Prank

Do you ever get the feeling that someone is playing a prank on you?

Either

(1) Someone is having a laugh at my expense by indicating that I'm interested in joining the Yahoo! group "Hot Adult Kinky Webcams" repeatedly

Or

(2) I have coincidentally been spammed four times in the last 24 hours to "confirm my interest" in this particular Yahoo! group

Or

(3) I have deleted the same e-mail four times and it just won't stay dead. It keeps showing back up in my Inbox.

For the record, I'm not interested in participating in Hot Adult Kinky Webcams, no matter how many times Yahoo! is going to email me about it.

Also, if you're the one pranking me, good on you. It was funny. Hilarious even.

Now, stop. Really.

Warping My Mind

I probably shouldn't admit this. I'll probably come to regret it. But, I suppose, I've already written two whole sentences, which I'm pretty sure is the point of no return.

I read that Chris Henry of the Cincinnati Bengals died yesterday.

My first thought was "Oh. Sad. He was so young," which I think is fairly typical and falls within normal limits.

My second thought, however much it pains me to admit it, was "I'm glad he wasn't on my Fantasy Football team. There's nobody worth picking up anymore."

What is wrong with me? When did this happen?

It's sick and wrong.

Fantasy football has warped my mind.

And so it goes.

Neeeeeeeeerrd!!

Tonight I,

(1) Bought advanced tickets for the 3D showing of Avatar on Friday night

and

(2) Voted (repeatedly) for my favorite acapella group from "The Sing-Off"

That's right. I'm a nerd. Geek. Dweeb.

Call it whatever your heart desires.

But, I'm going to see Avatar on Friday and Nota is a fucking fantastic acapella group.

So, I'm sorry you can't appreciate things that are awesome.

Like (possibly) Avatar or Nota or me.

What I guess I'm trying to say is, you can suck it.

Orange Glow

FakeBake Barbie was on my treadmill tonight.

It kind of annoyed me.

Not because I couldn't use the treadmill. I don't run on Tuesday nights.

I just don't want her using my stuff.

Probably left a coat of orange all over it.

Sigh. I know I'm just being silly. She'd only leave a coat of orange on my machine if she spray-fake-baked. I think she actually destroys her skin instead.

Probably shed her diseased skin all over it.

Eww. Hopefully, the Y's disinfectant will take care of that.

Musicality

I got an iTunes gift card recently, so I spent some time trolling for music online over the weekend.

I considered several different CDs before I actually bought one.

First up, I thought of Fame Monster by Lady Gaga. I definitely want to buy this CD at some point, but I kind of wanted something from an artist I didn't already have.

Next, I considered getting Awake by Skillet. I really like their song Monster, but then I found out they are or maybe were a Christian rock band. Hmmm, I hate to be a snob, but can a Christian band really rock it out?

Last, for kicks, I checked out I Dreamed a Dream from Susan Boyle. Her voice is so pretty. Sigh. But, um, this is not the music I normally listen to.

Can you guess which album I picked?

If you said Susan Boyle, then congratulations, you picked a winner!

Her music is not what I normally listen to, but damn her voice is pretty. It's strange to hear that voice covering the Stones, the Monkees and Madonna, but it was kind of lovely.

I'm a little embarrassed that I bought a Susan Boyle album. Oh suck it up! I like it, I don't care what anyone else thinks!

For the record, I've listened to Monster about 20 times since I bought it and I don't hear anything religious in the lyrics. So, I'm probably eventually going to buy Awake anyway. I dig it.

Stretchy

So... stretching, what's up with that?

There are two guys at my gym who spend substantial amounts of time stretching.

CollegeKid stretches sometimes downstairs, sometimes upstairs by the treadmills. But, it's not uncommon for him to spend a solid 20 minutes stretching before he runs.

TallGuy stretches downstairs. He spent at least 40 minutes stretching tonight. He started when I was about 5 minutes into my run and then he was still stretching when I left. Why does he need to stretch for so long? At some point, aren't you stretched already? I don't know that I even know enough different ways to stretch that I could find a way to fill up 40 minutes.

It did provide some amusement for me tonight though. TallGuy had a rubber band thing that he used to stretch by wrapping the end of it around his shoe. He lifted up his leg with it and the rubber band slipped off and snapped him in the face.

I tried not to laugh (out loud), but I'm pretty sure I snorted. It was hilarious. I had to put my face in my hands and look away.

That's what you get for trying to be limber, dude. Suck it up.

Designer Snuggie

Yes, yes, yes.

I wasn't into the Snuggie. Blue, red. Blah. No thank you.

But, thankfully, they've seen the light. They are now making Snuggies in "luxurious leopard", "stunning zebra" and "classic camel."

Now, I'll be able to look fashionable when I wear my blanket with sleeves. And who doesn't want to look hot sitting on the couch? (Note: I already look hot just sitting on my couch. The designer Snuggie only makes me hotter.)

I'm a little disappointed in "classic camel" which is basically just brown, but "stunning zebra?" Sign me the fuck up!

Men in White Coats

I keep looking out the window to see if they're here yet. Not yet, but I'm sure they're coming.

I bought one of those bag frozen dinners at the grocery store this weekend. You know the kind that comes with chicken, vegetables and pasta in the same bag? It was pretty cheap and comes with 3 servings. Perfect... sort of.

I decided to split up the ingredients so that I could keep two portions frozen and only make one portion for dinner tonight.

Carrot in the pan, carrot in bag 1, carrot in bag 2.

Chicken, chicken, chicken.

Pasta, pasta, pasta.

Broccoli, broccoli, broccoli.

I knew when I got to the corn that there was something wrong with me.

They'll have to get past Joe and Milo to get to me, but I know they're coming... sneaky bastards.

The High Cost of Being Poor

I didn't have anything better to do yesterday, so I went shopping.

Exciting? Maybe if it hadn't been for groceries.

Since I had some time to kill, I did a little comparison shopping.

We've got four places to buy groceries here:

I can shop the Pig, Pick N Save, Brennans or Wal-Mart.

Brennans is top notch, but waaaay too expensive and more of a niche story anyway. Although, I love the free samples!

The Pig is kind of worthless.

They don't even sell beef jerky... wtf?

That leaves Pick N Save and Wal-Mart.

Pick N Save is my normal grocery store, but except for Natures Valley Peanut Butter granola bars, it sells all of my comparison items at a higher price than Wally World (on average $0.34 per item).

However, Wal-Mart doesn't sell the environmentally friendly, non-animal testing cleaning products and paper products that I normally buy. So, I'll have to go to Pick N Save for that stuff anyway.

Even though it may make a little pin-prick in my soul, I think I'm going to have to shop for some of my groceries at Wal-Mart. I just can't justify spending that much more money per item for the exact same thing right now when every dollar counts. Ugh.

13 Days of Halloween

I'll be sad to see Halloween come and go this year. Not for the costumes (which I don't plan to wear), the adorable kids (which I don't plan to turn on the light for this year because I can't really afford it) or the candy (which I don't really eat).

I'll be sad to see Halloween go because it means the 13 Days of Halloween are over on ABC Family.

They have been showing some of my favorite movies on ABC Family instead of their usual teeny bopper fare.
The Goonies, The Addams Family, Edward Scissorhands, etc.
I've been tuning in quite a bit recently. I love these movies. Love them.

I've only got one more day, so I guess I had better enjoy them while they last. I'm sure ABC Family will be back to showing nonsense like A Walk to Remember in no time.

The Power of Positive Thinking

When did life get to be so hard? It's not that I thought this would be easy necessarily, but I didn't really realize the emotional toll it would take.

The days are pretty easy to get through. I have work, which takes up plenty of time and I have a number of friends there that keep me socialized and human.

The nights are harder. The house gets quiet with just me and the dogs.

On the one hand, it's nice that I only have to worry about myself. There's no one else to please (or not as the case may be). I can be completely and totally selfish and there are no consequences.

