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.

Always the week after a work conference

Internet, I feel sick!  All day today I felt off.  It's either a bad case of heartburn or the cold/flu.  And now that my head is foggy, I think I might place my money on the flu end.

I made ribs last night with a creole rub, and felt the effects immediately.  I didn't think it was going to be an issue because I've been seasoning my creations towards the spicier side lately.  The "heartburn" is so horrible it made me light headed today.  Or maybe that's the flu?  I drank water.  I took tylenol. I drank Dr. Pepper.  Sarah gave me some tums.

Then I felt better.  But at 5 p.m. it was back.  My god.  I feel like if I would throw up (or burp) it would be better.  And, HATE throwing up, so I guess I'm going to suffer or drink more soda (but what waste of Pespi Twist and I refuse to do it!).

I made an Asian Chicken Noodle soup, with chicken, noodles (you don't say?), garlic, ginger, veggies, peppers and lime juice/zest.  Ginger is supposed to help with heartburn and that with the other ingredients, maybe it'll kick the cold/flu out??

Either that or it'll make it worse.  I'm totally screwed.

Just don't let go or you may drown

William's chapter  of That Dark and Winding Road.  Click here to read again how we first met him.

There was nothing remarkable about the day.   No emotional highs or lows.  Just a day, like nearly every other day of the year.

William came home from work, threw his keys, his coat bag and empty dishes from lunch on the kitchen table.  Half the contents of his bag clattered to the floor.  Any other day William might have left them there until the next time he sat at the table.  This time he bent over to pick them up and *BANG* his head connected with the table top.

He bit his tongue, and the taste of blood trickled into his mouth.  William shut his eyes and watched the gold and blue lights dance.  "Shit," he thought.  William stood, to blinding pain in his head.  "Gotta love those instant headaches," he muttered.

He figured nothing helps skull searing pain but hot water, so William turned on the shower and let the room fill with steam.  He stepped in and let the water run down his back.  William could never feel how tense his muscles were until the hot water began to sooth the ache.

Leaning one arm against the wall his head fell nearly to his chest.  Then the tears came. He only cried in the shower.  The running water mixed with his tears and ran down his cheeks.  Here the red flush of his cheeks could be from the water or out pour of emotion, but no one was there to know.  The spraying water and noise of the fans even masked the occasional audible sob.

His knees buckled under him and William found himslef on the floor of the shower.  Still crying.  He laughed between his tears, marveling at the utterly unmanly situation he put himself in.  If the world could see him now.

Not that the world ever saw him anyway.  Just a few days ago he went to the party.  Filled with people he wanted to be.  He tried the art of positive thinking, to picture what he wanted. 

He had a fantastic life in his head.  But his personality always wrecked it from coming through to others though.  And there's a fine line between positive mental pictures and delusions.  He didn't need to add crazy to his loser label.

That label was slapped across his chest like a name tag at the party.  Hello, My Name is William, the Loser, blaring like a siren he knew everyone could hear.

Of course, most of them put up a polite front, not openly mocking him to his face.  A small blessing, he supposed.  But he could see the pity in their eyes.  It made his neck burn with embarassment.

He tried his best to live up to the persona in his head at the party.  He put on that mask--tried to smile and make small talk.  God how he hated the fucking small talk.  He yearned for a conversation.  Something that wasn't that nauseating exchange of pleasantries. 

But when you say, "I've had a really shitty day, the weather is horrible and I could give two fucks about the state of politics in Uganda as reported by the New York Times." If you say that, along with LOSER, they smack the WEIRDO tag on your back.  Right next to socially inept.

He snickered at that sorry sight in his head.  The ladies to his right looked at him and moved a little further away. His shoulders sunk.  Exactly.  He pushed his way towards the bathroom to splash water on his face and regain some composure.  Or at least have a moment of peace. 

Except that the door to the hallway was blocked by Matt and a gaggle of his adoring followers.  He tried not to listen as Matt recounted a hilarous story about his exciting job and how colly he leads his life.  Instead, William watched.  The way Matt used his hands to emphasize the highlights of his story.  So crisp, each beat dead on, the perfect punctuation to each point.

Then Matt pointed, at William?  The group laughed.  William turned away and placed his hands on a table below an ornate mirror.  Trying not to hyperventalate, he focused on breathing deeply.  He looked up with no acknowledgement of his own reflection, and surveyed the room.  From this position he let his heavy mask slip. 

The pain pooled around his mouth, pursing his lips.  Defeat shown in his eyes, but William refused to face it, to actually acknowledge it there.  Instead, he continued to look past himself, observing others without being a part of the group.

That sense of isolation jolted him back to the present, sitting in his shower.  He turned off the water, then leaned back to pull himself up to stand, and his hand grazed his razor.  With pain, fear and humiliation crushing William, he wrapped his fingers around it.

He brought it to his wrist, tracing a line down his arm.  He leaned forward  and looked at the faint red scratch. More pressure ...

Sunday morning musings

As I was getting ready for bed last night I mentally mapped out what I wanted to accomplish today.  I realized as I was snuggling in, that my Sunday (and most of my Sundays) start about the same.  Wake up.  Read until the Sunday Morning Show comes on. Get up, make coffee and breakfast.  Watch Sunday Morning Show.  Adventure.  Read dooce and other blogs.  Write in my own.

I've been holding this tradition for at least four years, without a single thought.  I love my Sundays.

Today, as I was partaking in my normal habit, my Internet connection went funny.  I was receiving "server errors" and "page cannot load" messages.  I checked my connection and it was amazingly slow 1.0 Mbps, where I normally have 11.  No amount of refresh could make it pop back to normal, so I removed my wireless card.

When I put it back in it was blinking.  Typically it blinks back and forth between the two lights as it's registering and achieving the hallowed connection.  After connection is achieved Status stays on and Activity flickers.  This was just a steady on-off.  I double clicked on the icon and it gave me the search for a connection screen.  Another odd thing.  After searching it produced the 1.0 Mbps connection.  But here I noticed the name was off.  It was a series of numbers and letters whereas my "connection name" is Stacey.

Somehow during the course of dooce, I lost my wireless signal and my computer found and connected to another network in the neighborhood.  I hope for the sake of the person who owns this connection that the distance between my computer and their house made it so slow.

We have had such beautiful, warm weather lately.  Above zero, low of mid-20.  Even a high of 45.  Of course, being Wisconsin there's this little voice in everyone's heads telling us not to get too used to it. There's still plenty of winter to be had.  But it's just so nice to see my clean roof.  To drive up a clear driveway. And, and!!! To see grass.  It's dead grass.  But hell, it's a different color than white, gray or a mix of white, gray and dirty-snow-brown.

The trade off last week was we didn't have much sun.  No one complained because it was warm, overcast, grey weather.  And to herald in the transition of the seasons, and to battle the winter grey-blahs, I changed my computer wallpaper.  And I stocked up.  I had a beautiful night scene of a park in New York City.  Lots of explosion of color, plus some snow and a bridge over a frozen pond.

But having a winter scene tells the universe that I'm okay it's still winter.  Just like having snowmen decorations and I love snow plaques on display conveys the message we want more.  Go ahead, snow, we don't mind.  Hence the taking down of all that relates to the white stuff.

Mom and I have that tradition every year.  One of us declares it time for spring to start to think about coming.  And these decorations discourage that, so we must remove them.  Promptly.  And without bias.

Okay, a little off track and back to the wallpaper.  I needed to replace it.  At first I went for the spring pictures, but then stopped because it's a little depressing because it is still winter.  So I went for color instead.  To combat the grey, I went for blue.  Right now I have blue roses.  They are somewhat gaudy and irredesent, but it makes me feel better to see the color.  I have a couple more "blue" photos stocked to change when I don't feel like the blue roses any more.

I did something similar on my laptop a couple of months ago.  At the end of fall when it was bleak--the trees let go all their leaves, there was no snow yet so the world outside was just brown, dead and ugly.  I don't remember what I searched for but I got this photo of soap stacked at the market in Provence from webshots.   It did the trick.  Visually interesting and bursting with color.  I had a hard time replacing it.  i knew I wanted something with a lot of color.

