So I finally and formally met my new neighbor last night, after more than 3 months worth of doing the customary head nodding, can't say hello, but want to acknowledge that you're there thing. In a weird, odd sort of way, I will kind of miss the cat and mouse, now you see me, now you don't, who can make it into their respective home before the other, game of tag we've been playing. He of course, had no idea he was participating, which only goes to show you how well of a player I really am. (Rob from Survivor is a puppy next to me.)
So there he was knocking on my door last night, in what I was sure was about to be his pledge of ultimate devotion. (Or extreme wishful thinking, on my part.) "Woo .. calm down girl." I said to myself, doing a quick check of my hair, in the mirror beside the front door. Tucking a stray wisp behind my ear, I decided to go for the sultry country girl look, that has inspired many a man to be committed and waited, baited breath and all, for him to wet my ears with words of love ... In my heart, I knew that he too had felt it too, from the moment our eyes met across the dark, glistening asphalt of our mutually shared driveway, that he was mine.
But in a brief moment of fear, (for the thought of my rejection had his insides in turmoil) he pushed his young daughter in front of my door and said, in a deep husky voice, "She's a little shy but she was hoping that your daughter might be able to come outside and play for a little while." As if I could say no, with all the pre-wedding arrangements running through my head. (Multi-tasking is not for me.)
So of course, I said yes, in that strange awkward moment when you go from being complete and total strangers, to people who converse and know each other by first name. It was in the same moment when we both spoke, offering each other introductions ... "I'm Stacey.", I said, taking his hand in mine, in what was a firm but very pleasing shake, not too soft, not too hard and thank goodness no clammy hands. Smiling and (still) shaking, he looked me straight in the eyes and said ...
"I'm Mike." (Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!)
Now think back to any movie you've ever seen, where the heroine, finds love, only to watch it slip right through her perfectly manicured hands. OK ... this was nothing like that. This was action in slow motion, as I tried to supress the "any name but that" expression from my face, wondering as I did, how it was possible that out of the millions of names he could have owned, why that particular one had to be his!
The one and only name that to me, is the equivalent of a natural disaster, whenever it comes into contact with my personal life. "Just say no and walk away.", I told myself, resisting the urge to slam the door in his face. "It's not his fault his mother named him Mike ... How could she have known?" Oh, it was a bitter turn of events.
Playing it cool, because I own the "Three C's" (Calm, cool and collected) rule of communicating with members of the opposite sex, I kept my emotions in check, as I explained the rules of outdoor play to him. "I don't let KC play in the driveway, or in the front yard ... Backyard is it, and she's not allowed on the side of the house where I can't see her. The way back is off limits too, just so you know there's a creek back there, it's not big, but this time of year it's swelled up from the spring rain and there's no telling how deep or fast moving it is. Beyond that, they've got more than enough space to run, jump and carry on like your typical seven year old."
I paused for a moment, willing air to draw into my lungs. Just when I thought I was going to have to think of something more to say, the phone rang ... "Excuse me for a moment.", I heard myself say, as I clicked the phone on. "Hello ... Can you hold one second please?"
"I'm sorry ... I need to take this call.", I said, turning to him, an apologetic look on my face. "It was really nice to finally meet you ..." Whew ... relief, I thought, sinking back against the door as I closed it, recalling the the phone still in my hands.
"Hello?" (Pause) "Nope, I'm sorry ... You must have the wrong number."
I have read all the books, I have seen the light but I just can't get beyond the chaos that has become my home. (Chaos, an acronym described by the FlyLady as "Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome") When, oh when, did I lose control? I'll go ahead and guess about 7 years ago, however in the last 2 weeks things have just gotten crazy.
You see, it all started with the kitchen sink. That was my first plan of attack. But I fell victim to procrastination, and when I wasn't looking she snuck right in and whispered into my ear, "Sit ... relax ... there's always tomorrow ... and the day after that, and that, and the next day" and I think you get my drift here. Tomorrow comes alright, but my motivation has got up, gone, and sent me a postcard from Tahiti entitled "Wish You Were Here" ...
And I do wish I was there, because being here is like being stuck in the middle of the ocean with no boat, no paddles and not a life jacket in site, waiting for a Great White to come bite my feet off. (Am I the only one who still clings to the childhood fear that somewhere in the depths of the swimming pool a shark is just waiting for an opportunity? Damn Jaws!) But here I am, typing away on my computer because I hadn't yet blogged today and that my friends, is always an excuse to skip the domestic chores. Did I mention that procrastination and I, are very close friends?
Oh well, time to make the doughnuts.
You see, it all started with the kitchen sink. That was my first plan of attack. But I fell victim to procrastination, and when I wasn't looking she snuck right in and whispered into my ear, "Sit ... relax ... there's always tomorrow ... and the day after that, and that, and the next day" and I think you get my drift here. Tomorrow comes alright, but my motivation has got up, gone, and sent me a postcard from Tahiti entitled "Wish You Were Here" ...
And I do wish I was there, because being here is like being stuck in the middle of the ocean with no boat, no paddles and not a life jacket in site, waiting for a Great White to come bite my feet off. (Am I the only one who still clings to the childhood fear that somewhere in the depths of the swimming pool a shark is just waiting for an opportunity? Damn Jaws!) But here I am, typing away on my computer because I hadn't yet blogged today and that my friends, is always an excuse to skip the domestic chores. Did I mention that procrastination and I, are very close friends?
Oh well, time to make the doughnuts.
Well, all I have to say is, at least he didn't pick the girl whose boyfriend had no idea he'd been dumped, otherwise Mr. F. would have made my list of top ranking idiots. Still I have to wonder if any feelings they have, can actually be real, or just concocted out of need to supply the television audience with some sizzle. But in reality, these tv shows while making a killing in the ratings, fall very short of their mark to produce relationships that have any chance of survival, once the cameras have all gone home.
Obviously, marrying a millioniare didn't get Darva Conger very far, and Aaron and Helene suffered through a very short lived engagenment and who could forget about Joe "I'm not really a millionaire, but I play one on tv" and Zora "humiliated but compensated" from Foxes Joe Millionaire, where the most likable person turned out to be the butler. Time still has yet to tell, on the last Bacholorette Trista and her man Ryan, yet I'm not holding out too much hope that they'll actually find themselves reeping marital bliss any time soon. Call me a cynic, but I'm not buying into happily ever after.
The only downfall I can see, to all of the above scenarios, is that even I have been hoodwinked into becoming a member of the viewing audience. I may not have been a dedicated viewer, but it goes to show that catching a little bit of the "trainwreck", was more than enough to keep me informed and in the know.
Feeling the need to do some good today? Click here to fund free mammograms.
Obviously, marrying a millioniare didn't get Darva Conger very far, and Aaron and Helene suffered through a very short lived engagenment and who could forget about Joe "I'm not really a millionaire, but I play one on tv" and Zora "humiliated but compensated" from Foxes Joe Millionaire, where the most likable person turned out to be the butler. Time still has yet to tell, on the last Bacholorette Trista and her man Ryan, yet I'm not holding out too much hope that they'll actually find themselves reeping marital bliss any time soon. Call me a cynic, but I'm not buying into happily ever after.
The only downfall I can see, to all of the above scenarios, is that even I have been hoodwinked into becoming a member of the viewing audience. I may not have been a dedicated viewer, but it goes to show that catching a little bit of the "trainwreck", was more than enough to keep me informed and in the know.
Feeling the need to do some good today? Click here to fund free mammograms.
Am I the only girl on the planet that thinks "The Bachelor" is a complete slimeball! I don't know how anyone can take any of this seriously! How can he possibly have any clue about what love is, when he is locking lips with any female who happens to be within close proximity to him! And how can these women actually put themselves up on the auction block, knowing that at the same time he is "wooing" them, he's shacking up just the same with some other girl! One word ... YUCK!
And just an FYI to make sure I've set the record straight here, I felt the exact same way about "The Bachelorette". I couldn't believe the amount of spit being swapped with just about everyone, all the time. Personally, I found it rather disgusting and self-serving. But enough about reality tv.
Mom called earlier this evening and has informed me of her impending arrival. I have exactly 2 weeks from today to get my house Mom ready. Anybody who has a Mom who is a perfectionist, will know exactly what it is I'm talking about. My Mom will overhaul my entire house, if I haven't already done it by the time she gets here! She is a firm believer that everything has its place, which is a far cry from my theory that everything can be hidden in a drawer somewhere. So better to do it now, that get the lecture on why it wasn't done before. Besides after she heads back to North Carolina, I can return to my evil ways.
Well, it's off to bed with me. I have to set my alarm for a very ridiculous time and I am not one who functions well without a full 8 hours.
And just an FYI to make sure I've set the record straight here, I felt the exact same way about "The Bachelorette". I couldn't believe the amount of spit being swapped with just about everyone, all the time. Personally, I found it rather disgusting and self-serving. But enough about reality tv.
Mom called earlier this evening and has informed me of her impending arrival. I have exactly 2 weeks from today to get my house Mom ready. Anybody who has a Mom who is a perfectionist, will know exactly what it is I'm talking about. My Mom will overhaul my entire house, if I haven't already done it by the time she gets here! She is a firm believer that everything has its place, which is a far cry from my theory that everything can be hidden in a drawer somewhere. So better to do it now, that get the lecture on why it wasn't done before. Besides after she heads back to North Carolina, I can return to my evil ways.
Well, it's off to bed with me. I have to set my alarm for a very ridiculous time and I am not one who functions well without a full 8 hours.
Nothing beats a hot steaming shower, with some energetic calypso music blasting from the stereo speakers, as you scrub yesterday's grime away. Who could help but dance, even though it's been reported that a majority of all household accidents happen in the bathroom. It did occur to me that I was increasing my chance of risk, since I don't have those sticky things that stick to the bottom of the tub as well as to the bottom of your feet, but I was feeling risky and so I danced, lavender soap in hand. That was until the smoke alarm went off anyway! I'd forgotten to turn on the fan as well as shut the door to the bathroom. So then I had to scramble out, turn on the fan, wave my hands a few times in the direction of the alarm and shut the door hoping most, if not all of my neighbors had already started their day much earlier than I had.
I had an absolutely wonderful girl's day out yesterday with Brenda. We shopped the plaza, starting with Pier 1 (overpriced), Bed, Bath and Beyond (really overpriced), and then to my most favorite stop on any shopping venture, Barnes and Nobles (pricey, but I had a $50.00 gift certificate burning a whole in my wallet). Brenda is not an avid reader, but she knows how I am, so instead of trailing my search for the ultimate read, she opted to meet me over in the kids section, just as soon I had found whatever it was I was looking for. Which, shows you how much of a good friend she is, when she knows that I could spend entire days undisturbed in a bookstore.
However, with the makings of a migraine stirring around my temples, I made short work of finding a book I had researched on the internet (which I have already finished as of this morning) and opted to buy some music that I have been wanting. One was a replacement disk for my favorite Tori album, that has so many scratches on it, I began to wonder if Emma had been making a little music of her own. Actually, considering that I cart that CD just about everywhere I go, I'm just surprised it lasted as long as it did. Then I finally bought the new James Taylor CD "October Road", my mother has been raving about, for the last couple of months. I guess I finally figured why not and made it mine. Turns out Mom was right, but then again she usually is.
Barnes and Noble was followed by a stop for dinner at Applebee's, where I had yet another gift certificate begging to be used. Evidently, 6:30-ish is a very popular time for dinner on a Saturday night, so they gave us one of those little boxes that lights up like it's connected to a panic button, when they have an available table. Brenda looked at me, the crowded waiting room and said one word, "Bar". After all, why wait when there was a perfectly fine bar with more than enough available seating?
Of course, that brings up the matter of stools and why they have to be so unnaturally high. For a short person like myself, climbing up onto one of those stools is like reaching the peak of Mt. Everest. A comment, I felt free to make out loud, giving the cute bartender something to smirk about, as he asked us ladies what we'd like to drink. Brenda opted for a mud slide, while I, unable to decide that quickly asked for a strawberry daquiry just to take the pressure off. So then the cute bartender, (whose looks are plummeting in my opinion) asks Brenda for her license to make sure she is old enough for a liquored beverage, but then has the audacity to NOT ask me for mine! What a slap in the face! Was this in some small way a veiled insult towards my person? He had one of two options, I figured ... Either he thought I was way older than I looked or he was assuming since we were together that I, of course, had to be within the same age bracket. In which case, he's guilty regardless of his opinion, as everyone knows in a situation such as this the only right thing to do is card both women!
Brenda brought up an interesting point, wondering whether or not the bartender thought we were lesbians, since we were two apparently single women, enjoying a drink at the bar. "Doubtful or wishful thinking", I told her, "otherwise the same could be said for every woman in the place with a man not surgically attached to her hip. Besides, I'd make a horrible lesbian and I don't find you the least bit attractive ..." Luckily, the panic button on our dial a table went off, before the conversation could go any further.
Brenda and I have figured out that Applebee's must have a clause in their employment applications, because every server there seems to be an "All American" fresh faced college boy. Not that we were complaining, although I was quick to disabuse our FFCB of his notion that he was going to seat us in a booth. "I hate to be a pain," I told him, "but could we please have a table?" You would have thought I just asked him for a quickie in the bathroom, the way his jaw dropped down to his knees. Evidently, the patrons of Applebee's have never before had the audacity to question his judgement on the seating options. But I got my table and so I was happy, even though I had messed up any equilibrium the poor boy had left floating around in his head.
Then came our actual server, the one and only server who I might add, must be related to management because he did not fall into the same vein of future hunk, captain of the football team good lucks. By the end of the meal, we were affectionately calling him "Mumbles" because between the two of us, neither one of us was ever able to decipher any word that actually made it out of his mouth. I think we made him nervous, sophisticated 20 something females that we were, whose conversations encompassed more than the latest buzz from MTV.News and the who's who from the list of available good time girls in the men's bathroom.
The poor boy was certainly frazzled, because upon asking for our check, he came back with 2 styrofoam containers which we had only to assume was the leftovers of a dinner we had no intention of taking with us. Brenda in a moment of pity, was about to take the containers to ease the burden of his blunder, but I wasn't about to add food containers to the list of packaging we already were carrying. "I asked for the check, we didn't want to take anything with us." I said to Mumbles, which started a line of stuttering apologies. "Perfectly ok", I told him attempting to calm him before he hit postal, "We just need the check and we'll be all set." He practically set off at a dead run as Brenda laughed. "You know Stacey, you can be a real bitch." She said, which of course was really her way of paying me a compliment. Smiling, my answer was just as cheeky, "That's why we're friends, Bren."
I had an absolutely wonderful girl's day out yesterday with Brenda. We shopped the plaza, starting with Pier 1 (overpriced), Bed, Bath and Beyond (really overpriced), and then to my most favorite stop on any shopping venture, Barnes and Nobles (pricey, but I had a $50.00 gift certificate burning a whole in my wallet). Brenda is not an avid reader, but she knows how I am, so instead of trailing my search for the ultimate read, she opted to meet me over in the kids section, just as soon I had found whatever it was I was looking for. Which, shows you how much of a good friend she is, when she knows that I could spend entire days undisturbed in a bookstore.
However, with the makings of a migraine stirring around my temples, I made short work of finding a book I had researched on the internet (which I have already finished as of this morning) and opted to buy some music that I have been wanting. One was a replacement disk for my favorite Tori album, that has so many scratches on it, I began to wonder if Emma had been making a little music of her own. Actually, considering that I cart that CD just about everywhere I go, I'm just surprised it lasted as long as it did. Then I finally bought the new James Taylor CD "October Road", my mother has been raving about, for the last couple of months. I guess I finally figured why not and made it mine. Turns out Mom was right, but then again she usually is.
Barnes and Noble was followed by a stop for dinner at Applebee's, where I had yet another gift certificate begging to be used. Evidently, 6:30-ish is a very popular time for dinner on a Saturday night, so they gave us one of those little boxes that lights up like it's connected to a panic button, when they have an available table. Brenda looked at me, the crowded waiting room and said one word, "Bar". After all, why wait when there was a perfectly fine bar with more than enough available seating?
Of course, that brings up the matter of stools and why they have to be so unnaturally high. For a short person like myself, climbing up onto one of those stools is like reaching the peak of Mt. Everest. A comment, I felt free to make out loud, giving the cute bartender something to smirk about, as he asked us ladies what we'd like to drink. Brenda opted for a mud slide, while I, unable to decide that quickly asked for a strawberry daquiry just to take the pressure off. So then the cute bartender, (whose looks are plummeting in my opinion) asks Brenda for her license to make sure she is old enough for a liquored beverage, but then has the audacity to NOT ask me for mine! What a slap in the face! Was this in some small way a veiled insult towards my person? He had one of two options, I figured ... Either he thought I was way older than I looked or he was assuming since we were together that I, of course, had to be within the same age bracket. In which case, he's guilty regardless of his opinion, as everyone knows in a situation such as this the only right thing to do is card both women!