On the other, it's lonely and dark. There are no hugs. There is no soft place to fall.

For the last couple of weeks, I've had a pretty much daily cry over the sad state of affairs my life has become.

Today, I decided to stop.

People (myself DEFINITELY included) fall into a trap of thinking, "I'll be happy when..."

I'll be happy when I lose 5 lbs.

I'll be happy when I find somebody to love.

I'll be happy when I have enough money.

I'm tired of saying "I'll be happy when." I'm going to be happy now.

I didn't let myself get into a negative place today. I only listened to songs on my iPod which make me feel good (which recently means no love songs, no angry songs, a lot of medium tempo content neutral songs). I set expectations about how I would feel during each portion of my day.

And although I wouldn't call it a complete success, I have to say that I felt better today than I have in a while. No tears. While I wouldn't call myself "happy" per se at the moment, I feel at a minimum neutral, which, trust me, is an improvement.

Life is what it is and I have to take it as it comes. But, I'm not going to live for a mystical future date when life will be good enough to be happy with.

I want things, which may mean that I'm always doomed to some level of dissatisfaction, but if I can achieve a state where I'm fairly contented interspersed with moments of genuine happiness (which will hopefully be more numerous than the unavoidable moments of unhappiness) then I'll consider it a win.

Path

When I was younger, I could see a path laid out for me. Easy to follow, just place one foot in front of the other and I would get where I wanted to go. No problem.

Easy as pie.

Peach pie.

Is this where I meant to go?

I can't see the path laid out in front of me anymore. I don't know where I'm going or why. I'm a little bit lost. The future looks murky. I can't see it at all. I'm flying blind.

I still have hope for a better tomorrow, so I keep trying to figure it all out.

Then, I remember Pandora's box. Was hope a gift to humanity or a curse? Fairly often, it feels like both.

Handy Dandy

Living alone for the first time in my life has given me the opportunity to be responsible for all those things that were previously taken care of by someone else.
Fantastic.

My neighbor told me that he got a "chuckle" out of watching me mow the lawn on Sunday.
Whatever. I got it done. So what if I haven't quite mastered the speed on the stupid thing yet? It seems to have a hair trigger between going along at a decent clip and dragging me along behind it. I'll figure it out. Hopefully. Maybe.

Next, in the master bathroom the little lever inside the toilet that pulls up to make the toilet flush broke off.
I went to the hardware store and the levers were sold according to whether the lever is on the front or the side, plus model of the toilet. Pete's sake, they make this shit difficult to figure out!

Okaaaaaay. Well I was pretty sure the lever was on the front, but model? I have no fucking clue.
I didn't really want to go check the model and come back (because I am lazy), so I bought one that claimed it could be used in all standard toilets.

Ha. Liars.
When I tried to hook it up, there was no way to get the lever in and through the plastic loop without either the lever being shorter or breaking the plastic loop.

I, briefly, considered taking it back to the store and getting another one but I didn't (because I am lazy). Instead I hooked the lever up to the base of the toilet (correctly) and then grabbed an inexpensive necklace chain I didn't really like very much (removed the pendant, which I do like) and used it to loop through the level and the plastic loop so the damn toilet will flush.

So, now I have a working toilet again. It's not exactly the right solution, but it's not exactly the wrong one either. It's a slightly stupid solution that makes me feel just the tiniest bit like MacGuyver.

Moving Along

Things have changed so much in the last few weeks, I hardly know where to begin. The husband (possibly the soon-to-be-ex-husband?) moved out.

A few people know the whole, long painful story of my side of what happened. Most don't. Most won't ever. Some, because I can't really see the day when I lay my heart open for everyone to see and judge. Some, because I don't want them caught in the middle of he said/she said between us.

He is not a bad person. He did not mistreat me.
We are not a good couple.
We have spent a lot of years fighting and being unhappy.
I want to change that. I want both of us to be happy.

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry if I caused you any pain.
I'm sorry if I caused him any pain.

This is not what either of us ever wanted or intended. But, at this point, it is what it is.

In some ways, this whole series of events has been a pleasant surprise. (What?!?) Everyone, so far, has been supportive and kind. I feel less alone now than I have in years. So, if it applies, thank you for that.

I'm not sure what this journey is going to bring. But, I'll keep you posted.

Bravery?

Sometimes, I wonder if bravery and stupidity aren't pretty much the same thing.

Friends

I have better friends than I deserve.
Thank you.
You mean more to me than you know.

Gross!

I was at a presentation today where they were talking about rates of hand washing after bathroom use for attending physicians, residents and nurses.

The numbers were 61, 50 and 71 respectively. They talked about the 71 for nurses as a win.

What?!?

Um, you're health care professionals. Sanitation is important!!! Those numbers should be way higher!!!

Y-U-C-K!!! (I stand by my overuse of the exclamation point here.) That is so gross.

Then again, maybe I'm not a good judge of this sort of thing.

Hell, even if I'm about to jump in the shower, I still wash my hands after going to the bathroom.

Oh, Honey!

I was looking up the lyrics to Devil Went Down to Georgia today using Google. (Let's pretend that is a normal thing to do and move on... sound good?) They have that completion matching business now that tries to "help" you.

When I typed in "Devil went down" my options were:
Devil went down to Jamaica
Devil went down to Jamaica lyrics
Devil went down to Georga
Devil went down to Georga lyrics

Seriously? How many people had to misspell "Georgia" for Google to list it in the search options list?

And how does the "Devil went down to Georgia" not even make the list?

Makes me a little sad.

World of Warcraft

That Mountain Dew commercial kind of makes me want to play World of Warcraft.

But, then I think, do I really need to be that girl? I really don't need another reason to sit around and play on the computer. I've already embraced my nerd-dom, but I'm not sure I need to ramp it up and take it to the next level.

I'm pretty happy with the level I'm on, so I'm not going to pursue this any further.

But, c'mon, it kind of looks fun, doesn't it?

We Do Not Kill Bunnies in This House, Mister!

We do NOT kill bunnies in this house, Mister!

These are the words my neighbors heard me screaming across the lawn at my dog, Milo today. We have a little burrow in our backyard where a bunny must have given birth because there are a bunch of baby bunnies in there.

Milo found it. A couple of days ago he kept sniffing a patch of dead grass and jumping back in surprise. I watched it for a little bit until I went over there.

Pity sake Milo! Stop being such a drama queen! It's just a patch of dead... oh.

He's been crazy about going into the backyard ever since. I've been trying to keep him away from it. I took him out today and let him near enough to sniff it (which is all he did last time).

This time he stuck his stupid nose in and pulled out a tiny, little baby bunny. I started screaming and swatting Milo's rear end until he dropped the bunny. I threw his butt back in the house grabbed a towel and went back outside to return the bunny to its burrow.

Poor bunny tried to get away from me, but it couldn't hop properly yet so it just sort of flopped around in a circle.

After I came back inside, Milo and I had a long conversation about how killing bunnies is not what we do in this household. I don't think much of it sunk in. He's standing at the back door trying to get me to take him out as I type. Bad dog. Poor bunny.

Statistically

Here's a snippet of a conversation I was having with my Dad this morning:

D: Powerball is up to $250 million. If you have an extra $20 you should play.

Me: People who win the lottery are usually unhappy. You want me to be unhappy?

D: Stupid people who win the lottery are unhappy. You'll be fine. Plus...

Me: Plus?

D: Well, you're statistically more likely to get attacked by a shark than win the lottery. But, if you manage to win the lottery, do you realize how statistically unlikely it is that you'd be attacked by a shark, too?

Me: Right, because those things are inversely proportional to one another?

D: You'd be bulletproof.

Me: Sign me up.

Anybody else going to be playing Powerball tonight?

One of These Days

One of these days, you will learn the difference between a shoulder to cry on and a punching bag. While I am always willing to be the former, I am not willing to be the latter anymore.

I get to matter.

