What you've been waiting for since the last post...

Update 0ct 23, 2006... this was posted last week, yet when I logged in just now, it was saved in my drafts... hmmm.....

1. I’m 5’3 ½” tall, exactly 1 foot shorter than my husband.
2. My hair is naturally curly.
3. My favorite color is green.
4. My eyes are a light golden-brown with hints of green around the pupil.
5. My favorite movie is “The Godfather”.
6. And speaking of movies, I hate “The Wizard of Oz”.
7. Deep, deep down, I’m still in love with my first love.
8. I like ketchup on my macaroni & cheese.
9. My ears are pierced a total of 9 times.
10. I have 3 tattoos: the Chinese character for ‘courage’, a peace sign, and the Celtic-version of my parents’ zodiac signs.
11. My favorite memory from childhood is going to the library with my mother.
12. I have never read The Adventures of Tom Sawyer or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.
13. Roller coasters scare the crap out of me, but I love them (as long as they don’t go upside-down).
14. I’m still angry at my father for giving up on life after his stroke.
15. My paternal grandparents were Presbyterian missionaries in the Cameroon’s, in West Africa, for 41 years.
16. The pinky finger of my right hand is crooked.
17. I’ve played the flute since I was 10 years old.
18. The sound of people eating popcorn at the movies drives me crazy.
19. Pat Conroy is my favorite author.
20. My teeth are almost perfectly straight (naturally), yet I wanted braces as a child because all my friends had them.
21. I am constantly terrified that something terrible will happen to my son.
22. I love peppermint stick ice cream topped with hot fudge sauce.
23. Sometimes I resent my husband for getting me pregnant.
24. Daisies are my favorite flower.
25. I’d rather have strawberry jam than grape jelly on my peanut butter sandwiches.
26. I think most of the people I work with are idiots.
27. I don’t think there’s anything beautiful about the childbirth experience, other than the baby that you get to take home from the hospital with you.
28. The perfume I wear comes from Ireland.
29. I took 3 years of Latin in high school (Veni, Vidi, Veggie translated means “I came, I saw, I had a salad”)
30. I have an unnatural fear of dead fish.
31. My favorite song is ‘Jungleland’ by Bruce Springsteen.
32. I slept through most of the 3rd ‘Lord of the Rings’ movie… in my defense, I was 8 ½ months pregnant at the time.

My guilty pleasures are…
33. 7th Heaven
34. Julie Garwood books
35. Potato salad (carbs are not a friend of the diabetic)
36. Selected songs by artists (and I use the term loosely) such as The Backstreet Boys, Vanessa Carlton, Jesse McCartney and Sixpence None the Richer.
37. Good shampoo that you can only buy at the salon
38. Opi nail products
39. Good chocolate (although I will never turn down a Snicker's bar)

40. I was adopted when I was 2 months old.
41. I’ve never broken a bone.
42. I’ve been to two concerts: Bruce Springsteen and the Dave Matthews Band.
43. I start my Christmas shopping in July (seriously... and yes, I know it's sick).
44. My date to the Senior Prom flew to Ohio just for the occasion.
45. On Thanksgiving Day (this year) I will be 37 years old.
46. I fessed-up to my parents both the first time I got drunk and the first time I had sex, because I was afraid they’d find out from someone else and be twice as mad.
47. I used to get tonsillitis 3-4 times a year when I was little, but I’ve never had my tonsils out.
48. I can name all of the state capitals.
49. I’m sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to know my mother-in-law better.
50. I’m hooked on Burt’s Bees Beeswax Lip Balm.
51. I’ve never had a cavity.
52. I prefer driving a stick shift over an automatic transmission.
53. I love opera.
54. My pizza toppings of choice are green olives, onions and bacon.
55. I listen to National Public Radio.
56. I am still mostly afraid of the dark.
57. I can’t sleep unless I’m facing the doorway of the bedroom.
58. I can’t (literally) go through haunted houses – I get so scared that I turn around and walk out before I get through the first room.
59. I’ve always been fascinated by the Mafia.
60. The ringtone on my cell phone is the theme from ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’.
61. Sometimes I like to just read the dictionary.
62. I have tendonitis in my right shoulder.
63. I can only wear earrings that have genuine gold posts (otherwise, my ears get infected… was that too much information?).
64. My favorite book as a child was Amelia Bedelia.
65. I rarely iron my clothes.
66. I’ve worn my mother’s wedding rings on my right hand since she died 8 ½ years ago.
67. I have a freckle on the bottom of my right foot.
68. I’ve seen every episode of M*A*S*H
69. Sometimes I don’t think I believe in God
70. Apples are my favorite fruit
71. When “Pretty Woman” first came out on video, I watched it so many times I had the dialogue memorized.
72. I genuinely like rhubarb pie.
73. I only buy Crest toothpaste.
74. My first car was a 1985 Chevy Nova… I loved that car…
75. I like making jam.
76. I screen my phone calls 90% of the time.
77. I don’t like the taste of alcohol (although I did drink quite a bit in my early 20’s).
78. When I grow up, I’d love to be a photographer… or own my own book shop… or coffee shop.
79. I have a collection of the pens that drug company reps give the doctors’ offices.
80. I’ve traveled as far north as the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, west to Missouri, and south to Florida and east to Washington D.C.
81. The first album (yes, vinyl!) was the soundtrack to ‘Footloose’.
82. I still have a scar under my chin from a bicycle accident when I was 8.
83. I don’t understand basketball, the game of Bridge, or calculus.
84. I was once in the same hotel lobby with Lou Ferrigno, but I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to meet him.
85. I prefer diet Coke over diet Pepsi, and like a squeeze of lemon in it, too (real lemon, not that fake-already-in-the-diet-Coke stuff they tried to market a while back).
86. I have never been able to do a cartwheel.
87. I was in my high school’s marching band, and loved every minute of it.
88. I’m usually in bed by 8:30 – 9:00 pm.
89. I wish my in-laws would move to Florida, now that they’re retired.
90. Sometimes, I still sleep with a stuffed animal.
91. I could not stay sane at my job without my iPod.
92. I have unbelievable stage fright (I threw up both before and after both recitals I had to give as a music major in college).
93. Sometimes I can be conceited.
94. Sometimes I get bored when my husband is talking to me.
95. I will always feel guilty for not pushing my mother more to see a different doctor before she died.
96. Most people are surprised to learn that I wear a size 10 shoe, because my feet really don’t look that big.
97. I refuse to buy cheap toilet paper.
98. I’m scared to make out a will, because I think it will make my mortality that much more real to me.
99. I wish my older brother and I were as close now as we were when we were younger.
100. After listing all these things about myself, I’m not sure I’m any closer to knowing who I am than I was when I started.

