Ahhh ... AHHH ... CHOOOOOO!!!!!!
Obviously I'm sick. I've had a cold for about three weeks. Sniffy nose and miserable. Now, I've caught another cold that includes huge sneezes every other minute. Stuffy nose, watery eyes. FUN.
This cold has left me even more unmotivated than I usually am--which is pretty pathetic.
In this haze of tissues, the one thing that drives me crazy is that people need to give an opinion about what's really wrong. Because it's absolutely polite to say to someone who just told you they were miserable for the past two days that they really don't have a cold. It's the flu. Or, it's allergies. Of course you know my body better than me. I've only had it for 26 years.
But let me tell you, it's a cold--it feels like every other cold I've had. And unless you have a medical degree and you have checked me over, you don't know. Come a little closer, tell me again, and I'll sneeze on you.
It's one of those colds that if I could remove my nose from my face until it was back to working order, I would.
A nice little touch to my cold today is the sudden dip in temperatures. We received the first taste of fall today--complete with 40 mile-an-hour winds. The weird thing about these winds is they are truly gusts. It can be calm one moment and then, like right now, they bloom up out of nowhere and look like they could rip the trees out of ground. Even those two ginormous pine trees in my backyard. I think they may have even lost a couple of limbs. I'd go out and look, but it's 47 degrees out, and I'm not that curious.
I just finished My Sister's Keeper. Something you should try to avoid when you have a cold? Crying. Man. I did not see that coming. Not the crying. This book has been great and captivating, but hard. It hits too close to home and it wasn't something I could breeze through without fighting serious bouts of depression. But the ending. Wow.
Get the book. Read it. Make sure you have tissues. Then go hug your kids, and your parents.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Tingling all over
Kick off weekend was awesome. So awesome, in fact, I think I was a little over-stimulated.
What a better way to start the season than a game that went into overtime?
What a better way to start the season than a game that went into overtime?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
See that red light? It means you shouldn't be moving.
The road construction is really pushing me to my limit.
It's not the detours, having to drive through an obstacle course of orange barrels and gravel. I don't care that we've been playing the guess which road is closed today game since April.
What's driving me bonkers is that in dealing with all of this, people have decided that sacrifices they make because of this construction means that they do not have to obey traffic signals.
There's one area at a four way stop, if you have to make a left turn you should factor in another 15 minutes to your travel time.
Picture this: You're sitting in a line of cars as far as the eye can see, about six car lengths away from the left turn lane. You can see that precious green turn arrow ahead in the distance pointing you towards the promised land. The long line of cars vaguely begins to move. When you are four car lengths away from merging into the turn lane, the arrow turns yellow.
And, then once you finally get in that lane, you lose right of passage. That is, supposibly.
But the two cars ahead of you decide they are above the authority of that lighted arrow and continue to turn without it. This makes the oncoming cars (who, technically have the right of way) wait. These cars decide they will continue on their way at the red light, because they were cheated out of their green light.
This sets off a cascade of vehicles traveling through the intersection whenever the hell they please only regarding the signals as a vague suggestions.
This traffic sucks, I get it. But because you needed to go at that very second, you just made the whole process five minutes longer. It's a crap shoot people, and a wonder how there hasn't been an accident.
Oh, on a separate note, I was at a presentation for work at an elementary school yesterday and some parent backed into my car. Then, she high tailed her pick up out of the parking lot. The office personnel told me what happened and called the police. I waited around for 25 minutes to file a report, he said it looked like over $1,000 damage.
I haven't gotten the estimate yet, but that's exactly what I needed. Add my broken oven, and the other engine repairs the car needed anyway, looks like the fall bills will be hefty.
It's not the detours, having to drive through an obstacle course of orange barrels and gravel. I don't care that we've been playing the guess which road is closed today game since April.
What's driving me bonkers is that in dealing with all of this, people have decided that sacrifices they make because of this construction means that they do not have to obey traffic signals.
There's one area at a four way stop, if you have to make a left turn you should factor in another 15 minutes to your travel time.
Picture this: You're sitting in a line of cars as far as the eye can see, about six car lengths away from the left turn lane. You can see that precious green turn arrow ahead in the distance pointing you towards the promised land. The long line of cars vaguely begins to move. When you are four car lengths away from merging into the turn lane, the arrow turns yellow.
And, then once you finally get in that lane, you lose right of passage. That is, supposibly.
But the two cars ahead of you decide they are above the authority of that lighted arrow and continue to turn without it. This makes the oncoming cars (who, technically have the right of way) wait. These cars decide they will continue on their way at the red light, because they were cheated out of their green light.
This sets off a cascade of vehicles traveling through the intersection whenever the hell they please only regarding the signals as a vague suggestions.
This traffic sucks, I get it. But because you needed to go at that very second, you just made the whole process five minutes longer. It's a crap shoot people, and a wonder how there hasn't been an accident.
Oh, on a separate note, I was at a presentation for work at an elementary school yesterday and some parent backed into my car. Then, she high tailed her pick up out of the parking lot. The office personnel told me what happened and called the police. I waited around for 25 minutes to file a report, he said it looked like over $1,000 damage.
I haven't gotten the estimate yet, but that's exactly what I needed. Add my broken oven, and the other engine repairs the car needed anyway, looks like the fall bills will be hefty.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Let me count the ways ...
