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.

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?

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."

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. 

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. 

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.

What does your birthday month say about you?

According to Facebook my birthday month says that I am,

Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people's feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable.
Moody and easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets. Dislikes
nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying

Legend
True, so true
I like to think so.
I suppose we could pretend, but in reality, not even a little
Um, maybe?
What the fuck?

Seriously, a reputation for what?
Being awesome?
Well, that's okay then.

Questions.

Some girls make statements sound like questions. Those girls will say something and make their tone go up on the end. Instead of saying, "Look! It's a hooker and her pimp," it sounds like, "Look! It's a hooker and her pimp?"

Today, I noticed that when I ask questions (usually in writing), I often ask them as statements. I have to go back and edit and add the question marks in all the appropriate places.
For example I wrote, "What is it that you want to do [with this activity], but can't."

I do this All. The. Time.

Do you think that means anything?

Just Dance

Last night, I went to see the Hubbard Street Dance with my mother. 

Parts of it were really good, entertaining and unique, for example, the last act was a mixture of Israeli folk music, techno and cha-cha that was very good. Parts of it just didn't gel quite right for me. I think the choreography didn't quite suit my taste like I wanted it to. 

I love dancing, in general. I like to dance. I like to watch dancers. As some background, when I was a kid, my mom was involved in an organization called 500, Inc. in Dallas. It's a non-profit organization for the arts. She was on the board of directors in charge of Education. I have spent more nights than you can possibly imagine attending plays, symphonies, musicals, dance performances, etc. 

One of my favorite things in the world is that feeling of anticipation, when the house lights go down, just before the stage curtain goes up. A feeling like anything in the world is possible and you may be witness to the tiniest bit of magic. 

When you see a good performance, it sticks with you. I could tell you, in detail, about some of my favorite performances, even the ones I saw when I was pretty young. 

When you see a good dance performance, in particular, it can be extremely soul-satisfying. In a mixture of awe and rapture, I think, 'Yes, that is what the human body is meant to do. That is the beauty and joy of this form.'

I think I wanted it to be just a little bit crisper, a little bit faster, a little bit more. 

Baby Girl

Today is my little sister's birthday... happy birthday, sissy.

My relationship with my sister has always been special. We have been to hell and back together. She is my best friend. She is the bane of my existence. Over time, our relationship has expanded and contracted. There have been times, when I thought it would collapse all together, but it never does. The thread that holds us together, the tie that binds, is unbreakable.

We are very different people, but somehow the same. I always say that we are opposite sides of the same coin. We're made of the same stuff, but our outlooks are radically different. In spite of all the difference, I have always loved her. Unconditionally. Not the fake "movies" kind either, the kind the is real, quiet and comes at great sacrifice. I cannot remember a time without her. I cannot imagine my life without her.

For better or worse, she has had a greater impact on my life and who I have become than anyone else I know.

A note for my sister:
You are beauty.
You are light.
I hope someday you are able to see all the good things in yourself that I see in you.
You are one of the funniest people I know. Especially in the quiet times, when it's just you and me and no else is around to question our warped sense of humor.
It is unfortunate, that eventually, we always drive each other crazy. We might fight like cats and dogs occasionally, but I always have your back. I'm looking out for you and would move heaven and earth to make things okay for you. It's what big sisters do.
It's been so exciting to watch you over the last year as you have so much enthusiasm for the direction your life has taken. I'm so proud of you.

I love you.
Happy Birthday, baby girl.

Minor Food Meltdown

In a few weeks, I'm going to San Antonio to warm my bones. It won't be warm, warm, but it might be about 40 degrees warmer than here, which sounds like a little bit of heaven. 

It's kind of like going home for me. I'm not from San Antonio, but I am from Texas. I haven't been back to Dallas since my grandmother's funeral two years ago. I didn't think about this trip like "I'm going home" when we planned it, for two reasons. One, Texas isn't really home anymore. Two, San Antonio isn't that close to Dallas, so it's not like I'm going someplace I've been a hundred times before.

BUT!

Then, mr. blume and the husband started talking about food today. Did we want reservations anywhere before we go... that sort of thing. I mentioned that I wanted to get some bar-b-que and tex-mex when we're down there, since although you can find those restaurants up north, they are generally crap when compared to the real thing. 

That got me thinking. 

There's also southern food. Real southern food, the kind nobody eats up north. Places where the serve fried okra and chicken fried steak. 