"One of the things that started me on the path artistically that I've been on was because I was adopted I had no real identity. It's something I still struggle with because it's taken me a long, long time, much longer than most people I know, to actually find my own identity, because I can't really look to biology and I can't really look to ancestry and I can't look to a context I think unconsciously I wanted to fit in. My mother likes to say I was a practically perfect child, getting great grades and trying to be good all the time and being nice and cute and sweet and all that kind of stuff, and I think it just built up in me, and there was this huge sense of a disconnect between the role I was playing and how I really felt inside."

Liz Phair iTunes Original "Adopting My Own Identity"

Who'd have thought Liz Phair could sum up so well what I've been feeling lately? Go figure.

When my dad died, I felt as if I'd been flung out into space, completely on my own. It's a weird sense of not lonliness, but aloneness, once that second parent dies. It's strong... almost overpowering, and I think the fact that I was adopted made it even stronger. It was as if, somehow, what validated me as a person was suddenly gone. And this has left me, for th e last year and a half, wondering, guessing, pondering, contemplating, obsessing over who I really am. I hate that because it sounds like pop-culture psycho-babble cliche to me, but there's really no other way to say it. And I hate the fact that at 36 years old, I don't have a better sense of myself, but there you have it.

It's exhausting.

It's not an original idea, but I've been putting together my list of '100 Things About Me'. I've seen it on several other blogs, and decided it was time to put together a list of my own. Some things are interesting, some maybe not. We'll see...

Conversations with a 2 1/2 year old...

Early Saturday morning, somewhere in the MidWest...

Boy: "OH NO! My pancakes!!"

Me: "What pancakes? We don't have any pancakes."

Boy: "My pancakes!!"

Me: "The last time we got pancakes, you wouldn't eat them."

Boy: "Oh noooooooo!!! My pancakes!!!"

Me: "We don't have any pancakes. How 'bout a banana?"

Boy: "Okay, I have pancakes." (as he lifts his shirt and walks out of the room)

FAVE FOTO FRIDAY!

The boy, disovering that you can pull the grass out of the ground in the backyard, taken 09/09/06.

I'm often awestruck when I look at him, because even after almost 3 years, I find it hard to believe that I'm a part of something so amazing...

Movie of your life

Not surprising, really...

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic

Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy - your life appeals to a select few.But if someone's obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky. Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

I actually pushed past my fear of being attacked (I say that so it comes across jokingly, but I'm not kidding... I rarely take him to the park on my own because I'm afraid someone will jump us and try to take off with him, and I won't be strong enough to stop them... how sad is that...) and took the boy to the park tonight after the husband left for school. It was an absolutely gorgeous day here in Ohio. One of those perfect days - temperature in the low 70's with a breeze, crystal blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds, like the opening shots from 'The Simpsons'. Just wonderful.




For some reason, his tongue is constantly out right now, pressed against his upper lip. It's cute, don't get me wrong, but I'm worried that his little lips are horribly chapped by this, and when I try to put some Burt's Bee's lip balm on him, all he wants to do is lick the tube... yuck.




We met a little girl and her father there. Kelli ("WITH A I, NOT A Y!!" Kelli talked like she were speaking in all capital letters.)was about a year older than the boy, and spoke of herself in the third person. "COME HERE LITTLE BOY, KELLI WANTS TO GO DOWN THE SLIDE WITH YOU!" It was a little odd.



He didn't seem to mind the fact that KELLI WITH A I was bossing him around, until she started poking him. When that started, he stared at her for a second, then said 'Nope!' and went down the slide. That's my boy!



Now we're home to have pizza for supper, because that's what he said he wanted. He's going through a little thing right now - there are times when he'll go for 3-4 days without eating hardly a thing, yet it doesn't seem to affect him. We're in the middle of one of those spells right now, so if pizza is something he'll actually eat, then by all means, pizza it is.

Fave Foto Friday

I am late to the game today, because I'm just now getting home from having dinner and hanging out with a friend after work. I LOVE Pax's idea of Fave Foto Friday and had to participate in this one!!

My favorite is a picture of my best friend and me, from our Senior year in high school. I'm on the left. In one click, the photographer managed to capture the essence of our friendship.

Wow... I think my brain actually hurts... not just a headache, but my actual brain feels fatigued. I've been working on a proposal for my job, that I'll be presenting to our management team sometime in the next few weeks. If it's successful, we'll all be issued laptop computers between now and the first quarter of next year that will enable us to work from home more often. If it's successful, these redneck yahoos I work with need to worship me like a goddess, because not one single one of them has done jack-diddly to help with this.

Lazy bastards.

Could it be? Who knows...

This just may be the magic key we've been looking for to get the potty training ball rolling. What did parent do before Elmo, I ask you? And what makes it even better is the fact that the potty they show Elmo using is EXACTLY the same potty that the boy has. HALLELUJAH!!! We watched this for the first time yesterday afternoon, Mommy, Daddy and the boy all in the living room together, in front of the tv, as a family. I even brought his potty into the room with us. After seeing Elmo on the potty, the boy ran to his, lifted the lid, and sat down (pants still on, but it's a start). He stayed there through the entire 45 minute show. He got up when it was over, and he was totally soaked, so hey, maybe he's starting to get the idea.

I both love and hate the fact that my life right now seems to be evolving around something like this. That I'm so excited by the fact that he just ran in the room and said to me 'Elmo has a potty! He goes pee pee!'... I just don't know how to feel about that.

A little... Eww, who likes to talk about pee and poo?

A little sad, because he's growing up so quickly... which leads into

... irritated, because I'm missing so much of it, because I have to drag myself everyday into a job that I just CANNOT stand right now, while the husband stays home and does seemingly very little around here (Were it not for the fact that the husband has put NO EFFORT WHATSOEVER into trying to potty train the boy, we'd probably be through it by now. But don't get me started on that. Yes, I'll be the first to admit that I'm completely jealous of the fact that he's home everyday with the boy, and experiencing all these wonderful things with him, and believe-you-me he knows I feel this way...).

Who in the world would've ever thought that all that would come from a simple DVD on potty training?

Here's a new one for you, Mou!

WELL BUTTER MY BUTT AND CALL ME A BISCUIT!