Ah, the start of the NFL Season, only topped by the thrill of the Super Bowl. Kickoff weekend brings all the things I love about football flooding back ...
1. Feats of brain over brawn (Denver WR-Brandon Stokley running parallel so that time ran off the clock or the Brian Westbrook play last year where he took a knee on the one yard line instead of scoring so the clock would run out and the other team wouldn't have a chance to score).
2. The chatter and cadence at the line of scrimmage before the snap.
3. The beauty of a pass rocketing straight down the field to a waiting receiver.
4. Sacking the other team's quarterback.
5. A defender appearing out of seemingly no where to swoop in, intercept the ball and run it in for a touchdown.
6. The winded D-lineman when he's the one running down the field trying to make a touchdown after a fumble recovery or tipped ball.
7. Whisper of a perfect completion.
8. Thwack of a batted away ball.
9. Comrade of the players and coaches.
10. Grace of the athletes.
11. Toeing in touchdowns.
12. One handed catches.
13. One handed over the shoulder catch between two defenders.
14. A pass that's floated into a receiver and caught without breaking stride.
15. Anticipation of the big game.
16. Celebrations.
17. Pre-game choreography.
18. The synchronicity of no-huddle offense.
19. Redirection at the line of scrimmage.
20. New commercials (practically better than famed super bowl ads).
21. Holding your breath at the big play, waiting to see the conclusion.
22. Ricocheted passes that are completions and touchdowns.
23. Perfectly executed blocks.
24. Making defenders miss.
25. Shrugging out of a sack.
26. Stiff-arming a player two times bigger.
27. Nail biting final moments that pay off.
28. Making something out of nothing.
29. When reviews go your team's way.
30. Complicated formulas to get into the playoffs.
31. Third down defensive stands.
32. Stretching for the first down.
33. Big yards after the catch plays.
34. Booming kick off or punts.
35. Field goals that dink off the upright.
36. Eleven hours of football (with pregame/post game).
37. The really good color commentators & pregame shows.
38. Surprises as scores come up on the ticker.
39. Bad weather games.
40. High scoring games.
41. Broken plays that gain yards.
42. Fake plays.
43. Blocked field goals.
44. Triple digit fantasy points.
45. Ending the game with an interception.
1. Feats of brain over brawn (Denver WR-Brandon Stokley running parallel so that time ran off the clock or the Brian Westbrook play last year where he took a knee on the one yard line instead of scoring so the clock would run out and the other team wouldn't have a chance to score).
2. The chatter and cadence at the line of scrimmage before the snap.
3. The beauty of a pass rocketing straight down the field to a waiting receiver.
4. Sacking the other team's quarterback.
5. A defender appearing out of seemingly no where to swoop in, intercept the ball and run it in for a touchdown.
6. The winded D-lineman when he's the one running down the field trying to make a touchdown after a fumble recovery or tipped ball.
7. Whisper of a perfect completion.
8. Thwack of a batted away ball.
9. Comrade of the players and coaches.
10. Grace of the athletes.
11. Toeing in touchdowns.
12. One handed catches.
13. One handed over the shoulder catch between two defenders.
14. A pass that's floated into a receiver and caught without breaking stride.
15. Anticipation of the big game.
16. Celebrations.
17. Pre-game choreography.
18. The synchronicity of no-huddle offense.
19. Redirection at the line of scrimmage.
20. New commercials (practically better than famed super bowl ads).
21. Holding your breath at the big play, waiting to see the conclusion.
22. Ricocheted passes that are completions and touchdowns.
23. Perfectly executed blocks.
24. Making defenders miss.
25. Shrugging out of a sack.
26. Stiff-arming a player two times bigger.
27. Nail biting final moments that pay off.
28. Making something out of nothing.
29. When reviews go your team's way.
30. Complicated formulas to get into the playoffs.
31. Third down defensive stands.
32. Stretching for the first down.
33. Big yards after the catch plays.
34. Booming kick off or punts.
35. Field goals that dink off the upright.
36. Eleven hours of football (with pregame/post game).
37. The really good color commentators & pregame shows.
38. Surprises as scores come up on the ticker.
39. Bad weather games.
40. High scoring games.
41. Broken plays that gain yards.
42. Fake plays.
43. Blocked field goals.
44. Triple digit fantasy points.
45. Ending the game with an interception.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Of Ice Cream Trucks and Doodleage
I'm sitting here quite ravenous waiting for supper. 15 minutes never seemed quite so long, and I should have started prep about a half hour ago so I wouldn't be contemplating chewing off my arm or polishing off the rest of the ice cream.
I'm waiting for my portabella mushrooms to rehydrate so I can finish my stir fry. I love mushrooms, especially the bellas, but they are so pricey. I hope this cheaper alternative is a good alternative.
Today is day two (or four if you count the weekend) of my long awaited vacation. I've been blessed with such beautiful weather. I've slept in, watched favorite television shows I don't usually get to see, had lunch out and been canceled on three times. Three times! Everyone is canceling on me. Oh well.
Today my godmother, grandmother, aunt and cousin came for a visit with my mom. My mom made a point to inquire about the depth of my cleaning last night. I don't think she approves of my standards of housekeeping. Now, I'll admit I'm not the best. But it's never more than an hour or two of spot cleaning to get it back to presentable.
I made sure to ask her what she thought of the state of the house on the phone tonight. She approved. If she wouldn't have, it wouldn't have taken too much of a toll, but it's still nice to get the compliment.