Brenda brought up an interesting point, wondering whether or not the bartender thought we were lesbians, since we were two apparently single women, enjoying a drink at the bar. "Doubtful or wishful thinking", I told her, "otherwise the same could be said for every woman in the place with a man not surgically attached to her hip. Besides, I'd make a horrible lesbian and I don't find you the least bit attractive ..." Luckily, the panic button on our dial a table went off, before the conversation could go any further.
Brenda and I have figured out that Applebee's must have a clause in their employment applications, because every server there seems to be an "All American" fresh faced college boy. Not that we were complaining, although I was quick to disabuse our FFCB of his notion that he was going to seat us in a booth. "I hate to be a pain," I told him, "but could we please have a table?" You would have thought I just asked him for a quickie in the bathroom, the way his jaw dropped down to his knees. Evidently, the patrons of Applebee's have never before had the audacity to question his judgement on the seating options. But I got my table and so I was happy, even though I had messed up any equilibrium the poor boy had left floating around in his head.
Then came our actual server, the one and only server who I might add, must be related to management because he did not fall into the same vein of future hunk, captain of the football team good lucks. By the end of the meal, we were affectionately calling him "Mumbles" because between the two of us, neither one of us was ever able to decipher any word that actually made it out of his mouth. I think we made him nervous, sophisticated 20 something females that we were, whose conversations encompassed more than the latest buzz from MTV.News and the who's who from the list of available good time girls in the men's bathroom.
The poor boy was certainly frazzled, because upon asking for our check, he came back with 2 styrofoam containers which we had only to assume was the leftovers of a dinner we had no intention of taking with us. Brenda in a moment of pity, was about to take the containers to ease the burden of his blunder, but I wasn't about to add food containers to the list of packaging we already were carrying. "I asked for the check, we didn't want to take anything with us." I said to Mumbles, which started a line of stuttering apologies. "Perfectly ok", I told him attempting to calm him before he hit postal, "We just need the check and we'll be all set." He practically set off at a dead run as Brenda laughed. "You know Stacey, you can be a real bitch." She said, which of course was really her way of paying me a compliment. Smiling, my answer was just as cheeky, "That's why we're friends, Bren."
Hmmm ... What a very weird night of dream manifestations, ranging from a black puppy named Socrates, 2 Siamese kittens and their brooding mama, KC missing the bus, and me having a conversation with about 80 million people gathered around, while wearing nothing but a blanket! This however, was not even the tip of the iceberg, since waterskiing on giant flat fish, seems a bit out of the ordinary. As well as me hanging out in some of the poshest digs, that I have ever seen and being proposed to by a gorgeous dream man, who gets down on bended knee and slides the biggest strawberry known to man, onto my ring finger! Who could blame me for saying, "I do"? I think Brian Adams might have been hanging out in my dreams too, but I can't be sure.
So today is supposed to be a day of excitement! I'm just waiting now, for it not to be so early, before calling Brenda. I have this mother ingrained belief system, that there are appropriate times to call someone as well as inappropriate times. In my mother's household, anything before 8 a.m. was rude and anything after 9 p.m. had better have been emergency related.
I've carried this belief sometimes to the extreme since being out on my own. I remember one time, when my oldest sister Amy, tried to fix me up with some guy named Theo. A nice gesture, I am sure, but one that failed to meet expectations. Perhaps she should have clued the poor soul, (although what I really meant to type was moron) that when calling a girl for the very first time, one does not want to do that anytime after 11:00 at night. This was the extent of the call ...
Theo: Hi is Stacey there?
Me: Do you know what time it is?
Theo: Is this Stacey?
Me: Do you know what time it is?
Theo: Your sister told me I should call.
Me: Do you know what time it is?
Theo: Umm, well it's a little after 11.
Me: Goodnight.
In my defense here for acting like the world's biggest bitch, (which I have been referred to as, on more than one occasion by people with a bug in their shorts) KC, who was only 2 at the time, was woken up by the phone call. What momma wouldn't be mad? Needless to say, that blind date was over before it even began.
So today is supposed to be a day of excitement! I'm just waiting now, for it not to be so early, before calling Brenda. I have this mother ingrained belief system, that there are appropriate times to call someone as well as inappropriate times. In my mother's household, anything before 8 a.m. was rude and anything after 9 p.m. had better have been emergency related.
I've carried this belief sometimes to the extreme since being out on my own. I remember one time, when my oldest sister Amy, tried to fix me up with some guy named Theo. A nice gesture, I am sure, but one that failed to meet expectations. Perhaps she should have clued the poor soul, (although what I really meant to type was moron) that when calling a girl for the very first time, one does not want to do that anytime after 11:00 at night. This was the extent of the call ...
Theo: Hi is Stacey there?
Me: Do you know what time it is?
Theo: Is this Stacey?
Me: Do you know what time it is?
Theo: Your sister told me I should call.
Me: Do you know what time it is?
Theo: Umm, well it's a little after 11.
Me: Goodnight.
In my defense here for acting like the world's biggest bitch, (which I have been referred to as, on more than one occasion by people with a bug in their shorts) KC, who was only 2 at the time, was woken up by the phone call. What momma wouldn't be mad? Needless to say, that blind date was over before it even began.
In case you didn't know, some things should never be shouted down the hall at the top of your lungs, while you are at work. This would include clever phrases like, "Can anyone tell me where I can find some lays?" You after all, are the only one who knows that the lay you are referring to, is the one worn around your neck at your youngest sister's Hawaiian themed graduation party.
Of course, nothing beats a flesh and blood cowboy walking into your life when you least expect it, which happened right around lunch time today. Tight denim jeans, leather boots and a how about me and you mosey on off somewhere into the sunset for a little quality time, sly smile. Mr. Good Enough to Eat, had all the office girls sighing in unison. Cheryl even professed a new found interest for horse back riding. All I could say was cowgirl up, giddyup ya little doggies.
I was talking to a girlfriend the other night, and we have decided that the word "single" is in desperate need of a replacement. I offered up a new age solution for explaining our solo status. I think open for opportunity sounds a lot better than almost 30, cat owning spinster, desperate for any attention from the opposite sex, planning the wedding before meeting the groom puts much more of a positive spin to the situation. Now if only I could convince everyone else of this.
Woo hoo! I just got an email from my very best friend in the entire world ... Brenda Gail, ladies and gentlemen, Brenda Gail. She wants to know what my plans are for this weekend ... (Checking my schedule ... Yup no plans.) So of course, I just wrote her back that I am game for absolutely ANYTHING. Crikes! Now my sister Amy is IM'ing me ... Lordy, but I am popular. I feel like tossing my hair and stomping on all the little people.
Ach ... She is such a maroon. She just asked me if I know some obscure screen name, because they have sent her an email photo attachment. Uh hello ... Internet user 101, never open emails that contain attachments from people you do not know. Wasn't that covered in the All I Needed to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten?
I had an odd dream last night about Squiggy, my pet goldfish. He was in this huge bathtub which turned out to be a lake and I was in my hipwaders, reeling in my line, like he was an eight pound tuna on my hook. Reeling him in and letting him loose, we played cat and mouse for a solid ten dream minutes before the whole fishing scenario finally bored me enough to just bring him in. Of course, even in my dreams, I'm not stupid and I made someone else undo the hook from his mouth, just so I could release him and start all over again. What would Freud have to say about that? Did you ever notice that most of his theories revolved around penis envy. Surely, I do not jest.
Well, I am off to listen to some moderately loud music and play domestic goddess before heading upstairs to bed. Sweet dreams all, enjoy the lunar eclipse.
Of course, nothing beats a flesh and blood cowboy walking into your life when you least expect it, which happened right around lunch time today. Tight denim jeans, leather boots and a how about me and you mosey on off somewhere into the sunset for a little quality time, sly smile. Mr. Good Enough to Eat, had all the office girls sighing in unison. Cheryl even professed a new found interest for horse back riding. All I could say was cowgirl up, giddyup ya little doggies.
I was talking to a girlfriend the other night, and we have decided that the word "single" is in desperate need of a replacement. I offered up a new age solution for explaining our solo status. I think open for opportunity sounds a lot better than almost 30, cat owning spinster, desperate for any attention from the opposite sex, planning the wedding before meeting the groom puts much more of a positive spin to the situation. Now if only I could convince everyone else of this.
Woo hoo! I just got an email from my very best friend in the entire world ... Brenda Gail, ladies and gentlemen, Brenda Gail. She wants to know what my plans are for this weekend ... (Checking my schedule ... Yup no plans.) So of course, I just wrote her back that I am game for absolutely ANYTHING. Crikes! Now my sister Amy is IM'ing me ... Lordy, but I am popular. I feel like tossing my hair and stomping on all the little people.
Ach ... She is such a maroon. She just asked me if I know some obscure screen name, because they have sent her an email photo attachment. Uh hello ... Internet user 101, never open emails that contain attachments from people you do not know. Wasn't that covered in the All I Needed to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten?
I had an odd dream last night about Squiggy, my pet goldfish. He was in this huge bathtub which turned out to be a lake and I was in my hipwaders, reeling in my line, like he was an eight pound tuna on my hook. Reeling him in and letting him loose, we played cat and mouse for a solid ten dream minutes before the whole fishing scenario finally bored me enough to just bring him in. Of course, even in my dreams, I'm not stupid and I made someone else undo the hook from his mouth, just so I could release him and start all over again. What would Freud have to say about that? Did you ever notice that most of his theories revolved around penis envy. Surely, I do not jest.
Well, I am off to listen to some moderately loud music and play domestic goddess before heading upstairs to bed. Sweet dreams all, enjoy the lunar eclipse.
I have one of the worst headaches ever! If I didn't feel so guilty about not updating my blog on a daily basis, I'd be in bed trying to sleep this off, since my advil has yet to work!!!! But I need to post ...
Tonight we had riggies and meatballs for dinner, which didn't turn out too bad considering I was completely out of fresh garlic. A pisser for sure but one I managed to sidestep in order to get the meal made. Whenever I make meatballs, it's as if I'm transported back in time. Instead of my own little kitchen, I stand at the ready by my Nonni's side, watching as her weathered hands plow down into the bowl, churning the meat, spice and breadcrumb mixture round and round. I remember always being in such awe that she never measured anything, always knowing exactly how much of each ingredient was required to make the perfect meatball and how her hands cupping over themselves would mold the meat into the most round circles I have ever seen. Being Italian, Nonni made sure her grandaughter's were well educated in the kitchen.
It's no wonder, that making meatballs should remind me of her, making me feel as if she were still here, guiding me during the preparation, like an angel over my shoulder. Maybe it would explain why at the precise moment I was making meatballs tonight, this was the song that filled my kitchen with music.Artist : Ringo Starr
Song : Never Without You
And your song
Will play on
Without you
And this world
Won't forget
About you
Every part of you was in your song
Now we will carry on
Never without you (Without you without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
'Here Comes the Sun' is about you
Here today
Not alone
With my memories
Life is strange
How things change
It's reality
You played a beautiful melody
That keeps on haunting me
I can always feel you
By my side
And your song (Your song)
Will play on (Play on)
Without you (Without you)
And this world (This world)
Won't forget (Forget)
About you (About you)
Every part of you was in your song
Now we will carry on
Never without you (Without you without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
'Here Comes the Sun' is about you
I know all things must pass
And only love will last
I'll always love the memories
Of you and me…
And your song (Your song)
Will play on (Play on)
Without you (Without you)
And this world (This world)
Won't forget (Forget)
About you (About you)
Every part of you was in your song (Your song)
Now we will carry on
Never without you (Never without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
We're never without you (We're never without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
We're never without you (We're never without you)
We're never without you (We're never without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
I think love is about you...
Tonight we had riggies and meatballs for dinner, which didn't turn out too bad considering I was completely out of fresh garlic. A pisser for sure but one I managed to sidestep in order to get the meal made. Whenever I make meatballs, it's as if I'm transported back in time. Instead of my own little kitchen, I stand at the ready by my Nonni's side, watching as her weathered hands plow down into the bowl, churning the meat, spice and breadcrumb mixture round and round. I remember always being in such awe that she never measured anything, always knowing exactly how much of each ingredient was required to make the perfect meatball and how her hands cupping over themselves would mold the meat into the most round circles I have ever seen. Being Italian, Nonni made sure her grandaughter's were well educated in the kitchen.
It's no wonder, that making meatballs should remind me of her, making me feel as if she were still here, guiding me during the preparation, like an angel over my shoulder. Maybe it would explain why at the precise moment I was making meatballs tonight, this was the song that filled my kitchen with music.Artist : Ringo Starr
Song : Never Without You
And your song
Will play on
Without you
And this world
Won't forget
About you
Every part of you was in your song
Now we will carry on
Never without you (Without you without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
'Here Comes the Sun' is about you
Here today
Not alone
With my memories
Life is strange
How things change
It's reality
You played a beautiful melody
That keeps on haunting me
I can always feel you
By my side
And your song (Your song)
Will play on (Play on)
Without you (Without you)
And this world (This world)
Won't forget (Forget)
About you (About you)
Every part of you was in your song
Now we will carry on
Never without you (Without you without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
'Here Comes the Sun' is about you
I know all things must pass
And only love will last
I'll always love the memories
Of you and me…
And your song (Your song)
Will play on (Play on)
Without you (Without you)
And this world (This world)
Won't forget (Forget)
About you (About you)
Every part of you was in your song (Your song)
Now we will carry on
Never without you (Never without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
We're never without you (We're never without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
We're never without you (We're never without you)
We're never without you (We're never without you)
Within you without you (Within you without you)
I think love is about you...
4 days until Friday and yes, it seems that I've already started the countdown for this week. I just can't seem to help it though. Maybe we all would have been better off, if no one had ever come up with the great idea of currency. I for one, can't really figure out what was so wrong about the trade and barter system ... Here's a chicken, now give me one of those things right over there.
Instead, we've got ghoulish looking green guys with bad profiles hanging out in our wallets. Ooooh, just what I've always wanted. Well, actually that is pretty much what I've always wanted, hence why I keep playing the lottery. It seems my dreams hold out a lot longer than my dollars. Oh well. Maybe that would change if we could put some female profiles on them there greenbacks. It's sad when your bad luck with men extends over into the paper currency kind. Yikes!
Joe brought up an interesting point today while we were wasting 8 hours away in the dungeon. Having moved my office one more door away from my boss, Joe is now realizing there is a downside to my move. I contend however, that I simply cannot be held responsible for the fact that my voice was made for Broadway. It's like I told Linda today, while defending myself to my new neighbor. "I can't help it that I enuciate clearly and that my voice has a natural projection. I was meant for the stage, not this life of drudgery I am currently leading." This of course, was followed by a very long soliloquy utilizing every ounce of drama I posess. Linda, at least, was amused ... Joe not so much.
Although he did seem to get a kick out of my periodic outbursts after finishing a conversation with a customer. Following is a list of the few comments I was purported to have made ...
Dickhead, moron, idiot, jerk, whatever, loser, not if you paid me ... Etc., etc., etc. ... The list according to Joe was quite colorful and extensive. Guess my vocabulary skills are up to par! Heh heh heh.
Instead, we've got ghoulish looking green guys with bad profiles hanging out in our wallets. Ooooh, just what I've always wanted. Well, actually that is pretty much what I've always wanted, hence why I keep playing the lottery. It seems my dreams hold out a lot longer than my dollars. Oh well. Maybe that would change if we could put some female profiles on them there greenbacks. It's sad when your bad luck with men extends over into the paper currency kind. Yikes!
Joe brought up an interesting point today while we were wasting 8 hours away in the dungeon. Having moved my office one more door away from my boss, Joe is now realizing there is a downside to my move. I contend however, that I simply cannot be held responsible for the fact that my voice was made for Broadway. It's like I told Linda today, while defending myself to my new neighbor. "I can't help it that I enuciate clearly and that my voice has a natural projection. I was meant for the stage, not this life of drudgery I am currently leading." This of course, was followed by a very long soliloquy utilizing every ounce of drama I posess. Linda, at least, was amused ... Joe not so much.
Although he did seem to get a kick out of my periodic outbursts after finishing a conversation with a customer. Following is a list of the few comments I was purported to have made ...
Dickhead, moron, idiot, jerk, whatever, loser, not if you paid me ... Etc., etc., etc. ... The list according to Joe was quite colorful and extensive. Guess my vocabulary skills are up to par! Heh heh heh.
Just another day, is how my Mother's Day is turning out to be. Which has included a maternal reminder to my young daughter KC, that the bed is not and never will be a trampoline, and that all jumping as of now is strictly forbidden. I am sure that if I had a rope, I would be at the end of it by now.
We've had some nasty thunderstorms today which have unfortunately kept us confined within the house. And just like a Sunday there is absolutely nothing good to be found on tv. I should know, I've clicked on every single station at least a trillion and one times today. So then I searched my library for something to read, but found as usual, that I have completely exhausted my reading supplies. You know it's bad when you pick up a book and can instantly remember what the story line was about and how many times you have re-read it since your initial purchase. Yes folks, I am a re-reader!