Show of hands, how many of us have been wanting to say the same thing for a while now?

Thanks to Pax for sharing this. It is so good, I had to post it here as well. The video is about 8 minutes long, but worth every second.

Mou, this one's for you...

While on vacation last week, I caught the 1996 made-for-tv movie version of Shirley Jackson's incredible short-story, 'The Lottery'. I still vividly remember reading this story for the first time in my sophomore-year English class. What a punch that story packs! As you can imagine, when I read that this movie version starred Dan Cortese and Keri Russell, I was a little skeptical, but I watched anyway.

In the interest of stretching the story into a 2-hour movie (including frequent commercial breaks, mind-you), they beefed up the plot some. Dan Cortese returns the the small town that is the home of the lottery, to bury the ashes of his recently-deceased father at the grave of his mother who is buried there. As he checks-in at the local bed-n-breakfast, in walks Keri Russell, whose parents run the place. One look at each other and the Davey Jones-esque stars start sparkling in their eyes. Love at first sight, except for one small problem. Well, two small problems. The local deputy sheriff also has his eyes on the fair-Keri, and Dan, being no dummy, has figured out quickly that there's something not quite right about this place. When the deputy gets wind of the blossoming romance between Dan and the fair-Keri, it's obvious that he needs to run this troublemaker out of town as quickly as possible. As Dan and the deputy square off in one very exciting, testosterone-driven scene (mind you, the deputy has just set Dan's car on fire, so Dan is a little peeved), Dan puffs out his chest and says to the deputy...

"I'M ABOUT TO STOMP A MUD HOLE IN YOU!"

Canada Geese 1 - Father-in-law 0

We paid the obligatory weekend visit to the in-laws yesterday. They're leaving at the end of this week for a month's stay at one of their time-share places in Florida, a welcome break for all involved.

I don't know about other places, but here in an around Dayton, OH, we are invaded every year by hoards of Canada geese. They're beautiful creatures... from a distance. Up close, they're nothing but a pain in the ass, hissing and spitting if you get too close to their nest, and pooping ALL OVER the place. The complex of condos where the in-laws live includes a small pond, which the geese love. Over the years, my father-in-law has made every effort to get rid of the geese... a series of ropes strung back-and-forth across the pond to create a kind of web that would stop the geese from landing there... a plastic alligator head, weighted just-so so that it would float menacingly around the pond with just its eyes and snout poking up from the surface of the water... a remote-control speed boat to chase the geese from the pond... and this year (my favorite, by-far, because of its simplicity!), two boards that he bangs together while he runs at the pond, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Did I also mention that he's the president of the condo association?

So yesterday, the father-in-law, the husband, and my precious little son go out for a walk. My mother-in-law and I sat on their patio, enjoying the nice day and talking. I think we're bonding in a strange way, but that's for another post. We heard the men return from their constitutional, and went inside to greet them. Only my husband was in the room. As I looked around for my son, I noticed an odd-looking trail of footprints on my in-law's pale beige carpet. Small, dark footprints that went this way and that.

Yes, lo-and-behold, the small one had, unbeknownst to anyone, tracked something in on the bottom of one of his shoes.

Upon further inspection, I discovered that, yes, it was in fact a big old goose turd. I was mortified, yet overwhelmingly amused at the same time. I managed not to laugh, though, until my husband said 'Ah, the geese are FINALLY getting their revenge on you!'

I don't think my father-in-law appreciated the humor of the situation.

And, to top it all off, I think I'm coming down with the cold that the boy had earlier in the week...

All good things must come to an end

Alas... my vacation is over (remember - Saturday and Sunday don't really count, since I'd have those days off regardless). I have accomplished absolutely nothing this week; my house is still the national disaster it was this time last week. I haven't cleaned and organized the closets. I haven't gone through the boy's toys and gotten rid of the things he no longer plays with, nor have I gone through his clothes and sorted out the things he can no longer wear. I haven't blogged as much as I wanted to. I haven't read the books I checked out from the library. I've not been sleeping well, so I don't feel at all rested, and I'm already dreading going back to work on Monday.

Ugh.

Now it will be February of 2007 before I can take an entire week off again, because of the way the Casa de Insurance metes out your vacation a few days each month until you've 'earned' your yearly quota. Socialist bastards.

I'm in a quandary over my friend-from-work JB. Remember her? The one that baled on the Dave Matthews concert back at the beginning of August? In all seriousness, she is deeply, deeply disturbed. She has valid and complicated mental health issues that she kind-of gets help for (ie. she goes to the psychiatrist once a month for the good prescription drugs [which she mixes with large quantities of alcohol], but that's about it). She tried a few days ago, and not for the first time, might I add, to overdose. Thank heavens she has a friend staying with her right now that decided not to go into work Tuesday night, otherwise she'd be gone.

My question is this... at what point do you say to someone 'I'm sorry, but I love you too much to watch you do this to yourself any longer.'? I've known her since I started at the Casa de Insurance 7 years ago. We started getting to be close friends 4 years ago. She's been with me through some pretty rough times: my miscarriage and subsequent diabetes diagnosis, the death of my father (at which time she drove me to the hospital when I got the call that he'd gone into cardiac arrest, held my hand when we went into his room with my minister to say a prayer over him when he was gone). She's been this way the entire time. She knows she's need serious, long-term help, but she refuses to do anything about it. I suppose, deep down, I feel obligated to stick by her because of what she's seen me through, but to be honest, it's getting to be exhausting. But I just don't know what the next step is, or how to handle it once I figure it out.

Some vacation...

Now that I FINALLY have the chance to blog, this is the best I can come up with???

my name...

Your Penis Name Is...

Ivan the Terrible

Penis Name Generator

my husband's name...

Your Penis Name Is...

Fatboy Slim

Penis Name Generator

Two things...

1) I'm VERY impressed with my name, and
2) I will not comment on my husband's name...

Just a cold...

The boy's fever is gone. His temperature was normal Tuesday morning, thank heavens. I did not get much sleep Monday night, choosing instead to lay awake worrying about his termperature spiking to 115 degrees and what if I'm not awake to do anything about it?

The husband, of course, slept through the entire thing.

We're not completely through with it all, though, because there is still a bit of a cough, and lots of snotty sneezing.

Not the relaxing week I'd hoped for, but still better than being at work.

WELL CRAP ON A FUCKING CRACKER!

Of course.

My first real day of vacation... Saturday and Sunday don't truly count, because I would've had those off anyways. And maybe today doesn't really count, since it's a holiday... BUT STILL!!