You're not the only one who is disappointed.

As always, I'm here if you need me.

Juice Guy

My employer provides free juice, milk and popcorn and the people in this building go through like green tea like it's going out of style. So, there are about 10 jugs of Green Tea sitting out in the break room, I assume because they didn't fit in the refrigerator.

The note accompanying the jugs reads:

These jugs are fine to sit out. The tea will not spoil.

Thanks,
Juice Guy

I pretty much love that he signed the note "Juice Guy"
It makes sense. If he had signed his name, I would have thought, "who the hell is that?"

Still, awesome!

Shadows and Nightmares

Can someone stop this ride, please? I'd like to get off.

On Friday, I had another ultrasound done on my right breast. The lumps from before are stable, and one even seems to have gotten smaller (Yay!). But, and this particular "but" seems to be a reoccurring theme, they found a new lump.

The radiologist wants to just watch it and see if it's stable. My surgeon wants to operate or biopsy; she always wants to operate or biopsy. In this case, because I'd rather be careful, yet I don't want my breasts to look like a war zone, so I sided with my surgeon, but opted for the biopsy.

The nurse asked me if my doctor had explained the procedure to me. I said that she hadn't, but that it was unnecessary since I just had a biopsy in March.
She nodded sympathetically, but looked vaguely uncomfortable.
She asked if I had any questions.
"This is the one in the basement, right? They call me to schedule it?" I asked, just to make sure.
Unfortunately, these questions made the nurse explain the WHOLE procedure to me from beginning to end. I wanted to stop her, but I think it made her feel better to tell me, so I just let her go on.

It's funny (not 'ha ha' funny) how people respond to this kind of thing.
The radiologist was jovial. "You've had an awful lot of biopsies for someone your age!" with a giant smile.
Well, yeah. And thanks for bringing it up.

The radiology tech was apologetic. She mouthed "sorry" to me when she found the lump.
Me too. But I'd rather you found it, than not.

The surgeon was friendly. "It was great to get to see you again!" (super-upbeat tone)
Really? Maybe for you.

The husband is overly concerned. He asked if I wanted him to take off work to go with me to consult with the surgeon today. Sweet, and yet somehow annoying.
I'm not dying. And this appt was just so my surgeon could give her two cents about what I should do. Calm down.

I? Have an overactive imagination. When I'm there in the doctor's office, it's like I can see a corridor in time of what happens if it is cancer. I'm not going to explain what I see because an embarrassing amount of it is overly dramatic and silly. But, I think you're allowed to be a little overly dramatic and silly when considering the possibility of cancer, for at least a minute or two.

In a lot of ways, I am lucky. I keep winning the lottery. This thought helps keep me from being too maudlin or self indulgent, but it doesn't quite chase away the fear. That doesn't happen until everything comes back as okay and I forget about this until my next follow up appointment when this starts all over again.

Yellow

I'm wearing a yellow shirt today. It's new.
I only have two yellow shirts in all my closet and I've bought both in the last three months.

I like my yellow shirt.
It bright and cheerful.
It's like wearing a hug.
It wraps me up in a cocoon of warm color and soft fabric.

I should remember I like yellow shirts the next time I go shopping.

Why I Love the X Games - Part Two

Here is some of the commentary from the Moto X Freestyle competition I was watching tonight on TiVO.

Commentator 1: It's interesting to note that no non-US or international player has ever won this competition.

Commentator 2: Isn't non-US and international basically the same thing?

Commentator 1: Uh, well Americans can be international, too, so I just wanted to be clear that it was non-US.

Damn, are they dumb! They know a lot about Moto X. They can tell you what the tricks are and pretty much the complete history of every trick, but when they get to jabbering outside of their industry specific knowledge, holy shit are they dumb!

Luckily, that just makes it more entertaining for me. It may or may not make the husband uncomfortable when I shout back at the television and tell them how dumb they are.

Why I Love the X Games

There is a new event at the X Games, it's called the Skateboard Big Air Rail Jam. Basically, there is a giant drop, then after a 50 ft jump, there is a long rail and a quarter pipe at the end.

The video is from last night's big air competition. You can see the drop (which is crazy dangerous!) is the same as in the video, only off the middle run, there is a rail for this competition.

It's the first time this event has ever been at the X Games. Competing in this competition, is Danny Way. He's a huge badass in the sport of skateboarding. He originated the Big Air competition (and took the sport's first gold medal). He has jumped the Great Wall of China. The.

Great.

Wall.

of.

China!!

Skateboard Big Air Rail Jam was his idea, too. He's a pioneer and has done a lot to really progress the sport.

Tonight, he dropped into the ramp with a bum wheel on his skateboard. Oh yeah, and his knee won't bend. For those of you not into skateboarding, when you fall, they generally try to fall so they are sliding on their knees. It's safer. It's why they all wear knee pads. Danny Way can't fall into a knee slide, so he's just got to slide on his ass and hope for the best.

And, if that weren't enough, he rolled his ankle. He bit it pretty hard on one of his early runs. Tony Hawk, who commentates for this event for ESPN, thought with Danny's other injuries that he might be done for the night.

But, no. Danny, who could barely walk, dragged his ass to the top for the winning run.

That's right. On a bum wheel, injured knee and rolled ankle, he fucking won!

After he won, Kier was interviewing Danny and asked him why, at this point in his career when he really has nothing to prove, did he come out here to compete in this event.

His answer?

He loves skateboarding.

It's inspiring to watch athletes who give their whole heart and soul to their sport, not for a paycheck or fame, but for the love of the game. They play through pain and injury, because they can't bear not to.

That's a beautiful thing. It reminds me why I love sports.

Mrs. The Husband

I got a birthday card from one of the husband's sisters today. It was addressed to "Mrs. The Husband"

Ugh. 

Really? Is this the 1950s?

I am not Mrs. The Husband.

Mrs. if you must, otherwise, it had better be me. 

Much love to the husband, but I'm not the little woman type. I don't fall in line and stand behind my man. My man can stand at my side or behind me!

Sigh. 

The husband just laughed when he saw the address label. He knows what's what.

Sometimes, You Can't Stop the Crazy

Here's the thing, my closet is very organized. There is a system at work, people. 

I have a U-shaped walk in closet with space to hang clothes all around the U and a place for folded clothes above it. There is also a tiny little hanging area at the entrance to the closet above the U. 

My pants are all folded. Jeans on the right. Non-denim pants and shorts on the left. Flannel and comfy pants at the base of the U. Gym clothes on the umlaut. 

My shirts are all hung up, arranged by color and sleeve length. 

My shoes are arranged so that winter shoes are on the left and summer shoes and commonly worn all-weather shoes are on the right. 

Each shirt has a specific type of hanger that it uses. When that shirt is in the laundry, its hanger goes on the umlaut. 

What?

I said I had a system. 

Tonight, after I got home from the gym, I was in the middle of changing clothes and for no particular reason I decided to reorganize the free hangers on the umlaut. They are now arranged by type (plastic with indents in the shoulders, plastic with hooks, plastic without hooks or indents, free hangers (the kind you get from the store that list your size on them)) and color. 

That's right. Tonight I stood in my closet, wearing nothing but my shorts and a sports bra with my gym shirt STILL IN MY HANDS, rearranging the hangers. 

About halfway through I realized how weird doing that was. Yet, I still didn't stop. It would have driven me crazy, at that point to leave it. Short drive, I know. 

Sometimes, I wonder if I have even a passing acquaintance with "normal."

Breaking Bad News with Baby Animals

After the Staff meeting today, Fargo came by my cubicle. Fargo's a pretty cool guy, but usually he only drops by to discuss business. Not today. Today was my lucky day.

He brought by a postcard book called "Breaking Bad News with Baby Animals"

This is fucking brilliant! Beware baby animals from now on people, because from this point onward, I'm breaking all my bad news with a baby animal.