I once knew a lady who thought it was ridiculous to buy a book because after reading them, they became worthless in her opinion. This was also the same opinion she shared about movies. But I've always disagreed. It's like being given a gift twice, where your enjoyment never declines with each giving.
Uh oh. Sounds like we've got another boomer overhead, which means time for me to log off and shut down.
Happy Mother's Day to all Moms!
We've had some nasty thunderstorms today which have unfortunately kept us confined within the house. And just like a Sunday there is absolutely nothing good to be found on tv. I should know, I've clicked on every single station at least a trillion and one times today. So then I searched my library for something to read, but found as usual, that I have completely exhausted my reading supplies. You know it's bad when you pick up a book and can instantly remember what the story line was about and how many times you have re-read it since your initial purchase. Yes folks, I am a re-reader!
I once knew a lady who thought it was ridiculous to buy a book because after reading them, they became worthless in her opinion. This was also the same opinion she shared about movies. But I've always disagreed. It's like being given a gift twice, where your enjoyment never declines with each giving.
Uh oh. Sounds like we've got another boomer overhead, which means time for me to log off and shut down.
Happy Mother's Day to all Moms!
Today started off just like any other day when I mistakenly press the wrong button on my alarm clock, and wind up turning it off, rather that just hitting the snooze. Iiieee!!!! Nothing but rush, rush, rush, rush ... Jump in the shower, jump out, race downstairs, search laundry room for something resembling clean clothes. Dry hair, apply make-up, forego curling iron, opt for messy wind blown look, tame it down some as to avoid wind tunnel comments made by uninformed male co-workers that this look is actually in, in, in ... Stop and breathe, but just for a second ...
Yell upstairs to KC, time to wake up, rise and shine, zipadeedoodah, let's go! Make second trip into laundry room, to find clean clothes for minor child, make mental note that laundry really needs to be folded and taken upstairs and put away in dressers. Dressers? Yes! Large hollow objects with sliding attachments that store miscellaneous items of clothing ... And all this time I never knew! Then it's brush the teeth, don the shoes, write bus pass, dig for lunch money, pack the bookbag and out the door. A quick kiss goodbye, have a nice day, remember your manners and a farewell wave, child is given into the hands of morning sitter and Mom is hustling and bustling to get to work on time.
Coldplay in the CD player, window rolled down to half way, watching for wildlife on the way to work. One mallard, two Canadian Geese, one Blue Heron and a near miss as I direct the car back from the shoulder of the road. Reminding myself (again) to pay attention, wondering why I suffer from chronic Auto A.D.D. ... Get to work, record time, feeling it's going to be a good day, a one duck, two geese, one heron sort of lucky day. But then it's gone. Standing there, trying to understand what it is I'm seeing. Panic! Set off in a run towards the front door and into the office. Breathless, in John's room, words moving a mile a minute through my lips. "Do you know? CPR! Call 911 ... Need an ambulance!"
Shaking, hands won't be still, blood pumping, heart thumping, waiting ... Waving arms to the rescue vehicle, that way, that way ... How fast everything is moving, how slow it seems to be, watching. A hysterical woman, dark hair, being held as the crew works over the man lying there in the middle of the parking lot. They've taken off his shirt, he's not moving. How long has it been, how long? Pumping his chest, giving him air ... Nothing! Still nothing. More time passes, it's been too long, too long. I can feel the woman's tears, my God, my God. And then it's still. The parking lot is silent, the rescue men back up and move away. Heart attack, I hear someone beside me whisper.
Quietly we walk back into the building. "Are you ok?" ... "No, are you?" I'm in shock. My God, a man just died in our parking light, right in front of me. I can't help but think that wasn't how it was supposed to happen, he wasn't supposed to die. We did everything right, he had immediate CPR, the rescue crew was there within seconds ... Everyone tried to make him live. Why did it end so wrong?
I sit in my office. My phone is ringing, ringing, ringing ... How can I answer my phone? I just watched a man die in the parking lot. Why is my phone ringing? Tears are streaming down my face, I can't stop shaking. I can't imagine what his wife must be feeling. How can I possibly talk to anyone, when I can't even breathe in enough air? I take a moment. Everyone is kind of quiet, but soon work begins. The humming of the printers the first noise to invade the silence, talking resumes, people are walking up and down the halls, someone laughs. Life goes on, except for the man who just died in the parking lot. Someone says they have loaded his body into the ambulance, to go to the hospital, the wife has gone too.
My phone is ringing again. This time, I know I have to answer. I catch my breath and say hello. The man on the other end is cheerful, he asks me how I am today. I answer that I am fine, I don't mention the fact that I just saw a man dying in the parking lot. He wouldn't want to know that. He doesn't even stop to question why my voice isn't the same sunny sound he is used to hearing. He places his order, I read it back and thank him for his call, replacing the receiver back into its cradle. Time moves on.
Sirens
Somewhere in the distance
sirens scream.
Echoing across wind blown fields,
(RUSH)
until the sound is gone,
fading further into a distance
that hearing cannot measure.
I wonder if not hearing the sirens
has lessened the emergency.
But even moments after the thought has crossed my mind
it is almost forgotten.
Somewhere there is someone living this moment,
the sound of sirens ringing in their ears,
attached to the drama of a speeding emergency
blazing down the highway beyond the field,
en route to a destination unknown by me
to a fate unknown.
In these moments I know I have heard
the minutes of a ticking clock.
The sound of life, death, joy
and despair.
Still I go on as before
the sirens no longer disrupting
what remains of this morning. ~ Stacey * written 07-06-2000
How odd, that this poem I wrote three years ago, reflects so much of this morning. You just never know.
Yell upstairs to KC, time to wake up, rise and shine, zipadeedoodah, let's go! Make second trip into laundry room, to find clean clothes for minor child, make mental note that laundry really needs to be folded and taken upstairs and put away in dressers. Dressers? Yes! Large hollow objects with sliding attachments that store miscellaneous items of clothing ... And all this time I never knew! Then it's brush the teeth, don the shoes, write bus pass, dig for lunch money, pack the bookbag and out the door. A quick kiss goodbye, have a nice day, remember your manners and a farewell wave, child is given into the hands of morning sitter and Mom is hustling and bustling to get to work on time.
Coldplay in the CD player, window rolled down to half way, watching for wildlife on the way to work. One mallard, two Canadian Geese, one Blue Heron and a near miss as I direct the car back from the shoulder of the road. Reminding myself (again) to pay attention, wondering why I suffer from chronic Auto A.D.D. ... Get to work, record time, feeling it's going to be a good day, a one duck, two geese, one heron sort of lucky day. But then it's gone. Standing there, trying to understand what it is I'm seeing. Panic! Set off in a run towards the front door and into the office. Breathless, in John's room, words moving a mile a minute through my lips. "Do you know? CPR! Call 911 ... Need an ambulance!"
Shaking, hands won't be still, blood pumping, heart thumping, waiting ... Waving arms to the rescue vehicle, that way, that way ... How fast everything is moving, how slow it seems to be, watching. A hysterical woman, dark hair, being held as the crew works over the man lying there in the middle of the parking lot. They've taken off his shirt, he's not moving. How long has it been, how long? Pumping his chest, giving him air ... Nothing! Still nothing. More time passes, it's been too long, too long. I can feel the woman's tears, my God, my God. And then it's still. The parking lot is silent, the rescue men back up and move away. Heart attack, I hear someone beside me whisper.
Quietly we walk back into the building. "Are you ok?" ... "No, are you?" I'm in shock. My God, a man just died in our parking light, right in front of me. I can't help but think that wasn't how it was supposed to happen, he wasn't supposed to die. We did everything right, he had immediate CPR, the rescue crew was there within seconds ... Everyone tried to make him live. Why did it end so wrong?
I sit in my office. My phone is ringing, ringing, ringing ... How can I answer my phone? I just watched a man die in the parking lot. Why is my phone ringing? Tears are streaming down my face, I can't stop shaking. I can't imagine what his wife must be feeling. How can I possibly talk to anyone, when I can't even breathe in enough air? I take a moment. Everyone is kind of quiet, but soon work begins. The humming of the printers the first noise to invade the silence, talking resumes, people are walking up and down the halls, someone laughs. Life goes on, except for the man who just died in the parking lot. Someone says they have loaded his body into the ambulance, to go to the hospital, the wife has gone too.
My phone is ringing again. This time, I know I have to answer. I catch my breath and say hello. The man on the other end is cheerful, he asks me how I am today. I answer that I am fine, I don't mention the fact that I just saw a man dying in the parking lot. He wouldn't want to know that. He doesn't even stop to question why my voice isn't the same sunny sound he is used to hearing. He places his order, I read it back and thank him for his call, replacing the receiver back into its cradle. Time moves on.
Sirens
Somewhere in the distance
sirens scream.
Echoing across wind blown fields,
(RUSH)
until the sound is gone,
fading further into a distance
that hearing cannot measure.
I wonder if not hearing the sirens
has lessened the emergency.
But even moments after the thought has crossed my mind
it is almost forgotten.
Somewhere there is someone living this moment,
the sound of sirens ringing in their ears,
attached to the drama of a speeding emergency
blazing down the highway beyond the field,
en route to a destination unknown by me
to a fate unknown.
In these moments I know I have heard
the minutes of a ticking clock.
The sound of life, death, joy
and despair.
Still I go on as before
the sirens no longer disrupting
what remains of this morning. ~ Stacey * written 07-06-2000
How odd, that this poem I wrote three years ago, reflects so much of this morning. You just never know.
Who needs an alarm clock, when you have the birds outside your window to wake you up. The little bastards were singing away this morning, as if they were an all bird chorus practicing for a night at Carnegie Hall. Even though it was way too early to be conscious, no matter how much I tried to shut my eyes and fall back to sleep, it wasn't to be.
This is what I get for sleeping with the window open last night! And to think that all I wanted was just a little fresh air. Those birds should just consider themselves lucky my bedroom is upstairs, otherwise I would have set Emma upon them to break her morning fast. It would have beenthe 2003 remake of Bye Bye Birdie.
Yesterday at work was a fun day, and it all was on account of Linda's lunch. It's amazing what happens when you get a bunch of women together and pull out a cucumber ... Well, women who all have an excessive abundance of humor anyway. The few men in the office wisely chose to hide out in their offices upon hearing the unearthly cackling, though one brave soul was sent down as a representative to gather information.
I never knew someone could turn so red over a cucumber. Although perhaps I should blame the conversation that he chose to overhear. Which was something along the lines of a final understanding of why "C", who will be leaving us, as of this Friday to enjoy a life of leisure, managed to snag a husband kind enough to tell her that she didn't need to work if she didn't want to. I believe the exact comment was something about the relative size of the cucumber to her mouth ... Evidently that was the key to early retirement.
Comments that I can't bring myself to type here, continued to be bantered about the room until "G", one of the sales managers yelled out from his office, for someone to please come and explain to him the exact nature of our conversation. That was my cue to head in the other direction and back to my office. I get in enough trouble on my own without having to explain "L's" theory on cucumbers.
So much for the power of cheese.
Oh well, time now to get ready for another exciting day at the office. Who knows what "L" will be bringing for lunch today.
This is what I get for sleeping with the window open last night! And to think that all I wanted was just a little fresh air. Those birds should just consider themselves lucky my bedroom is upstairs, otherwise I would have set Emma upon them to break her morning fast. It would have beenthe 2003 remake of Bye Bye Birdie.
Yesterday at work was a fun day, and it all was on account of Linda's lunch. It's amazing what happens when you get a bunch of women together and pull out a cucumber ... Well, women who all have an excessive abundance of humor anyway. The few men in the office wisely chose to hide out in their offices upon hearing the unearthly cackling, though one brave soul was sent down as a representative to gather information.
I never knew someone could turn so red over a cucumber. Although perhaps I should blame the conversation that he chose to overhear. Which was something along the lines of a final understanding of why "C", who will be leaving us, as of this Friday to enjoy a life of leisure, managed to snag a husband kind enough to tell her that she didn't need to work if she didn't want to. I believe the exact comment was something about the relative size of the cucumber to her mouth ... Evidently that was the key to early retirement.
Comments that I can't bring myself to type here, continued to be bantered about the room until "G", one of the sales managers yelled out from his office, for someone to please come and explain to him the exact nature of our conversation. That was my cue to head in the other direction and back to my office. I get in enough trouble on my own without having to explain "L's" theory on cucumbers.
So much for the power of cheese.
Oh well, time now to get ready for another exciting day at the office. Who knows what "L" will be bringing for lunch today.
I met the man in my dreams last night. Just my luck, he's a complete idiot! The snippet I remember well, attests to this very simple fact.
Lying on the couch, his head propped up against a pillow, with what I suppose was his father bustling around in the background, my Mr. Right seems quite a catch. That is until he opens his mouth to speak and says, "I have a headache.", which is hardly an encouraging statement in any situation. But on closer inspection, the realization of why he has a headache comes into view. Shaking my head in disbelief, that my Romeo should be such a maroon, I break the sad news of his stupidity to him. "Take the pink pretty (child's ponytail holder) off that's wrapped around your head, you idiot!"
Perhaps I should be happy that this was only a dream. This will be one to share around the water cooler today ... I'm off to work, late as usual.
Lying on the couch, his head propped up against a pillow, with what I suppose was his father bustling around in the background, my Mr. Right seems quite a catch. That is until he opens his mouth to speak and says, "I have a headache.", which is hardly an encouraging statement in any situation. But on closer inspection, the realization of why he has a headache comes into view. Shaking my head in disbelief, that my Romeo should be such a maroon, I break the sad news of his stupidity to him. "Take the pink pretty (child's ponytail holder) off that's wrapped around your head, you idiot!"
Perhaps I should be happy that this was only a dream. This will be one to share around the water cooler today ... I'm off to work, late as usual.
Now that I've completely lost my train of thought, I don't really know where I was going with tonight's post. I do know however, that KC just got in some serious trouble. Someday my wonderful, sweet child will realize that speaking with a forked tongue is never a good idea. Her smart little mouth is always the cause for her downfall, but no matter how many times I remind her of this fact, she just keeps on going ... Maybe I should rename her "Energizer" ...
Discipline is a tedious though necessary thing. Instead of enjoying a nice quiet dinner together, little miss independent is serving time, sulking upstairs in her room. Well, I know how to enjoy a few moments of blissful silence ... I think it's about time to sit back, relax and wind down for the night and if I'm lucky, KC might realize an apology is in order and be able to leave solitary confinement some time before bedtime.
A little wishful thinking never hurt anyone.
"I am extraordinarily patient, providing I get my own way in the end." ~ Margaret Thatcher, in The Observer (1989)
Discipline is a tedious though necessary thing. Instead of enjoying a nice quiet dinner together, little miss independent is serving time, sulking upstairs in her room. Well, I know how to enjoy a few moments of blissful silence ... I think it's about time to sit back, relax and wind down for the night and if I'm lucky, KC might realize an apology is in order and be able to leave solitary confinement some time before bedtime.
A little wishful thinking never hurt anyone.
"I am extraordinarily patient, providing I get my own way in the end." ~ Margaret Thatcher, in The Observer (1989)
You know you're having a bad week when you have to ask yourself what day it is! For the record, dependable sources have informed me (much to my chagrin) that it is (ONLY) Tuesday ... But it feels so much more like Friday ... Oh where, oh where is my weekend?
I am currently logging on from my Father's house and unfortunately, about to get the boot or so it appears ... In fact, I was told that now is a good time to go home ... I'm sure he means this in a loving way of course ... Especially if he knows what's good for him! One must occasionally drop reminders that when it comes time to pick out the nursing home, that decision will be left in my more than capable hands ... (Insert evil laugh here.)
Dammit it all! This will have to be continued ...
I am currently logging on from my Father's house and unfortunately, about to get the boot or so it appears ... In fact, I was told that now is a good time to go home ... I'm sure he means this in a loving way of course ... Especially if he knows what's good for him! One must occasionally drop reminders that when it comes time to pick out the nursing home, that decision will be left in my more than capable hands ... (Insert evil laugh here.)
Dammit it all! This will have to be continued ...
Someday I am going to have a t-shirt printed that asks the simple question of "WHY XY?" ... How can one little chromosome be the cause of so much stress and upheaval in the world? When you consider the answer to the age old question of "How many licks can you get from a tootsie roll tootsie pop ..." I am not surprised to find, that
"The world may never know." Sometimes men can be plain old ignorant!
It's the age old stereotype of how women and men are perceived in the workplace. If a man demonstrates his frustrations by putting his foot down, he is perceived as taking charge. While a woman, presented in the exact same scenario is perceived as being a bitch or worse yet suffering from that "time of the month". Today marks the second day, of having a bit of a run-in with a certain male co-worker, who suffers from DMS, otherwise known as Disillusioned Male Syndrome. Now in his defense, he isn't always so hard to get along with although there are moments when he walks down the halls, as if he is expecting the red sea to part. Unfortunately, lately it's been the latter and never one to back down from a confrontation when I know I'm in the right ... Or just feeling plain old stubborn, "John" (not his real name) and I have been locking horns.