I'm being punished for taking time off work.

My poor, innocent little son has a temperature of 101.5 degrees. Thankfully, we have not had many fevers to deal with over the course of his short life. The reverse of that is that, when he does have a fever, I start to freak out a little bit (like I'm doing now!).

Last year when I took a whole week off at one time, the husband and I both came down with a God-awful stomach flu at the same time. For two days, the boy had the run of the house.

Now this.

Children's Tylenol has been forced down the throat... we'll do another temperature check in a few hours (which will be a joy for both him AND me, as I'm sure you can imagine!)... please God let this go away without a trip to the doctor.

I left work today at about 4:20 pm, AND I DO NOT HAVE TO RETURN UNTIL 1 WEEK FROM MONDAY.

I'm so happy about this, I could cry.

Hmmmm...... how can something so random be so accurate?

Your Birthdate: November 23

You're not good at any one thing, and that's the problem. You're good at so much - you never know what to do. Change is in your blood, and you don't stick to much for long. You are destined for a life of travel and fun. Your strength: Your likeability Your weakness: You never feel satisfied Your power color: Bright yellow Your power symbol: Asterisk Your power month: May

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

On a lighter note...

This is a true story...

We went to see the in-laws this past weekend. No, this is not exactly my favorite way to spend one of the two days a week I get off from work, but what can you do, especially when you have a kid? We got a free dinner out of it, so I guess it wasn't all bad.

The boy was frolicing with grandpa. Mom-in-law was on the couch watching the evening news. The husband and I were picking up the boy's toys, and as I started to put a set of small plastic zoo animals into a bag, this exchange took place...

The husband: "Yeah, I heard on the news a few days ago that they've finally declared the black rhinoceros extinct."

The mother-in-law: "I don't see why people make such a big deal out of an animal going extinct! I mean really!! We wouldn't want the dinosaurs to still be around, would we? Or the Sabertooth tigers?"

The husband and I looked at each other in stunned silence. I was actually speechless. Finally, after a few seconds, I said "Well, she does have a point. Think how inconvenient it would be if the dinosaurs were still around."

Then we went home.

Choices

I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you haven't already figured out. When I'm in a bad mood... black mood... angry, bitter mood... I don't blog. My mood has been up and down lately. Mostly down. I don't like to blog when I'm in that mental place, because it all comes out sounding hateful and bitter and bitchy, and I don't like myself when I'm like that. No one wants to hear me whining. I don't even want to hear myself whining most of the time, but I have no choice but to listen to it.

Choice.

Choices.

Something that's been on my mind quite a bit lately, and the reason, for the most part, for my black mood.

Why?

Probably because I'm no longer on the Wellbutrin... I made the choice to stop taking it, because we just can't afford it right now along with all the other medications I have to be on to help with keeping my blood sugar under control. We're living paycheck-to-paycheck right now because the husband made the choice to go back to school instead of finding gainful employment when he lost his job at the beginning of the year. No one told us that, after 6 months, he'd have to re-file for his unemployment payments to continue, so we had the rug pulled out from underneath us about 4 weeks ago when his checks stopped without warning. Endless phone calls, paper work, yada, yada, yada. "You have to re-file for benefits, but the state will turn them down because you've already collected for 6 months. When the state denies your claim, it will be picked up by T.R.A. (which is part of these trade adjustment programs that are paying him to go to school) will pick up the claim and start paying your benefits, along with your tuition and books." Now, before you say it, I know that in the long run, this struggle will be worth it. Right now, though, it sucks, plain and simple. Our vacuum cleaner is broken, our cell phone service is suspended, and my car needs new tires....... but God only knows when we'll have the money for any of those.

I made the choice to change jobs about 6 months back, and now I hate where I'm at (although apparently I'm doing very well, and our department director is quite impressed with some ideas I've had lately - go figure). They're remodeling our office, which has been a pain in the you-know-what, BUT I no longer have to sit near Right-Wing Conservative Girl or the bitter old lady behind me (not to be confused with the woman who used to sit in the cubicle behind me). So that's at least one good thing, I guess.

I have vacation the week of Labor Day - the week after next, THANK THE HEAVENS!! I'm so, so very much hoping that this break revives me, because I NEED IT RIGHT NOW.

Vignettes

The fact that I can't even use the Blogger for Word feature at the Casa de Insurance has put a serious restraint on my blogging. I'm seriously considering moving this to a site that does not have any form of the word 'blog' in the address or title, so that I can post from work again. That's what they pay me for, right?


Our cat disappeared about 3 weeks ago... just vanished. It was a Wednesday, and what makes this even sadder is that we didn't realize until the following Friday that we hadn't seen her for several days. Several thorough searches of the house and yard confirmed that she was, in fact, gone, and none of the neighbors have spotted her. It's a bittersweet parting for me. She belonged to my parents before we got her, but she was as old as dirt and had started puking all over the place (nothing like stepping in it at 2am when you get up to go the bathroom!). Wherever she is, I hope she's happy.


I walked into our garage door the other day. It wasn't completely down, and I was looking through the day's mail as I was walking in. I misjudged the clearance (surprising, since I'm only 5'2"-ish) and thumped right into it; it caught me mid-forehead. I yelped loudly, then quickly looked around to make sure none of the neighbors had witnessed this. Luckily, it didn't leave a mark.

The new medicinal regimen my doctor has me on has my blood sugar all over the place. Up and down, up and down. Low blood sugar is something I've never had a problem with before, but it is regularly dipping into the 60's - 70's, which isn't good. The doctor doesn't seem too concerned, though. Space the meds out more through the day, check your level often (my fingertips look like pin cushions), make sure you're eating regularly, blah, blah, blah. I'm so sick and tired of dealing with this shit.

How's your day?

Two things you should be doing, if you aren't already...

You should be listening to this:

















And if you get BBC America, you should be watching this:









Absolustely awesome.

Okay... I'm over it now.

{insert guttural noise of disgust here...}

I'm still stewing over last night (see post below), which is pointless, but it's my nature.

The ONE THING I was looking forward to this summer SHOT TO HELL because I choose to befriend the mentally unbalanced.

To torture myself, I went to the Warehouse (yes, the DMB official fan site, and yes, I paid $35 for my 1-year membership) website and looked up the set list from last night's concert... and oh it would've been a good show...