Who could be upset by receiving a postcard saying "You don't matter", when it's accompanied by a little kitten? Mew. Mew.

"You're not the father", when it's accompanied by two adorable little ducklings?

Is there any bad news that can't be counteracted with the cuteness of baby animals?

One of my favorites was a bulldog puppy that says "You were a mistake" Fargo and I discussed sending that one through interoffice mail to a co-worker who really gets on our nerves and signing it "XOXO Love, Mom"

Of course since neither of us particularly wants to get fired, we're not going to do that. Um, it might be a little mean too. Especially since that particular dude isn't very bright, he might not realize it wasn't from his momma. Ha!

(That dachshund is so adorable, even if he does seem a little creepy pimpin' with that caption)

I seem to be writing about correspondence a lot lately.

What can I say? I like written correspondence. It's unfortunate for you that you'll never know if I'm going to pick you up or slap you down.

Am I going to tell you you're terrific or that I'm banging your wife?

It's like a mini-mystery in every envelope.

I like to think that it takes a lot of talent to make the mail scary.

Terrific

I think I've mentioned before that there is a Life's Little Instructions poster above my dentist's chair. Most of the "instructions" are pretty annoying, some... some I take to heart.

For example, "Send lots of Valentine's Day cards. Sign them 'Someone who thinks your terrific'"

I think that's a great/ridiculous idea, only I don't want to wait until stinking Valentine's Day. No, I'm going to implement this plan now. I'm going to buy a bunch of cards and send them out to people. No return address. No nothing. Just "Someone who thinks you're terrific" (I'm going to go ahead and spell you're correctly though, hopefully that doesn't ruin it) I may even dot an i with a little heart or add an exclamation point. We'll see. I've got to keep it real. 

If you know me and I know your address, you're probably getting a card.

If you read this blog and I don't know your address, leave it on the comments or send me an email (quartergoddess@yahoo.com) and I'll send you a card, too. Because, you're probably pretty terrific and everybody deserves to be told so every now and again.

Plus, I think it's funny. (Don't worry, I'll still mean it)

I thought about picking some random names out of the phone book and sending them cards. It seems like it would be nice to get a card out of nowhere that told me I was terrific. But, then again it would drive me nuts not to know who sent it. Plus, what if I accidentally caused some poor couple to break up because they couldn't figure out who would send their significant other a card about how terrific they are? 

I wouldn't want that on my conscience. On the other hand, they really should have a little more faith in their partner. 

Cards for everybody!

Signed,

Someone who thinks you're terrific

Naked Laundry

You know what's annoying about doing laundry? It's never done. I'm always wearing clothes which at the end of the day, go right in the laundry basket. 

Anybody else ever feel like just doing the laundry naked? You know, so when you're done, you're done. Every item of clothing in the house is officially clean. 

Please! You know you've thought the same thing. 

P.S. You may want to avoid my house on laundry day. 

Or not. Naughty bird.

Inappropriate Laughter

So, the thing is I hate feet. I think they are gross. My sister used to chase me around and threaten to touch me with hers. I hate her feet. They're not particularly gross or anything, but I don't want them touching me. Ever. EVER. 

But, sometimes when you practice yoga, you have to touch your feet. For example, today the yoga instructor had us doing the happy baby pose, supposedly it's good for your back. 

At the end of every session there is a period called savasana, which for those of you who don't practice yoga is at the end of class where you just sort of lie there with your eyes shut and relax. You're not supposed to think about anything but your breath. Today's yoga instructor likes to do what they call an "assist." It's basically where she rubs some aromatherapy stuff on her hands and she sort of pushes on your shoulders, moves your neck around and sort of massages your scalp a bit. 

It smells good and it's relaxing. Usually. Today, all I could think is that she touched her feet with those hands and is now rubbing my hair with them. Which logically should have grossed me out, but instead made me want to giggle. A lot. I'm pretty sure that goes against the enlightened, zen sort of attitude that we're supposed to take during savasana, so I tried very, very hard to keep it under control. 

And I was very nearly successful at that. 

Poor woman. 

Someday, I'll be a grown up and I won't laugh at inappropriate stuff. Um, maybe.

Cleaning Out My Closet

Finally! Finally, I got around to cleaning out my closet. It's been a long time coming. The herd needed to be culled. It didn't really take that long, but I was surprised at how hard it was. Not hard physically, hard emotionally. 

Some items were pretty easy: it doesn't fit, I never really cared for it all that much in the first place, into the Charity bag it goes. Bing. Bang. Boom. Done. 

Other items were harder. I bought that sweatshirt in Canada on a spring break trip with the husband. We had a really good time and were really happy. I wore that dress to Snoop and DaisyDuke's wedding. Sist-A gave me that shirt for Christmas. Those used to be my favorite pants, I wandered all over the U of M in them. I never thought I'd fit into them again. That was my favorite t-shirt. It made me feel good about myself at a time when I very rarely felt pretty. 

I've always been a bit of a sentimental type, more than most people realize. I wanted to put them back in my closet, so I could wrap myself up in those memories whenever I felt like it. That way they would never be able to slip away. 

But, that's ridiculous. They're just clothes, right? As I placed each sentimental item in the bags (there were far too many to keep), I kept telling myself, it's a good thing. This will go to someone who needs this. I won't wear it because it doesn't fit anyway. Let it go. This is a good thing. 

Even so, there were a few things I couldn't bring myself to part with. Not yet.

My high school track shirts, my prom dress, my Rainbow Falls jacket, a sweatshirt I got in Hawaii, a t-shirt I got when we went on vacation with mr. blume and manricor in Las Vegas, a red dress my dad bought me when I was a little girl. 

At the end of the day, it feels good to get rid of those things. I don't need them sitting around, gathering dust and taking up space. It feels cleaner and lighter. I can see all the clothes I actually wear now, and as an added bonus, the Great Hanger Crisis of 2009 is over. 

That's Super.

Today, I team taught a class for work. I taught the class with J.J., the self-proclaimed "third funniest person at {company where I work}". 

We're required, as instructors, to hand out reviews so that all the shiny, pretty people taking our class can give us feedback. 

From one girl in particular, J.J.'s feedback was, "funny, very informative"

My feedback from the same girl, "super funny, very helpful"

J.J. was a little distraught about this "super" business. 

It was a momentary setback though as he quickly decided that it was simply possible that I was the "first or second funniest person at {company where I work}". 

Doesn't bode very well for my company. 

So, I got that going for me, which is nice. 

That's Love

This is Milo. He's my dog. My littlest dog, my baby. We went for a walk together tonight. He gets so excited when he knows that he's going to get to go. His feet prance. It's adorable. 

He's a tough little bugger, but sometimes he gets tired when we go on walks together. Sometimes, he just needs a little rest. So, sometimes I carry him for a little bit. 

People may laugh at us, but that's what you do for the ones you love. You pick them up and carry them when they are tired. 

And, of course, when they wiggle their butts you know they're okay to carry on by themselves again. 

But, What Does It All Mean?

I heard this quote today, 

"You can't find the meaning because you're looking for it. Meaning isn't something you find. It's something you give."

I like that. I like things that put the control back in my hands. For better or worse, it's about the choices I make. It means what I let it, or perhaps even make it mean. 

My life. My choice. My meaning.

I like that. 

Roadkill

I have a 45 minute drive to work everyday, so I see a lot of roadkill on a day-to-day basis. Today, I saw a family of raccoons that had all been run over. There were three of them, they had all died within 2 or 3 feet of each other.

Makes my heart sad.

Score!

Mark your calendars.

Sunday, July 26th is the Demolition Derby at the Green County Fair. Boo-yah!

Happy birthday to me!

Just the Picture

They've added a glass balcony to the Sears tower. Just looking at the picture makes me a little queasy and makes my knees go kind of weak. Heights from airplanes don't bother me. Hell, jumping out of an airplane didn't bother me. The idea of standing on that glass ledge makes me want to throw up a little bit. 