I finally settled on this one.  It's a photo of a Dale Chihuly instillation.  From the description this one is on the ceiling.  The album tags indicate it is from a Chihuly exhibit in the Legion of Honor in San Francisco.  It would have been cool to see.  Though I was happy with what was there when we went in 2005.  I had seen some of Chihuly's work (other than in the Weidner Center) at the Children's Museum in Indianappolis.

Here's to warmer weather, the impending spring and the good things the week will bring.

In the dark when there's no one listening

I just had to post this ... the first time I saw +44 on television.  Check out Travis drumming with one hand. Vocals aren't the strongest on this performance, actually at a second listen, not that bad, rough start but Mark recovered. But my god the drumming. 

This is the video for When Your Heart Stops Beating.  To see and compare the awesomeness that is Travis Barker drumming (in fact you can search Travis Barker and drumming in You Tube and you'll get tons of awesomeness).  The filming of this video is when he broke his wrist.

Can't. Type. More. Nothing.  Coming. That's. Not. Obsessive.  Great band.  Talented Folks.  (Way better than AVA)  Ooops.  :-)

I Want One!

I know ... I'm getting obessed about this ...

... but ...

I WANT ONE!   Even recession proof! 



Please?

The three things I learned from The Grammys

1. Kenny Chesney is friends with Morgan Freedman
2. Coldplay, though not the heaviest of rock bands, is more like limestone.  A little lighter but just as charming.
3. BLINK182 IS BACK TOGETHER.

And to think I wasn't planning on watching The Grammys. When I heard "Together, the guys from Blink 182, Mark, Tom and Travis."   I thought wow, someone really screwed up that writing.  Then I realized it indeed was the trio, on the same stage, Mark and Tom actually close enough to touch. 

It's the first time I've seen Travis since the plane crash, and I find it oddly-but-fittingly-funny that Travis, the man who almost died and still has his arm in a sling, opened the damn envelope.  (Gotta love the run on sentence)

And what the hell is up with Tom's arm behind his back?  Fingers crossed?

I have mixed feelings.  Blink182 was one of my favorite bands, and I was disappointed I wouldn't get to hear their sound evolve further.  But I also really like the work Mark and Travis did with +44.  Summer 2009 cannot come fast enough.

And a random observation: Kid Rock is an interesting amalgamation, but truly talented.  Through the years I've liked a couple of his songs.  There's no doubt that he puts on a great show.  He has an unique blend of rock and country.  A mix perfected to satisfy rock fans but be tame enough for Top 40 Radio.  He's oddly melodious when he's not rocking hard, rasping about drugs, booze or women.  And to confuse conservatives even more, he's loyal to his hometown of Detroit and madly Patriotic.

BUT WHO THE HELL CARES?!  BLINK 182 IS BACK TOGETHER!!

How I missed thee

I'MMMM BAAAAACK!  Or did you not notice I was gone?

My laptop power adapter cord split open two weeks ago, exposing the wires.  I tried to tape it back up to eek out a couple more days out of it, with no luck.  Some research and a short wait for delivery later .... I'm back on the internet.  And currently, sitting in bed, with a cup of coffee, watching the Sunday Morning Show. 

Quite a different picture from three days ago.  Three days ago I was curled up in the corner: shaking, rocking and foaming at the mouth. Withdrawl is a bitch.

Glued and captivated

Today I lived history.  There aren't many moments like this in life, and so far my moments haven't been positive.

Al Gore winning, but denied office.  9/11.  Iraq invasion, Saddam's capture. GW winning the second term. Hurricane Katrina.

This election I had the great task of choosing between Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama.  I was leaning towards Hilary.  I knew Obama was a great leader, a rock star.  I knew that when he spoke at the DNC for John Kerry.  I just wasn't sure if this was his time.  I can't tell you the moment I knew he was the one.

Barack Obama inspires people to be better. To create change.  That's an admirable quality.  He's brought passion, determination.  Hope.


I wish I could be that, if only a fraction of it.

November 4 I watched history, sitting in my living room.  Thrilled, overwhelmed.  Today I watched history, sitting in my living room.  Excited, elated.  Ready for the word, to leap, to act, to be better for others.

It's a tough road ahead, no one will deny that.  It's not going to be easy.  But it's a challenge we have to face.

Cheers to President Barack Obama -- if that's not a reason to celebrate with Pepsi Twist ... I don't know what is.

Shave a couple years off my life ...

The universe gave us a little reminder on Friday not to take what we have forgranted.

My Dad went in for a knee replacement.  Nothing urgent, in fact the doctors and nurses teased him he was there by his own free will and was, indeed, asking for it.  Knee surgery ... in our world, the world of kidney transplants, three hip replacements, infections, hospital stays running weeks to months and calls in the middle of the day announcing cardiac arrest ... in that world, knee surgery is pretty mild.

So my family very calmly and almost nonchalantly prepared for the surgery.  Mom and I took off work to be with Dad on the day of the surgery.  They picked me up and we went to the hospital.  We checked in and soon they took Dad to be prepped.  We got to see him and sat and chatted waiting for the doctor to give the final go ahead by ceremonious marking of the body part to be cut on.

He arrived and looked at Dad's leg.  As he was feeling the knee, he stopped and looked at Dad.  "What's this lump?" he asked.  Dad said it was nothing, a bump from something that happened during the summer, it appeared and never went away.  But never got any bigger either.

His doctor shook his head with a frown.  "It feels like a tumor," he said.  He went on to explain that in addition to elective knee surgeries, he removed cancerous tumors ... tumors that were often discovered when people came in for different procedures or scheduled check ups.  "Most of the time bumps bring the tumors out to the surface.  Do you know how stupid it would be for me to cut on your knee with a tumor there?"

I think the bottom of all our stomachs dropped out from under us.  I had to sit down.  Dad put his arm over his eyes.  Tumor.  Cancer.

"What can we do so I can get his surgery today?" my dad asked.

His doctor explained a MRI would show if it was a tumor or something else like a fat pocket or fluid, etc. "But there's little chance they'll be able to fit you in today," he said.

"So do the surgery and we'll deal with the lump later," my dad decided.

His doctor shook his head.  "If I did a biopsy when I was in there today, we still wouldn't know for sure.  Because I could only take part of it and miss more behind or beneath it."

He took out his marker and drew a circle on the bed sheet, coloring one section of the circle.  The part that changes a person's life.

"Let me make a call," he said.  With that he disappeared down the hall.

The nurse hovered at the door ... "Are you okay?" she asked in a whisper.  I can't remember if anyone answered.

We could hear his doctor, who I found out is a neighbor of my parents, give orders to nurses around him.

He came back in.  "Dr. So-and-So is a friend and is able to squeeze you in.  The transport team should get you over now.  Then we'll see what'll happen next."

So they cart my dad away.  A nurse explains we where we can wait and it'll take 45 minutes to an hour to find out.

We run an errand then sit in the waiting room.  Stare at the floor.  Look at magazines.  Watch the clock.  I wipe at tears that keep creeping up to my eyes.  Finally they call our name.

We do our best not to run to the prep room.  And there, they are prepping.  We look to the nearest nurse.  Surgery?  What did the MRI indicate?  "It was just fluid from where he hit his leg.  The OR was held for him.  We're getting ready to take him back."


Well.  That's an hour or so that reduced my life span.  

Our hearts and stomachs settle back to their respective places and we take a deep breath.  Talking and joking like we were before, this time with renewed perspective for the good things in life.  The nurse who hovered previously walked past and said "I see smiles, it must have been good news."  I also hear that sentiment and others like "Fluid from a bump" and "Not cancerous" travel down the hallway to the various staff connected to the surgery.

A nurse steps behind the bed and prepares to push it away, said, "Now's the time for hugs and kisses."  Dad looks at us and gives a quick wave.  "Later."  

We go back to the waiting room, almost giddy, so relieved and ready for the wait ahead, because the hard part was over.