08/01/2006
Dave Matthews BandRiverbend Music Center
Cincinnati, OH

Seek Up *
Crash Into Me
Hunger For The Great Light *
The Idea Of You * (AND THIS ONE IS A NEW SONG!!!!!)
American Baby *
Dancing Nancies *
Warehouse *
Where Are You Going
Louisiana Bayou *
Cant Stop
So Much To Say *
Too Much *
Jimi Thing *+
Stay *

Encore:
Everyday *

Special Guests:
* Rashawn Ross on Trumpet
+ Warren Haynes


I don't do a whole lot on my own ie. without the husband and son. I work full-time. The hubby is in school full-time, so Mon-Thur, he walks out the door to school as I walk in the door from work. We don't get to spend loads of time together as a family, so for me to plan to do something on my own is a big deal. And when it's the annual DMB summer tour, it's an even BIGGER deal. The disappointment of this is huge.

But I'll get over it.

{insert guttural noise of disgust here...}

Life Sucks

I originally wrote this post at work this morning, about 11am or so, but the Blogger for Word feature wouldn't work to post it, or the Casa de Insurance has disabled that feature somehow, so I'm just now posting it from home. I read it, and I get even angrier, but at myself this time. I feel like I've been duped somehow. It's hard to explain without going into the long, drawn-out story of JB and said other person that also works at the Casa de Insurance, not to mention a few peripheral characters that have wandered in and out of the story of the last year and a half. You hear so much shit from so many people, and after a while it's hard to know who to believe, which makes me crazy. Better to keep to myself and the friends I already have.



Well fuck.

Fuckity fucking fuck fuck.

Remember the DMB concert I was supposed to be going to tonight?

Yeah. Ain't happening.

As I'm sure you can imagine, I am one pissed puppy right now.

What happened, you ask?

The Casa de Insurance is such a soap opera, as I'm sure most large offices are. The short version of the story is that some bad things happened between JB, my work buddy and fellow-DMB fan, with another person that works here. The end result of it all was that said other person that works here is now living with JB's ex-fiance, has been for a year and a half now, and JB still can't deal with all of it emotionally. Said other person and the ex decided AT THE LAST MINUTE to get tickets to the SAME SOLD-OUT SHOW that we had tickets for tonight, found tickets on E-bay and paid through the nose for them. JB found out about all of this this morning, had a huge panic attack here at the office, and left. She's too distraught to go tonight, blah, blah, blah.

Reading over that, I'm struck by how superficial it sounds. Trust me when I say there's loads more stuff that goes into this whole story, that just isn't worth taking up your time with.

On a good (I guess) note, I was able to sell the tickets to someone else here, so I have at least not just flushed $100 down the toilet.

If you come looking for me, I'll be at home tonight, enjoying lasagna and last night's episode of the Colbert Report on the DVR.

A little bit o'Heaven...

Just 1 week from today, my work buddy JB and I (NOT RWCG who sits in front of me!!) will be jamming with the Dave Matthews Band in Cincinnati...

We have been looking forward to this for MONTHS. I can't even begin to tell you how much we BOTH need to get away for an evening, and there's no better way that I can think of to spend that evening away!

How my week is starting off

You’ll all be happy to know that my mentor (who sits diagonally from me), RWCG (who sits in front of me) and I apparently have our mojo back (kill me now), because we’re all wearing green tops today….   Last week, Monday we all wore green, Tuesday was pink, and Wednesday was green again.  RWCG was VERY disappointed to come in Thursday and find that I was dressed in a gray t-shirt, my mentor was dressed in blue, and she in pink again.  “Aww….   Well that’s okay.  We’ll get our mojo back soon.”

People walking down our aisle notice this, too, and feel the need to stop and comment on it.

RWCG also brow-beat her live-in boyfriend to get a puppy this weekend.  Oh the stories and pictures we’re being regaled with today!!  They (read she) named it Tinkerbell, and the pictures she has show it dressed (OMG!!) in a pink doggie t-shirt that says ‘Princess’.  She wanted to get this puppy ostensibly for her two sons, who are 6 and 8.  He (the boyfriend) didn’t want one; hasn’t wanted one and has always said no when this has come up in the past (he works at the Casa de Insurance, also, so I always get to hear both sides of the story).  It’s his house they live in, and he’s allergic to dogs and cats, but she’s talked him into it, and now he will be getting shots or something, so that he’s able to breath at home, all so that her boys will have a puppy.

Talk about true-love…

Potty Training redux

Since the boy is now 30 months old, we figure it's time to try again. God help us.

We've checked some books out of the library, including one called Toilet Training in Less Than a Day that involves something about you having your toddler teach a doll to use the potty, complete with doll-sized diapers and raisins as doll-poop in the diaper.

The mind reels.

It does not, of course, help that we're starting to get comments from my mother-in-law. Comments like "Well, when you finally decide to start with him, let me know, and I'll get a potty just like you have, so we can work with him when he's over here, too." and "You know, I had twins, and they were both potty trained by the time they were two!"

It's so nice to have such a supportive family.

We have this:

on DVD, which we could only find on Ebay. We've watched several times with him. It has a catchy little theme song, complete with an Mtv-like video of ultra-cute little ones singing the Potty Song both before and after the feature cartoon. It's not bad, as far as potty training aides go (not that I'm an expert).

And we broke down, because that's what parents do, and bought him this:

because he of course loves Elmo. What is it about Elmo with the kids? In case you haven't seen this one up close and personal, Elmo comes complete with his own sippy cup, potty, book on going to the potty, t-shirt and yes, a little pair of Elmo-sized tighty-whitey's. When you squeeze his left hand, he tells you he's thirsty, yada, yada, yada. If you put the sippy cup in his mouth and press down, he glug, glug, glugs, then goes through the potty routine... you get the idea. Quite often, though, as you're walking through the house, and usually when we've been gone somewhere and are returning home, we'll come upon Elmo laying on the floor looking like this

which can be very disturbing, because you're just not quite sure what's been going on. We're pretty sure the cat has something to do with it, but have yet to catch her in the act.

And, of course, we have the requisite small, plastic potty for him. When we sit him on the potty, though, he starts to cry and whimper, looks up at you with the big puppy-dog brown eyes and says 'Get off?'. Is it possible that he's actually scared of the potty? I'm starting to wonder. Maybe now, in fact, is not the time to start this again.

Shouldn't things like this be instinctual? How is it that cats somehow know to go to the litter box without much cajoling, yet it takes so much effort to teach humans to use the toilet? If anyone knows the answer to this, please enlighten me.

where do I sign up?

Seen on a bumper sticker while out and about today...