Wait, what?

Over the weekend, the husband and I took a holiday to Milwaukee with the usual round of suspects (mr. blume, manricor, Snoop and DaisyDukes) We went to the Strawberry Festival in Cedarburg during the day and a dinner cruise at night for all you can eat tacos and margaritas. 

As a side note: This was the night I learned that all-you-can-eat means probably-don't-want-to-eat. And there is a vast difference between tequila and "tequila"

After a fun, but long day, Snoop, DaisyDukes, the husband and I headed over to our hotel to get some much desired sleep. (manricor and mr. blume shacked up with her sister)

You would think that this is where the fun ended, but you would be wrong. You would be so, so very wrong. It was where it all began.

The husband booked us for one night at the Quality Inn in Brookfield. (Should've stayed at the La Quinta?) I can't remember the time exactly, but I think we got to the hotel just past midnight. 

We had already called them earlier and told them that we would be checking in late, so we weren't particularly concerned at that point. There were two men behind the desk when the husband went up to check in. Once they looked up our reservation, the two guys exchanged a look. 

"Um, we just need to make sure that your room is ready," the first guy behind the desk said. 

Wait, what? It's past midnight. Why would our room not be ready?

The husband said as much, while DaisyDukes and I were laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. I tried to stop because it seemed mildly rude, but seriously, why would our room not be ready? The first guy sent the second guy to make sure that our room was ready and assured us that "everything was okay." 

Summerfest was going on in Milwaukee last weekend, so there weren't any other hotels to be had. We really didn't have a better option than to wait for our room to be ready. 

While I was attempting to get ahold of myself, the husband was making conversation with the guy behind the desk who we learned was from Bulgaria. 

This is my favorite part of their conversation, to the best of my recollection:

Bulgaria: I like Wisconsin because it is social.

The husband: Yeah, like us right now.

(Note: Social - pertaining to, or characterized by friendly companionship or relations) 

Bulgaria: Um, yah. You can get free healthcare and cheap medication in Wisconsin. 

(Note: Social - pertaining to activities designed to remedy or alleviate certain unfavorable conditions of life in a community, esp. among the poor)

The husband: Huh? Oh, right.

Bulgaria: It's good, when you are poor like us. 

The husband, completely deadpan: I like free drugs. Do you like drugs?

After about 15 minutes of this, our room was finally "ready". Snoop and DaisyDukes might or might not have slept in a dirty bed on dirty pillows. (Happy Anniversary guys!) Plus, I'm not sure, but I think there might have been a family of Bulgarian refugees sleeping in our box springs. It's hard to fit in there, so it would explain why they needed so much time to get our room ready. 

But, when you're poor like us, what else can you expect?

My New Bunny

Remember this?

That's right, it's the bunny eating a cookie that makes me laugh. I've got a new "bunny with a cookie", by which I mean something that I laugh about every time I think about it and I keep thinking that I'm going to get over it and the next time I think about it, it won't make me laugh, so I keep testing it and so far, still laughing.

My New Bunny

At work, we have weekly meetings between myself, the Saint, the Queen of All (aka my boss) and Fargo (the lone boy in our group of misfits). We talk about how it's going, what we're working on and any complaints or awesome stuff that's happened. Mostly.

Sometimes, we gossip. Sometimes.

Fargo: I wonder when S is supposed to be due?

(S is the head of our division)

The Saint & myself: S is pregnant?
Queen of All: <>

The Saint: Are you sure?

Fargo: Either she's pregnant, or she got really fat in one particular area. Seriously, she's either pregnant or it's time for Weight Watchers!

The Saint: -gasp-

(Can you tell who the nice one is in our group?)

The Saint: Have her boobs gotten any bigger?

(Being nice doesn't preclude you from asking the practical question.)

We all turn to Fargo, who gives us a blank stare in return that I take to mean, either he hasn't noticed, hasn't looked or doesn't want to admit that he has noticed or looked.

Queen of All: Well, she did just get married not that long ago. She had 1200 people at her wedding.

Me: I guess it's possible she got married and just decided to let herself go. I don't know how you can tell she's got a belly. She's always wearing a sari when I see her lately.

Fargo: Well yeah, if she's pregnant she's going to be wearing looser clothes.

Queen of All: Yeah, but I saw her bend over last week. If you're pregnant and you bend over, you can't just bend in half. The baby doesn't bend, right?

We all look to the Saint, since she's the only one of us who has been pregnant.

The Saint: Well, the baby doesn't really bend.

Me: Well I can't say really, I've never had the occasion to see S bend over and I don't know that I would have noticed if she had.

Fargo: I see S a lot. I'll have to pay attention if she bends over.

Me: Really? You're going follow S around and watch if she bends over?

The rest of us starting laughing hysterically while Fargo turned bright red and stammered that that was not what he meant AT ALL for a few minutes.

Later that day, I was at the gym and I was kind of in a pissy mood for no particular reason. I randomly thought about Fargo following S around waiting for her to bend over and I laughed. Out loud. At the gym.

It's possible that the people there think I'm insane now, laughing to myself (if they didn't already), but what do they know?

I've got a new bunny.

Father's Day

I bought my grandfather, Poppie, a Father's Day card. It's very pretty and brown. It looks handmade with fancy paper and a ribbon on the front. It says "Love You, Grandpa" on the front.

It's too bad that I'm greeting card illiterate, otherwise I might have read the inscription before I bought it. It says:

You're a wonderful person grandfather,

a great person, 

and an inspiration to the family. 

Happy Father's Day

Just in case he didn't know it before, he's a wonderful person AND a great person. In a comma delimited list TOGETHER. 

Sigh.

I know he probably won't even notice. He's a sweet, darling man who will just be glad I sent him a card, but still, I would rather send him a card that didn't read like a raging, insipid moron wrote it. 

I guess most greeting cards sound that way anyway, so I probably didn't really move that far down the greeting card food chain. 

That Was Unexpected!

Today was my first real yoga class. Sist-A and I went to a Yoga 101 seminar on Saturday where you learn some of the positions, vocabulary and philosophy, but that was nothing like today.

I have to admit, going into it, I thought it would be easy. I thought it would be a lot of stretching and flexibility stuff, but I didn't think it was going to be a challenge. I'm utterly delighted to find it otherwise. It's exactly what I was looking for when I took that failure of a water aerobics class. 

Things that made me pretty happy about this yoga class:

• To my surprise, I actually broke a sweat
• At one point, my thighs were only holding me up through sheer force of will
• Despite how hard it was, I was still able to go running afterwards
• Turns out that zen hoo-hah stuff actually works. I thought it was kind of crap as she started out with it, but as she talked us through visualizing our stress being released, I felt little pockets of stress in my back give way. Honestly, I didn't even realize they were they until I relaxed.

All in all, I'm calling it a win...

... hopefully, I'm still going to be able to walk tomorrow. 

Times are a changing

Changing is hard. 

This week, I'm going to try to change my schedule so that I can fit yoga into my daily routine. There is a yoga studio near where I work (Bliss Flow Yoga), so I can go during the day or early afternoon. The good thing about where I work is that it's very flexible, so if I want to step out for an hour to practice yoga, no big deal. 

The key is that I have to get up earlier to do it. 

To say that I'm not a morning person is the understatement of the century. 

Imagine a cranky, salty, curmudgeon who likes to rampantly curse about really small offenses. Yeah, that's basically me in the morning. 

So, it's going to be interesting to see how easily I adjust to getting up an hour earlier so that I can afford the time to go do this. 

It takes 21 days to create a habit, so this should only be a pain in the ass until it becomes a habit. I'm just not looking forward to trying to get to bed by 10, so that I can get a decent amount of sleep.

It's day one, and I've already missed 10 o'clock. 

Inner peace here I come? 

The More Things Change...

I saw an old friend, MCool, this weekend. I haven't seen him in almost three years. 

