an hour. She's by far the most nurturing member of our family, and I have yet to comprehend the loss when it's her time.
I know that it's in His hands, and he has given her a wonderful life. She'll get to go be with my grandfather, the 50 years+ love of her life, and they will watch over us, along with my dad. I'm almost jealous that they will all get to be together while we have to wait, but I know that's the way it needs to be. She and Daddy will probably fight anyway for the first 10 years.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
I want sugar plums, dammit!
I cannot stop having these bizarre dreams. The latest recurring ones are:
1. Either Godzilla, aliens, or the Lord is destroying the Earth. I always manage to get in with the government and become moderately protected, but why am I having Apocalyptic dreams? Sometimes, I can see the water wash over everything or Godzilla's big foot walking by, but I always seem to make it out okay.
2. I am in college and keep forgetting my schedule, that I have a test, to go to a certain class all semester and where my dorm room is. But I'm still married, so I don't understand why I have a dorm room, and I still work full time, so I have to tell my boss that I have a mid-term.
3. I keep having a kind of sitcom-running dream that I have this huge crush on someone with whom I was in elementary and middle school. I really don't understand this one. I briefly had a crush on him in middle school, but haven't seen or thought about this person in over 20 years.
4. I keep going on these weird vacations. I'm always with people I would never vacation with, I never know how/when we got there, and I always have trouble getting home.
Those are the main ones I remember, so I can deduce a few things. The world is about to end, and I have the insight on where to hide...although, if it really is Armageddon, you can't hide, so I don't completely understand that part.
Maybe I should go back to college to get my master's like I've been saying for 10 years. That would actually be ideal, and maybe my memory is bad in the dream, because I'm so much older than I was in undergrad.
I'm thinking the weird crush one is to possibly reconnect with old friends; I may still have to think about that...and clearly, I need a vacation. That one's simple. Actually, I don't know how much I believe in dreams, but I kid you not when I say that these have been playing on a loop for months now. I even watched a horror movie last night and fully expected a vampire to stalk me, and it didn't happen. No, I was obsessed with going to a high school football game, which I didn't even do when I was in high school.
1. Either Godzilla, aliens, or the Lord is destroying the Earth. I always manage to get in with the government and become moderately protected, but why am I having Apocalyptic dreams? Sometimes, I can see the water wash over everything or Godzilla's big foot walking by, but I always seem to make it out okay.
2. I am in college and keep forgetting my schedule, that I have a test, to go to a certain class all semester and where my dorm room is. But I'm still married, so I don't understand why I have a dorm room, and I still work full time, so I have to tell my boss that I have a mid-term.
3. I keep having a kind of sitcom-running dream that I have this huge crush on someone with whom I was in elementary and middle school. I really don't understand this one. I briefly had a crush on him in middle school, but haven't seen or thought about this person in over 20 years.
4. I keep going on these weird vacations. I'm always with people I would never vacation with, I never know how/when we got there, and I always have trouble getting home.
Those are the main ones I remember, so I can deduce a few things. The world is about to end, and I have the insight on where to hide...although, if it really is Armageddon, you can't hide, so I don't completely understand that part.
Maybe I should go back to college to get my master's like I've been saying for 10 years. That would actually be ideal, and maybe my memory is bad in the dream, because I'm so much older than I was in undergrad.
I'm thinking the weird crush one is to possibly reconnect with old friends; I may still have to think about that...and clearly, I need a vacation. That one's simple. Actually, I don't know how much I believe in dreams, but I kid you not when I say that these have been playing on a loop for months now. I even watched a horror movie last night and fully expected a vampire to stalk me, and it didn't happen. No, I was obsessed with going to a high school football game, which I didn't even do when I was in high school.
Friday, June 08, 2012
Slow down; my ADHD can't keep up with..was that a monkey?
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.
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.
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.
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