AND there's Luby's, a cafeteria style restaurant, but it's not your high school's cafeteria. The home of a beautiful mac and cheese, mouth watering rolls and my favorite kind of pie. 

AND there's Cajun food. It's more Louisiana than Texas, but you can still find some pretty good stuff in Tejas. 

AND, well can you see my problem? We're only going to really be there for two days. I can't fit all the fabulous food of my childhood into two days. Not even close. Plus, I'm not looking to gain 10 lbs on this trip, so I'll have to pick and choose carefully. 

I'm excited at the possibilities and a little sad that I know that there just isn't time for everything. Until then, all this talking about food makes me hungry, so I'm going to go find something to eat. 

Behaving is Hard

They provide soda and popcorn at our staff meetings. People were setting their sodas on the ledge that separates the front of the room from the back. 

As I walked by them to get to my seat, I wanted to slap the sodas off the wall right into the laps of the people sitting behind the wall. 

I wasn't annoyed at the individual owners of those sodas. I don't even know them. But, I wanted to knock them off the wall so badly it almost hurt. By the end, I was afraid my arm would just flail out of its own accord, so I held it down with my other arm. 

Thinking about it again now, I still really want to hit those sodas. Sploosh.

What is wrong with me?

New Eyes

I read this quote today:

"Intelligence isn't a virtue, it's a quality. It's like hair color, or height: it earns you absolutely nothing. If you think that's all you are, you are trading on a seriously devalued currency, because you're wrong. There are more important things inside people. It's up to us to find them."

It doesn't matter where it comes from. Okay, it was from Jacob on TWOP in a recap of American Idol last night. Doesn't make it any less true.

I know a lot of people who have put their own value and placed value on others based on qualities (athleticism, intelligence, beauty).

Let's be clear.
Athleticism is not hard work. It is not dedication. It is not loyalty and determination. It is a certain amount of natural grace and an innate understanding of the mechanics of sport.

Intelligence does not equal educated. It does not indicate a desire to learn. It is not proof of curiosity. It is merely the ability to absorb new information and ideas quickly.

Beauty is entirely subjective and no matter what, always flawed.

They are qualities that people have no control over (with I suppose the exception being plastic surgery), yet we treat them as something valued and something they earned.

I guess my point is that I call bullshit. We might as well be judging others on toe length or, oh let's say, skin color. Most of the people (I know of) who read this blog would never judge someone based on the color of their skin, but I think most of us have called someone a moron in disgust or shied away from someone because they were kind of, well, gross.

There are virtues that are more difficult to come by, that take longer to develop and are hard to ascertain upon acquaintance.

Kindness, the true kind that you show towards everyone, not the fake kind that you turn on and off
Generosity, the kind that comes from the spirit and has no strings attached and no expectations
Compassion, the kind that allows you to put yourself in another person's shoes to understand them in a primarily non-judgmental way
Integrity, easy to claim, difficult to live
etc.

I'm not trying to preach. I'm as guilty as anybody else of judging people based on qualities they have no control over, rather than the choices they've made to sculpt who they've become. Who am I kidding? I don't go to the gym 7 days a week because I only care about my health.

Life is complicated. People are complicated. I don't have any conclusions about this issue or any plan of action to take now. But, I think it's something I'm going to have to think about for awhile and for starters, I think maybe I've been letting it be simple for too long.

Snow Day!

Due to no visibility and shitty road conditions, I am forced to work from home today. Poor me?

I've got no deadlines coming up, so I'm just dicking around and cleaning up those tasks that fall by the wayside when I'm under the pressure of a deadline. If there were a perfect day to have a snow day, this would be it. 

Wait! Who is that old lady on my couch watching NCIS all day?

Oh, right. It's me. 

Ever since I was sick a month or so ago, I cannot get enough of NCIS. I don't know why. It fulfills the 80 year-old buried deep within my soul. Apparently. 

NCIS is the new JAG. What? All the 80-year-olds are doing it! 

I don't have time for this. A naval officer has either committed a crime, gone missing or been murdered, I have to go. I'm missing it. 

Mittens, on Strings

Sometimes, I am not with it. I do not have my act together today. At all.

This morning, in the shower I washed my hair twice. I only realized half-way through rinsing it out for the second time that I was pretty sure I had already done it once already.

I'm kind of bored and unfocused at work. I have stuff to work on, just none of it appeals at the moment. I almost forgot to bring the book I need to study with me to work. Then, on top of that I forgot my iPod, which is a necessary study tool in a sea of noisy-ish cubicles.

