Five reasons why the dishes don't get done

I don't read as many books since my discovery of blogs and RSS feeds. I think college and 100+ pages due per class, per day destroyed the reading for enjoyment part of my brain too.  But it's gone a step (or two, or a leap) beyond that ... I have to pay attention to my Internet time otherwise I could spend endless hours engrossed in all the wonders it holds.

I love finding little gems or discovering the ultra-trendy site that everyone else in various trendy circles knows about.  To make this list, I narrowed it to blogs I read faithfully and those that update frequently (this knocked off Grey Matter--from the Writers of Grey's Anatomy, since they don't post when the show is in hiatus).

I am also only including the sites I've been reading for at least six months (which eliminated my new find from Dooce's Twitter feed: Favrd--and no, it's not about THAT quarterback.

So with no further ado, here is a brief list of my favorites. 

Dooce.com -- a "Mommy" blog that's so much more.  This blog chronicles the life of Heather B. Armstrong, wife and mother of two (as of Saturday).  A former Mormon who got fired from her LA job in web design for writing about work on her blog.  She and her new husband moved back to Utah even though their political views and drinking habits are polar opposites of their former faith.  After having her first child, she committed herself to a mental hospital with a severe case of postpartum depression (as noted on her blog and new book).

I discovered this blog from a copy writing e-newsletter.  It mentioned her blog along with about four or five other "Mommy Blogs."  I don't know why I clicked this link, but what I read had me captivated.

The first post I read was about Halloween 2008 (I'd post a link, but there's a lot of lag on her web site right now b/c she just posted the announcement for their new daughter), I loved it instantly and went back to the beginning of the site, via archives and read from there.  Six months later, I finally am up to date and on to reading her husband's site.  He is more politically and geek oriented (said with love of course) and it's just as enjoyable to read Jon's point of view as things unfold in the Armstrong household.

PostSecret -- Published Sunday mornings, this site is a community art/social project where people send in post cards with their secrets.  These post cards are elaborately designed homemade masterpieces, photographs or the typical tourist post card.

This site is interesting on many levels.  Sometimes its the beauty of the cards and the amazing talent of their artists.  Sometimes its the outrageous secrets--confessions of silly, fun or naughty little things people do.  Like the person who puts your insurance claim at the bottom of the pile when he/she can't read your writing.  THAT changed how much I pay attention to my penmanship.

The most striking aspect of this site is the heart-wrenching or devastating statements of abuse, rape, depression, addiction, and every so often, love.  I've cried more than once reading these short, but meaningful secrets.

I found this site by a search after watching an episode of CSI:NY.  It wasn't the same site featured on the show, but it had the same concept of sending secrets on homemade cards for the world to see but no one to know.

A site I found from PostSecret, Found is somewhat similar as it gives you a glimpse of a fraction of a stranger's life.  This site displays found items people send in.  It's amazing the things people find and where they find them: on the street, sidewalk, parking lot, benches, attics, books, elevators and on and on and on.

The found items are typically old and interesting photographs or odd notes, which are a hoot.

TXTS FRM LST NGHT -- I came across this site from Mark Hoppus' blog (which is another blog and/or Twitter feed you should hook into).  The name is pretty self explanatory.  Amusing texts from every day life that people then send to the site to be published.  Not surprisingly, many of these texts are from intoxicated people.  But if we can't be amused from their stupidity, what's the point??

Finally, I also frequently check $5 Dinners.  This Mommy blogger writes about her tips and strategies to feed her family on five dollars a meal. I'm looking for ideas and tips moreso than actually reading this blog like I read Dooce. The creater of $5 Dinners outlines menu plans, has great, inexpensive and healthy recipe ideas and coupons.  I don't often get to the coupons in time, but she has great variety in her recipes and I've used around five of her recipes and adapted many others.

I discovered this site from Blogs of Note, a list of interesting sites updated monthly from the staff of Blogger.