This week I've been serenaded by the hum of air conditioners all around me. By necessity I think I've trained myself to deal with the heat (not that it's been that hot this summer). Because two years ago I would have been begging to turn the air on or UP. I don't have air in my house and have only ran my fans around three times.
As I write this, I sit under a quilt (and it's around 74 degrees). I still have two quilts, a blanket, sheet, plus a throw on my bed.
Dude, an Ice Cream truck! I didn't think they still existed. What fun. If I had some cash I would help the Ice Cream Truck Economy.
I've become quite a doodler lately, and I don't usually do so. These doodles aren't anything interesting. In fact, they're just swirls and scrolls. While I was recreating the same looping swirl over again during video editing, I got the thought to incorporate my subject of doodleage in a new masthead. But how?
Over and over again, my pen looped around, and I realized my swirls reminded me of Starry Night and I did a quick sketch of this masthead. I'm not totally satisfied with it, but overall, I like the effect.
I'm frustrated with the overall look and organization of my template, but haven't found anything I like better. So, I guess this will do.
Another frustration is my innate nature to avoid writing the book I'm working on. I'm an aspiring writer, which I've always hated admitting, because, isn't everyone?
I have three solid ideas which I sketch out and write passages here and there. I don't know if its the struggle of prose that keeps me stagnant, the double duty of typing my written long hand (because the open and vast blankness of the word processor sucks the creativity out of me) or the vanity of writing for an immediate audience.
My good intentions always fall flat. With my remaining time this week, I'll try to remedy that. Ooof.
I'm waiting for my portabella mushrooms to rehydrate so I can finish my stir fry. I love mushrooms, especially the bellas, but they are so pricey. I hope this cheaper alternative is a good alternative.
Today is day two (or four if you count the weekend) of my long awaited vacation. I've been blessed with such beautiful weather. I've slept in, watched favorite television shows I don't usually get to see, had lunch out and been canceled on three times. Three times! Everyone is canceling on me. Oh well.
Today my godmother, grandmother, aunt and cousin came for a visit with my mom. My mom made a point to inquire about the depth of my cleaning last night. I don't think she approves of my standards of housekeeping. Now, I'll admit I'm not the best. But it's never more than an hour or two of spot cleaning to get it back to presentable.
I made sure to ask her what she thought of the state of the house on the phone tonight. She approved. If she wouldn't have, it wouldn't have taken too much of a toll, but it's still nice to get the compliment.
This week I've been serenaded by the hum of air conditioners all around me. By necessity I think I've trained myself to deal with the heat (not that it's been that hot this summer). Because two years ago I would have been begging to turn the air on or UP. I don't have air in my house and have only ran my fans around three times.
As I write this, I sit under a quilt (and it's around 74 degrees). I still have two quilts, a blanket, sheet, plus a throw on my bed.
Dude, an Ice Cream truck! I didn't think they still existed. What fun. If I had some cash I would help the Ice Cream Truck Economy.
I've become quite a doodler lately, and I don't usually do so. These doodles aren't anything interesting. In fact, they're just swirls and scrolls. While I was recreating the same looping swirl over again during video editing, I got the thought to incorporate my subject of doodleage in a new masthead. But how?
Over and over again, my pen looped around, and I realized my swirls reminded me of Starry Night and I did a quick sketch of this masthead. I'm not totally satisfied with it, but overall, I like the effect.
I'm frustrated with the overall look and organization of my template, but haven't found anything I like better. So, I guess this will do.
Another frustration is my innate nature to avoid writing the book I'm working on. I'm an aspiring writer, which I've always hated admitting, because, isn't everyone?
I have three solid ideas which I sketch out and write passages here and there. I don't know if its the struggle of prose that keeps me stagnant, the double duty of typing my written long hand (because the open and vast blankness of the word processor sucks the creativity out of me) or the vanity of writing for an immediate audience.
My good intentions always fall flat. With my remaining time this week, I'll try to remedy that. Ooof.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The hot tamale train is nearly at the station again
I love that Dooce loves So You Think You Can Dance?.
How exciting is it SYTYCD will be on this fall?
Even though I enjoy him, I hope Evan leaves this week. I think final two will be Kayla and Brandon -- with Brandon winning. (Even though I like Jeanine more than Kayla, but I think Kayla is the better dancer)
My predictions for final standings (I cannot believe the finale is next week!)
1. Brandon
2. Kayla
3. Jeanine
4. Ade
5. Melissa
6. Evan
With the exception that America is in love with Evan and he might make it to the final, leaving Ade going home tonight.
How exciting is it SYTYCD will be on this fall?
Even though I enjoy him, I hope Evan leaves this week. I think final two will be Kayla and Brandon -- with Brandon winning. (Even though I like Jeanine more than Kayla, but I think Kayla is the better dancer)
My predictions for final standings (I cannot believe the finale is next week!)
1. Brandon
2. Kayla
3. Jeanine
4. Ade
5. Melissa
6. Evan
With the exception that America is in love with Evan and he might make it to the final, leaving Ade going home tonight.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Just like sour chocolate soy milk
Driving home from work today I almost hit a kid on a scooter. Almost as in if I hit the brake about 5 seconds later this would be a whole different post. I was still in the momentum from my turn when a little blond boy no older than seven, rolling on his scooter, zipped from the sidewalk by the other lane, over the center line to my lane. My heart was still pounding as I turned into my driveway.