Of course that wait was another five or six hours.  Nothing like spending 12 hours of one day at the hospital.

Plus another 16 over the next two days ...

I'm so, so tired. I forgot just how much it takes out of you. So emotionally drained and overwhelmed at the same time.

The things I find when trying to expand my horizons

Perfect for the conservative to mourn the day ... or a great gift to make your favorite liberal suffer.  Bi-partisan Beauty ... everyone suffers!

Clever?  Yes. 

But more painful than the occasion calls for.

I just want to take a little breather

I've been having a hard time this week.  I have no motivation.  I have no energy.  I have very few moments where two brain cells communicate enough to come up with any "good" thoughts.  (note: plenty of dull, lackluster, plain and unastonishing thoughts, but nothing inspiring)

I had a fantastic Sunday ... I had dishes finished, three square meals, clean office, 2009 budget started, bank statements entered in both online checking account and paper register, clean room, multiple loads of laundry done.  Christmas decorations put away, and I started patching the various nail holes around the house. Plus two awesome football games to round out Wild Card Weekend ... But the trade off seems to be I get to be miserable the rest of the week.

I shouldn't, be telling you this but there are dishes everywhere!  Clean, dirty ....  the counter space is becoming seriously limited because I have no interest in putting them away or washing them.  Dishes are my downfall.  Majorly. 

But it's hitting every part of me ...

It takes everything I have to get up in the morning.  Damn my bed for being so warm and cozy and comfortable in the morning!  Monday I woke up at 7:40 (when I leave at 7:50) because I didn't update my wake up time from that I used during vacation.

Today I vowed that when that alarm went off I would get up, put away dishes, make coffee and eat breakfast.  Well wouldn't you know ... I opened my eyes finally at 7 ... well after my alarm went off ... and rolled over for ten more minutes.  Gah!  The best part?  I forgot the coffee I made at home!  I got to the office and went to grab my bag and coffee ... and no coffee.  So pretty much nothing went right this morning.

Then at 11 this morning I had a big fucking run in my nylons.  Come on!  I demand to cash in some kharma points.

I feel very sluggish and useless at work.  Get one thing done, 12 more things that should have been done last week.

It's too early to have the winter blues because my god there is so much winter left.

And now, of course, my internet music player is being spazzy.  That hard to play music?  Yeah, I guess so.

Here's hoping for better days ....

Copyright Infringement or Restraining Order?

I would like to go on the record and say the "ShamWow" guy on the commercials creeps me out.  And the women who say "Sham ... WOW!" should be shot.  Seriously.

And, I saw it in Target today.  Same price.  Not sold in stores?  Didn't look like an imitation to me ... and if it was, they should totally sue for copyright infringement. 

"Are you following me camera guy?"   I wonder, were you following your cues and spots scary man?

Best of the Year

My third annual year in review ... totally irrelevant, completely useless and purely Stacey.

My favorites ...

Three Words to Describe 2008: Change, Obama, Giants

TV Show: Three way tie: Grey's Anatomy, Doctor Who, Sarah Connor Chronicles

New TV Show:  (new to me) Dexter!

Song: You Found Me ~ The Fray

Book: The Lazarus Vendetta ~ Robert Ludlum

Movie (in Theater): I don’t think I went to any movies this year … how very sad

Movie (Rental): Capote

Biggest NFL Surprise: Miami Dolphins

Biggest NFL Disappointment: the New Orleans Saints

I'll turn the channel when: any thing with The Former or Sarah Palin on!

Celeb I'm sick of: The Former

Gift Given: Adele CD for Sarah

Gift Received: Get Fuzzy Calendar

Best new tradition/habit: Thursdays with Bob Ross

Commercial:  that Mercedes-Benz commercial with the guy with the sexy voice

Traveling: down that rocky road of adulthood

KoL: 10 million meat and the Boring Crimbo (not my favorite, but notable)

Wine: 9 ~ Moscato Asti, sparkling wine to toast the Giant’s Victory

Best Blog: Dooce.com

Other Notables: Finally! We have friendly cats … Sassy, George, Benny, Ava and Dexter (Ava and Dexter are gone, but we’re kept busy with the other three)

Here's to 2009 and GW out of office!

Death by Twang

Just tell me Fast.fm who do you think you are playing country music when there's only three damn country songs in my library?

Then SKIP OVER songs I would actually listen to only to stop at a f'ing Shania Twain song?

Are you trying to kill me (or make me uninstall you)?  What part of favorite artists: goo goo dolls, +44, Blink 182, Stroke 9, Fergie DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND??

Plays music based on your music listening patterns my butt!

Spit in the face of a weak stomach

Reading Dooce I discovered a new web site (seriously folks, I  am addicted, someone needs to invent a dooce patch stat! or I might start shaking at work from withdrawal).

Okay ... so this site is NOT for the faint of heart or those with a weak stomach ... unless you're a daredevil who spits in the face of a weak stomach.

It's actually like watching a scary/slasher movie ... from behind your hands.  Seriously.  I'm concerned the neighbors might think there's something horribly wrong ... I'm screaming that much (and I've only looked at two!).

Check out THIS SITE if you can handle it.

OH. MY. GOD.

Now that 2008 is out of the way ...

First, I must preface that this post has a lot of passion behind it.  It's the fanstastic part of football, that release of emotion, great highs and stunning lows.  However, I am going to do my best to separate as much emotion from this as I can. 

Unbiasness I cannot guarantee, but this is my blog.  So I can write what I want, as skewed as it may be.

Now you might suggest this would have a different tune if Brett Favre (please note, henceforth referred to as The Former) and the J-E-T-S were playoff bound.  Not at all.  My points would be the same, but I wouldn't be able to say I TOLD YOU SO!  You may have a better record, but your stats pale compared to Aaron Rodgers.

Okay, now I have all my prologue points out of the way.

The 2007 off season The Former proved me wrong about this and that.  Hey, no hard feelings.  Actually, I have no problem that The Former changed his mind.  There have been many Packer greats (that have left the team either through retirement or free agency) to go on to play or coach for other organizations.  Robert Brooks, Antonio Freeman, Ahman Green, Ryan Longwell, Craig Hendrich, Reggie White, Travis Jervey ... oh yeah, and Vince Lombardi ... just to name a few. 

Okay, so TJ isn't apples to apples.  But Reggie is a Legend.  Robert and Free were the best wide receivers of the Super Bowl teams.  And Ryan and Craig are in the top tier of players at their position.

So, as my mom said, "Why didn't you disown TJ like you are [The Former]?"

It's not because he un-retired.  It's how he did it.

First we must remember the six year debate.  Every December, could this be his last game?  Every off season, playing with the media.  And in recent years, waiting until just before the draft to make the come-back decision.

Finally the other cleat dropped.  March 4, 2008.  Then his tearful goodbye.  If nothing else, I've just expended way too much emotion on him, that I just have no more warm and fuzzies for him left in me.

Shortly after the 2008 draft, rumors start floating around that he wanted to come back.  Here's when it starts turning sour.  He denies some and is ambiguous with others.  Then he announces he never wanted to retire and the Packers forced him out.

Packers tell him in no uncertain terms that he cannot just come back and be the starting quarterback.  It's now July and the team has moved on.  August: Family Night comes and he returns to Green Bay with his wife and watches the scrimmage from a sky box.

And he's all like "What? I'm [The Former] I'll come and be your QB, because, do you know who I am?  Awe shucks, I'm a good ole' country boy wearing wrangers."  (okay...the unbiased field lapsed there, all systems restored)


This is the epitome of the true void of class he showed during the situation.  Instead of keeping it in-house, he made a spectacle.  The team paid him obscene amounts of money and love during his career.  And he showed the organization, players and fans no respect.

He went to the playground and started slinging mud.

I get that he still has that passion and abitlity to play.  Either don't retire or work with the Packers for a trade.  If they play hardball take it to the Players Association or the Commish himself.  Don't whine to the media you childish asshole.

That's right, I said it.

I always revered The Former for his child-like passion for the game.  But off the field matters are business.  This is not a family--which is what we all forgot.