With some people, no matter how long you've been apart, you just fall back together like time and distance don't really matter. Some people require a period of adjustment before you remember the patterns of your friendship, how they relate to you and how you relate to them. Don't underestimate the latter. 

MCool and I were talking about weight lifting, he's been really into because of a contest he's doing with his friends. 

Apparently, I've been doing it wrong. He wouldn't really pin down what I was doing wrong, but suffice it to say, I was definitely doing it wrong. 

I have to admit, this initially rubbed me the wrong way. 

I mean, WTF!?! Who is he to tell me I'm not lifting correctly? Seriously, we haven't see each other in three years and one of the first things he does is to tell me what I'm doing wrong!

Then I remembered. I'm talking to MCool, not a normal person.

I think he was just nostalgic for the very first time we met. 

We met in high school, both of us were on the track team. I was a sophomore and he was a junior (although it was his first year in track, due to playing baseball for two years), and I was teaching the freshman girls to use the blocks. 

Ready. Set. Go.

Ready. Set. Go.

MCool walked up behind me and his first words to me were exactly this, "You're doing that wrong." In his (not so humble) opinion, I was holding the girls in their blocks too long before I said "Go."

... Aaaand just for the record, I was not doing it wrong. There is no correct amount of time to hold them in their blocks. 

I remembered this story of our first meeting, and suddenly I wasn't annoyed anymore. It was like hitting the valve on a steam cooker. The steam was released and along with it any bad feelings. All that was left was love and affection for MCool. That crazy kid hasn't changed at all. 

He's the boy who used to be too lazy to walk across the dorm to my room, so we would both watch the Simpson's over the phone together.

He's the boy who used to come over to my apartment every Tuesday to help me with my math homework and watch Buffy: The Vampire Slayer with me. 

He's the boy who used to go out for walks with me in the wee hours of the morning when I would get restless because he didn't think I should be wandering around by myself.

Sometimes it takes awhile to get the memories flowing, but then I remembered: my boy's got some excellent qualities, even if he (erroneously) believes that I do lots of stuff wrong. 

Quandary

When I was a kid, I asked my mother if it was better to be the kind of person who thought nice things and did good things or the kind who thought bad things, but usually did good things in spite of that. 

She thought for a moment and said it was better to think and do nice things.

I think about that occasionally, because I think the same thing now that I thought then.

I'm fucked. 

You Know You're Not Fooling Anyone, Right?

I don't watch Jon and Kate + 8.
She's bossy and mean. He's weak and boring.
Together they produced a hell of a lot of kids.
Snooze.

But, how can you stay away from the media storm the break up of their marriage is creating? It's salacious. It's fame, sex, money and lies. It's awesome.
In an, 'oh those poor children' kind of way, but awesome, nonetheless.

They're trying to convince us they're still together.
Yet, they spent her birthday apart. His trip out to Utah "just happened" to fall on her birthday?
I call bullshit on that one. You don't just happen to make other plans on your wife's birthday. This is a major relationship no-no. You especially don't make other plans to hang out with a girl you got tabloid busted for possibly having an affair.
There is trying to convince us that you're still together for the sake of the show and blah, blah, blah, whatever. Then, there is insulting.

Really, the hard part to believe is that someone would want to have an affair with either one of them. They've got 8 kids. If I were single, I don't think that kids would be a deal breaker. One or two little steps running around seems like it would be manageable. But, eight? That's a whole lot of baggage. I guess you can never really underestimate how low people are willing to sink for a little bit of fame-whore action.

Who's ya daddy?

Culinary Ninja

I made bars today for our Brewer's tailgate tomorrow. 

(Bars, for the non-Wisconsinites are, as far as I can tell, any dessert that can be served from a 13 x 9 pan)

To make the bars, I had to melt some chocolate, so I rigged up a makeshift double boiler to do it. I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty much feeling like a culinary bad ass at this point. 

No microwave for me, thank you very much! 

I'll do it the hard way. I'll take the not-a-double-boiler-but-I'll-make-it-into-one-anyway, please. 

If the bars turn out to be awesome (and why wouldn't they?), it will definitely be due to my ninja-like double boiling skills. 

P.S. I have noticed, but I no idea why so many of my blogs are food related lately. 

And in other food related news...

I was watching Dinner: Impossible tonight on the Food Network.

Robert Irvine had to create a gourmet dinner for 200 using only ballpark food by the seventh inning stretch.

One of the dishes he created was brats with American cheese rolled up in a tortilla and fried on the grill.

That sounds DISGUSTING. 

Yuck. Who eats a brat with cheese? 

Double yuck for using American cheese. 

Brats and cheese? That's just wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Don't get me wrong, I like cheese. Cheese and I are buddies. We pal around.

But, there are certain things that you don't eat with cheese.

Brats are one of them. 

Fail, Robert Irvine. Go back to the drawing board. 

And FYI, you cannot call anything that uses American cheese "gourmet."

Sorry, but I'm pretty sure it's one of the laws of the universe. See, it's listed right there after gravity.

Amazing Cakes

I like cake-related television.

I TiVO Ace of Cakes on the Food Network. They make some kick-ass cakes.

If Food Network Challenge is on, I'll turn it on because pretty often, it's some sort of insane cake decorating contest. 

So, when my TiVO recorded Amazing Wedding Cakes on WE, I was all "boo-yah!" 

I spoke too soon.

Amazing Wedding Cakes seems to be about two, possibly three, wedding cake shops going about their business. Not all wedding cake shops are built the same apparently. 

Where Duff and crew (Ace of Cakes) are good natured and up for any challenge, these women are a bunch of neurotic, perfectionist, drama queen, whiny bitches. Blech. 

At Cake Girls, the bakery in Chicago, the customer called to change their order about a week before it was due (the husband-to-be made the call without consulting his wife-to-be) and they bitched and moaned and bagged on their customer, more than once, and in essence called them stupid. 

I didn't know it was possible to dislike a show about cakes. 

Suck it, Amazing Wedding Cakes! You ruined the un-ruinable. 

What the hell is wrong with you? You should be ashamed of yourself.

What a Waste

I read an article on MSN.com today about a girl who has, for the last 13 years, had perfect attendance at school. Not by accident, by design. She wanted this. She refused to attend baseball tournaments or take a senior skip day all in the name of maintaining her perfect attendance record. She is a self-described "perfectionist."

What a fucking waste. 

I don't think there is anything gained by encouraging perfectionism in those who feel compelled to seek it. We all fail eventually. It's inevitable. You're better off learning to accept yourself and cope with the imperfections and failures than to indulge in a perfectionism that can only be achieved on a very small, insignificant scale. 

I'm not judging. I'm a reformed perfectionist. 

But, never about my attendance.

I'm not going to lie to you, I skipped school in high school. A lot. Especially in my senior year. I particularly hated my pre-Calculus class and skipped it at least a couple of times a week. 

The whole affair makes me laugh in retrospect because I wasn't particularly clever in getting excused from class. I am a decent forger and our attendance office was insanely stupid.  Every. Single. Time. I went to the "seniors" window with an excuse note she would point to the next window and tell me freshman/sophomores get excused at a different window. And honestly, who goes to the dentist that often?

There are things I regret about the choices I have made. Things that I would do differently if I had them to do over. Skipping school is not one of them. It was fun. I don't regret it at all.

I would love to say that I learned some big life lesson by breaking the rules. But, mostly, I learned that sometimes you can get away with stuff you're not supposed to and sometimes it's fun to break the fucking rules. 

This poor girl gets a lousy 15 minutes of fame for a record I wouldn't take if you offered it to me gold-plated. I hope, in the end, that's worth it to her. 

Run Away

Do you ever just want to walk away from your life?

Leave the job, the house, the people, the responsibility, everything. Just leave it behind and start somewhere anew? Then you could go somewhere nobody knows you. Then, nobody will tell you "how you are" or make assumptions based on who you used to be. You just get a clean slate. There would be problems, of course, there are always problems. But, they would be different problems than the ones you have now, and maybe different is enough. 