No, wait, it wasn't. The pounding was replaced utter annoyance as I had to sit on the edge of the road waiting to turn right onto the street that leads to my home. There I got to see the smooth moves of a teenager trying to ride and trick out a skateboard in the middle of the road. Or should I say, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE F'ING ROAD!? DO YOU NOT REALIZE I ALMOST HIT A SEVEN-YEAR-OLD AND BY GOD DON'T TEMPT ME TO MOW YOU DOWN!
Then, THEN this kid looks at me over his shoulder, tries a kick flip, and fails. He picks up his board and walks to the sidewalk. I wish I had skills so I could grab his board, do a wicked backside kickflip 360 give it back and walk away. As if to say, this is my road and you better clear the way when I'm coming punk.
To continue my issues, I learned that using my office key to open the house doesn't work. And chocolate soy milk goes bad really quickly. This discovery was such a disappointment. I had at least two more glasses in there and I was really looking forward to having a glass of chocolate milk with my omelet for supper.
No, wait, it wasn't. The pounding was replaced utter annoyance as I had to sit on the edge of the road waiting to turn right onto the street that leads to my home. There I got to see the smooth moves of a teenager trying to ride and trick out a skateboard in the middle of the road. Or should I say, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE F'ING ROAD!? DO YOU NOT REALIZE I ALMOST HIT A SEVEN-YEAR-OLD AND BY GOD DON'T TEMPT ME TO MOW YOU DOWN!
Then, THEN this kid looks at me over his shoulder, tries a kick flip, and fails. He picks up his board and walks to the sidewalk. I wish I had skills so I could grab his board, do a wicked backside kickflip 360 give it back and walk away. As if to say, this is my road and you better clear the way when I'm coming punk.
To continue my issues, I learned that using my office key to open the house doesn't work. And chocolate soy milk goes bad really quickly. This discovery was such a disappointment. I had at least two more glasses in there and I was really looking forward to having a glass of chocolate milk with my omelet for supper.
Friday, July 24, 2009
More awesomeness
Blink-182, always involved with something awesome. Click the photo above to enter to win a ton of prizes.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Putting your heart in it
I saw this performance on Ellen in November. I was so struck by it that I immediately downloaded a copy of the song.
Beyonce -- Flaws and All on Ellen
Just saw it again today and had to share.
My absolute favorite Beyonce performance ever.
Beyonce -- Flaws and All on Ellen
Just saw it again today and had to share.
My absolute favorite Beyonce performance ever.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Another Day
My brain is so wired with deadlines and yard work and housework that I'm not posting as regularly as I would like. And I regret that terribly.
Remember when I said I could do it but I might go crazy? Moving up everything a month? I wasn't kidding. And instead of that week off I wanted? I think we should make a month. And y'all can fend for yourself.
Recently I discovered I have a chipmonk bogarting my birdfeed (though I still hold true on those rules and the birds disrespecting my authority). Watching the little guy shimmy up the pole and stuff his little cheeks was cute for the first couple of times. By the fifth time the second day, I started throwing things at the window. (When they take me to the crazy house, will you visit?)
I finally got the Brilliant idea that he couldn't shimmy if he couldn't get proper grip (and wasn't affiliated with any climbing association). So I went all crisco on his ass .... or shepard's hooks. Problem solved.
The birds must have told the bunny who was using my flowers as a buffet that "Dude, she means it and you better watch your poofy little cotton tail, because she's gunning for you." Because I haven't seen him in plants or nibblings of plants in weeks. I do however observe him and his momma every night in the neighbor's yard around 7 or 8. As long as meal time in the Foo Foo family stays out of my yard I'll turn a blind eye to these activities.
I'm dangerously close to a music rut, which could spell very bad business right now. Sarah turned me on to pandora.com, which is enjoyable for work. I use last.fm at home and the only problem with both these services is that it generates a playlist for you based on songs you rate positively vs. negatively. So when you throw one off beat song in there, it totally messes everything up. We both had to waste our skips on weird songs that were being thrown into the rotation.
I get it though, Punk + Adult Alternative = the Twang Kings. No, no ... I totally make the connection. It's a standardized test thing right? bread is to food as Twangs Kings is to poking my eyes out with very sharp objects.
Speaking of sharp objects, I broke a chopstick trying to put my hair up yesterday. I've gone through a lot of chopsticks that way and forgot the shock and dismay when it snaps. Then the contemplation. Should I fish out the broken part later? It's up and so tight that it'll actually look nice for a couple of hours if I leave it alone ...
I might have to go in to get my hair thinned out though, I straightened it and it wasn't Barbie hair. It was flat and limp. Like cabbage patch yarn hair. (Tim's head exploded at that statement I'm sure)
One last bit and I should go do dishes. Mom and I were sitting after doing yard work last weekend and she said to me, "Is that your vein?" (the blue line on my thigh, completely flat and always been there btw) Well, yes it is. "Oooooohhhhh you're going to get vericos veins!!" Gee, Mom thanks for completely tapping into my insecurities and killing my self esteem. It's your genes screwing me once again.
Remember when I said I could do it but I might go crazy? Moving up everything a month? I wasn't kidding. And instead of that week off I wanted? I think we should make a month. And y'all can fend for yourself.