Within 10 minutes of my being at work this morning, John decided to get an early start to his own "Bruce Almighty" routine. It took all of three seconds for my blood to get fired up to the point of boiling and it was in those very seconds when I came back with the ultimate comeback to quid pro quo his statement of, "Don't give me your attitude." The answer my fellow sisters and a sure fire slogan for any t-shirt is, "Don't Like My Attitude? Then Don't Give Me Yours!" Feel free to use that the next time some XY'er gives you a hassle.
"I require only three things of a man. He must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid." ~ Dorothy Parker, in John Keats, You Might As Well Live (1970)
"The world may never know." Sometimes men can be plain old ignorant!
It's the age old stereotype of how women and men are perceived in the workplace. If a man demonstrates his frustrations by putting his foot down, he is perceived as taking charge. While a woman, presented in the exact same scenario is perceived as being a bitch or worse yet suffering from that "time of the month". Today marks the second day, of having a bit of a run-in with a certain male co-worker, who suffers from DMS, otherwise known as Disillusioned Male Syndrome. Now in his defense, he isn't always so hard to get along with although there are moments when he walks down the halls, as if he is expecting the red sea to part. Unfortunately, lately it's been the latter and never one to back down from a confrontation when I know I'm in the right ... Or just feeling plain old stubborn, "John" (not his real name) and I have been locking horns.
Within 10 minutes of my being at work this morning, John decided to get an early start to his own "Bruce Almighty" routine. It took all of three seconds for my blood to get fired up to the point of boiling and it was in those very seconds when I came back with the ultimate comeback to quid pro quo his statement of, "Don't give me your attitude." The answer my fellow sisters and a sure fire slogan for any t-shirt is, "Don't Like My Attitude? Then Don't Give Me Yours!" Feel free to use that the next time some XY'er gives you a hassle.
"I require only three things of a man. He must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid." ~ Dorothy Parker, in John Keats, You Might As Well Live (1970)
5 Things I Had Planned To Do Today But Have Decided Not To DO:
1. Laundry
2. Random Cleaning
3. Grocery Shopping
4. Hair Cut
5. Not blow off all the things I said I was going to get done today.
Things I Plan To Do Instead:
1. Enjoy the sunshine
2. Take the towel off my head.
3. Go for a pointless drive. (Anywhere the wind blows.)
4. Call my Mother.
5. Confiscate Pop's video camera and film home movie of grandchildren to send to Mom during her convalescence.
6. Break out the Nikon and take some serious shots.
1. Laundry
2. Random Cleaning
3. Grocery Shopping
4. Hair Cut
5. Not blow off all the things I said I was going to get done today.
Things I Plan To Do Instead:
1. Enjoy the sunshine
2. Take the towel off my head.
3. Go for a pointless drive. (Anywhere the wind blows.)
4. Call my Mother.
5. Confiscate Pop's video camera and film home movie of grandchildren to send to Mom during her convalescence.
6. Break out the Nikon and take some serious shots.
Yesterday I was queen of the rants ... It seems my bad mood spilled over into my post, which of course induced me to suggest boycotting the music industry ... I have since changed my mind. Ahh the freedom oh being female in America ... My guess is that with the economic downslide, people are already figuring out for themselves, what does and doesn't fit into their own budgets. Still, it's nice to occasionally get on the soap box every once in a while and feel like you're fighting for a cause.
But I know of a real cause that could use all the support it can get, won't cost a dime and will make you feel better at the end of your day! Support free mammograms here ...
But I know of a real cause that could use all the support it can get, won't cost a dime and will make you feel better at the end of your day! Support free mammograms here ...
Major typos in my previous post, but you know what, I'm not feeling like fixing them tonight so deal with it. Not that I am overly worried that anyone is going to be offended, considering that I AM THE ONLY ONE who reads this DARN blog on a daily basis. (I'm such a failure!)
Reading this article, really got me burned ...
A really big boo hoo for all the multi millionaires out there in the record business ... How about record companies get a clue and lower the prices they charge to buy music? How stupid do they think we really are, that we don't realize that were paying a hell of a lot more than that CD is actually worth.
Now I'm going to piss the music artists off here ... But come on, how much money in my wallet do you really think is yours. You get us from sun up to sun down ... Concert tickets, concert mementos, CD's, DVD's, videos, singles ... Yeah, you have a whole lot of people on your payroll but shit, I've got a lot of people standing in line to take my money too and you're just another one.
So now you're ripping on sites like Kazaa because the working man finally figured out a way to even out the score. Oh no, the big bad record companies are angry ... I shake in my boots. Sales you say are nose diving because people are sharing files ... Sales are plummeting because sharing files is cheaper than buying it in the shiny new package in the store ... Do the math folks, your prices are breaking our backs.
I for one say screw it and call for a nationwide boycott against the record companies. Power is with the consumer, we control the supply and demand. And where there is no demand, there doesn't need to be a supply. Think about it, has anyone ever died from not being able to buy a CD? I think not ... or at least I hope not. Music is a luxury item, not a neccessity. Do we need to "steal" music? Heck no! Should we expect to pay a fair price for some quality listening material? Heck yes! But instead of taking a proactive approach to solve the situation without alienating the consumer, their opting for lawsuits and intimidation. Shame on you.
And shame on Madonna, pop icon of the 80's and a singer I have very little use for. (No depth, no emotion, and not even a good singer and give up on the acting already ... Just for the record, This is my personal opinion only and not meant in any way, shape or form to influence yours.) Here's a snippet of the "Materil Girl's" latest bad idea come to fruitation.
LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter; April 27) - Anyone who thinks they can control the Internet received an object lesson during the past week.
It all started when Madonna literally lent her voice to a popular antipiracy technique. Warner Music Group had audio files purporting to be her new songs uploaded onto peer-to-peer file-sharing services. Anyone who downloaded the decoys, however, heard nothing but the pop star swearing at them. But since then, the pithy profanity has taken on a life of its own.
Some observers thought Madonna was smart to fight piracy with its own tools. Others perceived a thrown gauntlet -- hackers soon defaced Madonna's Web site with an equally profane retort along with several downloadable files of the then-unreleased songs. The defacement also carried a marriage proposal to Morgan Webb, an associate producer and on-air presenter at TechTV who had nothing to do with the prank.
A third group saw a creative opportunity. "What the f--- do you think you're doing," Madonna's now-infamous phrase, is turning up in dozens of remixes and the computer-aided musical collages known as cutups or mashups.
End Snip.
Now that was just plain stupid ... One would have expected she would know better, considering our American Values ...
Still haven't gotten quite enough Madonna in the spotlight? Read this article and then try to explain how our values are screwed up! Keep in mind, that this is the same artist who doesn't want the working class "stealing" her music. Rest assured Madonna, I outgrew you right along with my braces.
Reading this article, really got me burned ...
A really big boo hoo for all the multi millionaires out there in the record business ... How about record companies get a clue and lower the prices they charge to buy music? How stupid do they think we really are, that we don't realize that were paying a hell of a lot more than that CD is actually worth.
Now I'm going to piss the music artists off here ... But come on, how much money in my wallet do you really think is yours. You get us from sun up to sun down ... Concert tickets, concert mementos, CD's, DVD's, videos, singles ... Yeah, you have a whole lot of people on your payroll but shit, I've got a lot of people standing in line to take my money too and you're just another one.
So now you're ripping on sites like Kazaa because the working man finally figured out a way to even out the score. Oh no, the big bad record companies are angry ... I shake in my boots. Sales you say are nose diving because people are sharing files ... Sales are plummeting because sharing files is cheaper than buying it in the shiny new package in the store ... Do the math folks, your prices are breaking our backs.
I for one say screw it and call for a nationwide boycott against the record companies. Power is with the consumer, we control the supply and demand. And where there is no demand, there doesn't need to be a supply. Think about it, has anyone ever died from not being able to buy a CD? I think not ... or at least I hope not. Music is a luxury item, not a neccessity. Do we need to "steal" music? Heck no! Should we expect to pay a fair price for some quality listening material? Heck yes! But instead of taking a proactive approach to solve the situation without alienating the consumer, their opting for lawsuits and intimidation. Shame on you.
And shame on Madonna, pop icon of the 80's and a singer I have very little use for. (No depth, no emotion, and not even a good singer and give up on the acting already ... Just for the record, This is my personal opinion only and not meant in any way, shape or form to influence yours.) Here's a snippet of the "Materil Girl's" latest bad idea come to fruitation.
LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter; April 27) - Anyone who thinks they can control the Internet received an object lesson during the past week.
It all started when Madonna literally lent her voice to a popular antipiracy technique. Warner Music Group had audio files purporting to be her new songs uploaded onto peer-to-peer file-sharing services. Anyone who downloaded the decoys, however, heard nothing but the pop star swearing at them. But since then, the pithy profanity has taken on a life of its own.
Some observers thought Madonna was smart to fight piracy with its own tools. Others perceived a thrown gauntlet -- hackers soon defaced Madonna's Web site with an equally profane retort along with several downloadable files of the then-unreleased songs. The defacement also carried a marriage proposal to Morgan Webb, an associate producer and on-air presenter at TechTV who had nothing to do with the prank.
A third group saw a creative opportunity. "What the f--- do you think you're doing," Madonna's now-infamous phrase, is turning up in dozens of remixes and the computer-aided musical collages known as cutups or mashups.
End Snip.
Now that was just plain stupid ... One would have expected she would know better, considering our American Values ...
Still haven't gotten quite enough Madonna in the spotlight? Read this article and then try to explain how our values are screwed up! Keep in mind, that this is the same artist who doesn't want the working class "stealing" her music. Rest assured Madonna, I outgrew you right along with my braces.
Labor and delivery is no day in the park ... It hardly resembles an enjoyable experience, though many a nurse will tell you that, "When all is said and done, you'll forget that there was ever any pain involved." Try as they might, they never were able to convince me that it was so. In fact, even through my haze, some drug induced and others from sheer exhaustion, I held firm right up until the end that there was no way in hell, I was ever going to forget just how much pain was involved with the whole birthing process. To me, it was more like walking a tightrope over the valley of death. If you made it all the way across, you could concern yourself with the counting of little fingers and toes and who baby most resembled. If you didn't, well in all truth you'd be the absolute last to now, too tired to realize that you had barely managed to go the distance before conking out.
Earlier I was reading a book that jogged a memory from my own experience with the labor process, a time when I was much more naive to the ways of the world. Only 21 when I had my daughter, I still suffered from the fledging belief, that honor was something we were all endowed with. I didn't realize yet that sometimes the right thing to do is the hardest thing for some people to actually do. Maybe this is because, I've always had this absurd confidence in myself that I could handle anything that life had to throw at me. I thought that I had learned enough from my growing years, that I was much more life smart than a lot of people of my same age. I've since learned that too much confidence is just a smokescreen for having none at all.
Just days before my body gave its concise signal that it was time to birth my baby, my now ex issued a clear warning. I was told, without any hesitation or the slightest indication of guilt, that should I so much as say one mean spirited thing during delivery that his only response would be to simply walk out and away from me, without so much as a glance behind. The funny thing was, that even though I had never had any intention to purposefully resort to name calling, his so called declaration threw me for a loop. I remember thinking to myself that he had to be joking, who in their right mind would say that to the woman about to have their child. Although I didn't know it then, the answer to that question was, a man who had already begun having an affair with his co-worker months before his baby's due date.
What really strikes me as odd about the whole sequence of events, is that I listened to him. Scared that he would leave me, I simply shut my mouth, turning my head away and squeezing my eyes closed as tight as I could when the contractions would rip through my body. I vaguely remember moments of being there and not being there, looking at him through half shuttered lids as he sat across the room in a green lounge chair, intent on that nights basketball game. Meanwhile, my father paced nervously in the hall and my stepmother rarely left my side, slipping me ice chips when my lips began to bleed, from the damage my teeth were inflicting on them. For 22 hours of labor, it was her and not him who sat there holding my hand and reminding me to breathe through my contractions. An idea, days earlier I had thought to be quite moronic ... I mean who really forgets to breathe? It turns out, it wasn't so stupid afterall.
Doomed from the start, it was a short 4 months after KC arrived that he eventually walked out for good ... Although not without a final ultimatum from me. I was a safety to him, as long as he thought that he could come and go as he pleased, he was loathe to actually leave permanently. In the hours when he didn't come home, I would wait up half the night knowing that he was with someone else. Still, I clung to the belief that my baby needed her Daddy and so I let him play his perpetual game of pong.
Like a slow moving tingle, an awareness began to creep through my body, a familiar liquid in my veins. I wasn't a door mat, and I was tired of being one for someone who wasn't worth the 2 cent shoes that had dared to leave treadmarks on my soul. The light that had previously been extinquished began to smolder, an almost imperceivable flame but then it grew into something that with each passing second became more recognizable to myself. A once youthful and foolish pride became the sound voice of maturity. The one that could finally say all the words that had been internalized but never said for a listening ear.
The last day, poetically as it was, came on Mother's Day. I remember that as he stood there, tucking in his shirt and adjusting his tie, the smug look that sat on his face as he informed me he would be late coming home tonight. Meanwhile, outside in my driveway, his girlfriend was busy honking on the horn every other second to hurry his progress out to her car. Something inside me snapped, enough had finally become enough and from some far reserved well deep down in the pit of my soul, the words came bubbling forward. "Don't bother coming home tonight.", I had said, raising my gaze to meet his sqaurely in the eye. Taken aback, he chuckled as if I amused him in some small, inate way. Lifting my chin, in an assertive manner, my voice stronger this time, I spoke slowly and surely. "Don't bother coming home tonight ... You don't live here anymore."
Earlier I was reading a book that jogged a memory from my own experience with the labor process, a time when I was much more naive to the ways of the world. Only 21 when I had my daughter, I still suffered from the fledging belief, that honor was something we were all endowed with. I didn't realize yet that sometimes the right thing to do is the hardest thing for some people to actually do. Maybe this is because, I've always had this absurd confidence in myself that I could handle anything that life had to throw at me. I thought that I had learned enough from my growing years, that I was much more life smart than a lot of people of my same age. I've since learned that too much confidence is just a smokescreen for having none at all.
Just days before my body gave its concise signal that it was time to birth my baby, my now ex issued a clear warning. I was told, without any hesitation or the slightest indication of guilt, that should I so much as say one mean spirited thing during delivery that his only response would be to simply walk out and away from me, without so much as a glance behind. The funny thing was, that even though I had never had any intention to purposefully resort to name calling, his so called declaration threw me for a loop. I remember thinking to myself that he had to be joking, who in their right mind would say that to the woman about to have their child. Although I didn't know it then, the answer to that question was, a man who had already begun having an affair with his co-worker months before his baby's due date.
What really strikes me as odd about the whole sequence of events, is that I listened to him. Scared that he would leave me, I simply shut my mouth, turning my head away and squeezing my eyes closed as tight as I could when the contractions would rip through my body. I vaguely remember moments of being there and not being there, looking at him through half shuttered lids as he sat across the room in a green lounge chair, intent on that nights basketball game. Meanwhile, my father paced nervously in the hall and my stepmother rarely left my side, slipping me ice chips when my lips began to bleed, from the damage my teeth were inflicting on them. For 22 hours of labor, it was her and not him who sat there holding my hand and reminding me to breathe through my contractions. An idea, days earlier I had thought to be quite moronic ... I mean who really forgets to breathe? It turns out, it wasn't so stupid afterall.
Doomed from the start, it was a short 4 months after KC arrived that he eventually walked out for good ... Although not without a final ultimatum from me. I was a safety to him, as long as he thought that he could come and go as he pleased, he was loathe to actually leave permanently. In the hours when he didn't come home, I would wait up half the night knowing that he was with someone else. Still, I clung to the belief that my baby needed her Daddy and so I let him play his perpetual game of pong.
Like a slow moving tingle, an awareness began to creep through my body, a familiar liquid in my veins. I wasn't a door mat, and I was tired of being one for someone who wasn't worth the 2 cent shoes that had dared to leave treadmarks on my soul. The light that had previously been extinquished began to smolder, an almost imperceivable flame but then it grew into something that with each passing second became more recognizable to myself. A once youthful and foolish pride became the sound voice of maturity. The one that could finally say all the words that had been internalized but never said for a listening ear.
The last day, poetically as it was, came on Mother's Day. I remember that as he stood there, tucking in his shirt and adjusting his tie, the smug look that sat on his face as he informed me he would be late coming home tonight. Meanwhile, outside in my driveway, his girlfriend was busy honking on the horn every other second to hurry his progress out to her car. Something inside me snapped, enough had finally become enough and from some far reserved well deep down in the pit of my soul, the words came bubbling forward. "Don't bother coming home tonight.", I had said, raising my gaze to meet his sqaurely in the eye. Taken aback, he chuckled as if I amused him in some small, inate way. Lifting my chin, in an assertive manner, my voice stronger this time, I spoke slowly and surely. "Don't bother coming home tonight ... You don't live here anymore."