I have lost respect for him as a person and professional.  I have a hard time respecting people who preach and live by one set of standards but then abandon these "values" and "character" when the chips are down.  It reveals a very different person... like the situations with Desmond Howard, Mike Holmgren and Dorsey Levens.  All disowned in my eyes.  But with time the disdain has decreased and I know it'll be the same with The Former.

I never would have admited it while he was here, but the distance allowed me to see what everyone was saying: The Former held the Packers hostage.  That is, until Ted Thompson had the balls to say you're done.  We've moved on.  To a younger, shinier, hotter model.

And boy did that piss The Former off.

I wish I could attribute this thought.  It was either Dan Patrick or Mike Turico.  When the Packers said (hell) no, we don't want you back, The Former came back to prove the Packers needed him more than he needed the Packers.  Well you may have a better record, but we're both watching Wild Card Weekend at Home.  (and may I point out the new shiny model's stats again?)

I've always acknowledged The Former's faults (and I love pointing them out more now Mr. Leads the League in Interceptions).  I accepted them because it was a part of the package: the anguish, the excitement.  What I was going to miss the most was that special spark on the field.  But hot damn, the kid has it too!  Packer fans we're in good hands.

To The Former: Good luck and thank you.  But go away.

To all you so-called-Packer fans buying jerseys and the god-damned television stations being the "official" station of an AFC TEAM in the fucking NFC NORTH ....

I respect you even less than I do The Former.

You know you have a problem when ...

Four days away.  SO MUCH INTERNET TO CATCH UP ON.

Anything but Maple Nut

It snowed again.  So I must remove the snow.  I'm sorry ... talking about weather again.  How uninteresting.  I swear I won't do it again ... at least not any more this year.

Day two of vacation ... it's 12:18 ... and I'm not dressed.  Darn.  I ate breakfast, had coffee, two episodes of Curious George and one of Martha Speaks in honor of Sarah and brother Ben.  I have to finish wrapping presents today ... something I've been saying I'll do for at least the last week.  I don't know why it's such a pain this year.

My thumbs hurt.  And it has nothing to do with the fact that I cut my thumb right through the nail.  That's actually not painful at all--as long as the nail doesn't separate or rip.  Thank you inventors of nail glue--bet they didn't dream that I'd one day use it as a band-aid.  ANYWAY my thumbs ache for no reason I can think of.  They hurt so much that it's painful to pick up my water bottle, coffee cup, dish soap.

I guess this means I don't have to do dishes!

So my big ponder today was what to eat for lunch.  I'm having leftover jambulya for supper and that doesn't leave much else in my fridge (beyond hunks of squash and cranberries that I have to find some way to use).  I have the last bit of my Irish Beef Stew leftover ... but I'm so sick of it (be proud, I resisted the urge to use all caps).

I made it about a month ago and froze half.  Even freezing that much I ate leftovers for at least a week.  And when the last bit was gone ... I probably did a happy dance.  It was good.  Not the best, but tasty.  After a week though ... it made my eyeballs nausious.  And I'm a person who cannot eat the same thing two days in a row, the same cereal, flavor of coffee, soda ... etc, etc.  I blame my father and his ever-loving Maple Nut Ice Cream and unwilliness to try something new (that doesn't include any of the following salts: garlic, seasoning or celery).

But over the weekend I thought I had enough time between the first week of stew and now.  So I pulled it out and had it as a quick supper.  The first night it was good ... by lunch the next day my eyeballs were threatening to barf all over the kitchen.

With very little options (perhaps popcorn? PB&J or maybe a pizza??) I came up with a brilliant idea.  I made my nearly famous fried potatos and then heated up the stew, drained some of the excess liquid and BOOM! Irish Beef with peas and carrots over fried potatos.  I think even my dad would be proud.

A KoL Note, brief because I don't want to be that person .... Crimbo is so uninteresting this year.  And the lag makes it so tedious to get through the adventures ... for very little drops.  Maybe Jick & Co. will whip out something fantastic (I just hope I don't miss it), but ususally ... it's something I look forward too ... and there my KoL tab is sitting, neglected.

And lo she is dressed before 11 a.m. (by two minutes)

It is 11:02 and I'm watching my second episode of Curious George, drinking my first cup of fantastic coffee and contently reading (and laughing hysterically) dooce.com.  Ah the complete joys of vacation.

I have a confession that I'm not quite sure is so secret.  I LOVE PBS.  And all the children's shows that go with it.  Well, not all ... I'm not a huge fan of Barney or Super Why.  And I can only watch Sesame Street through flipping or if I'm in the right mood.  I think my love of PBS is because it opened my eyes to the world of imagination and learning. My favorite parts of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood was when he watched how something was made and the Land of Make Believe (it devastated me when I realized Mr. Rodgers was the voice of King Friday and others).

I've never grown out of PBS.  I enjoy their adult programming: cooking shows, home improvement, the occassional Broadway presenation and the like.  But I just can't shake those children shows.  Is it the cartoon aspect (oh yeah, I still watch Saturday morning cartoons--love me some Care Bears and Jane and the Dragon) or is it that these shows focus on the best value of entertainment--making the impossible or improbable happen every time--because they can and it's more fun that way. 

To that end, I've discovered Curious George.  I never was much interested in that little monkey as a kid (the books).  But he's so entertaining now.  On the show George and The Man in the Yellow Hat have two homes.  Their primary residence is in the city and they have a country home for weekends and summer. 

At the country home, one neighbor kid calls George a City Kid.  I am absolutely convinced that he DOES NOT KNOW GEORGE IS A MONKEY.  (Sorry for the caps ... it's from reading dooce).  For the record, as far as I can tell, all the other residents recognize George is a monkey. 

And what a cute little monkey he is.  So darn cute ... which is mostly why I watch it.  The narration is clever and so is George.  Monkeys often find ways to take completely normal situations, get into trouble and then must be clever to get themselves out of trouble--even after The Man in the Yellow Hat tells George to be a good little monkey.  I try that with my monkey-who-thinks-he's-a-kitty George.  I can't tell if it works.  But then again, I suppose it doesn't work too well with Curious George.

How unenjoyable

You know on second thought it probably wasn't a good idea to do dishes.  Especially since I'm having a strange adversion to wet hands.  Drying them on a towel after I wash each dish probably isn't going to work so well.

Taking all I have not to drop the F bomb

It really annoys me to no end when you ask me why it took so long to answer the phone.  First, get it through your head that it rings more on your end before it even STARTS ringing on my end.  Then, do you think I'm perched by the phone waiting for your call?

You should just be damn well pleased I answered it during Grey's Anatomy.

Can I just stay in bed?

We were hit with a dose of Wisconsin weather.  Saturday and most of Sunday it almost felt balmy.  It was so warm that our snow started melting  and it rained on Sunday.  Rain! In December!

Of course, Mother Nature being the cruel lady she is, today temps were negative with a -30 degree windchill.  -30.  All was well in my cozy little house.  My mom had to make a point in inquiring how low I had my furance set.  After threats of frozen pipes and horrific damage that would leave me curled up in a ball rocking and sobbing to myself in the corner--so I turned up the temp. 

But she planted the seed.  And I woke up every hour.

First random noises woke me.  What was that?  Is that the sound of a frozen pipe?  If I open my eyes will I see the Gremlins of Burst Pipes running around wreaking havoc?  Will the bathroom and kitchen be flooded?  Or would it be frozen over, my own indoor skating rink?

If it wasn't Bursting Pipe radar waking me up, it was the furance kicking on.  Or NOT kicking on ... oh the humanity is it so cold the furance is dead and I've lost the heating battle?

All this lost sleep kept me in bed trying to steal a few winks after my alarm went off.  So I trudge out at the last possible second to dress, eat breakfast, make lunch and start my car.

I got to the last task at 7:45 (only five minutes behind schedule).  So I walk out all bundled up, braving the -30 degree wind chills and push the button on my garage door opener.  And ... nothing.  Okay, bad angle ... nadda.  I'm inside the garage now so I try the button on the wall.  It starts.  It stops.  Hmmm.  Starts and ... nothing.  Ah man, the door is frozen to the cement.