Recently I discovered I have a chipmonk bogarting my birdfeed (though I still hold true on those rules and the birds disrespecting my authority). Watching the little guy shimmy up the pole and stuff his little cheeks was cute for the first couple of times. By the fifth time the second day, I started throwing things at the window. (When they take me to the crazy house, will you visit?)
I finally got the Brilliant idea that he couldn't shimmy if he couldn't get proper grip (and wasn't affiliated with any climbing association). So I went all crisco on his ass .... or shepard's hooks. Problem solved.
The birds must have told the bunny who was using my flowers as a buffet that "Dude, she means it and you better watch your poofy little cotton tail, because she's gunning for you." Because I haven't seen him in plants or nibblings of plants in weeks. I do however observe him and his momma every night in the neighbor's yard around 7 or 8. As long as meal time in the Foo Foo family stays out of my yard I'll turn a blind eye to these activities.
I'm dangerously close to a music rut, which could spell very bad business right now. Sarah turned me on to pandora.com, which is enjoyable for work. I use last.fm at home and the only problem with both these services is that it generates a playlist for you based on songs you rate positively vs. negatively. So when you throw one off beat song in there, it totally messes everything up. We both had to waste our skips on weird songs that were being thrown into the rotation.
I get it though, Punk + Adult Alternative = the Twang Kings. No, no ... I totally make the connection. It's a standardized test thing right? bread is to food as Twangs Kings is to poking my eyes out with very sharp objects.
Speaking of sharp objects, I broke a chopstick trying to put my hair up yesterday. I've gone through a lot of chopsticks that way and forgot the shock and dismay when it snaps. Then the contemplation. Should I fish out the broken part later? It's up and so tight that it'll actually look nice for a couple of hours if I leave it alone ...
I might have to go in to get my hair thinned out though, I straightened it and it wasn't Barbie hair. It was flat and limp. Like cabbage patch yarn hair. (Tim's head exploded at that statement I'm sure)
One last bit and I should go do dishes. Mom and I were sitting after doing yard work last weekend and she said to me, "Is that your vein?" (the blue line on my thigh, completely flat and always been there btw) Well, yes it is. "Oooooohhhhh you're going to get vericos veins!!" Gee, Mom thanks for completely tapping into my insecurities and killing my self esteem. It's your genes screwing me once again.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Moral of the story, mother nature always wins
Sunday as I was digging up the (ugly) ferns around my house a bug (hornet, bee, wasp? I dunno) flew up and stung me .... behind my ear ....
The pain was instant and so intense I thought I had been shocked by my MP3 player.
I went inside and brushed my 'ear' off and felt around it to see if I could tell where I had been stung.
Later that night as I was getting ready for bed I noticed in the mirror a three inch diameter swollen and red cirlce by my 'ear.'
Panic set in. This was the first time I had been stung since Lymes Disease and I didn't know how I'd react.
Lymes Disease? What, you say you don't know the tale of when a teeny tiny tick bit me and then knocked me on my ass for three months? Well then, let me regale you.
It was the Friday before the 4th of July weekend back in the ye olde year of 2004. I woke up with a pain in my side and when I went to show my mom she discovered a 4 inch oval that was red and swollen. My knees were also bothering me so she decided we should visit the doctor.
Dr. dippy-dandy looked at my side and said it was probably an allergic reaction or something and took blood work. He gave me a wimpy dose of antibiodics (like the kind used to treat a hang nail or something) and said come back when this three day supply is gone if the rash doesn't go away.
Achy knees turned into hardly being able to sit still to sharp nagging pain in my ankles, knees and hips.
I wasn't sleeping well and by the time Monday and my three day supply rolled around we went back.
The "welt" hadn't gone away, but really wasn't worse, and the blood work came back normal. He told me there was pretty much nothing he could do. So I asked for something for the pain. Obviously I was a just a college student looking for a high because he told me it was all in my head and I should just go home and try not to think about it. (Seriously.)
The passing days did not mark any improvement in my condition. The pain was constant and so bad that if I sat down for any period of time every joint felt as though it was being seared with a white-hot flame. The only relief I felt was when I was standing, moving or with cool baths, but as soon as the water hit room temperature it was unbearable again. I couldn't sit still, let alone fall asleep. I went for three days with no sleep except for a couple of 15 minute naps in the time it took for the water to drain from the bathtub.
Needless to say, it wasn't a good thing for my mood, and my mom was getting a bit annoyed with how irritable I was getting. (She still points it out, but I'm all "give me a break, I hadn't slept for three days. Isn't there a study that no sleep for seven days and you die, five days and you go crazy? I was this close to absolutely losing it on you.")
At my wits end, and praying for some relief or death, we went back in to the doctor's office.
Thankfully the original quack...er, doctor I saw was on vactation, so they gave me his replacement. She took my temperature and reported a whopping 109 degrees. Finally, she acknowledged something might be wrong. She gave me a higher dose of antibodics, the "we don't know what the fuck you have, but this should knock the everything but the black plague out of you" dose.
These lovely little pills gave me a splitting headache. So bad that I couldn't lift my head. And I thought not sleeping was rough. These pills kept me on a pretty regular schedule. Take a pill, contemplate throwing up because the pain was so bad, sleep for four hours. Wake up, take a pill, cry because it hurt so, so much; sleep for four hours. And on. And on. Well, at least I got some sleep.