From Maidink... something interesting to make you think (and to make me not have to come up with something witty to write about).

To those of you who'll read this and think 'Oh my God!' as your mouth drops open, I apologize. Probably more info than you ever wanted (so who am I to complain about the best friend talking about her boyfriend's yoo-hoo, right?).

GRUB-OLOGY
What is your salad dressing of choice? Catalina or Green Goddess

What is your favorite fast food restaurant? McDonald's There's just something about their breakfast food...

What is your favorite sit down restaurant? I've forgotten what sit-down restaurants are like, since our son always throws a fit when we go.

On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? If the service is good, 20-25%.

What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Pizza. Or salad. Or both.

Name three foods you detest above all others. plain, cooked spinach, mushrooms, fish that isn't covered by at least a 1/2 inch of breading

What is your favorite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant? General Tso's chicken

What are your pizza toppings of choice? Onions, green olives & bacon

What do you like to put on your toast? Butter & peanut butter, in that order

What is your favorite type of gum? Good, old fashioned Dentyne

Number of contacts in your cell phone? 57 (oh my God!), but over 1/2 are work related, and it includes all the doctors, both mine and the boy'sn

Number of contacts in your email address book? 15

What is your wallpaper on your computer? A picture of the boy

What is your screensaver on your computer? Whatever came with the computer when we bought it.

Are there naked pictures saved on your computer? Nope

How many land line phones do you have in your house? 1

How many televisions are in your house? 2

What kitchen appliance do you use the least? Believe it or not, the microwave

What is the format of the radio station you listen to the most? NPR. There are no good music stations around here.

How many sex toys do you own that require batteries? None... as in I don't own any. (Is that sad?)

BI-OLOGY

What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? My eyes

Are you right handed or left handed? Right handed.

Do you like your smile? Yes. I have very nice teeth.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Yes

Would you like to? Other than all the excess fat, no.

Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom? Nope - get it and get out is my motto (no pun intended).

Which of your five senses do you think is keenest? Can intuition be considered a sense? If not, then sight.

When was the last time you had a cavity? never (don't hate me because I have good teeth)

What is the heaviest item you lift regularly? my son

Have you ever been knocked unconscious? not that I recall... hmmmm.....

MISC-OLOGY

If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? Absolutely not.

If you could change your first name, what would you change it to? No, I've finally gotten used to Ruth

How do you express your artistic side? Writing, papercrafts

What color do you think you look best in? brown

How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? I'm pretty scrappy... I'd say 20-30 minutes.

Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? no

If we weren’t bound by society’s conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at? Heaven's no. The thought of that makes me gag.

How often do you go to church? 2-3 times per month

Have you ever saved someone’s life? no

Has someone ever saved yours? no

DARE-OLOGY

For this last section, if you would do it for less or more money, indicate how much

Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000? I would give it serious thought, what the hell. And a lot would depend on what street it was.

Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? Probably

Would you have sex with a member of the same sex for $10,000? As long as I could pick the girl, I would probably give it serious thought...

Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000? Both pinkies? No. Just one? Maybe

Would you never blog again for $50,000? You betcha (sorry, my dear loyal readers)

Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000? Ummmm...... no

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? No. The after-affects just wouldn't be worth it.

Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000? Never. But, if that human life touched, harmed, or did something very bad to my child, it would be a freebie. (Maidink's answer to this was such a good one, that I'm going to use it, too.)

Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000? Sure, why not.

Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000? Absolutely.

Useful bits of information...

Just in case you were curious... a remote control will not work once it's gone through the washing machine. Luckily, there are stores locally that sell remote controls for satellite systems, so we don't have to order one directly from the Dish Network and wait for it to be shipped.

Because God knows we couldn't live without the remote.

Ruth 1, Right-Wing Conservative Girl 0

Having the type II Diabetes requires me to go to my doctor every 3 months to have various blood tests done.  Not fun, but necessary.  I went mid-June to have this done.  Normally, the doctor calls about a week to week and a half after I’ve been in and we talk about the results on the phone, then I stop in and pick up any new prescriptions that I might need.  After two weeks and still no word from the doctor, I called in… and called in… and called in… each time leaving a message for one of the Medical Assistants to give me a call back, yada, yada, yada.  

Last week rolled around, and still no call back, so I just went ahead and made an appointment to go in.  Slightly inconvenient, yes,  but not a big deal.

Yesterday, I got a message from one of the Medical Assistants…   “Hi, this is Tanisha from Dr. Bennett’s office.  I saw in your chart that you had blood work done about 3 weeks ago, and I wanted to make sure you’d had a chance to go over the results with someone.  Give me a call back.”  I was at work when I got the message.  Annoying?  Yes.  But it kind of made me laugh at the same time.  I’m tired of getting pissed off about things.  I called back and left a message for Tanisha saying nicely  that after calling several times and not getting a call back, I’d finally just come in to see the doctor for the results, so everything was taken care of.  When I hung up the phone, Right-Wing Conservative Girl in front of me decided to add her 2 cents…

“Now, see, if it was me, I don’t think I would’ve been so nice.  I think I would’ve said something more like (in a snotty voice) ‘Well, Tanisha, after calling over and over again and not getting a call back, I finally just gave up and made an appointment with the doctor last Friday.  But thanks for calling.”

Me:  “Well, see, that’s the difference between you and me.  I do my best to try to not piss people off…”

And then I went to lunch.

I just love my new bitchy self…

Aren't we just the sweetest looking family...

Let me pick your brain for a minute

Big Brother is watching…

Case de Insurance has updated their internet whatever to not allow the viewing of blog pages, also meaning I can’t get on to post at work during those times when I just don’t feel like shuffling papers for a few minutes. Being the smart cookie that I am, though, I downloaded and installed the Blogger for Word feature before they banned the blogs, so I can still post – take that you Socialist bastards!

I have an ethical dilemma that I need your help with. I have a kind-of friend (and it really is someone I know and not me…) who is divorced and has a young daughter (11 years old). Said kind-of friend is somewhat mentally unstable, and rather fond of both recreational and prescription drugs, as well as Mike’s Hard Lemonade. Okay, maybe ‘somewhat mentally unstable’ is an understatement. She’s been suicidal several times since we’ve gotten to know each other the last few years. She keeps it together well enough to hold down a job here at the Casa de Insurance and pay her bills, but it’s a real struggle for her. The bottom line is that she needs serious help – she needs to check in someplace for a while and dry out, get all of the crap out of her system, then get some therapy to get all of the crap out of her head – but she refuses. Thinks therapy is a bunch of crap, and only goes to the psychiatrist for refills of her sleeping pills and Xanex. She regularly comes to work loaded up on God-knows what (surprising that her supervisor hasn’t done something about this, don’t you think?). She sometimes blacks out at home, and on at least one occasion her daughter could not get her to wake up, which scared her to death so she called her dad (the ex-husband) to come over. She convinced him that she had the flu and that she’d taken some Nyquil to get some sleep.