If you find me wandering around Madison aimlessly, could you please just pin my mittens to my jacket and point me south. Hopefully, I'll wander on home.

A Better Version of Myself

I'm really trying to be a better version of myself this morning. 

What I want to do, what I would love to do, is write a ranting and raving blog full of the kind of expletives that would make your grandmother blush. I got off the phone this morning with the most (insert mean, angry, expletive filled tirade here) customer service agent at State Farm. 

She was giving me completely contradictory information to everything we were told yesterday, all in that fake, perky fucking tone. (Sorry, one slipped).

The thing that she said that annoyed me the most?

"Why would you listen to a police officer on how to file a claim?"

Well, the thing is, he is a patrol officer. This is kind of what he does. He has probably handled countless accidents over the years, plus, you know, he's a cop. Are you really going to sit there with your perky fucking tone (oops, again) and judge me for not getting the other guy's insurance information myself when I was still all shaken up from being in a car accident? Really? I'm the idiot for listening to the cop? Maybe, and thanks so much for pointing it out to me. 

Deep breaths. 

Deep breaths. 

In the spirit of Christmas, I am not writing the blog I want to write. I'm going to keep all the anger and vitriol all bottled up inside me. I'm writing a toned down version instead with only a few slip-ups curses that are relatively tame. 

I don't want to be the kind of person filled with anger and vitriol, so I'm not going to let the most annoying bitch (oh, well...) control me. I'm going to let this go, for the moment. A warning to Rob Fox, my insurance agent (not who I talked to this morning), you had better step up, or I'm going to be looking for a new insurance company in the very near future. 

Love Actually

The husband and I watched Love Actually this evening.

I am just chock full of the kind of warm, fuzzies that this movie always gives me.

At this moment, I love puppies and rainbows and babies... and I love, love this movie. 

The music is amazing.

Emma Thompson is brilliant, as per usual for her.

Wisconsin girls (for once) are skewed towards being portrayed as hotties.

"Kids, don't buy drugs. Become a pop star and they give them to you for free." - Billy Mack

"To me, you are perfect..." - Mark

 

Sigh. 

Did I mention I love this movie?

There is only one problem with it and it bothers me every time I watch. 

Sarah's (Laura Linney) story. 

I get it; she loves her brother.

I love my siblings. 

I even have a certain amount of experience with sacrificing a piece of your own happiness for that of your siblings. 

I might help them cover up a murder. I would definitely take in their crack babies. 

But, if I had the opportunity to sleep with a man I had secretly been in love with for 2 years 7 months 3 days and 2 hours, then I would shut my cell phone off.

Their problems would still be there when we're done, right?

So, what's the harm?

I don't mean to burst your bubble if you thought otherwise, but there you have it. 

Thankful

In honor of the day and to spread a little good karma around, here are a few things I am thankful for:

1. Our home loan

Sometimes it takes my breath away to think how close the husband and I came to being caught up in the current housing crisis. Buying a house is hard and confusing. We made a lot of mistakes when we were buying our house, but the one mistake we didn't make was taking out an ARM (adjustable rate mortgage) on the house. Our loans are fixed rate, which we decided on because I am suspicious of anything that is "adjustable." Looking back, it could have so easily gone the other way. 

I'm thankful to have a home that I can afford to pay for. 

2. My job

Times are hard economically. People are being laid off. Jobs are hard to come by. Good jobs are even harder to find. My job is not my passion. It isn't something I ever thought I would do. That being said, it's a good job. I'm good at it. It's a job that makes use of a lot of my natural talents and gives me an outlet for some things I really enjoy doing. It's stable. 

I'm thankful to have a job I can count on. 

3. My Gym

I don't know what I would do without the gym. I don't know what I did before the gym. There are so many benefits. It relieves stress. It's part of living a healthy lifestyle. It makes me feel good about myself. All of the ladies at the front desk know me at the gym. I think if the husband ever tries to do away with me and cover up my murder, the ladies at the gym will be the first to notice and alert the police. 

I'm thankful for my gym and everything that goes with it.

4. My iPod

I love my iPod. I've told the husband on several occasions that if anything happens to it, that we will have to find the money to replace it because I'm not going back to an iPod-less life. It has introduced me to so many new songs and artists. It entertains me on the way to work. It helps me block out my co-workers. It keeps my ass moving on the treadmill. 

I'm thankful for my little red buddy. 