Much to my chagrin, I did not win the NY State Lottery last night. I can hardly begin to express my disappointment, but I think it starts with something very similar to "Oh darn". There goes the house, the pool, the car and the manservants ... I may not have my 2 dollars anymore but my dreams are alive, well and living somewhere in Wisconsin, under an assumed name.
Call me girl with too much time on her hands but I got absolutely nothing accomplished today, although if thoughts counted for anything, I would be sitting now in my mini version of the Taj Mahal. As it is, I have a half dead television sitting in the middle of my living room, just taking up space. Leaving me alone to answer the question of how one goes about giving a tempermental t.v. away to some unsuspecting individual. In a way, it's a bargain ... Afterall, it does work half of the time. It's just that other half of the time that people may not be so keen on. Hmmm ...
Call me girl with too much time on her hands but I got absolutely nothing accomplished today, although if thoughts counted for anything, I would be sitting now in my mini version of the Taj Mahal. As it is, I have a half dead television sitting in the middle of my living room, just taking up space. Leaving me alone to answer the question of how one goes about giving a tempermental t.v. away to some unsuspecting individual. In a way, it's a bargain ... Afterall, it does work half of the time. It's just that other half of the time that people may not be so keen on. Hmmm ...
Since I am way too tired to post tonight, I leave you with some of my favorite thoughts ... Thought by other people.
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. ~ Gilda Radner
Anger stirs and wakes in her; it opens its mouth, and like a hot-mouthed puppy,laps up the dredges of her shame. Anger is better. There is a snese of being in anger. A reality and presence. An awareness of worth.
~ Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye (1970)
The site of a cage is only frightening to the bird that has once been caught. ~ Rachel Field, All This and Heaven Too (1939)
When you choose to write using yourself as the source of the story, you are choosing to confront all the silences in which your story has been protectively wrapped. Your job as a writer is to respectfully, determinedly, free the story from the silences and free yourself from both. ~ Christina Bladwin, lecture (1991)
I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. ~ Joan Didion, The Writer on Her Work
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. ~ Gilda Radner
Anger stirs and wakes in her; it opens its mouth, and like a hot-mouthed puppy,laps up the dredges of her shame. Anger is better. There is a snese of being in anger. A reality and presence. An awareness of worth.
~ Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye (1970)
The site of a cage is only frightening to the bird that has once been caught. ~ Rachel Field, All This and Heaven Too (1939)
When you choose to write using yourself as the source of the story, you are choosing to confront all the silences in which your story has been protectively wrapped. Your job as a writer is to respectfully, determinedly, free the story from the silences and free yourself from both. ~ Christina Bladwin, lecture (1991)
I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. ~ Joan Didion, The Writer on Her Work
Standing in my kitchen tonight, the oddest thought crossed my mind while I was making myself a cup of hot chocolate. You see, I had suddenly remembered that in the high cabinet above the stove, I had squirreled away a pack of tiny, minature marshmallows. Grabbing my favorite pair of arm extenders (kitchen tongs) I managed to get enough of the package to drop them into my waiting hands below. That was precisely the moment when my eyes spied the toothpicks and the idea was born.
Everyday life hardly calls for marshmallows in the mixture, and I must admit that I'm not exactly their biggest fan. However, I couldn't help but remember the good times me and the mallos have had. Singing camp fire songs at Camp Glengara back in my Girl Scouting days, family vacations spent rusticating at camp in the Adirondacks and occasional summer nights when S'mores go hand in hand with lightning bugs, distant music and a sweet, cool breeze.
So there I was, standing in my kitchen, loading mini marshmallows onto a multi-colored toothpick. Trying as I did so, not to let KC see what I was doing, since it required playing with fire. What a silly picture I must have been, torching marshmallows. But mmmm, it was as good as I remembered ... Even despite the fact that I was missing the chocolate and the graham cracker that would have made the experience totally euphoric.
It's like they say, you're only as old as you feel ... I think I'll stick with 8.
Everyday life hardly calls for marshmallows in the mixture, and I must admit that I'm not exactly their biggest fan. However, I couldn't help but remember the good times me and the mallos have had. Singing camp fire songs at Camp Glengara back in my Girl Scouting days, family vacations spent rusticating at camp in the Adirondacks and occasional summer nights when S'mores go hand in hand with lightning bugs, distant music and a sweet, cool breeze.
So there I was, standing in my kitchen, loading mini marshmallows onto a multi-colored toothpick. Trying as I did so, not to let KC see what I was doing, since it required playing with fire. What a silly picture I must have been, torching marshmallows. But mmmm, it was as good as I remembered ... Even despite the fact that I was missing the chocolate and the graham cracker that would have made the experience totally euphoric.
It's like they say, you're only as old as you feel ... I think I'll stick with 8.
Well, it's a done deal. Carol "Meryl" has put in her 2 weeks notice as of today. It might have been a given, but still, we were all hoping she'd be able to hold out just a little bit longer. I for one, can't blame the girl. Heck ... If my new hubby told me that I didn't have to work (unless I really wanted to) I would have given notice the minute I returned from my honeymoon. Still it will be a shame to see her go ... No one else does rude hand gestures nearly as well as Carol. Of course, never one to let the dust settle before I see how such a change will positively affect me, (geesh that sounds so selfish) Carol has bequethed her slightly larger office to me. Yippy! Now at least I may be able to talk on my phone without whispering. My manager will be heartbroken I am sure ...
Mom is doing very well and all I have to say is thank goodness they finally took her off the morphine! She was acting more than a little loopy on the stuff and speaking with her was almost like having an acid flash back without ever having done acid. During one such conversation, she told me about 8 dozen times that she loved me ... Which of course is a completely lovely sentiment ... In moderation. However, the whole thing was starting to border on the psychotic. i wonder if she told the nurses the same thing ... Hmmm ... I'll have to ask her that next time I speak with her.
My little darling Emma, just scratched the heck out of my foot. Evidently I moved it, causing her extreme upset. This cat needs to learn the whole idea of personal space. She's like a feline stalker. In the morning she waits for me outside the bathroom until I have finished my shower, only to follow me downstairs and into the kitchen, breaking her morning fast while I make myself a cup of tea. From there, it's back in the bathroom where I put on my makeup and style my hair all the while trying to ignore her desperate cries for attention. When that doesn't work, she usually gives me the "Humph ... Heck with you" look and saunters back upstairs where she unceremoniously wakes KC up by plopping herself down on her pillow and butting her head against KC's until finally she awakens.
Having got in enough love to get through the day, it's back to bed while we go off to work and school. But by 5:00, Em is back in position, ready and waiting at the bottom of the stairs for the door to open annoucing that we're home. Usually, KC keeps her busy long enough so that I can burn ... I mean make dinner without having her underfoot. After dinner though, she's all about getting my attention, usually curling up by my side on the couch as I try to read. And God forbid, I should want to use the computer! It's an absolute guarantee that if I'm using the computer, she'll either be on it, in front of it or under it. Tonight's choice under it ... Where she can amuse herself by getting in the occasional clawing. Sometimes I have to wonder who it was that said cats were better then men ...
Mom is doing very well and all I have to say is thank goodness they finally took her off the morphine! She was acting more than a little loopy on the stuff and speaking with her was almost like having an acid flash back without ever having done acid. During one such conversation, she told me about 8 dozen times that she loved me ... Which of course is a completely lovely sentiment ... In moderation. However, the whole thing was starting to border on the psychotic. i wonder if she told the nurses the same thing ... Hmmm ... I'll have to ask her that next time I speak with her.
My little darling Emma, just scratched the heck out of my foot. Evidently I moved it, causing her extreme upset. This cat needs to learn the whole idea of personal space. She's like a feline stalker. In the morning she waits for me outside the bathroom until I have finished my shower, only to follow me downstairs and into the kitchen, breaking her morning fast while I make myself a cup of tea. From there, it's back in the bathroom where I put on my makeup and style my hair all the while trying to ignore her desperate cries for attention. When that doesn't work, she usually gives me the "Humph ... Heck with you" look and saunters back upstairs where she unceremoniously wakes KC up by plopping herself down on her pillow and butting her head against KC's until finally she awakens.
Having got in enough love to get through the day, it's back to bed while we go off to work and school. But by 5:00, Em is back in position, ready and waiting at the bottom of the stairs for the door to open annoucing that we're home. Usually, KC keeps her busy long enough so that I can burn ... I mean make dinner without having her underfoot. After dinner though, she's all about getting my attention, usually curling up by my side on the couch as I try to read. And God forbid, I should want to use the computer! It's an absolute guarantee that if I'm using the computer, she'll either be on it, in front of it or under it. Tonight's choice under it ... Where she can amuse herself by getting in the occasional clawing. Sometimes I have to wonder who it was that said cats were better then men ...
5 star book recommendation for those who desire a good read that doesn't tax the brain ... This book has it all ... Fun, humor, wit and a touch of mystery, for a laugh out loud good time, quick read. Kudos to its author Meggin Cabot, for utilizing an email format which enables the book to move naturally through its story, from beginning to end. I laughed, I cried, I finished it all too soon. The Boy Next Door will definitely be passed around my office.
God I love to turn my little blue world Upside Down
God I love to turn my little blue world Upside Down
Inside my head, a noise ...
Chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter
You see I'm afraid I'll always be
Still coming out of my mother Upside Down
Don't you love to turn this little blue girl Upside Down
Oh, I know you love to turn this little blue girl
baby Upside Down
But my heart it says,
You've been shatter, shatter, shatter, shatter, shattered
And I know you're still a boy
Still coming out of your Mother
When you going to stand on your own
I say the world is sick
You say tell me what that makes us darlin
You see you always find my faults
faster then you find your own
You say the world is getting rid of her demons
I say Baby what have you been smoking?
Well I dreamed I dreamed I dreamed
I loved a black boy, my daddy was screaming ...
Love to turn this little blue girl Upside Down
Any kind of touch I think is better than None
Even Upside Down
But you see I'm dangling
Got a kitten, kitten, kitten, kitten in my hair
Cincinatti, like the wind
Is the only thing we can seem to turn
Upside Down
Well, I found the secret to life
I found the secret to life
I'm okay when everything is not okay
I said I found the secret to life,
I found the secret to life
I'm okay when everything is not okay
is not okay ... Oh ...
Turning, turn this little blue world Upside Down
Said don't you love to turn our little blue girl baby Upside Down
inside my head a voice
Chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter
And it says Girl we're all the same
Still coming out of your mothers
still coming out of your mothers
Upside Down.
~ Tori
There's just something about this song I understand.
God I love to turn my little blue world Upside Down
Inside my head, a noise ...
Chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter
You see I'm afraid I'll always be
Still coming out of my mother Upside Down
Don't you love to turn this little blue girl Upside Down
Oh, I know you love to turn this little blue girl
baby Upside Down
But my heart it says,
You've been shatter, shatter, shatter, shatter, shattered
And I know you're still a boy
Still coming out of your Mother
When you going to stand on your own
I say the world is sick
You say tell me what that makes us darlin
You see you always find my faults
faster then you find your own
You say the world is getting rid of her demons
I say Baby what have you been smoking?
Well I dreamed I dreamed I dreamed
I loved a black boy, my daddy was screaming ...
Love to turn this little blue girl Upside Down
Any kind of touch I think is better than None
Even Upside Down
But you see I'm dangling
Got a kitten, kitten, kitten, kitten in my hair
Cincinatti, like the wind
Is the only thing we can seem to turn
Upside Down
Well, I found the secret to life
I found the secret to life
I'm okay when everything is not okay
I said I found the secret to life,
I found the secret to life
I'm okay when everything is not okay
is not okay ... Oh ...
Turning, turn this little blue world Upside Down
Said don't you love to turn our little blue girl baby Upside Down
inside my head a voice
Chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter
And it says Girl we're all the same
Still coming out of your mothers
still coming out of your mothers
Upside Down.
~ Tori
There's just something about this song I understand.
And so by law of the land and whatever other cosmic forces are at work here, I am officially ill. Not the sort of ill that knocks you out and lays you flat on your back beside the toilet for 3 days but the kind of ill that lingers like a bad smell, permeating throughout your house, until even you can't smell the stench anymore.
I fought myself yesterday, attempting to prove I wasn't as sick as my body was trying to tell me and went about business as usual. Outside the seeds of imagination were planting bulbs of color in my porch side garden, raking as I was in my pajama pants and pink matching top, dirt squishing between my bare toes. But my mind couldn't focus, lost admist the cold northern breeze that had yet to give up its claim to winter, raising goosebumps on my arm. I wasn't ready to give myself over into the oblivion of illness, to waste the daylight hours curled fetal style in my bed, head pounding and unable to sleep. There was much to be done but little I could actually do.
Inside, my mind switched to light cleaning mode, refusing to be down for the count. My body was quick to remind me however, that I was no longer the one in charge, the dizzy spells beginning as I loaded the dishwasher. Clutching my head to stop the spinning, I quickly located the advil, took two and crawled my way upstairs to be find my bed. Where up until an hour or two ago, I was passed out and completely lost to the world.
Consciousness for now seems to be holding to its own but I am not one to tempt fate. Today is going to be a lazy, all about pampering me back to good health day. I've got my fuzzy bunny slippers, my favorite blanky, a nice soft pillow, a book and a tv remote to see me through. Now if only there were someone out there who cared enough to bring me a nice bowl of chicken noodle soup, my recovery would be guaranteed.
I fought myself yesterday, attempting to prove I wasn't as sick as my body was trying to tell me and went about business as usual. Outside the seeds of imagination were planting bulbs of color in my porch side garden, raking as I was in my pajama pants and pink matching top, dirt squishing between my bare toes. But my mind couldn't focus, lost admist the cold northern breeze that had yet to give up its claim to winter, raising goosebumps on my arm. I wasn't ready to give myself over into the oblivion of illness, to waste the daylight hours curled fetal style in my bed, head pounding and unable to sleep. There was much to be done but little I could actually do.
Inside, my mind switched to light cleaning mode, refusing to be down for the count. My body was quick to remind me however, that I was no longer the one in charge, the dizzy spells beginning as I loaded the dishwasher. Clutching my head to stop the spinning, I quickly located the advil, took two and crawled my way upstairs to be find my bed. Where up until an hour or two ago, I was passed out and completely lost to the world.
Consciousness for now seems to be holding to its own but I am not one to tempt fate. Today is going to be a lazy, all about pampering me back to good health day. I've got my fuzzy bunny slippers, my favorite blanky, a nice soft pillow, a book and a tv remote to see me through. Now if only there were someone out there who cared enough to bring me a nice bowl of chicken noodle soup, my recovery would be guaranteed.
An entertaining email started my day, courtesy of my sister Audrey's friend Christian, who might not have realized he was forwarding his answers to Audrey's entire family ... Following is a brief synopsis of my favorite answers in email format to both Audrey and Christian this morning ...
29.Which single store would you choose to max out your credit cards?
Part of of me wants to kid around and say a porn shop, another part of me wants to seriously say a porn shop . . .
By far my favorite answer, especially when considering Mom and Dad are on the mailing list ...
Although this one here gets my vote for economical ...
22.Favorite restaurant:
parent's fridge
35.Who is the person you sent this to who is least likely to respond:
I'm going out on a limb here and am going to say, one of Audrey's friends who I've never met and who will delete this upon not-recognizing my name.
Isn't it nice to be proved wrong every once in a while ... (It may have had to do with the subject bar.)
(Which happened to be my sister's name and the only reason why I opened it.)
And lastly ... Why is it I am the only one who caught the fact that how could you answer question # 40 before answering # 41. If we want to get technical that is ...
40. Time when you finished: 7:56 (shouldn't this be the LAST question?)
41.Your fav song just now:
good question, I'm going to go with that Queens of the Stone Age song. . . what ever it's called . . .
"No One Knows" ... Now isn't THAT ironic?
Subj: Everything You Never Wanted to Know ... Thanks to my sister Audrey ... Stacey's answers.
1.What time is it? Sometime after 5:30 p.m. I can't be much more specific since NONE of the clocks in my house actually read the correct time!
2.Name as it appears on your birth certificate: Stacey Lynn "Censored Information" (Note: Parents were very unoriginal as my middle name is the exact same thing as my older sister Amy ... Evidently they couldn't think of anything a bit more creative in a 2 year time span ... That or they really, really like Lynn.)
3. Nickname: Spacey (childhood nickname) Louie (oldest sister Amy is convinced this irritates the hell out of me ... Why, I have no idea but there it is.) Princess (at work, they either think really high of me or think I am a complete bitch. I'll take door # 3.)
4.Parent's names: Patrick and Nancy ... With the step-parenting help of Becky, Chick and Ken ... Isn't it nice to know that I have so many people to lay the blame on when I finally succumb to therapy!