I'm not sure how long I kept this cycle, I lost a lot of hours. But after the prescription was nearing it's end and I wasn't any better my mom made an appointment with the infectionous disease doctor.
I went to visit him, exhausted and in so much pain I could hardly move my limbs. He took a blood sample and had it tested for malaria, west nile, lymes and other random third world diseases that might be lurking in the outdoors of Central Wisconsin. The results would be back in a week. In the meantime he gave me a different set of antibodics at a much lower dose to keep fighting whatever was ailing me--with the warning to stay out of the sun and watch for insects.
What a fun summer. I did get a mosquito bite that weekend though, made my arm swell to the size of an orange for a day.
A week later the result: Lymes Disease. Yet another prescription of more targeted antibodics for another month and I was to come back in six weeks to see if I was successfully treated. In October, I received the happy prognosis that my Lymes was treated, but I would always be a risk for achy joints and sensitivity to bugs.
I can tell when I'm stressed, getting sick or a really bad storm is coming on. My knees, hips/lower back will hurt.
So back to the sweet little insect who stung me on Sunday. The summer of the Lymes Disease flashed through my head as I fought back a panic attack and the urge to call my coworker to tell her if I don't come in any day this week I was probably laying dead somewhere in the house.
Monday the red circle had gotten bigger and I had to take out my 'earring' because the area itched so much. By the end of the day I had a head-splitting headache and all I could do was lay in bed for three hours, willing it away. My mom suggested benydril, so Tuesday I went to the store and got the biggest bottle I could find (and some bug spray).
Swelling was still the same, but it took the itch away. I got home from work on Tuesday, made supper, ate and sat down to watch a television show before I did dishes. I woke up at 6:30 and only pulled myself out of bed to take some benydrill before I went to sleep for the night.
Wednesday I could finally see some improvement. Oh joy! I wouldn't have to go to the emergency room!
Today, Thursday, it's completely gone and itch free, so I could put my 'earring' back in. Whoohoo, I didn't want the hole to close up.
All my life, I've been scared of spiders and snakes. Guess I should have been terrified of ticks. Now I get the hee-bee-jee-bees every time I walk under a tree or a bush brushes me. Plus when we find a tick (and thankfully, I've only had one) I burn the ever-living-hell out of it.
The pain was instant and so intense I thought I had been shocked by my MP3 player.
I went inside and brushed my 'ear' off and felt around it to see if I could tell where I had been stung.
Later that night as I was getting ready for bed I noticed in the mirror a three inch diameter swollen and red cirlce by my 'ear.'
Panic set in. This was the first time I had been stung since Lymes Disease and I didn't know how I'd react.
Lymes Disease? What, you say you don't know the tale of when a teeny tiny tick bit me and then knocked me on my ass for three months? Well then, let me regale you.
It was the Friday before the 4th of July weekend back in the ye olde year of 2004. I woke up with a pain in my side and when I went to show my mom she discovered a 4 inch oval that was red and swollen. My knees were also bothering me so she decided we should visit the doctor.
Dr. dippy-dandy looked at my side and said it was probably an allergic reaction or something and took blood work. He gave me a wimpy dose of antibiodics (like the kind used to treat a hang nail or something) and said come back when this three day supply is gone if the rash doesn't go away.
Achy knees turned into hardly being able to sit still to sharp nagging pain in my ankles, knees and hips.
I wasn't sleeping well and by the time Monday and my three day supply rolled around we went back.
The "welt" hadn't gone away, but really wasn't worse, and the blood work came back normal. He told me there was pretty much nothing he could do. So I asked for something for the pain. Obviously I was a just a college student looking for a high because he told me it was all in my head and I should just go home and try not to think about it. (Seriously.)
The passing days did not mark any improvement in my condition. The pain was constant and so bad that if I sat down for any period of time every joint felt as though it was being seared with a white-hot flame. The only relief I felt was when I was standing, moving or with cool baths, but as soon as the water hit room temperature it was unbearable again. I couldn't sit still, let alone fall asleep. I went for three days with no sleep except for a couple of 15 minute naps in the time it took for the water to drain from the bathtub.
Needless to say, it wasn't a good thing for my mood, and my mom was getting a bit annoyed with how irritable I was getting. (She still points it out, but I'm all "give me a break, I hadn't slept for three days. Isn't there a study that no sleep for seven days and you die, five days and you go crazy? I was this close to absolutely losing it on you.")
At my wits end, and praying for some relief or death, we went back in to the doctor's office.
Thankfully the original quack...er, doctor I saw was on vactation, so they gave me his replacement. She took my temperature and reported a whopping 109 degrees. Finally, she acknowledged something might be wrong. She gave me a higher dose of antibodics, the "we don't know what the fuck you have, but this should knock the everything but the black plague out of you" dose.
These lovely little pills gave me a splitting headache. So bad that I couldn't lift my head. And I thought not sleeping was rough. These pills kept me on a pretty regular schedule. Take a pill, contemplate throwing up because the pain was so bad, sleep for four hours. Wake up, take a pill, cry because it hurt so, so much; sleep for four hours. And on. And on. Well, at least I got some sleep.
I'm not sure how long I kept this cycle, I lost a lot of hours. But after the prescription was nearing it's end and I wasn't any better my mom made an appointment with the infectionous disease doctor.