So those are my favs.  Add movies and tv shows, music, the Dan Patrick Show and the occasional game you can understand why I have to be careful about my Internet time at home.  But hot damn, with high speed there are so many possibilites!

What are your favorite sites/blogs?  I'm always looking for a new addiction...err...something to read.

Make You Smile +44 (My life as told by my music)

A friend did this on facebook and her answers were perfect and hilarious.  Mine, not as much, but somewhat amusing.

My Life As Told By *Generic MP3 Player*
1. Put your iTunes, IPod or Windows Music Player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your next answer.


1. IF SOMEONE SAYS, “IS THIS OKAY?” YOU SAY
Geek in Pink - Jason Mraz

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Curbside Profit - Jason Mraz

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Seasons of Love - Rent Soundtrack

4. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Love Song for No One - John Mayer      (that's not a huge stamp of confidence)

5. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
You Found Me - The Fray

6. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
I'm OK - Christina Aguilera

7. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN?
Circus - Britney Spears

8. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Infatuation - Christina Aguilera

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Trees - Marty Casey

10. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
The Man Who Sold the World - Nirvana

11. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Shut Up - Blink-182

12. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Comfortable - John Mayer

13. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Here is Gone - The Goo Goo Dolls

14. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Broken - Seether Feat. Amy Lee

15. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Going Away to College - Blink-182

16. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Addicted - Saving Abel

17. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
No, It Isn't - +44

18. WHAT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Ever The Same - Rob Thomas

19. HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Right Here - Staind

20. WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Photograph - Nickelback

21. WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Weatherman - +44

22. WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Elizabeth - Jonathan Jackson

23. WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Apologize - One Republic feat Timberland

24. DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Rockin' the Suburbs - Ben Folds Five

25. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
My Love - Justin Timberlake

26. WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Here Without You - 3 Doors Down

27. WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Make You Smile - +44

This is it. It might all be gone tomorrow

This season of Grey's Anatomy is in the high form not seen since Prom Night of the Adulterous Sex, Denny's death and the night Snow Patrol was put on the map.

The magic is back.

The writing is quick and witty.  Each main character is rich and complex with story lines given the perfect amount of attention.

And it all started again with Izzy and Denny. 

I've always enjoyed Denny and his relationship with Izzy.  It was the beautiful fairytale with a Shakespearean ending.  It's iconic moment, Izzy in her fantastic pink prom dress laying on Denny's death bed, her forehead pressed into his neck.

A great majority of people will not be able to hear strains of Snow Patrol-Chasing Cars without picturing that moment.

But much has changed at Seattle Grace since.  That night was quite a turning point for our Interns.  That night things stopped being so simple.  So black and white.  They learned science cannot always save them and their choices have irreversible consequences.  You can't go back.

That night Izzy lost her way.  Her whole world changed, collapsed, and she really hadn't found her way back until this season.  Specifically, the moment she realized she was alone.

And then came Denny.

Not a lot of people liked that Izzy could see, talk to and ... with Denny.  I loved it.   This interaction brought back Izzy as she used to be: playful, vibrant. 

She lost her strength and compassion.  She lost her essence.  But Denny, our dearly departed Denny helped her find it again.

And it led her to the clinic and the Interns.  In teaching them she found a balance between the rockstar doctor and the sensitive-sometimes-over-the-line doctor.

She did such a good job engaging the Interns to take learning seriously--where everyone else had failed.  She also played a part in helping Alex heal after yet another train wreck (Ava), Christina find a heart, Meredith commit to an extravagant wedding (which helped her learn that all she really wanted/needed was a good marriage) and George the strength to stand on his own feet.

Izzy touched all the key players of Seattle Grace -- just like we affect everything around us, in so many ways we'll probably never know.

But, I think Izzy's purpose has been fulfilled and she should die. What is there left for her to do?  Because I can't see her growing old with Alex, and I realize there's plenty of more guys for her to sleep with, but really, been there, done that.  If you hadn't noticed, Izzy has been whoring around.  From Denny's death bed to a bathroom floor to destroying George's marriage to Alex on the rebound.