I’ve talked and talked and talked to her, and none of it does any good. I am concerned not only for her, but for her daughter as well. I feel like I should do something more, but am afraid the aftermath of anything more that I might do would completely devastate her and result in something very, very bad.

What do you think?

Clickity-clack

Clickity-clack…

Clickity-clack…

Clickity-clack…

Right-wing conservative girl in front of me BANGS on her keyboard all day long.  Email.  Instant message.  Back to email.  The sound of it will make you insane.

… iPod, take me away…

Last week was so peaceful – she was on vacation.  No constant key-tapping, no long, drawn-out stories about things that people really couldn’t care less about.  No listening to the irritating, childlike voice she uses when she talks on the phone.  I paid for it yesterday, though, with vacation story after vacation story, endless pictures that she’d taken with her camera-phone and her digital camera…  oh… my… God…

I’d like to know exactly when and how I built up so much bad karma.

And when did I get to be such a bitch?

I almost took her head off a few minutes ago.

She has two young sons ( 6 and 8 ) by TWO different fathers.  She’s been married and divorced THREE times, by the way, if I haven’t mentioned that before, but she’s VERY religious (while living with her current boyfriend, who does not attend church with her…).  The tax return of the father of the oldest boy was just deposited into her checking account, because he’s a little behind on his child support, and she’s giddy.  She won’t stop talking about it.  Oh the THINGS she’s going to buy with that extra $1900 she just got, none of which sound as if they have anything to do WITH HER SON.

But who am I to judge?


The psycho-analysis I’ve been doing on myself lately is staggering.  A therapist would make a fortune off me.  

I feel haunted by memories of my parents right now, so much so that I had to move the pictures of them out of our living room temporarily, because I was bursting into tears every time I looked at them.  It feels as if there’s unfinished business there, but I can’t figure out what it is.

Also, I am apparently very envious of my husband and the fact that he’s going back to school to start a new career.  This envy, of course, is being spurred on by the fact that I hate this new job I’ve taken.  It’s not that I don’t like the work, or that I can’t do the work.  The people, for the most part, are okay, but you run into idiots wherever you go.  There seems to be an unspoken expectation that you work more than 40 hours per week, without expecting to be paid overtime…  and this is NOT a salaried position, so isn’t that illegal?  I refuse to do it, period, and I think that’s not being looked upon too favorably…  but if I can get my assigned work done in 40 hours per week, why should I be here longer?  Yet there sits K at home, still not doing much in the way of housework, mind you, playing with the boy all day and enjoying him as he grows up.  And he’s not taking school nearly as seriously as I think he should.  It’s all just getting under my skin right now, and consequently our relationship is a little strained.  We’ve been through worse, though, so I’m sure we’ll get through this.

In a rare show of intelligence, the Casa de Insurance has given us both Monday and Tuesday off next week, to celebrate the birth of our great nation.  We are taking advantage of this 4-day weekend and going to KY, to visit my dear friend Mou and his lovely wife.  On the way to their place, we’re stopping outside Louisville to visit my brother and his family, see their new home, etc.  We’re spending Saturday night with them.  Can I just say…  I’m actually nervous about this.  Why?  I’ll be honest – my sister-in-law.  We have so much in common (at least I thought we did – favorite authors, hobbies, etc), that you’d think we’d be great friends.  Somewhere along the line, though, she seems to have taken a dislike to me, and I’ve never figured out why.  We’ll see how it goes…

Thanks for listening…

I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. I hate it when i feel like this....

A new era has begun...

With moving departments, the woman that sits in the cubicle behind me has been replaced by the right-wing conservative girl that sits in front of me. We started within just a few months of each other, so I’ve known and worked closely with her the whole time I’ve worked here at the Casa de Insurance. She is aggressive and thinks everyone is out to get her. She wants to move up in the company and she’s determined that no one will get in her way, which has gotten her into trouble more than once (For example, last year, telling our then-supervisor, in front of quite a few co-workers, that he wasn’t qualified to be a supervisor. She never apologized to him, and was then stunned when he trashed her in her performance review at the end of the year. Hmmmm….). She is nice enough, most of the time, but annoying.

So if feeling good about this is wrong, then I don’t want to be right. We were on a conference call together yesterday that included big-wigs from the corporate office, regarding a project that we’re both working on. The topic of the call got a little off-track at one point. Thinking she had her phone on mute, she let out a heavy sigh and said to me “Why are we wasting time talking about this?!?! I mean really!! This is why we never get anything done!!!”

All conversation on the call stopped for a few seconds, then the project manager spoke up, asking who it was that had just made those comments. Dead silence. Thankfully, my mute button works because I was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face. She never did fess up to the project manager that it was her, and probably won’t. I can’t wait to see what the fall-out from this might be, because our project manager is not one to let something like this go.

To those of you that were sad to hear of me moving away from the woman that sits in the cubicle behind me, cheer up. This is not the last you will hear of the right-wing, conservative girl, I promise you!

Can I just say...

I loathe these times when life gets in the way of what you'd rather be doing. Times like these make me very salty and hard to deal with.

I'm not quite sure right now if my marriage will survive K going to school for the next 2 years. We've got one quarter under our belts now, and OH MY GOD what a struggle THAT was! SEVEN more quarters of this???????? The th0ught makes me shudder.

I need to accept the fact that my house will never be clutter-free again, because by the time W.T. is grown and gone, I'll be too tired to re-organize. Toys are, of course, strewn hither and yon, and it makes... me... crazy. Sometimes you just have to let things go, though.