5.Number of candles that appeared on your last birthday cake: 28 ... But if I recall correctly, I didn't get a cake ...( Audrey this must be a new family tradition!)
6. Date that you regularly blow them out: How can you blow candles out if there aren't any? And how can you regualarly blow them out if your birthday comes but once a year? Hmmm ... Inquiring minds want to know.
7. Hair colour: Brunnette baby ... although there's just getting to be one too many grays lately infiltrating my scalp ... Thank goodness for hair dye ...
8.Tattoo: One on my right shoulder, about the size of a closed fist. Everyone gets all queered out when I tell them that it is a fairy ... But she's awesome! She's chilling out on her toadstool reading a book and thinking about doing something devious. A creature after my own heart.
9.How much do you love your job on a scale of 1-10: About as much as I like getting a paycheck on a weekly basis ... But if I had to rate it, I'd give it a five ... It's pretty decent most of the time ... However if I ever come into some big money (No whammies!) I am so out of there!
10.Favourite colours: I love BROWN ... It's a very underappreciated color. But it can be beautiful in the right context.
11.HomeTown: Same as my current residence ... Haven't gone too far since then, other than NOT still living with my parents.
12.Current residence: Same as my hometown ... What can I say, I live on the edge!
13.Favourite food: Hmmm ... CHICKEN ... It's multifaceted!
14.Been to Africa? Nope! Been to Canada and that is about the extent of my worldy travels ... But that's ok, I've still never been to Disneyland or world either! But for the record, I AM not BITTER ...
15.Loved somebody so much it made you cry? That depends ... how deep is the ocean?
16.Been in a car accident? Yes ... and I'd like to finally admit that it WAS my fault ... Because in my impatience with the car making a left turn in front of me, I pulled the car to the right shoulder of the road and ended up getting sideswiped by a white delivery truck ... Of course, that's not exactly the same story I told over 10 years ago to my parents ... But finally, the truth shall set me free! Sorry Bren for putting your arm in jeopardy!
17.Croutons or bacon bits? How can you not like Croutons?
18.Sprite or 7UP? Did someone say Mountain Dew "Nectar of the Gods"
19.Favourite movie: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (w/ Colin Firth), Bridget Jone's Diary (w/ Colin Firth) ... Coincidence? I think not. The Matchmaker featuring Janeane Garofalo ... Virtually anything that has British, Irish or Scottish accents ... I'm funny like that ...
20.Favourite holiday: My birthday ... Hey, it counts!
21.Favourite day of the week: Friday ... I've got the whole weekend before me!
22.Favorite restaurant: I'll just pretend that I get out that much ... In my father's words, "anything cheap".
23.Favourite flowers: Calla lillies and anything wild. Is there any such thing as a bad flower?
24.Favourite beverage: People at work will be surprised that I don't list Mountain Dew but my absolute favorite is Hot Cocoa made with Milk.
25.Favourite sport to watch: That depends ... Am I drinking?
26.Preferred type of ice cream: Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream ... Ahh the perfect blending of chocolate and peanut butter ... What woman could resist such a heavenly combination?
27.How many times did you fail your driver's test? Passed it with flying colors the first time around.
28.Who is the last person you got email from before this one! Someone who promised that if I only bought their product, it would change my life forever! Maybe I shouldn't have deleted that ... Down with SPAM!
29.Which single store would you choose to max out your credit cards? Well as long as someone else is going to be resposible for paying them off, I'd go bonkers at a combination of places ... Pier 1, Pottery Barn, and anything else pertaining to home decorating. Oh please! Like I could choose just one!
30.What do you do most often when you are bored? I got three things to say ... Couch, afghan, book ...
31.Name the person you are friends with that lives the farthest away: My Mom ... Awwwwww ....
32.Most annoying thing people ask me or tell me: Why are you still single? How come you're not married? (Favorite reply ... Why do I need someone else to justify my existance?)
33.Favourite thing to do at Bedtime: Flip the pillow over for the cold side and fall asleep.
34.Who will respond the quickest? The person with the least amount of things to do and lots of time to waste ... (Audrey, I owe you one for this!)
35.Who is the person you sent this to who is least likely to respond: Bren ... My bet is on you ... With a small army of children, how could you possibly get free long enough to type a sentence ... Dad ... You probably already deleted this so you're also getting my vote.
36. Favourite TV shows: I don't really watch all that much tv ... But when I do happen to remember that ED is on (NBC FRIDAY NIGHTS @ 8 p.m.) then that is what I watch.
37.Last person(s) you went out to dinner with? Hmmm ... dinner ... Does that count going to Dad's?
38.Last movie you saw: What a Girl Wants (w/ Colin Firth) this past Sunday with KC.
39.What is your car's name: The White Jelly Bean ... I believe the name says it all ...
40.Time when you finished: How can I be finished when there is ANOTHER question? Hah ... Bet you thought you'd stump me on that trick question! Alternate answer ... In the time it takes to burn dinner ...
41.Your fav song just now: Absolutely anything sung by Tori Amos (saw her live at the Landmark this past March) and 50 cents "In Da Club" ... Growl.
And that, as they say, is that.
29.Which single store would you choose to max out your credit cards?
Part of of me wants to kid around and say a porn shop, another part of me wants to seriously say a porn shop . . .
By far my favorite answer, especially when considering Mom and Dad are on the mailing list ...
Although this one here gets my vote for economical ...
22.Favorite restaurant:
parent's fridge
35.Who is the person you sent this to who is least likely to respond:
I'm going out on a limb here and am going to say, one of Audrey's friends who I've never met and who will delete this upon not-recognizing my name.
Isn't it nice to be proved wrong every once in a while ... (It may have had to do with the subject bar.)
(Which happened to be my sister's name and the only reason why I opened it.)
And lastly ... Why is it I am the only one who caught the fact that how could you answer question # 40 before answering # 41. If we want to get technical that is ...
40. Time when you finished: 7:56 (shouldn't this be the LAST question?)
41.Your fav song just now:
good question, I'm going to go with that Queens of the Stone Age song. . . what ever it's called . . .
"No One Knows" ... Now isn't THAT ironic?
Subj: Everything You Never Wanted to Know ... Thanks to my sister Audrey ... Stacey's answers.
1.What time is it? Sometime after 5:30 p.m. I can't be much more specific since NONE of the clocks in my house actually read the correct time!
2.Name as it appears on your birth certificate: Stacey Lynn "Censored Information" (Note: Parents were very unoriginal as my middle name is the exact same thing as my older sister Amy ... Evidently they couldn't think of anything a bit more creative in a 2 year time span ... That or they really, really like Lynn.)
3. Nickname: Spacey (childhood nickname) Louie (oldest sister Amy is convinced this irritates the hell out of me ... Why, I have no idea but there it is.) Princess (at work, they either think really high of me or think I am a complete bitch. I'll take door # 3.)
4.Parent's names: Patrick and Nancy ... With the step-parenting help of Becky, Chick and Ken ... Isn't it nice to know that I have so many people to lay the blame on when I finally succumb to therapy!
5.Number of candles that appeared on your last birthday cake: 28 ... But if I recall correctly, I didn't get a cake ...( Audrey this must be a new family tradition!)
6. Date that you regularly blow them out: How can you blow candles out if there aren't any? And how can you regualarly blow them out if your birthday comes but once a year? Hmmm ... Inquiring minds want to know.
7. Hair colour: Brunnette baby ... although there's just getting to be one too many grays lately infiltrating my scalp ... Thank goodness for hair dye ...
8.Tattoo: One on my right shoulder, about the size of a closed fist. Everyone gets all queered out when I tell them that it is a fairy ... But she's awesome! She's chilling out on her toadstool reading a book and thinking about doing something devious. A creature after my own heart.
9.How much do you love your job on a scale of 1-10: About as much as I like getting a paycheck on a weekly basis ... But if I had to rate it, I'd give it a five ... It's pretty decent most of the time ... However if I ever come into some big money (No whammies!) I am so out of there!
10.Favourite colours: I love BROWN ... It's a very underappreciated color. But it can be beautiful in the right context.
11.HomeTown: Same as my current residence ... Haven't gone too far since then, other than NOT still living with my parents.
12.Current residence: Same as my hometown ... What can I say, I live on the edge!
13.Favourite food: Hmmm ... CHICKEN ... It's multifaceted!
14.Been to Africa? Nope! Been to Canada and that is about the extent of my worldy travels ... But that's ok, I've still never been to Disneyland or world either! But for the record, I AM not BITTER ...
15.Loved somebody so much it made you cry? That depends ... how deep is the ocean?
16.Been in a car accident? Yes ... and I'd like to finally admit that it WAS my fault ... Because in my impatience with the car making a left turn in front of me, I pulled the car to the right shoulder of the road and ended up getting sideswiped by a white delivery truck ... Of course, that's not exactly the same story I told over 10 years ago to my parents ... But finally, the truth shall set me free! Sorry Bren for putting your arm in jeopardy!
17.Croutons or bacon bits? How can you not like Croutons?
18.Sprite or 7UP? Did someone say Mountain Dew "Nectar of the Gods"
19.Favourite movie: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (w/ Colin Firth), Bridget Jone's Diary (w/ Colin Firth) ... Coincidence? I think not. The Matchmaker featuring Janeane Garofalo ... Virtually anything that has British, Irish or Scottish accents ... I'm funny like that ...
20.Favourite holiday: My birthday ... Hey, it counts!
21.Favourite day of the week: Friday ... I've got the whole weekend before me!
22.Favorite restaurant: I'll just pretend that I get out that much ... In my father's words, "anything cheap".
23.Favourite flowers: Calla lillies and anything wild. Is there any such thing as a bad flower?
24.Favourite beverage: People at work will be surprised that I don't list Mountain Dew but my absolute favorite is Hot Cocoa made with Milk.
25.Favourite sport to watch: That depends ... Am I drinking?
26.Preferred type of ice cream: Peanut Butter Cup Ice Cream ... Ahh the perfect blending of chocolate and peanut butter ... What woman could resist such a heavenly combination?
27.How many times did you fail your driver's test? Passed it with flying colors the first time around.
28.Who is the last person you got email from before this one! Someone who promised that if I only bought their product, it would change my life forever! Maybe I shouldn't have deleted that ... Down with SPAM!
29.Which single store would you choose to max out your credit cards? Well as long as someone else is going to be resposible for paying them off, I'd go bonkers at a combination of places ... Pier 1, Pottery Barn, and anything else pertaining to home decorating. Oh please! Like I could choose just one!
30.What do you do most often when you are bored? I got three things to say ... Couch, afghan, book ...
31.Name the person you are friends with that lives the farthest away: My Mom ... Awwwwww ....
32.Most annoying thing people ask me or tell me: Why are you still single? How come you're not married? (Favorite reply ... Why do I need someone else to justify my existance?)
33.Favourite thing to do at Bedtime: Flip the pillow over for the cold side and fall asleep.
34.Who will respond the quickest? The person with the least amount of things to do and lots of time to waste ... (Audrey, I owe you one for this!)
35.Who is the person you sent this to who is least likely to respond: Bren ... My bet is on you ... With a small army of children, how could you possibly get free long enough to type a sentence ... Dad ... You probably already deleted this so you're also getting my vote.
36. Favourite TV shows: I don't really watch all that much tv ... But when I do happen to remember that ED is on (NBC FRIDAY NIGHTS @ 8 p.m.) then that is what I watch.
37.Last person(s) you went out to dinner with? Hmmm ... dinner ... Does that count going to Dad's?
38.Last movie you saw: What a Girl Wants (w/ Colin Firth) this past Sunday with KC.
39.What is your car's name: The White Jelly Bean ... I believe the name says it all ...
40.Time when you finished: How can I be finished when there is ANOTHER question? Hah ... Bet you thought you'd stump me on that trick question! Alternate answer ... In the time it takes to burn dinner ...
41.Your fav song just now: Absolutely anything sung by Tori Amos (saw her live at the Landmark this past March) and 50 cents "In Da Club" ... Growl.
And that, as they say, is that.
Top 5 Things That Are Annoying Me Today
5. Present lack of cough drops.
4. Being ill when there is a 3 day weekend to be enjoyed.
3. Hillary Clinton (Upstate's loosing jobs! Get off your duff and start doing something about it ... Isn't that why you wanted to be elected to office?)
2. Rude Neighbors
and the number one thing that annoys me today IS ...
1. Being AWAKE when I could still be sleeping!
5. Present lack of cough drops.
4. Being ill when there is a 3 day weekend to be enjoyed.
3. Hillary Clinton (Upstate's loosing jobs! Get off your duff and start doing something about it ... Isn't that why you wanted to be elected to office?)
2. Rude Neighbors
and the number one thing that annoys me today IS ...
1. Being AWAKE when I could still be sleeping!
The surgery has gone well and Mom has come through like a trooper. Today was one of the longest days of my entire life, just waiting to hear word from my stepfather that everything was ok. It's days like this you really know who your friends are ... and my Mom has some of the best ones ever. Not only did they keep my stepfather company at the hospital but they have also unselfishly donated their own vacation and sick time to my mother, during her recovery period. They've also formed a sort of helping tree, where someone will check in on my Mom every day to make sure she is getting along fine once she is home. It's people like this who make my being so far away a much easier cross to bear. I owe them such a huge debt of gratitude that no words can begin to describe how thankful I am for all their generosity. People like my mother's friends, restore my belief in the goodness of mankind.
Honey sweetened tea, warm and soothing to a throat that feels like sand paper. Doesn't it figure that now that it's finally beginning to feel like Spring, I am on the threshold of getting ill. And here I was talking trash the other day that I had made it through the entire Winter without so much as a sniffle, sneeze or cough. Evidently, the last laugh is on me ... as well as being at my expense.
Spoke with my Mom earlier ... Surgery is tomorrow and she is very anxious. Well, actually that makes two of us. I am having a major attack of guilt even though my mother told me NOT to come down for the surgery. This is proving to be one of those times when I should have ignored my Mother's edict and just done what I know to be right. At the time I saw her point to wait until she was out of the hospital, when I could be of the most use. Of course, that doesn't make me feel any better about being here when I should be there ...
Which currently marks me as the resident bitch at work for the past 2 days. My give a shit factor is at an all time low and my patience is virtually nonexistant. I can't imagine how much worse I will be tomorrow while I anxiously await the call from my stepfather telling me that my Mom's surgery went well and she is resting comfortably in the recovery room.
Guess I better have a little chat with our PITA receptionist, to make sure she knows the drill. I just hate it when I actually need to speak with her though. She makes a mountain out of every little molehill. ( I do not have the patience to deal with this!) There is absolutely no reason why anything should take over 2 minutes to be explained and understood. This woman however thinks that everything is the equivalent to launching a damn rocket. It doesn't help that she stills holds a grudge against me for my comment during her last panic attack ... Evidently she didn't care for being reminded how to "BREATHE".
Spoke with my Mom earlier ... Surgery is tomorrow and she is very anxious. Well, actually that makes two of us. I am having a major attack of guilt even though my mother told me NOT to come down for the surgery. This is proving to be one of those times when I should have ignored my Mother's edict and just done what I know to be right. At the time I saw her point to wait until she was out of the hospital, when I could be of the most use. Of course, that doesn't make me feel any better about being here when I should be there ...
Which currently marks me as the resident bitch at work for the past 2 days. My give a shit factor is at an all time low and my patience is virtually nonexistant. I can't imagine how much worse I will be tomorrow while I anxiously await the call from my stepfather telling me that my Mom's surgery went well and she is resting comfortably in the recovery room.
Guess I better have a little chat with our PITA receptionist, to make sure she knows the drill. I just hate it when I actually need to speak with her though. She makes a mountain out of every little molehill. ( I do not have the patience to deal with this!) There is absolutely no reason why anything should take over 2 minutes to be explained and understood. This woman however thinks that everything is the equivalent to launching a damn rocket. It doesn't help that she stills holds a grudge against me for my comment during her last panic attack ... Evidently she didn't care for being reminded how to "BREATHE".
Ahhh, it's good to be home.
KC and I have spent nearly the entire day running from here to there, in some cases literally. First stop was JC Penny's where I snagged myself 2 really cute tops for the price of 1 and an adorable shirt for KC. Nothing makes me happier than a good deal when there is cash burning a hole in my pocket. From there, we went to the movie theater and saw What a Girl Wants. KC wanted to see it because she likes Amanda Bynes. I wanted to see it because Colin Firth is the poster boy for trans atlantic sexiness. All in all, it turned out to be a pretty good movie despite all the teenage angst.
After the movies, we headed over to my sister Amy's house, to check out the new swingset she bought for Jordy. Even though they put it together themselves, it seemed to be pretty safe. Living around the corner from a school with a whole entire playground, I have to wonder however if it was really worth the investment. I suppose nothing beats something that is in your own backyard. We did however make a trek over to the school so that the kids could really let loose and get all their winter doldrums out of their systems.