I went to visit him, exhausted and in so much pain I could hardly move my limbs. He took a blood sample and had it tested for malaria, west nile, lymes and other random third world diseases that might be lurking in the outdoors of Central Wisconsin. The results would be back in a week. In the meantime he gave me a different set of antibodics at a much lower dose to keep fighting whatever was ailing me--with the warning to stay out of the sun and watch for insects.
What a fun summer. I did get a mosquito bite that weekend though, made my arm swell to the size of an orange for a day.
A week later the result: Lymes Disease. Yet another prescription of more targeted antibodics for another month and I was to come back in six weeks to see if I was successfully treated. In October, I received the happy prognosis that my Lymes was treated, but I would always be a risk for achy joints and sensitivity to bugs.
I can tell when I'm stressed, getting sick or a really bad storm is coming on. My knees, hips/lower back will hurt.
So back to the sweet little insect who stung me on Sunday. The summer of the Lymes Disease flashed through my head as I fought back a panic attack and the urge to call my coworker to tell her if I don't come in any day this week I was probably laying dead somewhere in the house.
Monday the red circle had gotten bigger and I had to take out my 'earring' because the area itched so much. By the end of the day I had a head-splitting headache and all I could do was lay in bed for three hours, willing it away. My mom suggested benydril, so Tuesday I went to the store and got the biggest bottle I could find (and some bug spray).
Swelling was still the same, but it took the itch away. I got home from work on Tuesday, made supper, ate and sat down to watch a television show before I did dishes. I woke up at 6:30 and only pulled myself out of bed to take some benydrill before I went to sleep for the night.
Wednesday I could finally see some improvement. Oh joy! I wouldn't have to go to the emergency room!
Today, Thursday, it's completely gone and itch free, so I could put my 'earring' back in. Whoohoo, I didn't want the hole to close up.
All my life, I've been scared of spiders and snakes. Guess I should have been terrified of ticks. Now I get the hee-bee-jee-bees every time I walk under a tree or a bush brushes me. Plus when we find a tick (and thankfully, I've only had one) I burn the ever-living-hell out of it.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Shape Up
Dear Birdies who frequent my feeders,
I had hoped it wouldn't come down to this, for we had a pretty amicable deal going. You, birds of all types, race, genders and sexualities, could eat from my feeders whenever you were hungry. In turn, I would be serenaded by your cheerful chirps, your witty banter and the various flutterings of wings or general tomfoolery.
But, as most situations, some birds spoiled it for the whole group (or perhaps, flock).
I feel the necessity to draw up this contract because recent evidence has shown a general disrespect for my time, possessions and generosity.
I ask that you respectfully follow these guidelines from this point forward or refrain from frequenting my feeders. I will not apologize for any curse words or objects I hurl at offenders.
My requests are simple and not too taxing.
1. Eat from the feeder, and stop throwing the seed on the ground. This is more so a problem with the South feeder. Should you see anyone eating carelessly please reprimand them. Remember, small actions do truly make a difference. Also, feel free to eat any seed that has fallen from the feeder. Look past any barbaric trapping you may have about this and consider this "roughing it."
2. After enjoying your meal or snack, fly away from my property or in the very least, find yourself a tree before using the "restroom." I expect not see any "accidents" on my driveway, front door, back step or car from this point forward. If you need to do your business, by all means, visit the neighbors.
I realize I have responsibility in this relationship but feel as though I have upheld my side. Feeders are filled promptly when they start getting low. I do my part to keep your bird bath water fresh.
Really, these are my only requests. I am disappointed I need to fill the feeder every week when I see all the wasted seed on the ground. And I don't need any sunflowers planted, so don't use that excuse. I enjoy your company but am starting to weigh the expense of wasted seed and cleaning supplies over an MP3 of singing birds and a study in feathers and wings screensaver.
Consider these points and note I'm not going to be so flexible if these problems persist. While you're at it, have a chat with dear little bunny who gorges himself on my flower beds. His fluffy little cotton tail won't save his ass much longer.
Sincerely,
the hand that feeds you
I had hoped it wouldn't come down to this, for we had a pretty amicable deal going. You, birds of all types, race, genders and sexualities, could eat from my feeders whenever you were hungry. In turn, I would be serenaded by your cheerful chirps, your witty banter and the various flutterings of wings or general tomfoolery.
But, as most situations, some birds spoiled it for the whole group (or perhaps, flock).
I feel the necessity to draw up this contract because recent evidence has shown a general disrespect for my time, possessions and generosity.
I ask that you respectfully follow these guidelines from this point forward or refrain from frequenting my feeders. I will not apologize for any curse words or objects I hurl at offenders.
My requests are simple and not too taxing.
1. Eat from the feeder, and stop throwing the seed on the ground. This is more so a problem with the South feeder. Should you see anyone eating carelessly please reprimand them. Remember, small actions do truly make a difference. Also, feel free to eat any seed that has fallen from the feeder. Look past any barbaric trapping you may have about this and consider this "roughing it."
2. After enjoying your meal or snack, fly away from my property or in the very least, find yourself a tree before using the "restroom." I expect not see any "accidents" on my driveway, front door, back step or car from this point forward. If you need to do your business, by all means, visit the neighbors.
I realize I have responsibility in this relationship but feel as though I have upheld my side. Feeders are filled promptly when they start getting low. I do my part to keep your bird bath water fresh.