Reality is that we don't leave because we are tied to the people, places, and responsibilities that we have here. There is enough love to keep us still, if sometimes strangled. 

Today, I want to run away. I won't, but I want to. 

Can you smell it? There is change floating in the air. I'm not sure how to deal with it. 

Maybe I'll dye my hair a different color. You laugh, but it's worked to counteract this need for change before.

I'm not sure what the future holds but today, I'm going to stay put and listen to The Way and dream about where I could go without ever knowing the way.

The Way 

by Fastball

They made up their minds 

And they started packing

They left before the sun came up that day

An exit to eternal summer slacking

But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

They drank up the wine

And they got to talking

They now had more important things to say

And when the car broke down they started walking

Where were they going without ever knowing the way?

--Chorus--

Anyone could see the road that they walked on was paved in gold

And it's always summer, they'll never get cold

They'll never get hungry

They'll never get old and gray

You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere

They won't make it home but they really don't care

They wanted the highway

They're happier there today, today

The children woke up

And they couldn't find 'em

They left before the sun came up that day

They just drove off and left it all behind 'em

But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

--Chorus--

--Chorus--

Wanderlust

I can feel it in my veins. There is a time for staying home and taking comfort in the things that are familiar. Then, there is also a time for venturing out and having an adventure. 

I'm looking forward to two grand adventures that loom on the horizon. 

First, the husband turns the big 3-0 this September and in honor of that auspicious occasion we have decided to take a trip. We're going to go to California. We'll fly into LA, rent a car, drive up the coast stopping at various locales and fly back from San Francisco. We've got a few ideas in mind for things to do (Big Sur, San Francisco, Napa Valley). We booked our flight and car rental tonight. We've still got a lot of planning yet to do, but I'm looking forward to it!

Second, in August I earn my 5-year sabbatical at work. What would you do with a paid vacation anywhere in the world? 

I was thinking about taking it next summer, but after talking to my friend JR, I may be leaning towards next May. I haven't finalized a location yet, but right now I'm thinking possibly Prague. I want to go somewhere that has plenty of history so I know there will be plenty for me to do for 3 weeks. Then, all the other European countries are just a train ride away. 

I think I'm going to put in my request at work pretty soon. 

Half the fun of these things is working out the possibilities and planning what you are going to do. Things are looking up. 

How I was almost good, but then I wasn't

At Christmas, my work hands out holiday cards with crisp $100 bills inside of them. Usually I hand mine over to the husband. This year (with his approval) I kept it. I've been thinking about what I would spend the money on for the past 5 months.

Makeup? Clothes? Jewelry? A new purse? A new vanity for the bathroom?

The possibilities were more enticing than actually spending the money. 

Today, I finally spent my $100. 

I would love to tell you I bought something completely fabulous. 

Nope. Instead, I spent the money on some new bras. 

Sexy bras, at least?

Sure. You'll never know if I'm lying anyway.

It was long overdue. I needed some that actually fit. Too much information? Suck it up. 

I bought three new ones and I could have paid for it out of our joint account, but I had the cash and since I didn't technically need them it seemed fair to pay for it with my own money. 

So, I was a good little girl and did not put my purchases on our bank card. 

THEN. Then, I went to Sephora. Just to look. 

Um, would it help if I said that one of the things I bought was on sale?

No? Oh well. 

I tried. Kind of.

Storming

I like thunderstorms. 

I always have. 

When I was a kid growing up in Dallas, a substantially bigger city than where I currently reside, what I was afraid of more than anything was robbers. Not spiders or snakes or even winged monkeys. Robbers. 

The very idea of someone coming into my home, into the place where I should have been safe, was T-E-R-R-I-F-Y-I-N-G! Lil-C was afraid of them, too. I'm not sure if I did that or if she came to that conclusion on her own. 

She slept on the floor of my bedroom for years because of it. 

I would love to tell you that she did for the safety and security of being near her big sister. That is laughably untrue. If we were robbed, she hoped any ne'er-do-wells would step over her (thinking someone had accidentally left a blanket on the floor, perhaps?) and "get" me instead. I wasn't much better. I hoped that they would think I fell out of bed and "get" her and not notice me. Ah. Is that sisterly love or what?

Dallas sits right in the middle of a big, fat plain. There is nothing to break up a storm once it gets rolling. Often those thunderstorms would be accompanied by flash floods. What I'm saying is we had some big, bad-ass storms.

My childhood logic went something like this:

Thunderstorms are big, scary and dangerous. Why would someone want to commit a crime in such foul weather? Better to wait until the weather is good before breaking and entering.

Lame, but true. Thunderstorms equalled safety. 

We had a plantation style front porch that extended along the length of the house. I remember standing there with my dad during a thunderstorm. We were protected from the storm, but had a fantastic view. Lightning lit up the sky like fireworks. Thunder crashed and shook our bones. I remember feeling completely and totally at peace. 

Now, I'm all grown up. While I wouldn't enjoy being robbed and would probably freak the fuck out if a thief actually came into my home, I don't live in constant fear of them. Still, when the storms start, I breathe a little sigh of relief because even though it may not make sense anymore, I feel a little bit safer for the duration.

Nerd

The rule on Mother's Day is that the husband and I pick a Mother's Day brunch to go to and Mom gets to decide what we are going to do for the day.

The husband and I picked the New Glarus Hotel, which was lovely. 

She picked Star Trek.

It was fucking awesome.

It's not William Shatner's Star Trek. They were pretty much kicking ass and taking names. I'll admit I had a private little geek out moment to myself when they read the line. 

What line?

Either you like Star Trek and you already know or you don't and well, it would really matter if I explained it to you 'cause you wouldn't understand anyway.

My history with Star Trek isn't something I normally confess. I wouldn't call myself a "Trekkie", but I have more than a passing acquaintance with the Star Trek franchise. I'm pretty sure I've seen all the movies. I've seen most of the original series. I've also seen parts of The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, and Voyager. The only one I haven't seen was that short lived Scott Bakula one, Enterprise. 

You can call me a nerd if you like. A bigger person would probably say Live Long and Prosper. 

I'm going to go with fuck you instead. 

I likes what I likes...

Sunburnt

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

The title of this exhibit is "I am an idiot."

Today, I had my weekly meeting with my semi-new team lead, the Queen of All (QoA). It was a gorgeous day, so we decided to have the meeting outside. I sort of remembered that I hadn't put any sunblock on my arms, but since the meeting was only supposed to be a half-hour I didn't really think anything of it. 

I am an idiot.

It was just the two of us since everyone else is out this week and we ended up chatting for a really long time. About an hour and a half really long time. 

At some point, I knew I was getting burnt, and I still didn't manage to get out of the sun. 

Why? Why would I be so fucking stupid and allow my arms to turn an attractive lobster red?

Because I am incapable of ending a conversation. I have no idea how to get out of a conversation that I want to be over. It's sort of a chronic problem. I have no concept of the graceful exit. 

It fucking sucks. And (I hope!) I've learned my lesson. I don't care if I'm forced to use my fall back plan (the awkward exit) it's not worth getting sunburned. I'm 28 years old and I need to figure out how to end a fucking conversation when I want to, awkward or otherwise. 

It should be noted, it wasn't so much that I wanted to be done talking to the QoA, so much as I wanted our conversation to be in the shade.

Sigh.

I am an idiot.

Ouch. Aloe anybody?

Churning Around

Growing up, we had a pool in our backyard.

It's not that uncommon in Texas, but since you asked, Yes, it totally kicked ass. 

My sister and I spent most of our summers soaked in chlorine. We were such water babies. We loved to swim and play around. We had tons of games we would play, underwater tea parties, gymnastics competitions (she cheated, just FYI) and ice cream parlor to name a few. 

Then, we moved up north and BLAMMO, no more water. Oh, I know. There's water here, but I don't really have access to it like we did in Texas. 