KC was having a blast since there was another little girl her age already playing there. It's always amazing to me that people who live in city neighborhoods think nothing of letting their kids run without any sort of supervision. I say this because KC's new friend had a mouth on her that could make a sailor blush ... She was evidently having some sort of disagreement with her brother and spent a good 10 minutes calling him every name in the book. Starting with dickhead and ending with asswipe. KC didn't know how to take this unexpected turn of events, looking over at me periodically and pointing towards the girl with her hand over her mouth. It was actually pretty funny, considering that it wasn't my kid talking all the trash. That was until KC started getting this little impish look on her face, like she was about to join in. It took only one "Don't even think about it." to silence her before she could even start.
A good way to bring the weekend to a close. I just wish tomorrow wasn't Monday ... or I was on vacation.
KC and I have spent nearly the entire day running from here to there, in some cases literally. First stop was JC Penny's where I snagged myself 2 really cute tops for the price of 1 and an adorable shirt for KC. Nothing makes me happier than a good deal when there is cash burning a hole in my pocket. From there, we went to the movie theater and saw What a Girl Wants. KC wanted to see it because she likes Amanda Bynes. I wanted to see it because Colin Firth is the poster boy for trans atlantic sexiness. All in all, it turned out to be a pretty good movie despite all the teenage angst.
After the movies, we headed over to my sister Amy's house, to check out the new swingset she bought for Jordy. Even though they put it together themselves, it seemed to be pretty safe. Living around the corner from a school with a whole entire playground, I have to wonder however if it was really worth the investment. I suppose nothing beats something that is in your own backyard. We did however make a trek over to the school so that the kids could really let loose and get all their winter doldrums out of their systems.
KC was having a blast since there was another little girl her age already playing there. It's always amazing to me that people who live in city neighborhoods think nothing of letting their kids run without any sort of supervision. I say this because KC's new friend had a mouth on her that could make a sailor blush ... She was evidently having some sort of disagreement with her brother and spent a good 10 minutes calling him every name in the book. Starting with dickhead and ending with asswipe. KC didn't know how to take this unexpected turn of events, looking over at me periodically and pointing towards the girl with her hand over her mouth. It was actually pretty funny, considering that it wasn't my kid talking all the trash. That was until KC started getting this little impish look on her face, like she was about to join in. It took only one "Don't even think about it." to silence her before she could even start.
A good way to bring the weekend to a close. I just wish tomorrow wasn't Monday ... or I was on vacation.
As a single parent, I can attest to how hard it is to try to keep everything together on a daily basis. It's all so exhausting, trying to be both Mom, Dad and the sole provider for my little family. During the day, you work your ass off, doing the overtime when necessary to bring in a couple more dollars to the fold. Second shift begins at home, helping the minor child with her homework, while making a meal that makes it into the mouth rather than pushed around on a plate. After dinner, it's cleanup. Wash the dirty dishes in the sink, sweep the floor, pick up the living room, throw out the papers overflowing out of the MC's book bag while making sure she's brushed her teeth and selected her bed time story before wishing her sweet dreams until the morning.
It's no wonder that even though I can strike a mean Super Girl pose, I am far from being the invicible woman. Sometimes it's easier to forget about the things I need to do in favor of just sitting back and relaxing. It isn't hard to think that I can always get to it tomorrow. Problem is, my procratinating can make a simple task a much more compliacted one by the time I get around to doing it.
I am a creature of habit and habitually, I like to read. I would probably fall into one of those categories of women who believe that it can't be done unless there is a step by step guide instruction manual explaining how. With that being said, how could I have even tried to resist my latest purchase ... I'm just amazed that no one else heard this title screaming my name. Taking baby steps as the book instructs, the very simple principles I have read about thus far are surprisingly easy. It all just makes sense. Maybe I can change my evil ways.
Speaking of evil ways, my friend Mike told me I was giving off a bad aura today. I was about to punch his teeth in when I realized he was talking pretty color lights and not a mysterious foul order. Thankfully, I figured this out before doing any damage to his person. Personally, I think it's all a crock ... I'm pretty sure I would notice if I were glowing. But, as much as I hate to admit it, he was right when he said he was picking up a very tense vibe from me.
I haven't spoken of it on here because it's really hit home but my Mom may be very sick. I'm trying not to put the cart before the horse but it's really hard to do. With her so far away in North Carolina and me here in New York worrying myself sick, it's really hard to give off happy all the time. Mom's surgery is next week and I am trying to figure out a way I can juggle my schedule to fly down and be there for her. Mom, of course, doesn't want me to come. She'd rather have me save my vacation time and my money for when she is able to enjoy a visit. She doesn't understand that I just want my Mommy! Mom's always make everything better ... it's their job.
I gave Emma a bath earlier, she was not amused the least little bit and just to prove her point, I am now sporting a set of matching claw marks on my right shoulder. At least, she had the decency to not get my tattoo. (Yes, I said tattoo.) Considering how much time, pain and money went into my little piece of body art, I wouldn't have taken kindly to feline temper tantrum. This image provided the creative idea for my tattoo, although I altered it somewhat to personalize it a bit more. Perhaps by the time I get around to taking a picture of it, I'll know how to post it on my blog. Until then a simple explanation will have to do ...
My tattoo features the female fairy sitting on her toad stool, although rather than seeing just her profile, her face is turned towards you as if the wind had suddenly alerted her of a strange presence. Beside her on her toad stool, she is reading a book with a muted pink butterfly sitting on the very tip of its pages, the ribbon from her book mark fluttering in the breeze. On her arm, she sports a tattoo of her own, a simple old fashioned key, colored in black. The rest of her coloring remains true to the actual picture she represents. At the moment she's single ... So for now, her male counterpart will have to wait.
My friend Scott asked me today what exactly her key represents. As I told him, dear readers, that is still my secret to keep.
It's no wonder that even though I can strike a mean Super Girl pose, I am far from being the invicible woman. Sometimes it's easier to forget about the things I need to do in favor of just sitting back and relaxing. It isn't hard to think that I can always get to it tomorrow. Problem is, my procratinating can make a simple task a much more compliacted one by the time I get around to doing it.
I am a creature of habit and habitually, I like to read. I would probably fall into one of those categories of women who believe that it can't be done unless there is a step by step guide instruction manual explaining how. With that being said, how could I have even tried to resist my latest purchase ... I'm just amazed that no one else heard this title screaming my name. Taking baby steps as the book instructs, the very simple principles I have read about thus far are surprisingly easy. It all just makes sense. Maybe I can change my evil ways.
Speaking of evil ways, my friend Mike told me I was giving off a bad aura today. I was about to punch his teeth in when I realized he was talking pretty color lights and not a mysterious foul order. Thankfully, I figured this out before doing any damage to his person. Personally, I think it's all a crock ... I'm pretty sure I would notice if I were glowing. But, as much as I hate to admit it, he was right when he said he was picking up a very tense vibe from me.
I haven't spoken of it on here because it's really hit home but my Mom may be very sick. I'm trying not to put the cart before the horse but it's really hard to do. With her so far away in North Carolina and me here in New York worrying myself sick, it's really hard to give off happy all the time. Mom's surgery is next week and I am trying to figure out a way I can juggle my schedule to fly down and be there for her. Mom, of course, doesn't want me to come. She'd rather have me save my vacation time and my money for when she is able to enjoy a visit. She doesn't understand that I just want my Mommy! Mom's always make everything better ... it's their job.
I gave Emma a bath earlier, she was not amused the least little bit and just to prove her point, I am now sporting a set of matching claw marks on my right shoulder. At least, she had the decency to not get my tattoo. (Yes, I said tattoo.) Considering how much time, pain and money went into my little piece of body art, I wouldn't have taken kindly to feline temper tantrum. This image provided the creative idea for my tattoo, although I altered it somewhat to personalize it a bit more. Perhaps by the time I get around to taking a picture of it, I'll know how to post it on my blog. Until then a simple explanation will have to do ...
My tattoo features the female fairy sitting on her toad stool, although rather than seeing just her profile, her face is turned towards you as if the wind had suddenly alerted her of a strange presence. Beside her on her toad stool, she is reading a book with a muted pink butterfly sitting on the very tip of its pages, the ribbon from her book mark fluttering in the breeze. On her arm, she sports a tattoo of her own, a simple old fashioned key, colored in black. The rest of her coloring remains true to the actual picture she represents. At the moment she's single ... So for now, her male counterpart will have to wait.
My friend Scott asked me today what exactly her key represents. As I told him, dear readers, that is still my secret to keep.
I have really got to put some things out of my mind before I go out of my mind. I'm one of those people who would like to believe that I can control anything and everything, simply by wishing it so. Too bad for me my magic wand is a fraud and my fairy godmother went on permanent vacation a long time ago. Reality can be so depressing ...
Tonight was family dinner night at Dad's house. Sometimes I think my Dad just invites us over so that he can have a captive audience to his stand up routine. I can say this however, there is absolutely no question on which side of the gene pool I got my horrible sense of humor from. And not only does the man tell jokes but he heckles us as well! Busting out the one liners on me like he was on fire, my stepmother finally retaliated in my defense, launching a crouton in my father's direction. Not to be outdone by a crouton he kept right on going without missing a beat, until she started eyeballing the silverware. Evidently he knew that look meant business. The twisted part was he actually retrieved the crouton from the floor and added it to his salad, using the old "5 second" rule standard. Stating as he did so that, "Small people in Italy are hungry." Whatever you say, Dad.
Things got a little too intense however after dinner. Dad had told Amy that she could have the spare daybed frame for Jordan's newly revamped room, on the condition that we help pull it down from the rafters in the garage. No problem, or so we thought. So there was our Poppa, climbing up the ladder and ignoring all the safety rules that are clearly written for all the world to see, when suddenly the ladder began to tip. It happened so fast that before you even realized he was falling, he had already fallen. I am absolutely useless in a crisis, but I did manage to grab the ladder before it could beam him in the head, while Amy threw herself between the hard cement floor and my father. Luckily, the only thing damaged was his pride. For the rest of the procedure, we kept him safely administrating from the floor.
Emma's evidently been at the catnip again, she's running around the house like a complete lunatic pouncing on everything in her path. I should have named her Fido.
** I wanted him to cherish and approve of me, not as he had when I was a child, but as the woman I was, who had her own mind and had made her own choices. ** ~ Adrienne Rich, "Split at the Root" (1986)
Tonight was family dinner night at Dad's house. Sometimes I think my Dad just invites us over so that he can have a captive audience to his stand up routine. I can say this however, there is absolutely no question on which side of the gene pool I got my horrible sense of humor from. And not only does the man tell jokes but he heckles us as well! Busting out the one liners on me like he was on fire, my stepmother finally retaliated in my defense, launching a crouton in my father's direction. Not to be outdone by a crouton he kept right on going without missing a beat, until she started eyeballing the silverware. Evidently he knew that look meant business. The twisted part was he actually retrieved the crouton from the floor and added it to his salad, using the old "5 second" rule standard. Stating as he did so that, "Small people in Italy are hungry." Whatever you say, Dad.
Things got a little too intense however after dinner. Dad had told Amy that she could have the spare daybed frame for Jordan's newly revamped room, on the condition that we help pull it down from the rafters in the garage. No problem, or so we thought. So there was our Poppa, climbing up the ladder and ignoring all the safety rules that are clearly written for all the world to see, when suddenly the ladder began to tip. It happened so fast that before you even realized he was falling, he had already fallen. I am absolutely useless in a crisis, but I did manage to grab the ladder before it could beam him in the head, while Amy threw herself between the hard cement floor and my father. Luckily, the only thing damaged was his pride. For the rest of the procedure, we kept him safely administrating from the floor.
Emma's evidently been at the catnip again, she's running around the house like a complete lunatic pouncing on everything in her path. I should have named her Fido.
** I wanted him to cherish and approve of me, not as he had when I was a child, but as the woman I was, who had her own mind and had made her own choices. ** ~ Adrienne Rich, "Split at the Root" (1986)
OK ... I have a new guilty pleasure in the way of rap musics "50 cent". According to his bio, he is a complete thug, but what girl hasn't been inspired by a bad boy at least once in her life.
I made the fatal mistake of turning on some easy listening tonight. You'd think by now I would know to avoid stations that play continual love songs at any cost. Once heard the damage is done and the process begins, earlier frustrations flood into a tidepool of nostalgic reveries. The old theory that too much time on your hands promotes thinking is true. Thinking, as we all know brings back memories and memories stir up the sort of emotions you'd rather pretend you'd never had. Afterall, if we can't remember the things that caused us pain, they can never cause us to hurt again. Logical? Perhaps only in a world that begins with once upon a time and ends with happily ever after.
So much for the glass slippers in my ordinary little world.
AND NOW ... Presenting for your viewing entertainment and a nice segway into our next piece ...
The Cinderella Syndrome
Disproving the Fairy Tale
We now continue from where we had previously left off in our last conversation ... (XY denotes a male speaker, notice the indecision right from the get go ...)
XY: That's because you're a cold, cynical harlot who doesn't appreciate a happy ending. ;)
Stacey: LOL ... You dare to compare me to you!
XY: If the shoe fits.
Stacey: I'd be Cinderalla and off living happily ever after with Prince Charming ...
XY: I thought you were anti-sappy.
Stacey: I am ...
XY: Then you should refuse the fairy tale ending.
Stacey: Hmmmm ... Can't you have it without all the sap?
XY: Nope....it is a complete package....all or nothing.
Stacey: Seems to me that is a bit harsh.
XY: Too bad...take it or leave it.
Stacey: No ~ I don't compromise.
XY: Too bad for you then ... No prince charming for you.
Stacey: Prince Charming is hardly an ideal ... After all let's consider a few things. His only criteria for a bride was that she fit a slipper!
XY: On the contrary... His only criteria was that he fell in love at first sight of her, and knew that whoever fit the slipper was the love of his life.
Stacey: BUT think of the odds!!!
XY: What are odds compared to true love?
Stacey: Yes, but had another fit Cinderella's slipper before she had had her turn to try it on, then the shoe size imposter would have been the bride while Cinderella would be still be wearing rags and sweeping up ashes.
XY: HELLO!!!!!! The glass slipper was custom designed by the Fairy godmother!!!!! It wouldn't fit any other person!
Stacey: So you are saying that magic wouldn't let the whole thing be screwed up?
XY: That's one way to look at it.
Stacey: But you are forgetting that the magic gave out at midnight ... Hence the coach to a pumpkin and the horses to mice!
XY: The magic was only a means to enable the two lovers to meet each other.....once that was done....true love took over. Besides, if the magic truly dispersed at midnight..why did the slipper linger?
Stacey: The slipper was an afterthought, another chance for redemption should Prince Charming muck it all up (which he did) ... LUCKILY, the fairy Godmother (being a woman and a wise one at that) decided to throw in a freebie! However it didn't lessen the odds for mistaken identity
XY: There was no chance of mistaken identity.....every woman in the village tried it on.....it fit only one person!!!
Stacey: How do you know that?? Maybe she was only the second stop on the shoe fitting adventure? Maybe he never even made it down to the baker's daughter, so she could give it a try!!!!
XY: Incorrect.....He tried everyone....He was loath to visit Cinderella's house, cuz he thought it was only the hideous step sisters...he wanted to avoid it if possible.
Stacey: Seems to me Prince Charming isn't so nice ...
XY: He's very nice. He invited them to the ball and allowed them to try on the slipper didn't he?
Stacey: Did you just say allowed?
XY: Correct!
Stacey: HUMPH!!!!
XY: And now, I must make some dinner.....I only wish I could have cereal....but alas it's not to be.
Stacey: Later Valiant ...
** Story ended abruptly because XY participant knew he was about to be proven wrong ... Typical. **
So much for the glass slippers in my ordinary little world.
AND NOW ... Presenting for your viewing entertainment and a nice segway into our next piece ...
The Cinderella Syndrome
Disproving the Fairy Tale
We now continue from where we had previously left off in our last conversation ... (XY denotes a male speaker, notice the indecision right from the get go ...)
XY: That's because you're a cold, cynical harlot who doesn't appreciate a happy ending. ;)
Stacey: LOL ... You dare to compare me to you!
XY: If the shoe fits.
Stacey: I'd be Cinderalla and off living happily ever after with Prince Charming ...
XY: I thought you were anti-sappy.
Stacey: I am ...
XY: Then you should refuse the fairy tale ending.
Stacey: Hmmmm ... Can't you have it without all the sap?
XY: Nope....it is a complete package....all or nothing.
Stacey: Seems to me that is a bit harsh.
XY: Too bad...take it or leave it.
Stacey: No ~ I don't compromise.
XY: Too bad for you then ... No prince charming for you.
Stacey: Prince Charming is hardly an ideal ... After all let's consider a few things. His only criteria for a bride was that she fit a slipper!
XY: On the contrary... His only criteria was that he fell in love at first sight of her, and knew that whoever fit the slipper was the love of his life.