I salt it, chip at it, and kick it with no luck.  A little sunshine and some salt action later (and by later I mean the end of the day) my door is opening and closing like nobody's business.

Sunday...football...Dan Patrick...Keith Olberman....Seth MacFarlane....perfection

Today was an incredibly productive Sunday.  Quite possibly the most productive in the history of time ... at least my recent history.

The Christmas Episode of American Dad is my FAVORITE!  And it's only about 48 percent because Seth MacFarlane is the voice of God.  Seriously.  Perfect.

Must resist urge to worship Seth MacFarlane

Tonight we're going to get our first major snowstorm of the season.  They say totals are going to be any where from 4 to 10+ inches.  The "future forecast" shows that in my neck of the woods will be around six inches.  Oh goodie.

I used my snowblower for the first time today.  In preparation for this huge snowfall I figured I better know how to start and operate it so I can get out of my driveway and go to work (though I would much rather just stay in my house and read blogs, watch television and play games all day).  I figured it out and effectively cleared my driveway (with it's less than two inches of snow pile up) in 15 minutes or less.  God bless modern machinery. 

I shoveled around 2.5 inches the other day and it took me around 30 minutes.  Add this to my sustaining memories of HOURS of raking and bagging leaves.  And the really horrible part is that leaves should only be raked one time (that is when your neighbor's tree doesn't dump all it's leaves until after your beautiful clean yard is cleared) tangent aside ... leaves need to be raked once or twice.  Snow can be every damn day!

I think we've gotten around a half inch.  I don't know when it happened, because I've been sitting by the window the whole time.

I Love the new Peyton Manning commericial for World MasterCard.  The people around him are telling him to take a hike, choke on it, you're going down.  And he says "Yeah, I'll cut it up into little pieces and put it in a fruit salad" (and the like).

Brilliant.

Peyton has come a long way since his first two years in the NFL.  I remember watching an interview and he was saying what his routine was, studying, living with a legendary father.  And part of the interview he showed his closet, organized by his wife so he can pick out something suitable to wear when she's not home. 

I remember thinking to myself that this man is a very clever man, a football genius, but didn't have the ability to match a pair of pants with a shirt.  The whole interview was very awkward.

And now that awkward man is a funny, personable, clever man.

I have a cramp in my left leg.  It's really annoying. 

Snow update: none has arrived since that half inch that mysteriously fell earlier.

I have a couple of blogs cooking up in my head.  And if I ever put pen to paper they're going to be really good.  Really Good.

But ... well ... I've been reading dooce.com.  A lot.  It has me transfixed.  I found it through a Copyblogger newsletter and the post I read had me laughing out loud.  I had to share it was Sarah and she loved it too.  Dooce is famous for losing her job because she wrote about it on her blog.  She started writing in 2001. 

And I'm in 2004.  I didn't read it all weekend ... and I missed it. 

Goals for this week:  1. Sweep the house.  2. Finish the online Christmas shopping (for the love of god stop procrastinating!)  3. Start wrapping presents and write some cards out.

I think that's about enough.  If I can pull myself away from the old adventures of dooce, the bearded husband, chuck and baby Leta ... I might get something done!

(oooh and the Advent for Adventurers Season Started .... mutated elves and penguins glore in Crimbo Town, WHoohoo!)

Is it masking insecurity?

I do not trust ... and am increasingly more annoyed by men who laugh after they make a statement.

"If you go down the street you'll find that the buildings are 3 feet apart .... huh huh huhuh"

"Oh of course, to do that you must first identify x to help you figure out if y will truly be effective.  Heh ha ha heh."

It's a nervous laugh, not a happy one or contentuous one.

But it creeps me out.

This time I sat on the steps and cried

I had big plans for tonight.

I was going to work very little for a fabulous and healthy supper. 

I was going to watch Bob Ross and the Joy of Painting.

I was going to set my fantasy teams.

I was going to put away the clutter on the counter.

I was going to do dishes and put away last night's dishes.

I was even going to fold clothes and label newsletters.

But all of that was gone in one beep .... and then 5 minutes later three beeps ..... again, and again and again.

Remember that episode of Friends?  Pheobe realizes her smoke detector is beeping, so she takes out the battery ... but it keeps beeping.  She smashes it into pieces and it continues to beep.  She throws it down the garbage shoot and it's returned to her ... still beeping.

It was that.

But I didn't know what was beeping or where it was coming from.

And that's a good way to put me into the crazy house.  Give me a beeping that I can't stop.

I was getting dinner *BEEP*   Sitting down to watch Bob Ross ... it's over, I got the wrong time.

*BEEP*BEEP*BEEP*

Okay, what the fuck is that? 

I sit in the living room.  Nothing.

I walk in the kitchen, stand there for awhile.  Nothing.

I open the back door and walk down to the basement. Nothing.

I figure since I'm down there I could do a load of laundry.  I get the washer going and notice my laundry basket isn't down here.  So I went upstairs and took the laundry off the rack up there and transfer it to the kitchen table.  Then I take the laundry basket it to take it back downstairs to get those clothes off the line. 

*BEEP*BEEP*BEEP*

There it was again, and loud that time.  So back downstairs I go, that's the only place I could think the beeping might come from.  I get the laundry off the line and take it back upstairs to sit on the table with it's white counter parts.

*BEEP*

Okay, so now I'm convinced it's in the basement.  So I sit. in. the. basement. for. 20 minutes.

Nothing.

Go back upstairs.  *BEEP*BEEP*BEEP*

Okay, where are the fucking cameras, ha ha the joke is over.


I wish.


I walk around the house again and hear it faintly in the living room, but not in the kitchen.


Fail safe.  Call the parents.

Is it the stove? No. Microwave? No. Radio? Dishwasher? Alarm? TV? Laptop?

NO!!!!!!

Finally (and 45 minutes later) I wander upstairs (which I don't like doing at night, don't judge me, I believe in spooks).

No beeps, nothing that could beep.

Until ... a smoke detector.

I touch it .................... the beeping is loud, it's the beeping, and it doesn't stop.

So I take out the battery ... and thank god, the beeping stops.


But the tears start.  This damn battery with it's damn beeping shows me how vulernable and helpless I can be.

I just can't take beeping.

Conspiracy Untheories

1. I respect Romo less for dating the blond bimbo.
2. I am so sick of doing dishes.
3. Life is so overwhelming.
4. I'm in a music rut.
5. I didn't do it I swear--unless I was supposed too ... then I did.
6. I haven't gone to the movies in forever.
7. I have a monkey named George who thinks he's a kitty, he also plays like a dog.
8. I also have a kitty who gets that sinister look of his namesake, Dexter.  He likes to untie my shoes.
9. The Skins are owning the Cowboys in every department so far except the uni's.  They look like they're wearing ugly red and orange couch upholstery.
10. What do you get for the person who has everything?
11. I want the new Goo Goo Doll CD!
12. Is drinkability even a word?
13. Dear G.W.,  Ha, ha!
14. Holy craptastic--he had six plates on his arm.
15. F'ing Patriots, don't win when I root for them.
16. I see things that aren't there ... like words.  Los Angeles ... where the heck did my brain pull it from?

They're all trying to kill me

Four times today four separate vehicles turned a corner (or pulled out of a driveway too widely), came into the wrong lane and nearly t-boned me.

The O-Line Lost the Vikes Game

For the love of Pete, can the offensive line of the Green Bay Packers get any more penalties?  (channeling Chandler there, by the way)

Sadly, and slightly teriffingly, the answer is yes.  They mentioned several times during today's Viking-Packer game that the Packers are leading the league in penalties.  Late in the third quarter, that totaled 65 yards.

And it's not just the penalities, they're not protecting Rodgers.  The two ends are getting old--and yes that means you Tauscher.  There's a reason the past two years hasn't had a running game and that there were two safeties in ONE quarter.  They aren't holding their blocks, following through or making the black in the first place.