Really, these are my only requests. I am disappointed I need to fill the feeder every week when I see all the wasted seed on the ground. And I don't need any sunflowers planted, so don't use that excuse. I enjoy your company but am starting to weigh the expense of wasted seed and cleaning supplies over an MP3 of singing birds and a study in feathers and wings screensaver.
Consider these points and note I'm not going to be so flexible if these problems persist. While you're at it, have a chat with dear little bunny who gorges himself on my flower beds. His fluffy little cotton tail won't save his ass much longer.
Sincerely,
the hand that feeds you
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Time, why you punish me?
I love my feet. Probably more than someone should love their own feet. They are the perfect shape and proportion. A perfect nail for each perfectly shaped toe. The love extends so deeply because it's the only part of my body that I feel this way, or anywhere close.
My beautiful feet are somewhat rare in my house and extended family. My family has a strong history of bunions. Most of my aunts on my mom's side suffer from them. And over the years I've seen it destroy my mom's feet.
Bunions, other than hereditary, are caused in part from the shoes you wear, namely tight and pointy shoes. Which I avoid. LIKE THE PLAGUE.
So imagine my complete and utter distress when I realized my feet were changing.
It happened one night last year. I believe it was around my birthday, which probably set off the quarterlife crisis. We were watching TV and out of the corner of my eye I noticed my foot looked different. There was a bit of rounding on the side past my big toe.
No. It can't be. I had been so careful, but life had caught up with me. My stupid genes (no offense, Mom & Dad) had screwed me over once again.
Because there it was, the start of a bunion. And then came the tears. Silently they flowed for probably two hours. Once or twice my mom looked over and finally confirmed it.
"What's wrong, why are you crying?"
My feet. .... bunions.
With an inspection, she said the absolute wrong thing to comfort me. She confirmed I had them.
More tears.
Then the rest of the night I was inconsolable as she wondered out loud what the big deal was and why I was so upset. And then said it was because of toe cracking. Wondrous, airy, magnificent toe cracking.
My feet, my beatiful feet. Destroyed. Gone.
Later that summer my aunt Joannie said they weren't very noticeable and maybe if I stayed with sensible shoes it wouldn't develop until years later. That made me feel better. THAT'S what Mom should have said.
This year, my toes started tingling, aching and burning at night. Dammit.
Well after three days I went to the store and bought everything I could find that was a toe spacer or cushion. Then I switched to flats. FLATS.
Goodbye couple extra inches; Hello yes I'm really this short.
After two weeks of constant babying my feet felt normal again. Is it mostly in my head? Perhaps. Are my feet still straight and mostly bump free? Thankfully, yes.
Sadly though, I'm nowhere as carefree as I was a little over a year ago.
My beautiful feet are somewhat rare in my house and extended family. My family has a strong history of bunions. Most of my aunts on my mom's side suffer from them. And over the years I've seen it destroy my mom's feet.
Bunions, other than hereditary, are caused in part from the shoes you wear, namely tight and pointy shoes. Which I avoid. LIKE THE PLAGUE.
So imagine my complete and utter distress when I realized my feet were changing.
It happened one night last year. I believe it was around my birthday, which probably set off the quarterlife crisis. We were watching TV and out of the corner of my eye I noticed my foot looked different. There was a bit of rounding on the side past my big toe.
No. It can't be. I had been so careful, but life had caught up with me. My stupid genes (no offense, Mom & Dad) had screwed me over once again.
Because there it was, the start of a bunion. And then came the tears. Silently they flowed for probably two hours. Once or twice my mom looked over and finally confirmed it.
"What's wrong, why are you crying?"
My feet. .... bunions.
With an inspection, she said the absolute wrong thing to comfort me. She confirmed I had them.
More tears.
Then the rest of the night I was inconsolable as she wondered out loud what the big deal was and why I was so upset. And then said it was because of toe cracking. Wondrous, airy, magnificent toe cracking.
My feet, my beatiful feet. Destroyed. Gone.
Later that summer my aunt Joannie said they weren't very noticeable and maybe if I stayed with sensible shoes it wouldn't develop until years later. That made me feel better. THAT'S what Mom should have said.
This year, my toes started tingling, aching and burning at night. Dammit.
Well after three days I went to the store and bought everything I could find that was a toe spacer or cushion. Then I switched to flats. FLATS.
Goodbye couple extra inches; Hello yes I'm really this short.
After two weeks of constant babying my feet felt normal again. Is it mostly in my head? Perhaps. Are my feet still straight and mostly bump free? Thankfully, yes.
Sadly though, I'm nowhere as carefree as I was a little over a year ago.
Monday, June 15, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
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
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
Friday, June 5, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
In case I get eaten by a bear
Last.fm cares. That makes me feel good. Click on image to read the message.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
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!!
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!!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
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.
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)
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
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*****
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.
There was my vent. Now I must go back to work.
***Ohmmmmm, Ohmmmm*****
Sunday, March 15, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
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 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.
Monday, March 9, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
*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.
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.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, February 23, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
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 ...
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, February 15, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
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. :-)
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. :-)
Monday, February 9, 2009
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!!
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!!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, January 19, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
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.
Clever? Yes.
But more painful than the occasion calls for.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
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 ....
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 ....
Friday, January 2, 2009
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?
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?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
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
Biggest NFL Disappointment: the New Orleans
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!
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!
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