Stacey: BUT think of the odds!!!
XY: What are odds compared to true love?
Stacey: Yes, but had another fit Cinderella's slipper before she had had her turn to try it on, then the shoe size imposter would have been the bride while Cinderella would be still be wearing rags and sweeping up ashes.
XY: HELLO!!!!!! The glass slipper was custom designed by the Fairy godmother!!!!! It wouldn't fit any other person!
Stacey: So you are saying that magic wouldn't let the whole thing be screwed up?
XY: That's one way to look at it.
Stacey: But you are forgetting that the magic gave out at midnight ... Hence the coach to a pumpkin and the horses to mice!
XY: The magic was only a means to enable the two lovers to meet each other.....once that was done....true love took over. Besides, if the magic truly dispersed at midnight..why did the slipper linger?
Stacey: The slipper was an afterthought, another chance for redemption should Prince Charming muck it all up (which he did) ... LUCKILY, the fairy Godmother (being a woman and a wise one at that) decided to throw in a freebie! However it didn't lessen the odds for mistaken identity
XY: There was no chance of mistaken identity.....every woman in the village tried it on.....it fit only one person!!!
Stacey: How do you know that?? Maybe she was only the second stop on the shoe fitting adventure? Maybe he never even made it down to the baker's daughter, so she could give it a try!!!!
XY: Incorrect.....He tried everyone....He was loath to visit Cinderella's house, cuz he thought it was only the hideous step sisters...he wanted to avoid it if possible.
Stacey: Seems to me Prince Charming isn't so nice ...
XY: He's very nice. He invited them to the ball and allowed them to try on the slipper didn't he?
Stacey: Did you just say allowed?
XY: Correct!
Stacey: HUMPH!!!!
XY: And now, I must make some dinner.....I only wish I could have cereal....but alas it's not to be.
Stacey: Later Valiant ...
** Story ended abruptly because XY participant knew he was about to be proven wrong ... Typical. **
How to Mess With a Person's Mind 101
When drunk people do stupid things, heed my advice. What they don't know or can't remember is your free ticket to the perfect revenge. Neither one of the 2 morons remember anything about the conversation from Saturday night, which includes the fact that the only one they spoke with was the answering machine. So of course, now they are worrying about what it is they might have said. Who can blame me if I don't tell them the exact truth? So of course, I played it off as if they had said something far beyond the lines of propriety. I figure I've got a few good days of making them sweat it out before letting them off the hook. But until then, I'm going to enjoy making them squirm while dropping hints at some of the really vulgar things they said. It doesn't pay to play.
Work was a disappointing waste of 8 hours today. This morning, we all received instruction on the evils of sexual harrassment. I was quite let down by the fact that according to a national survey, only a measly 5% of women sexually harass men. Considering this is the 2000's, I thought we would be much better represented by now. Evidently we still got a long way to go. But in all seriousness, I do realize that "SH" is nothing to joke about, especially considering the fact that I work in a completely male dominated environment. It's a more of a been there done that issue. I guess our company just decided it was time to cover their ass on it before they get caught with their pants down.
The rest of my day was spent dealing with customers, some nice and some complete idiots. One idiot is particular got me completely hot under the collar. The man assualted a verbal attack before I had even said, "Hi this is Stacey ..." and continued to rant for a good 2 minutes before finally coming up for air. I don't take being yelled at very well at all, so once he started blustering I mostly tuned him out throwing in the occasional sound of sympathy as if I cared about his plight.
In reality I could have cared less, his attitude from the get go made sure of that. Now had he approached me with a little bit more honey rather than vinegar, we would have had a completely different story on our hand ... But this man wasn't exactly Einstein in the field of public relations. Long story short, I fixed his problem and even managing to get him 2 freebies out of the deal. Did we expect a little gratitude ... Yes ... Did we get any ... No. I hope he stubs his big toe on something hard tonight and I hope it hurts.
When drunk people do stupid things, heed my advice. What they don't know or can't remember is your free ticket to the perfect revenge. Neither one of the 2 morons remember anything about the conversation from Saturday night, which includes the fact that the only one they spoke with was the answering machine. So of course, now they are worrying about what it is they might have said. Who can blame me if I don't tell them the exact truth? So of course, I played it off as if they had said something far beyond the lines of propriety. I figure I've got a few good days of making them sweat it out before letting them off the hook. But until then, I'm going to enjoy making them squirm while dropping hints at some of the really vulgar things they said. It doesn't pay to play.
Work was a disappointing waste of 8 hours today. This morning, we all received instruction on the evils of sexual harrassment. I was quite let down by the fact that according to a national survey, only a measly 5% of women sexually harass men. Considering this is the 2000's, I thought we would be much better represented by now. Evidently we still got a long way to go. But in all seriousness, I do realize that "SH" is nothing to joke about, especially considering the fact that I work in a completely male dominated environment. It's a more of a been there done that issue. I guess our company just decided it was time to cover their ass on it before they get caught with their pants down.
The rest of my day was spent dealing with customers, some nice and some complete idiots. One idiot is particular got me completely hot under the collar. The man assualted a verbal attack before I had even said, "Hi this is Stacey ..." and continued to rant for a good 2 minutes before finally coming up for air. I don't take being yelled at very well at all, so once he started blustering I mostly tuned him out throwing in the occasional sound of sympathy as if I cared about his plight.
In reality I could have cared less, his attitude from the get go made sure of that. Now had he approached me with a little bit more honey rather than vinegar, we would have had a completely different story on our hand ... But this man wasn't exactly Einstein in the field of public relations. Long story short, I fixed his problem and even managing to get him 2 freebies out of the deal. Did we expect a little gratitude ... Yes ... Did we get any ... No. I hope he stubs his big toe on something hard tonight and I hope it hurts.
How people ever managed before electricity was invented, I'll never know. After little more than 6 hours I was ready to start crying for my Momma and request the National Guard to come rescue me from my frigid apartment. In my imaginatioin, I could picture the scene ... I would be whisked off by a caring military man with broad shoulders, who would tenderly wrap a warm, fuzzy green blanket around my near frozen body. Huddling me closer in a protective manner to share his body heat, he would yell to his compatriots to bring me a hot bowl of soup pronto. All the while stroking my hair back from my face, repeating over and over again in his Sean Connery voice that "everything would be ok, I was safe now." However, considering the fact that fantasy rarely leads to reality, I pulled my comforter off the bed upstairs and played my own Prince Charming.
The absence of electricity was like a message heralded from angels above, the sort of divine intervention that you heed rather than question. The message was clear. Thou shall not vacuum or run a load of wash today, thou shall only concern thyself with keeping warm and reading romantic novels by candlelight. I figured a bowl of chocolate ice cream wouldn't hurt either. One would think that one who was already half frozen from lack of heat would not opt for ice cream, but I live to do the unexpected.
As the sky began to darken, I decided that it may be time to seek other shelter and the comfort of family. But I was loathe to leave Emma the cat alone, not knowing just how long the power outage would last. In the end, I couldn't abandon her to fate and spent the next 10 minutes rounding up every candle in the house as well as unearthing the only non cordless phone. There was no way I was going to be scared of the dark, I thought to myself as candles were placed strategically in every room. But just as I was about to light the very last candle in my armada of waxy things, there came an old familiar sound, as the house began to hum once again with electrity. "We're saved!", I yelled out loud, wishing there was someone there I could have high fived. Instead I got a very annoyed look from a small black cat, whose nap had just been disturbed.
Skipping to sometime after midnight, I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. The first thing that popped into my head, was someone in my family must be hurt. Anyone who claims to know anything about me can tell you this, if you're calling me anytime after 11:00 p.m., it had damn well better be an emergency. To say that I am an absolute bear when waking up would be an understatement. Although something told me that I could ignore this phone call and be safe, the inquiring side of me wanted to know what idiot had dialed my number.
What I should have wondered was ... what 2 idiots dialed my number. Not making it down the stairs to answer the phone in time, my answering machine clicked on, echoing the prerecorded sound of my voice into the darkness. I waited patiently for the beep and then there they were. Moron number one and moron number two ... Otherwise known as Mike and Sean ... Alone they are warped enough, together they are a bad sitcom in need of cancelling.
The two were evidently feeling no pain and since I wasn't in the mood to decipher their drunk chatter, I opted to head back up to bed rather than pick up the phone. Imagine my surprise however, when the phone rang just a short time later, only for the caller to hang up upon getting my machine once again. Caller ID confirmed my fears that the 2 morons were still wide awake and in enough control of their faculties to dial a phone. There was nothing left to do but shut the ringer off and hope that the two would suffer a pounding headache in the morning to come. I just hope it lasts until Monday when I can call the twerps on their behavior at work.
Games on.
The absence of electricity was like a message heralded from angels above, the sort of divine intervention that you heed rather than question. The message was clear. Thou shall not vacuum or run a load of wash today, thou shall only concern thyself with keeping warm and reading romantic novels by candlelight. I figured a bowl of chocolate ice cream wouldn't hurt either. One would think that one who was already half frozen from lack of heat would not opt for ice cream, but I live to do the unexpected.
As the sky began to darken, I decided that it may be time to seek other shelter and the comfort of family. But I was loathe to leave Emma the cat alone, not knowing just how long the power outage would last. In the end, I couldn't abandon her to fate and spent the next 10 minutes rounding up every candle in the house as well as unearthing the only non cordless phone. There was no way I was going to be scared of the dark, I thought to myself as candles were placed strategically in every room. But just as I was about to light the very last candle in my armada of waxy things, there came an old familiar sound, as the house began to hum once again with electrity. "We're saved!", I yelled out loud, wishing there was someone there I could have high fived. Instead I got a very annoyed look from a small black cat, whose nap had just been disturbed.
Skipping to sometime after midnight, I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. The first thing that popped into my head, was someone in my family must be hurt. Anyone who claims to know anything about me can tell you this, if you're calling me anytime after 11:00 p.m., it had damn well better be an emergency. To say that I am an absolute bear when waking up would be an understatement. Although something told me that I could ignore this phone call and be safe, the inquiring side of me wanted to know what idiot had dialed my number.
What I should have wondered was ... what 2 idiots dialed my number. Not making it down the stairs to answer the phone in time, my answering machine clicked on, echoing the prerecorded sound of my voice into the darkness. I waited patiently for the beep and then there they were. Moron number one and moron number two ... Otherwise known as Mike and Sean ... Alone they are warped enough, together they are a bad sitcom in need of cancelling.
The two were evidently feeling no pain and since I wasn't in the mood to decipher their drunk chatter, I opted to head back up to bed rather than pick up the phone. Imagine my surprise however, when the phone rang just a short time later, only for the caller to hang up upon getting my machine once again. Caller ID confirmed my fears that the 2 morons were still wide awake and in enough control of their faculties to dial a phone. There was nothing left to do but shut the ringer off and hope that the two would suffer a pounding headache in the morning to come. I just hope it lasts until Monday when I can call the twerps on their behavior at work.
Games on.
Gosh darn freezing rain! I was this close to posting my latest thoughts and ramblings to my blog earlier when suddenly ... "click" ... Someone turned the lights out and hit the rest of the switches while they were at it. So there went my witty little blog entry right down the proverbial toilet. Talk about a pisser ... Now I've got to rethink myself and start from scratch.
SpongeBob SquarePants has been officially put on a time out as of today. At the beginning, SBSP had the novelty of providing humor geared towards adults while sailing clear over the heads of children. That was until yesterday and the infamous episode. The premis of the episode begins when SBSP and his best friend Patrick Starfish develop "sailor's mouth", conveniently voiced by various sea creature sounds to replace the censoring beep, when they say something they shouldn't. While the moral of the story may fix itself by the end of the episode, KC seemed enthralled by this new loophole of getting around the law of the land.
Now to know KC, is to know that she leans toward the dramatic. Which means when given an inch the child tries to take 3 miles. So out of the blue, in the middle of no particular conversation she says, "So Mom, how the {insert various sea creature noise here} are ya?"
OH NO SHE DIDN'T!!! OH YES SHE DID ...
And that as they say is the proverbial end of SpongeBob for just a little while.
SpongeBob SquarePants has been officially put on a time out as of today. At the beginning, SBSP had the novelty of providing humor geared towards adults while sailing clear over the heads of children. That was until yesterday and the infamous episode. The premis of the episode begins when SBSP and his best friend Patrick Starfish develop "sailor's mouth", conveniently voiced by various sea creature sounds to replace the censoring beep, when they say something they shouldn't. While the moral of the story may fix itself by the end of the episode, KC seemed enthralled by this new loophole of getting around the law of the land.
Now to know KC, is to know that she leans toward the dramatic. Which means when given an inch the child tries to take 3 miles. So out of the blue, in the middle of no particular conversation she says, "So Mom, how the {insert various sea creature noise here} are ya?"
OH NO SHE DIDN'T!!! OH YES SHE DID ...
And that as they say is the proverbial end of SpongeBob for just a little while.
The hot cocoa remedy did not work but only because I didn't even bother to make it. Otherwise I have every confidence that it would have done the trick. Needless to say, I never managed to get back to sleep. Instead doing a little light housework to pass the time until the sun finally came up to greet the day.
Armed with the "Nectar of the Gods" (Mountain Dew) and more than one cup of coffee, which was so incredibly strong it could have put hair on your chest, I made it through what could have been a very ugly day. The downside of exaggerated levels of caffeine in my bloodstream however, made me a little loopy ... And had me flirting with just about every male customer that sounded the least bit cute over the telephone. I even asked one guy if he could call me on a daily basis to tell me how wonderful I was, since he had expressed gratitude for the help I had given him during our phone conversation. It got me a laugh, now I'll have to wait and see if it gets me a call.
Dinner at Dad's tonight. I kind of invited KC and I, by asking my Dad what he was making us for dinner ... Oh who am I fooling? I just plain old invited us over to dinner because I had absolutely no desire to cook tonight. Or clean. Or move more than a fraction of an inch towards anything that revolved around domesticity. I probably shouldn't have invited my older sister and her entire family as well, since it isn't even my house but hey ... You can never have enough quality family time.
Armed with the "Nectar of the Gods" (Mountain Dew) and more than one cup of coffee, which was so incredibly strong it could have put hair on your chest, I made it through what could have been a very ugly day. The downside of exaggerated levels of caffeine in my bloodstream however, made me a little loopy ... And had me flirting with just about every male customer that sounded the least bit cute over the telephone. I even asked one guy if he could call me on a daily basis to tell me how wonderful I was, since he had expressed gratitude for the help I had given him during our phone conversation. It got me a laugh, now I'll have to wait and see if it gets me a call.
Dinner at Dad's tonight. I kind of invited KC and I, by asking my Dad what he was making us for dinner ... Oh who am I fooling? I just plain old invited us over to dinner because I had absolutely no desire to cook tonight. Or clean. Or move more than a fraction of an inch towards anything that revolved around domesticity. I probably shouldn't have invited my older sister and her entire family as well, since it isn't even my house but hey ... You can never have enough quality family time.
Insomnia, described as prolonged and usually abnormal inability to obtain adequate sleep and reason why I am currently awake rather than drooling all over my pillow. This makes night 4 of tooling about the midnight hours so it's no big surprise that I am going into extreme bitch mode. I feel like the Princess and the Pea, but without the crown, the pea and 20 or so mattresses.
The most depressing thought I can think of, is the fact that I have to wake up in approximately 2 hours, which means the work day will be quick to follow. However, there are 2 problems with this ... One being that I'm not sleeping which elimates the need to wake up and two, my attitude towards life is not bound to improve as the day progresses. Not sure who I should be feeling more sorry for here, myself or anyone who happens to cross my path. Maybe I should call Dave Attell and see if he needs a sidekick.
Too bad I don't live in some nutty town where you could actually venture out and find some sort of life after dark, I doubt Dave would think there would be much of a story line here to fill even 5 minutes of his show. More is the pity.
I'm going to go try one of those old women remedies and see if maybe some warm cocoa made with milk will help to lull me to at least an hour of some quality good old fashioned sleep. I doubt it will work, but at least I'll have something to enjoy before tuning into yet another infomercial. Yay, ionic breeze!
The most depressing thought I can think of, is the fact that I have to wake up in approximately 2 hours, which means the work day will be quick to follow. However, there are 2 problems with this ... One being that I'm not sleeping which elimates the need to wake up and two, my attitude towards life is not bound to improve as the day progresses. Not sure who I should be feeling more sorry for here, myself or anyone who happens to cross my path. Maybe I should call Dave Attell and see if he needs a sidekick.
Too bad I don't live in some nutty town where you could actually venture out and find some sort of life after dark, I doubt Dave would think there would be much of a story line here to fill even 5 minutes of his show. More is the pity.
I'm going to go try one of those old women remedies and see if maybe some warm cocoa made with milk will help to lull me to at least an hour of some quality good old fashioned sleep. I doubt it will work, but at least I'll have something to enjoy before tuning into yet another infomercial. Yay, ionic breeze!