Yes, Rodgers is probably holding the ball too long ... it's his ninth? game. That quick release will come in time.  For self preservation alone.  But the man should be able to do three step drop, make two reads and release.  He didn't even have enough time scramble.  And the man can scramble.
I'm not sure why or how there's so many yards on the Packers run defense.  I always thought they were solid up the middle and run only got away from them when they were overly-centric about bull-rushing the quarterback.

Did anyone noticed the Packers axed Kabeer Gbaja Biamila?  Nothing was on any of the pregame shows, or in the Packer's e-updates.  Now, I'm not saying it was a bad move.  He wasn't producing, but he was the heart and soul of the Packers defense (before Aaron Kampman) -- not Nick Barnett as some are trying to convince us.  Barnett hasn't done anything the past year either.

Is the season lost?  No, but they need to shore up the play on both lines.  They also need to stop the penalties.  I understand agressive play.  I understand the ref seeing something that wasn't there. 65+ yards is not acceptible. And if the touchdown wouldn't have been called back due to a false start there would be one more W on the postive side. 

Change isn't always something to fear

Last week was that of extremes.

We enjoyed beautiful weahter of 60-70 degrees  for four days and then at the end of the week it snowed.  Saturday the snow stuck.  I look out my windows today to patches of our white enemy on the ground here and there.

I suppose we're lucky though.  If it would have snowed on Wednesday it would have been blizzard conditions. It rained, it poured.  It thundered and lightnening.  It took out our power at work.  That was an experience.

I look a little Medusa right now. My hair is not quite long enough in the front to stay in a pony tail, so I either put pins in it or use headbands.  Well the only problem is that it pulls out and goes all over ... hence the Medusa vibes I'm working right now.

I realized this unfortunate hair-do when I went to brush my teeth.  I've been having dreams the past two weeks about my teeth.  They have rotted, fallen out and discolored.  Now I know that dreaming about your teeth generally means that you regret what you've said.  I really can't think of anything I've should have been quiet about.  So I'm thinking it might be that general nagging feeling for falling asleep without brushing my teeth.  I figure either way I'll just play it safe.

I plugged in my Clapper on Wednesday night.  I was annoyed that I had to wander through darkness to turn on a light and risk spilling my water or juggling whatever I had in my hands.  When I nearly tipped the light off the endtable I finally decided I needed to pull out the good old Clapper. 

What they don't tell you in the "Clap on, Clap off" commerical is that everything else turns on the clapper too: sneezing, laughing, putting away pots and pans, dropping things, closing the closet door, yelling at the television ....

It's 10 o'clock ... more polls close

Barack carries ... California ....

ohmigod, and they announce he's been elected president.

I didn't think it would happen so fast.  A huge weight has been lifted off our country.  I cannot wait for 2009!!

Obama to 200

In honor of 200 electoral votes for Obama.

BLUE BLOG

(with a little red to honor a country I'll finally be proud of)

Proud to be Blue

Wisconsin came in.   Obama.

Overall: 175 to 76

Dems gain four Senate seats.

Antcipation

Anticipation.  Eight years in the making.

I cannot imagine continuing in the darkness we are in ...

So far Barack Obama has secure New Hampshire and Pennsylvania.

I cannot believe as I read the status updates from people ... so many for McCain.  But more for Obama.

At least the "noncaring" generation is voting!

So excited!

I woke up early today.  I got up, got dressed, made coffee.

My only regret is I don't have any good blue clothes to wear other than logo wear.

But I have my Barack Obama '08 pin on!  I drove to my new polling place.

Registered.

Voted.

I voted!!!  And hopefully, for the NEXT PRESIDENT OF THE USA.

Made me laugh so hard ...

McLovin (resident blogger for the Dan Patrick radio show) reporting on site for the Phillies victory parade celebrating their World Series win.

Dan: How's the parade?

McLovin: It's crazy their not letting me go out.    And I'm trying to blog. There are two million people here. And these houligans on my right look like their going to smash my computer ... I'm having some issues.

...

Dan: What do you do now,  parade, have cheese steak...?

McLovin: I'll see where the crowd goes, I'm thinking I might light a car on fire. I haven't really decided yet.  definately a little bit of civil disobienence

Dan: Be careful.

McLovin: If I'm not back on monday just know I've been trampled.

Dan: Oh okay, we'll start without you ...

Portraits Hung in Empty Halls

I enjoy the idea of painting ... but really, am quite horrible at it. And I mean painting on canvas not walls, I can do that, I'm good, but there's not much to be bad at.  But after painting the living room ... I don't want to think about painting walls any time soon.

I can draw (much to my mom's surprise, which doesn't make sense) and I have a graphic eye when it comes to laying out a page for a newsletter or invitation.  I'm not the best by any means, but a litte more than average. I also have a knack for collages (even if it might be pleasing to mostly my own eye).

But when it comes to painting a scene, still life or anything on canvas ... I just suck.  When I was a kid I would watch the painting shows on PBS with awe.  So much so that my dad made me an easel.  Plus I was an "artist" for halloween once--pallet, white overshirt stained with colors and a off kilter berret.

In high school, I very excitedly took a mixed mediums class.  There we would learn many different methods and styles: pencil, ink, paint (acrylic) and pottery.  I exceled  at the pencil and was average at the rest.  But I royally was disappointed in my painting ability.

I haven't visited that skill since.

Late this summer, I discovered "Create" a channel from PBS that has travel shows, cooking, gardening, home repair and crafts.  And one afternoon, none other than my old friend Bob Ross was on!  The Joy of Painting.  I watched it for a laugh (reminising at the Family Guy bit where he put a bush in the corner and then threatened the viewers) at first because he's an odd fellow and always had to put that big dark (mostly dead) tree in the foreground of his paintings.  In most cases I thought it ruined the whole thing.

Now I watch Bob with fresh eyes.  I see why I'm such a horrible painter.  When I look at grass: I see green and the blades of grass, appreciating the beauty of their intricacy.  But Bob knew to look at grass in a painting first you had to start with a dark color, with a hint of green.  Then with that dark blue/black already in your brush, you layer in a little yellow to create that tell tale green.  Finally you need to throw in another hit of yellow or white, based on where the light is coming from.

In this case ... the grass is greener on the other (Bob's side) of the fence, or canvas as the case may be. He also knew the importance of scratching in the details ... even when you really don't see them when you look at the painting as a whole. 

When I was in my high school art class, I did a painting of a sunset.  The art teacher (who I've never respected and quite frankly, think he's still an idiot) told me I need more color on the hill that was in shadow.  Well ... I thought wtf, it's dark, it's shadow, it's black how do I add more color?  And he never taught me why that was important, and how it brings out the details.

But because of Bob, I get it now.

Not perfect, but darn good

New Simpsons (I missed half because of Sunday Football Night in America)

The glory of KO and DP reunited on Sunday-F'N-America

Anticipation of a NEW FAMILY GUY!!!

One happy Stacey on her favorite day of the week.

On and on

I'm feeling all out of sorts.  So I need to go to bed.  I'll do that soon, but I also need to write here first.

I need to fall into a pattern, rhythm, habit ... something.

That's what I'm missing.  Because even though I come farther every day, with boxes put away, internet up and running (Yes!) and painting started ... I'm still not settled.

Every once in awhile I step outside of myself and wonder when I'm going to wake up.  It's still not real. 

And I think the main part of that is I don't have that comfort of familiarity around me.  Yeah sure I come home, eat, dishes, either work on the house, work or lazy around.  That's nothing like the tradition of Football Sunday or any other of the smaller traditions (habits) we tend to fall into.

1, 2 … Freddy’s coming for you

I walked forward. One hand held my coffee cup filled with steaming tea, so only one hand was extended. Reaching. Feeling.


Nothing.

Shapes begin to emerge. Outlines. This isn’t so bad. Hope surges through me. There is strength for the future if I can find my way in this darkness.

Contact.

A doorway? Is my destination just before me?

Movement.

I concentrate, trying to heighten those other senses. My arm and shoulder brush against something that brushes back.

Oh god.

My stomach turns.

