White pepper tastes like dill

I haven't mustered up the concentration to write down what I've been mulling over for new posts.

So, I thought in the meantime, I would post some pictures.  (I also have some funny videos of our cats chasing tree branches, but I have to do a little editing or my mom would KILL ME.)

I call this A Study in Supper.

Monday Night: Burger & a Beer

 Tuesday Night: Minestrone 

I think it looks pretty awesome, tasted pretty good too.

(and look at me with my all blue dishes, totally not coordinated to be that way)

My So-Called Snarky Life

Another way to tell if it's too crazy busy at work is an over loaded computer desktop (much like the mess of my physical desktop).  I like keeping a "clean" desktop, so when you start seeing these icons piling up i'm in trouble. Example below--5 1/2 columns deep.  I'm in trouble.  (I love the sunburst wallpaper though)

I got my application done, so now it should settle down a little bit.

I'm not in a place with nothing to do by any means ... just as busy if not more so.  But at least this busy is something that comes more second nature to me ... writing, designing.  Not budgets, stats and explaining call center operations.

It's like one step forward and two steps back

I have been feeling very manic-depressive the past two weeks.  I don't know if it's spring fever, too much on my plate or the fact that the "crazy" inside of me is bubbling up and finally sick of being cooped up in that "normal" shell I try to show.

Even now, I need to vent here, but in the back of my mind I'm thinking about that application I desperately need to work on so i can finish it and polish it.  And God, not to mention the mile long list that I haven't been doing because this and one other big project at work and redesigning the web site and creating an interactive, engaging online presence.  Fuck yeah.

I totally missed my "alarm" this morning.  I woke up at 7:30.  I looked out the window and thought that it was awfully light out.  Man, if only I got up and dressed as fast as I do the days I'm running late I'd have a whole two extra hours in my daily routine.

I miss the days when I was in that old workplace when I still wasn't in the real world.  I was good at what I did.  In fact, I was awesome.  I rocked it out.  Every day.  It was fun, most of the people were supportive and I didn't feel so judged or so much of a loser.

My snow is FINALLY melting.  I love my camera.  I love the sunshine.  Gah gah gah ... :-)  I want cookies or cake ... CRAVING them so desperately.  **trying not to have a Pepsi Twist ....

There was my vent.  Now I must go back to work.

***Ohmmmmm, Ohmmmm*****

Best. Tweet. EVER.

markhoppus Got a birthday card from my dad. "happy 38th birthday. " dude, I'm 37.

Time Flies, and I don't need to endure anymore

This is going to be a random, disjointed post.  No apologies per se, but I felt the obligation to let you know what you were in for.  I just haven't been in that "creative, flowing writing" state of mind of late.

This morning as I drank my coffee and did some adventuring, I listened to Friday's Dan Patrick Show.  I love the On Demand feature.  I can't listen live because I like to catch the last part of Mike & Mike in the Morning, and after that it's so hard to jump in without listening to the first hour.  Most days aren't posted when I'm ready to listen, so I'm usually a day behind.  For awhile I was on a huge music kick so I was quite behind.  But with listening on Thursday, Friday and this morning, I think I'm finally caught up with DP.  Now they need to just get on Twitter and my addiction will come full circle.

I went home on Saturday to visit Mom & Dad.  But Mom will tell you I came home to visit the kitties.  Now don't get me wrong, those furry ones make my day.  Saturday, Benny and I were sitting in the sun on the patio step.  Eventually we both lounged and took a little cat nap.  Awesomeness.  If I could bottle their cuddles and open it when I'm having a tough time I totally would.

A visit is never long enough for my mom.  If it's an hour she wants it to be two.  If it were 12, she would ask for 14.  There is only so much time in the weekend and I'm not on the ball enough to do all my chores during the week to spend the whole weekend over there.

I got a camera, I got a camera, I got a camera, hey hey hey!  It's even purple.  Internet, let the over posting of pictures commence!!

As referenced above, I'm a terrible housekeeper.  I HATE doing dishes.  But the piling up of dishes is getting out of control.  I'm just going to have to grit my teeth and bare it each and every single fucking night.  Yeah.  I'm also not good about putting my clothes away after work (this one goes in streaks though) and I'm very good about piling stuff on the table.  I'm truly a product of my parent's bad habits.  And without the thought of shame or repercussions I let it happen way to easily.  I need to think as though someone is going to pop in at any minute so this kitchen stays a little cleaner.

Sun and 56 degrees, that's what my Internet weather bar says.  I've been out and about, it's warm, but chilly.  And someone in the neighborhood is grilling.  But my snow isn't melting any faster!!!

I've been biting my nails lately.  I usually only do that when I'm anxious.  I didn't realize I was living in a constant state of anxiety (maybe it's those damn dishes).

Random snip of a conversation this weekend ..."So are you going to write about this in your blog now?"  Ha. I just did.

Talented Mr.

I love when I'm in his presence.  How his eyes light up with that sparkle when he sees me.  A quick get over here motion with his fingers, unnoticed by anyone else around him.  "Hey you" and a hug.

I love the compliments--I'm a rockstar and he means it.  He makes me feel worthy, even on the lowest, ugliest day.  He sees me, and knows when something is not right.

I'm a smart ass, but he'll forgive me and give it right back.

The sun shines down on me, as if I were the only person in the room.  But that social butterfly, flits away and leaves me in dark, in the realization there are others here and I'll never get enough time with him.

I get yelled at for popcorn, but pizza is okay?!