There's more left for George ... than there is for Izzy.

I've said it before.  Writers can do anything.  And I guess we'll just have to wait and see what the next season brings.

In case I get eaten by a bear

Last.fm cares.  That makes me feel good.  Click on image to read the message.

If you're afraid, buy a dog

In most people's lives birthdays eventually lose their luster.  That turn of the calendar page isn't marking exciting milestones as much as it's a reminder of how old you're getting.

I've semi-scoffed at the idea of a quarter life crisis. 13, 16, 18, 21 ... all spiffy.

So it came as a shock when 25 hit me hard.  A quarter century.

Life lesson: never say never.  Don't think it won't happen to you. Cause it will.

Karma?  Power of Thought?  Whatever it is, it gets me every time.

So, last year's birthday marked no other milestone than just how long I've been here.  But it seemed the trigger point for a lot of things that were bubbling up to spill over: work, relationships, family issues, goals, friendship questions.  You name it, it was percolating.

Suddenly these unresolved issues were all I saw in the candles, gifts and cards.  Where previously they would be symbols of celebration, now they were all mocking me.

With perspective, this crisis was more so a panic, like the feeling you get when you're running late and you can't find your keys.  They aren't where you always put them and they also aren't in the next six logical places.  So you're five minutes late with no keys in sight.  You can't even find your spare set.

I wish I could tell you I examined each thing causing me panic and worked my way through them.  I resolved one or two issues, and found two or three more.  Generally have few solutions and more insecurities.  Ah life.

In the on deck circle

I'm copping out.  I'm posting about what I'm not posting.  But, on the upswing I hope to grow some ambition (like I'm growing my nails, that stuff from Avon really does work!) and actually start crack-a-lacking back to the writing.

Brewing in my noggin' currently:
- The NFL Draft (this weekend) I haven't heard much about anything but Stafford but I'll throw my two cents in any way, we can always spill into general NFL -- like KC trading Tony Gonzalas (so, who actually plays there now?) or Kyle Orton and Jay Cutler switching teams ... OR Michael Vick getting out of jail and possibily being reinstated to the league.
- Grey's Anatomy and why Izzy should die.  No, I don't dislike Izzy.  In fact I loved the Izzy & Denny story line (yes, he's dead--but she saw him because she has cancer so don't you feel bad about bitching about the story line now?) I don't respect Katherine Heigel and would rather she leave the show, but I do like Izzy.
- Turning 26 shortly and the cliche that was my quarter life crisis at 25
- Blogs and sites I love, as proof of how I'm entirely addicted the Internet.

And now, it's nearly 10.  And I'm tired.  I'm going to listen to a little music, go to sleep and hope for better things tomorrow.

Good night and happy painting.

I bet I won't be able to wear chopsticks again (darn!)

The first shampooing after a haircut I always use way too much shampoo.  If you already didn't know this about me, I have very thick hair.  So thick that in it's natural state, it takes at least 6-8 hours to dry.  I don't bother with a blow dryer, it barely makes a dent.

When I got my first perm, my head hurt from the weight of the hair and curlers.  The curl only stayed in around a month. Even trying to curl it more than a flip in or out is pointless.  It's so heavy that it will not hold the curl, no matter how much product you try to cement it in place.

The first time I went to my stylist I told her she would have to thin out my hair.  She said yeah, sure we can do that.  She didn't get it.  When the pile of hair was around an inch high and she wasn't even close to done, she finally understood.

I don't so much need a hair cut, but more a trim, style and thinning out.  Afterwards, it's great though ... like, wow this must be what it feels like to have normal hair.

Sadly, I broke two nails today

It's finally warm enough to walk around outside for more than three minutes at a time without risk of frost bite, so this weekend I spent a fair amount of time mingling with Mother Nature.  She, of course, sent me home with a lovely gift of lingering allergies. 

Let me tell you folks, I'm fighting the good fight.  Runny nose, sniffy nose.  Sinus pressure, sneezing, itchy and watery eyes.  ... but I'm also being a baby about it.  I'M MISERABLE!!!  And all I want to do is stay in bed and sleep.  But I don't.