Like the Cowardly Lion in Elphaba’s magic globe: I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks. I do. I do. I do.

My heart rate doubles then stops.

In defeat I reach, praying to connect with a light switch, defeated for not yet knowing those intricacies, nooks and crannies.

Light bounces off my surroundings.

My bumps in the night were doors and I was only steps away from the security of my bed.

Victory was close, but maybe another night.

Relativity

Not limited to Einstein, space and time.

Because how can friends grow apart when it was foundation that brought them together in the first place?

How can you think I have money when I carefully live within my means?

You think frugal—and I think cheap.

That true maverick says change and means more profits for that upper one percent. While the candidate working for a better America says change and means a better life for people who know the meaning of working for a dime.

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out

Everyone mourns the loss of summer. But it seems as though the intensity of the loss grows greater each year. And that need to relish in the pain isn’t working for me.


I love the long days and warmth of the sun against my skin. The flowers are breath taking, rain showers are magical and clear driving conditions are fantastic. I’d love to keep all these things longer too.

But we can’t.
I guess the general longing … that evolves into clinging to a feeling or situation that never really existed … is driving me crazy.

My soul is screaming for the masses to get over it. Close your eyes and leap. Don’t search for greener grass when you could be appreciating what you have.

But stop lamenting over memories, summer days or three-time MVP’s. The times that are upon us could refresh and revitalize you, if you give it a chance.

The Only Choice

I work in a company that helps people who have fallen on hard times or simply are in the poverty to below-poverty bracket. Needless to say, every week I am reminded of this lowest percentile. It gives me mixed emotions. I feel so lucky for what I have, even though at times it doesn’t feel like a lot. But I live comfortably, I have a fantastic support system, I’m relatively healthy and I see opportunity to improve.

On the other gamut of emotions I feel very helpless because while we’re able to change lives, some people’s problems compound so much that while multiple programs work with them, it’ll be a long time to pull themselves out of these tough times, if ever.

But the thing is, it’s getting harder for these programs to serve thousands (millions nationwide) of hard working Americans. “The common man” is faltering under the Bush Administration and they’re one wave away from drowning. And like Katrina—there’s no response.

These are people you know: your friends, family, grandparents and neighbors. They’re hurting, and it will only get worse if America elects McCain.

Because Republicans promise “no new taxes” every year, but yet they keep coming regardless of which party holds office. There’s a reason taxes are compared to death, but they aren’t the proverbial nail in our collective coffins.

No, what really is causing devastations across the country trickles down to the common man, and it’s not a windfall. It’s tax breaks and legislation for mega corporations that cut corner and make their dollars off our backs. The Republication Way is that these huge financial gains ultimately strengthen the economy (and of course you’ve seen how that works).

The cutbacks are happening to essential services: public works, streets, schools and human services. Because none of these institutions are creating a profit, they just are caring for the general public. Sure you got a tidy little stimulus check and paid the rent or will heat or your home one more month. But the national budgets will reflect this new debt with other cuts—and those cuts aren’t going to hurt that one percent.

Now, you might think the ideologies of a quick fix to build a stronger economy sounds pretty good. After all you have a good job, home and a few toys to make life worth living. That gamble will hurt when you get sick and have mounting debt because health insurance can’t sustain the cuts made to it and you’re paying for more and more out of pocket. Or by some stroke of bad luck you lose your job or can’t work.

Unemployment dries up awfully fast. Then the tough choice of going to the cabin to fish or taking a camping trip to hike seems a little petty. Now you’re choosing between buying food and paying the rising cost of gas and fuel (because, by the way, off shore drilling won’t lower costs for another eight years, if they are able to pull enough out to make a dent).

So weigh your options this November. If that quick fix check that can be gone in a day and then only a memory when real help and services are needed, vote McCain.

But if you want to create a country that will benefit everyone and sustain you and your children into the future … then Barack Obama is the only choice.

Clumsy, the girl’s so clumsy

I apologize for my absence of late. I packed up my entire life, save a few knick knacks, and took a gigantic leap—though not the leap the size of here to the east coast.
I bought a house—just writing it makes me throw up a little in my mouth. It’s really not that bad, it’s just the thought of it. But some times those concepts are powerful.

I have to find a balance of not making plans (to avoid disappointment) and not losing sight of goals.

I toppled that challenge several times over. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised though. I’ve always know that I’m somewhat clumsy.

The Neverending Story

Will it ever end? No I’m not talking about the movie series with the funny looking flying creature thing and Jonathan Brandis escaping his teenaged angst into a fantasy world. Two words: typed with one hand on home row: Brett Favre.


I know. Ohmigod, kill me, kill me now. *Cue Music: Will he stay or will he go?*

Can we all just get along and play football? I knew this transition was going to be tenuous. And in my gut I didn’t think he was going to retire this year. But I don’t think I ever saw this mess coming.

And right now, as long as he doesn’t play for a team in the division, I really don’t care what he does. In five years time, we all will look back on this and probably shake our heads—if we even think of this whole mess at all. Who would have thought he’d pull a Michael Jordan? At least Jordan didn’t cause this much controversy (as far as I know).

Letters to Live By ~ The Inevitable

Dear Friend,

You’ll never believe the amazing advice I received today. It was around 3 p.m. and I was hitting a huge lull at work—you know, the kind brought on by lunch burning off and frustration mounting from an hour’s work disappearing.

I took a moment and a deep breath and the universe gave me a pick me up. The sage piece of wisdom was “Age is nothing but a number.” And it came from the best counsel: the wrapper of a Dove Dark Chocolate

I’ve been having issues with my quarter century. Never before has my years tallied on Earth been a focus or care. But dawning of the 25th year hit me like a bag of bricks.

Life has been psyching me out. Bills. Insurance. Retirement Plans. Home Ownership. Ack.

The problem with the real world is not the work or job. It’s all of these pressures mounting up. And the fear that one wrong move will sink the ship.

Because what Brett Favre has taught us is some decisions should be final and we don’t (normally) get the luxury of take backs.

Don’t get me wrong, my lovely Friend, the real world and all its pleasures of taxes, work pressures and unretirements aren’t fun.

It’s just like everything else though. Take one thing at a time and if you believe and are positive, the universe will provide for you (if nothing else, it gives you wisdom through chocolate to help you get through the moment).

The greatest challenge, my Friend, is to remember to have Patience!

Letters to Live By ~ Passion

Oh dear Friend,

I miss your voice, your laugh. I remember all the good times we shared. Our silly inside jokes that mean nothing to everyone else.

I’ve felt deep passions since we last spoke—good and bad. I’ve been hurt severely, but also loved intensely. It’s funny, for me these both sides of this spectrum stir deep down in the same place—the pit of my stomach. That painful hurt makes my stomach drop or tie in knots and love makes it well up with butterflies. Oh, what an experience!

And I’m not sure if you can really recover from either—love or hurt. Because I can revisit it years later and feel fine, but something triggers it again and all those powerful feelings bubble up.

Johnny Rzeznik of the Goo Goo Dolls says that “scars are souvenirs we’ll never lose, the past is never far.” I agree, but I’ll add wrinkles are earned, a past smile we should never forget.

See, the GGD and Johnny still hold in a place in my heart. As does Travis Jervey, purple, Van Gogh, duckies and llamas. Some things never change. And thank you my friend for accepting my obsessions (there I said it!) and not seeing them as faults. I love that twinkle in your eye when you see me embracing my “favorite things”—I know in your own way you relate to your favorite things as well.

Until next time my dear Friend ... do you remember when we went to that place, and I said this while you did that .... and then .... :-) Wasn't it great?

Sleep well, I look forward to our next chat. ~ Sdo

Letters to Live By ~ Faith

Dear Old Friend,

It’s been quite awhile since we last spoke, and I apologize sincerely for the time and space between us. I never mean for so many days to stretch on from the last time we talked. But intentions never make these fingers dial the phone or type an email.

Lots of things have changed dear Friend, but you’d be surprised of how much has stayed the same. I’ll recap the most significant topics for you, as they come to me, and ask quickly as I can so I won’t keep you too long.