5. My co-workers

I know. I should be grateful for my family and friends before I'm thankful for my co-workers, but frankly I spend 40+ hours with them every week. They have the ability to make my life miserable. The great thing is that they don't. The Saint shares my workload. FancyTalker is helpful and makes me laugh. GameBoy listens to me and is a good collaborator. JR just plain old rocks. Even the Hammer is supportive and a good co-worker. 

I'm thankful for the people who hang with me in the trenches. 

6. My sisters

It's strange. Sis-C is nothing like Sist-A, and yet they are two of the closest people to me. I have always said that Sis-C and I are different sides of the same coin. We are so different in our tastes and outlooks, but at our core we are much the same. She knows me better than anyone else. It's good that we have each other, because there are very few people who get the jokes we have for one another. Sist-A, on the other hand, is my little grasshopper. It's often strange and eerie how much we have in common. We've really gotten to spend more time with one another this year and grown a lot closer, which makes me really happy. 

I'm thankful for two awesome ladies who I love very, very much.

7. My dogs

My dogs make me happy. They are sweet, loving and cuddly. There is not a mean bone in any of their furry little bodies. They are naughty and spirited. They trust me to take care of them. All they require from me is food, water, being taken out and a few belly scratches. I adore my rotten angels. 

I'm thankful for my doggies who give so much and expect so little in return. 

8. My friends

I pay attention to people. Some people find it disconcerting because I pay attention when people talk and I notice what they do and remember what they say. So, when I say that all my friends are really good people in their own way, I mean it. I'm not just saying that because we are friends. There are these little moments when they do something kind or sweet or generous and it makes my heart melt, just a little bit. 

I'm thankful that a really great group of people continues to hang out with the likes of me. 

9. My family

My grandfather sends me cards every so often because I send him cards every so often. They kind of break my heart. He is really trying to make an effort because he wants me to know that he appreciates the effort I'm making. My dad is brave, taking on a new mortgage and a new business in unsure economic times and to my knowledge hasn't had a complete melt down about it. My step mom is always taking care of everybody but herself. My mum is supportive, always. 

I'm thankful for these people were in my life by fate, and are in my life by choice.

10. The husband

Always the husband. My playmate and partner, I never appreciate you as much as I should. We've been together so long sometimes I forget what it's like to see you. I'm really a terrible wife and marrying me is not evidence of good decision making on your part. Yet, for whatever reason, you seem to love me anyway. Sucker. You're stuck with me now. 

For what it's worth, I'm thankful for the husband, who I love endlessly. 

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours! 

Mushy, Mushy

Some couples are all mushy, mushy. (See Snoop and DaisyDukes as Exhibit A)

The husband and I are not one of those couples. We opt for a slightly more antagonistic version of "I love you."

Here's an e-mail exchange just from today:

Me (9:18 AM): Are you going to the gym tonight?

The Husband (9:28 AM): That is the plan. 

Probably going to "run" and shoot hoops tonight... 

I'm thinking about wearing my white spandex...

Me (12:10 PM): You can wear white spandex if you want, but I'm going to pretend we're not married when we're in public.

TH (12:13 PM): I will be sure that EVERYONE knows that we are married.

Me (12:16 PM): I'll start crying and then you'll feel bad.

TH (12:25 PM): Possibly... but I don't think that will stop me.

Me (12:26 PM): You're a bad, bad man. :(

I'm crying right now. 

TH (12:26 PM): Doesn't really affect me. 

Can I get an "awww"?

Reading

I have always loved books. For as long as I can remember, they have provided hours and hours of entertainment.

Since I graduated from college, it's been more of a feast or famine situation. Sometimes I don't read much at all. At other times, I read like it's a drug I can't live without.

A couple of weeks ago, on a whim, I picked up To Kill a Mockingbird again. I had forgotten how much I like that book.

I've read some "classics" that I had to trudge through and didn't really enjoy them all that much. Anna Karenina comes to mind. Parts are good, but there are parts that drag out endlessly. End-less-ly! A note to Tolstoy: Philosophy does not a narrative make.

To Kill a Mockingbird on the other hand is just a good read.

Now, I've moved on to All Quiet on the Western Front. I've read it before, but I don't remember finding it sort of darkly amusing before. The author (Erich Maria Remarque) was actually in WWI, so some of what he's describing comes from experience. But, some of it is written in such flowery language it seems out of place in what is otherwise a sort of dark, gritty book. Maybe something got lost in translation?