In the epic battle against my allergies I made chicken noodle soup from a Ramen Noodle Pack.  Now this might bring back the old glory days for some, but I hate Ramen Noodles.  In my entire college career I never ate them.  So where does my loathing come from?  It's the "base" my dad uses for his "soup," or more acurately described as "let's throw every leftover from the fridge in a pot of boiling water with Ramen and eat it for like six meals."  I suppose it's just easier to refer to it as "soup" even though it's inaccurate. I refer to it as slop in a bowl, not to be confused with slop on a stick.

So I think I would make my Dad's heart proud to know that I was making Ramen.  Of course, he'd doctor it more (celery and leftover green beans, corn, chicken or turkey (or both), celery salt, extra noodles, rice ... I'm sure I'm leaving something out).  He might also turn his nose up at the garlic and ginger I added.  No, on second thought, he would be less disgusted if I had put a pancake in ... but ginger and garlic?  For shame.

Blink 182's back in the studio, which is really f'ing great.

Ever the Same.

I'm starting to pull out of the March lulls.  Only took nine days into April.  It's official, March is the new February.

I'm suddenly craving a glass of wine.  And I know I have some Sauvigan Blanc chilling in the fridge.  So convenient ... so ready to come out and splash into a glass.  Is 9:46 a bad time to have a glass of wine??

Mmmmm, good decision.

So, I was at Perkins probably three weeks ago.  At the table right across from us was a family.  The grandparents, their three daughters and three grandchildren.  The daughters were taking their parents out for an Anniversary meal.

Throughout the meal I was struck at how very condesending each daughter was towards her parents.  If I were to guess I'd say they were around 80-90, but seemed to be very healthy and high functioning.

First, Big Hair on the end tells her Mom that she doesn't have to eat her bun.  "See, I don't like my bun, I just put it right there.  They give it to you if you want it or not.  So you don't have to eat it Mom."  Of course though I see "Mom" eating her bun later in the meal.  Hadn't Big Hair ever heard of carbo loading?

Then The Middle Child said to her Mom,  "Mom next your fork is a steak knife.  See, you use it like this. Big Hair, Mom was trying to use her fork to cut into her steak."

Halfway through the meal, Big Hair gave her Dad the talk about not eating all his toast.  She must really have something against bread.

I'm sure they were all well intending ... but if I were mom & dad I wouldn't have been amused at the eating lesson.

Because tomorrow's another day

I just stepped outside to put the garbage out and I was struck at how peaceful it was.  The moon is out and high above, shining between two towering pine trees.  The air is crisp, yet comfortable ... assuring me spring is on the way, it's just taking its time.  But what made me pause was how quiet it was.  No crickets or insects yet.  No cars or any other sign of the white noise of life that usually surrounds us.

I appreciate those rare moments where there's harmony and the universe gives you a sign that you're okay, right there in that moment is where you are supposed to be.

Life seems to be going at a million miles per hour and no matter what I do I can't catch up.  With everything.  Work projects, housework, dishes.  Books to read, movies to see, scrapbooks left undone, blog posts left unwritten, the sheer mass of web sites and blogs left unexplored.

No matter how much time there it is, it is never enough.

We went to a conference this winter and heard Paul Wesselmann (The Ripples Project) speak.  He really gave us all a shot in the arm.  He told us to do more tomorrow than what we did today.  Now, in this specific instance he was referring to exercise ... but I think I'm finding harmony applying it to life. 

Didn't get all my clothes put away? Well, I'll put the rest away tomorrow.  Not in the leaving to tomorrow what could be done today sense.  But in the way that there's a finite amount of time--in a day, in a life.

And how we spend that time is our choice---we can choose to react or be depressed or discouraged about what life throws at us.  Or we can choose to act--to be the best person we can be in that moment.

And in this moment ... I feel better knowing that.  Thanks again, Paul!!

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.

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.