I’ll start with what I’ve learned about faith and religion. When I was in eighth grade, before my confirmation, one of the Sunday school teachers sat the girls of my class down and talked to us about faith. Well, actually it was more about religion and our devotion to God.

She looked at each of us, and asked us to promise we would continue going to church, no matter where our path would lead us. I remember in that moment, knowing I’d be making a promise I wouldn’t keep. Looking back, I see how very inappropriate that session was. God isn’t about peer pressure. And I went with the group, because I knew there would be negative consequences if I didn’t.

What she should have asked us to do was never lose faith. In the darkest moments, the loneliest times, we should look deep down inside ourselves and be comforted in that we are but a small part in this great universe. And our part, whether if it’s predestined or rewritten with every flutter of a butterfly’s wings, has a place.

If we just believe that everything happens for a reason and we are never truly alone—even (especially!) when nothing can be seen or felt—everything works its way out. Everything will be okay. The universe takes care of you as long as you believe in yourself.

And my Friend, I don’t often go to church, and probably never will. But don’t fear for my soul. I feel God all around me, and celebrate the wonders with every flower, blade of grass, rain drop and other miracles all around us. I don’t need to follow the flock, repeat words like drone or forcibly give money to an Earthly institution.

I don’t think this so much is a change—but the strength to formulate, believe and hold on to what was always in me. Talk about Joy in every day moments!

What has changed is my loss of faith. I don’t trust as easily as I used to. I’ve lost faith in people.

I find myself pulling back, showing only a small percent of what I really am. Much of the world around me only sees what I let them see—a shell of what I really am. I don’t want most people to know the real me.

The voice in the back of my head is constantly reminding me that any information I divulge can and will be used against me.

I’ve lost faith that people will mostly do the right thing, the sane thing, the fair thing.

So I’ve come to numb myself, take that shot of Novocain against life.

Because I’ve learned is life isn’t fair. Everything happens for a reason, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t royally suck sometimes.

Don't worry though Friend.  It's not all a sad story.  But we only appreciate blessing more after a little hardship.

Be well until we connect again. ~ Sdo

This is the life

This week I took vacation. It’s been my first summer vacation since 2004, longer if you don’t count the summers I worked throughout college.

It’s been such a fabulous time. My plans have been flexible and I’ve loved everything the week has brought me.

Saturday, I went to Jenny’s pond party. It was a super windy afternoon. But even though I didn’t go swimming and I got a sunburn, I had a wonderful time with Jenny and Kriston.
Sunday was such a nice day to weed and work in the garden. Plus I got to watch Robots. But I got a little too much sun and didn’t drink enough water on Saturday so I was sleeping by 9 p.m.

Monday night we had a campfire and stayed outside until midnight. It would have been longer, but I got cold even in pants and sweatshirt.

Mom was having way too much fun playing in the fire. She sent sparks flying all night—I have the burn marks and three holes in my pants to proved it. We missed a Big Bang Theory marathon (two whole hours!) but it was still worth it.

When we got in MASH was on, so we watched that. I tried to stay awake to watch South Park, but probably only got five minutes in and I fell asleep.

I was quite tired after this late night session. I didn’t perk up until around 4 p.m. Tuesday. I still enjoyed our visit with my aunts Joannie & Diane. Diane lives in North Dakota so it was especially nice to see her.

Wednesday I braved the spiders and looked at all the stuff I have in storage so I could make my shopping list.

Tim also came over Wednesday and Thursday, which was awesome. We lamented about how old we’re both getting and how much easier it was before the real world was looming so close (or smack dab in it, for me). That’s a whole other post entirely.

He and mom tag teamed me into buying a dinette set for $35—complete with ugly chairs. Oh well, he also helped us load and unload. Later in the afternoon after Timmy went back home Mom and I went shopping. Got lots of good deals—a beautiful chocolate brown living room chair for $80. I spent around $250 in total, but saved maybe more than $500.

Friday was a lovely lazy day. I sat outside reading and writing. I had a chance to watch a couple of old favorite shows—including bits and pieces of every soap I watched as a child/teen.

All in all my vacation was the best I could hope for. Great friends, family and weather. It’ll be an adjustment to go back to a normal sleeping pattern—especially going to bed before 11 and getting up before 8!!

Please stay retired Brett

I still haven't written my Brett Favre Reflections.  And I'm not sure if I will, because I don't know if I can produce anything that hasn't been said or done before.

Plus, how do you express what he meant to the game, an era of quarterbacks and my complete exposure to the NFL?  He defined greatness, humble persona and sportsmanship--on and off the field.

And that's rare.

With that said; however, he needs to stay retired.

He also needs to keep his itches to himself--they make creams for that you know.

Because I can't take it.  Hearing "Brett Favre wants to come back and play" makes me sick to my stomach.

He had his chance to stay ... before he announced his retirement.  And after March 4, 2008, there's no going back.  If he thought that he might be mentally ready by, oh say, JULY he should have not announced he was going to retire.  Because now the ship has sailed--and he was the one who untied it from the dock and pushed off.  It's now Aaron Rodger's team. 

Yeah, it would be great to have Brett back for one more year, five more years, forever. Because it's Brett and he always gives the team the chance to win.  That's the nostalgia talking.  I don't know it any other way.

I'm excited to see what Aaron is made of.  I want to move forward, because the team won't win looking back.

Favre said it himself, he only knows one way to play: by giving 100 percent.  Nothing less.  At this point, he wouldn't be able to give 100 percent.  He could still play; no doubt, but there would be more mistakes, more last minute salvations, more tarnish on the legend.  I'd rather have the last pass intercepted, eliminating the Packers from the Super Bowl than have it happen in a losing season or losing the Super Bowl.  It's fitting for Favre, what other way would his epic end?

I've said it before, in this win-now league Favre wouldn't (or shouldn't) go to another team.  If he was mentally exhausted in a system he's played in for 16 years (given some changes that naturally occur in an evolving offense), he'd have to put in extra work to learn the new offense of the new team.  Yes, he could show up and play on Sundays, but I think it would be mediocre at best.  We saw how average he was with young receivers, new receivers every week and poor receivers. Not to mention there's no telling the quality of the offensive line.

Favre said it well when he retired, his success was never solely because of him.  It takes every part of the puzzle fitting to create a good to great offense and quarterback.  Great quarterbacks make something out of nothing.  But it must be pretty frustrating to know that you're great and the best you can get out of the people around you is average.  Not the way a legend goes out of the game.

Here's to Brett, and his 16 years with the Green Bay Packers.  Thanks for the memories and how you played the game.  Here's hoping you retire with the honor you played.

And here's to Aaron Rodgers and the next era of the Green Bay Packers.  I don't know where you'll take us, but I'm excited for the journey.

Plant a Tree, Please a Pirate (Arrrrrr)

Gooooooooooood morning boys and girls, but then again I was told it isn't morning.  Oh well, I guess I get confused by those kind of things.

There is a great newer holiday in the Kingdom of Loathing, and in my green spirit I'm so pleased I can do my part to make the Kingdom a better place (other than slaughtering monsters and rescuing the King from a prism prison).  It's Arrrbor Day where a friendly pirate encourages Adventurers to give back to their Kingdom by planting trees in the Arrrrrboretum.

Nevermind that pirates use trees for wood to make their boats.  And between you and me, they cut down every last tree I planted last Arrrbor Day and all I got in return were pine needles.  Now that doesn't sound like advancing the common good or a way to create opportunities of a better life for everyone ... (stinking lying pirates)

Bitterness aside, check out all the fabulous and funny adventures you can have on Arrrbor Day: Check out the Arrrbor Day Adventures  (courtesy of KoL Wiki)

My Favorites are:
The Fellowship of the Fudge (LotR Reference)
The Submissive Tree (Giving Tree Reference)
A Hare Raising Propsal (Little Bunny FooFoo Reference) 
Sheer Comedic Gold (LotR Reference)
A Foxy Proposal (Firefox spoof)

Quite amusing, I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.  Those writers and developers are brilliant.