So, I was looking forward to trying this water aerobics class I signed up for at the Y. At worst, I figured it would be fun, nostalgic even, for me to spend an hour splashing around. At best, it would totally kick my ass and I'd be sore and barely able to finish, plus all that nostalgic, fun junk. 

As it turns out, water aerobics at the Y equals social hour for middle aged women. Sure, they splash around. Perhaps they aerobicize, I can't really tell what anyone else is doing in the water. But mostly, it's social hour. They all know each other. Apparently, there is also a water aerobics class on Mondays and Wednesdays that they take together. 

Maybe if I was a social butterfly, I would enjoy this and make a whole gaggle of friends. But, it's better to have a more than passing acquaintance with reality, so I think we can all admit, this just isn't going to happen. 

Plus, if they spend the whole time talking, do you think this class has been kicking my ass? Let me answer that for you. No. It isn't. At all. It's ridiculously easy. I've been still doing my regular Tuesday night workout after it because it just too damn easy. 

I may finish out the rest of this class, I did pay $10 whole dollars for it, so I may as well get my money's worth out of it. But, I don't think I'll be back. In addition to the downsides already mentioned, I've seen way too many completely nude middle-aged women today.

It's not pleasant.

It's disappointing because I was really hoping this might be something I could add to shake up the routine a little bit. As it turns out, if you go to the gym and do the same thing over and over (and over and over) again, eventually you get bored. Who knew?

I've been thinking about checking out a yoga studio near where I work for a little lunchtime yoga. And I'd like to drag the husband to visit the climbing gym on the east side. But, I'm not sure what else to do to keep it interesting. 

When I Grow Up...

My mom and I went to a tap dancing performance at the Capitol Theater last night. It was called the Soles of our Feet. A part of the performance was a tribute to Arthur Duncan.

This guy:

You'll understand why they call him the "King of Taps" around the 1:15 mark. 

It wasn't just a tribute to him, he was a part of the show. 

When he first came out, he tapped and sang. 

I leaned over to my mom and said, "I want to be him when I grow up."

He's about a billion years old (really I think he's about 76 according to IMDb), he still doing what he loves and singing and tap dancing. 

That pretty much kicks ass.

THEN! Then, there was the second part. The rest of the (much!) younger cast came out and they tapped together. And not some slow, piddly tap routine. It was insanely fast. And he was right in sync with the young kids. 

Did I mention he's about a billion years old?

He was doing things with his legs at 76 that I'm pretty sure I could not do at my tender age of 28. 

That's when I leaned over to my mom and said, "I think I overshot. I think I'm going to have to settle for being maybe about as half as cool as he is. Possibly one-third." 

It's something to shoot for, at least. 

The Power of Cheese

There's no way around it. I'm having a bad week.

I wore my "Power of Cheese" shirt from Cheese Days today. I was hoping it would help power me through.

"The Power of Cheese compels you!"

So far, all it's gotten me is a speeding ticket.

I keep trying to tell myself that I see the light at the end of the tunnel, but then the little voice of evil in the back of my mind keeps cackling and says, "Yeah, that light at the end of the tunnel? Probably a train. Toot, toot! Peanut butter!"

Shut up! Stupid evil voice.

Where am I?

This is where I've been all day... 

... I have no idea why. 

Rhyming

The husband and I were watching Best Week Ever on VH1 this morning. They were talking about the controversy between Perez Hilton and Miss California. 

According to Best Week Ever, Perez called Miss California "the C-word."

The husband turns to me and says, "The C-word? Does the 'c-word' rhyme with cunt?"

Yes. Yes, husband, the c-word does indeed rhyme with cunt.

He followed that with, "Oops. I meant 'punt.'"

Yes. On both accounts.

ETA: When I read this blog to the husband he said, "I said 'bunt', not 'punt'. Bunt. Bunt. Punt isn't even a word." 

Thank God he's pretty.

iPod Journey

I went to visit my friend, Fatty, last month. He told me that he listens to his iPod play list alphabetically through all the songs since the iPod shuffle function is suck. He even took some artists (Daughtry) off his iPod because his shuffle function loved them so much and he didn't love them quite that much. 

At first, I thought he was crazy. What the hell kind of way is that to listen to music? Alphabetically? What the hell?

But then, I had to agree, the shuffle function does suck. You get the same songs over and over again no matter where you start.

So, I tried it.

I listened to all 1154 songs I currently have loaded on my iPod alphabetically. It took me one month and 20 days. I finally finished my entire play list today. 

On the one hand, it was nice to get to hear songs that don't come up on the shuffle play list very often. It forced me to slow down and listen to some of the lesser known tracks on some of my Cd's.

On the other hand, it made me very impatient at times. VERY impatient. Because, of course, there were rules and I since I made the rules I couldn't break them. 

Rule 1: I can skip Christmas songs, but I don't have to.

Rule 2: I can't skip a song I like just because I'm not in the mood for it.

Rule 3: I can't skip a song just because I don't know it.

Rule 4: I can skip songs I really hate, but only if I really hate them. 

Anything by Colbie Caillat falls in this category. I thought I would love her when I bought her CD, but as it turns out I don't. Her voice gets on my nerves the more I hear it. Oops.

It was an interesting experiment, but I'm not sure if I'd do it again. It took too long. 

Then again, I have to do something to combat shuffle suck, so it's always an option on the table.

Why do I feel like I've accomplished something worthwhile, like running a marathon, instead of something completely nonsensical?

Possibly because I'm completely delusional.

Or it's possibly because completing it thoroughly satisfies that OCD place buried deep within my heart.

I think I end up on the crazy side of the teeter-totter either way. 

Blogs and Belts

Bloggers are extremely useful. 

People write about weird stuff. They blog about their stuff in great detail. In insane, minuscule detail. 

Thank goodness they do. Our trivia team benefited from their bizarre cadre of knowledge. I don't know how we could have found some of the answers without them. We had to find a race car driver by his pit crew, which we only found from some guy's blog. 

Next year, we should remember to look at the saying on the Belt's sign, so we can actually get that question right next year. 

I'm tired. I'm glad we're on question 7 of hour 54. 

Trivia 40 Hour 3

So it begins.

The searching and questioning and googling. 

Hour after hour after hour. After hour.

But, now we're still in the beginning. When it's fun and exciting and I can't wait for the next question. Instead of when I'm addicted. When I want to stop, but I continue on, for just one more question. Just one more. And then, one more. 

It's a marathon, not a sprint.

You can stream it on-line if your interested. 

http://www.90fmtrivia.org/

If you know me and you know an answer, give the husband's cell phone a ring... unless you're here. Then just say the answer. No need to call him. 

Advice

Don't wear white when baking.

Especially don't wear white when baking red velvet cupcakes.

Really, really don't wear white if you're undoubtedly the type of person to make a mess and accidentally smear batter on your arms and face. 

It looks like you are some sort of demon child who has just taken part in a blood orgy. 

Well, maybe not that.

But something like that. 

If my husband thought words like "vampire," I'm pretty sure that's what he might have thought.

Something New

We got our summer mailer from the YMCA on Thursday. I've been wanting to try something new for awhile, so I decided to sign up for one of the classes they offered. This is the one I signed up for:

Hydro-Cuff-Core and More

Give yourself an entire body workout! Buoyancy cuffs, strapped to your ankles, engage your core muscles as you burn calories, build full body strength, fine tune your balance, and increase your endurance. This is an excellent cross training workout for beginner athletes or advanced athletes that want a fun and challenging high energy class.

Sounds fun... maybe? Hopefully. Or at least different, which is what I want. According to the mailer, the class started June 22. But, when signed up for it I ended up signed up for the class that begins April 20. 

Yikes! 

That's really soon.

That means I have to go shopping for a bathing suit. Today. 

Because Trivia is next weekend, so this is the only day I've got to go.

Double yikes!

Wish me luck.