I had a bad day.  Like a terrible, horrible, no good, rotten very bad day or somesuch things.

And it's not "little" things that made the day bad, like Oh darn, I forgot my coffee.  Or Oh, shoot I spilled sauce on my shirt.  It's big things.  Very big things.  Work things, but I'm not going to talk about them here.  That's not the point and this is not the place.

But the day ended (thankfully) and I went to get gas because I was at a quarter tank and the weather rumor is that there's an ice storm headed this way (garg) and it's really best not to be running on fumes in such a situation.  As I'm pumping gas I realize that I have to go home and eat my bean soup without french bread that I procrastinated making under the (stupid) assumption that I could do it tonight.

So I decided to pop in, pick up something hot for supper and that's that.  I can have it right away, indulge in something greasy or generally unhealthy and hopefully put this day behind me.  I get inside and there's nothing left, no soup, no pizza, just hamburgers and ugly shriveled hot dogs.  I looked at the take and bake section and then in my head rationalize it's not worth the 6.99 when I have a frozen pizza at home that would take as long if not less for no extra cost.

On my drive out I do a quick peek of whose call I missed while pumping gas.  Aww it's XYZ calling because they knew I had a bad day and they want to cheer me up. Awesome.

I stop to drop off some letters at the mail box.  Stupid people just sitting there and as far as I can tell not doing anything that has to do with mail.  Obsenities withheld (barely, I think).

I get home, something bad happened, got in the house and called XYZ.  They proceeded to tell me ABC and how their day and next week is absolutely ruined.

I feel obligated to them that my sympathy bucket is running awfully low and there would be little to share.  So we comiserate together.

And fancy that ... things still are tough, life still is hard.  But that moment ... didn't feel as bad.

*Blip*

The Obvious: I don't like the "Spring Ahead" aspect of Daylight Savings Time.  Yeah we get "more" sunlight at night.  Really, maybe you should just get up earlier if that's what you want.  Also, when I lived at home I hated that my dad would start changing the clocks on Saturday, at like 3 p.m.  And not all the clocks, only some of them. 

I got dressed in stages this morning.  First the bathrobe and slippers to make coffee.  Then pants.  Finally now at 12:34 a shirt.  I'm a lazy weekend dresser.  If you let me wear my pajama's 24/7, I'd seriously consider it.

I made banana nut biscotti this morning and will make a loaf of French bread this afternoon to go with the bean soup my dad sent home with me.

A Love Affair

I love music.  And when I say love, I mean LOVE.

I cannot artfully make music--play an instrument, write it, read it or sing it.  I think I regaled you about the tale when Tim tried to teach me to play the drums ... and then laughed (nicely) at me when he realized that when he started counting I totally fucked it up.  I think that at the root of it, creating music is too mathematical for me and my brain shuts down.

But I LOVE listening to music. It's one of the things that keeps me energized and can pull me out of my darkest moments.  My parents got me CD player/stereo when I was in my teens.  Nothing fancy, but had speakers that you could set the output.  I'd love messing with the settings to get the best result, but what's more, I loved when the music would completely surround me. I would be engulfed in the notes, the bass and instruments (now some people would call this "loud").

When I worked with my mom at the ungodly hour of 4 a.m., the only thing that got me through was that I was allowed to bring a CD player and listen to my music.  And my mom, the saint, would let me listen to it as loud (with in reason) as I needed to.  Because she knew if she talked to me before I got at least my hour-quota of music in, all she would get is one syllable grunts. (the evil side of me played my harder rock or punk (loudly) when I knew she had a little bit too much to drink the night before--I love how the bells of that one Metallica song would bounce off the walls of the banquet hall.)

I was raised on Disney music and Country music.  I still enjoy the Disney tunes I listened to as a child (and probably could sing you a bar or two of most of the songs).  I never quite got into the country music.  Except I didn't know what that meant.  There were some songs I liked, but the rest really felt empty to me.  When I started riding the "high school" bus in seventh grade they listened to Top 40 radio.  A couple of songs again were pretty good (I discovered Name from the Goo Goo Dolls and later Iris), but I still really wasn't into it.

I think I had my "musical awakening" when I had a disposable income that I could purchase my own CD's.  Instead of having to endure country or Top 40, I could listen to the artists I enjoyed, by  ... get this ... purchasing their CD (or I think in 8th grade, it was still cassettes). My god, a whole 14-20 songs that I liked!!  AND some that I LOVED (that you never even have a chance to hear on the radio).

I find that I still enjoy (and still love) most of the songs I liked in middle school and high school.  I've even been listening to the Spice Girls lately again.  (Ohmigod, I know.  I SHOULD NOT have just admitted that I like the Spice Girls.  But come on, WANNABE makes me smile.  I still remember the first time I heard it.)

Quite frankly, I have to extend a sincere thank you to whoever left off the "Parental Advisory" label from the Blink182 - Enema of the State CD.  Mom knew What's My Age Again and All the Small Things and liked the songs, so I got the go ahead to buy the CD--even with the questionable cover.

Then the next time we went shopping, the CD was on the display/end cap of the aisle.  Of course, with a cover like that, my mom recognized it right away as one I owned.  And noticed the Parental Advisory label. Then proceeded to grill me about if it was there when I purchased the CD.  It wasn't.  We went home and looked at the disc/liner notes--nothing there.  If that label was there when I bought my copy, she would have never let me get it.  And I would have never had the opportunity to love Blink182.