I've switched doctors, going back to the doctor I was seeing before W.T. was born, who (or whom? I never get it right...) I stopped seeing because, even with an appointment, you had to wait (no joke) upwards of 2 hours to get in to see her. My blood sugar, though, is just not coming around to where it should be, and 2 years of this is enough. For the last year, he's thrown a new prescription at me at each appointment. For the diabetes ALONE I take 3 pills and inject 2 medicines daily (one of them twice a day, which means three injections daily... don't look at my stomach, I look like a junkie). I DON'T LIKE THAT. At my last appointment, I tried again to voice my concerns. He started throwing out things like liquid-protein diets, some new weight-loss drug approved by the FDA that will be out in the fall, and 'exploring all of the non-surgical options to get this weight off'. That was the last straw for me. The weight will come off once the blood sugar is under control. It happened before, and I know it will happen again. The key right now is finding the magic formula to get the blood sugar under control. Eating right and exercising arent' the problem. The 'new' doctor switched out one med for another and took more blood. I'm supposed to get the results from her in about a week. I already feel better - perhaps this new drug was the missing key to all this. And there must be something to it, because others have noticed and commented that I seem perkier and more upbeat. We'll see.

It's never going to end... or maybe it has...

Talking to the best friend this afternoon, which doesn't happen much anymore, now that the boyfriend is in the picture. Yes, I think I'm experiencing a spot of jealousy, but that's for another time...

But the conversation today may the one that pushes me over the edge... hang on to your seat...

Her: "John came over and spent the night again last night."

Me: "Ah"

Her: "He said he thinks he's going to have to go back to the doctor"

Me: "Back to the doctor? That doesn't sound good..."

Her: "Yeah, he told me it's something that used to happen before, when he masturbated..."

Have you picked yourself up off the floor yet?

I have no idea what exactly she said after that, because I put the phone down for a few seconds while I cleared my head... something about feeling blood pounding in his jugular vein and being afraid he was going to have a stroke.

I'm STILL speechless over this one, and the conversation took place about 8 hours ago. I so very much want to scream "When did it become okay to talk about things like this??? I don't want to know this!!! I don't care that we've known each other forever, STOP TELLING ME THINGS LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Maybe I'm a prude. Maybe I'm more conservative than I ever dreamed I was (God help me). This whole thing is making me SOOOOOOOOOOOO uncomfortable, yet I'm afraid of what might happen if I say anything. We've known each other all our lives, yet we're just not the type of people that really talk about our feelings.

Must come from being Presbyterian.

Well, I finally have a desk of my very own, in my new department, at the Casa de Insurance. I succeeded in evicting the infidel who refused to vacate said desk. Some time ago, before I transferred to this department, someone with a Magnetic Poetry set left the message 'You are a pain' on one of his filing cabinets. He left this for me when he moved (while throwing a rather loud temper tantrum, mind you, that quite a few people could hear). This was Friday.

I was struck with what I thought was a brilliant idea over the weekend... and Monday morning I left a message at his new desk, taken from my own Magnetic Poetry set, that read simply 'Too bad, so sad.'

I was rather proud of myself for that.

My veggie boy

W.T. tried asparagus for the first time today. He seemed to like it. He's always been a vegetable-boy, so I'm not surprised. He looked so cute with the little flecks of green around his mouth when he was finished.

The only bad thing was that it was, in fact, the green-colored crayon called "asparagus" in the Crayola 64-pack. Yes, he'd chewed on about 1/2 an inch of it. Heaven only knows how much he actually swallowed. Thank heavens they're non-toxic.

I thought about telling K when he gets home from school, but I think it will be more amusing to wait for the phone call at work tomorrow that will start out with "Is his poop supposed to be green?"

81 days and counting...

YEAH BABY!!!

My dad at 22, in 1942.

Lot's of anniversaries this week. Anniversaries make me contemplative, introspective, and all the other synonyms of looking inside yourself to try to figure things out. Why have things turned out the way they have? Lots of 'what if's'... what if I'd gone on to graduate school after college? What if K hadn't answered the personal add I put in the small, local newspaper (have I ever mentioned that's how we met?)? What if the birth control we were using had done its job the way it was supposed to?

Life would be so much different...

But this too shall pass, I'm sure.

Today is the first anniversary of my father's death. Is that even possible? It really doesn't seem like it.

I haven't talked to my best friend much the last 2 weeks, since the whole birthday extravaganza. I've called several times, only to be blown off with 'Oh, John (remember him, with the big yoo-hoo?) is supposed to be calling. Can I call you back later?' No return call was ever received later in the evening. Ouch - that smarts. I called today... just a little bit ago. I stayed home from work today, and she's off on Wednesdays.

"We're just sitting here watching a movie. What's up?"

"Just hadn't talked to you in a while. I stayed home from work today, thought I'd call and see what was going on."

"Stayed home from work - that's always fun..."

At this point, I reminded her what the day was... "Oh! Has it been a year? I can't believe that."

"Yeah, I think I'm doing okay, though. No big outburst of tears yet."

"Well that's good. Listen, can I call you back later tonight, once John's gone?"

Thirty-five years of friendship, and I don't rate more than 5 minutes on the phone on the anniversary of the death of a parent? I'm still speechless. Slap me in the face, why don't you? Maybe I'm overly-sensitive right now, but to me that seemed rather a bitchy thing to do. Don't get me wrong - I'm thrilled that she's found someone that has true prospects of being THE ONE, but this is taking it a little far if you ask me. I just don't know where to go with all this. This isn't the first time in our 35 years of knowing each other that I've had feelings like this, but we're not the kind of people that express these things. Everything is repressed. We were both brought up in families that didn't talk about anything, ESPECIALLY feelings. Are we growing apart after all this time? Could be, I guess. It's a very lonely feeling.

Me & K at our wedding 12/05/97

Sometime this week, the 12th, maybe, it will be 10 years since the mr and I met... hard to believe. We still look pretty much the same. The part in his hair is a little wider now, if you know what I mean, and my hair isn't quite so big these days, but that's us. And he has a wonderful smile, just not when you put him in front of a camera (ever see the 'Friends' episode where Monica & Chandler are getting their engagement picture taken?).

So that's us, for anyone who might've been curious.

10 years... 120 months, 520 weeks, 3650 days. 87,600 hours. At times it's flown by, and at times it has dragged unbelievably. We've been through so much crap that it makes the head spin. Many times, I've had to step back and remind myself what it was that made me fall in love with and marry him, and I'll admit that I've wondered more than once if it was all a mistake.

But then he leaves to go to his evening classes, or to study at the library, or I leave in the morning to go to work, and as soon as we're not in the same place together, I miss him. So would I do it all over again?

Yeah, I would...

See what happens when I have too much free time on my hands... K is at school studying, and the boy is playing quietly by himself with the Little Einsteins on the Disney Channel in the background. My father-in-law called just a little while ago to ask if I was bored, since I wasn't at work and had nothing to do (insert confused look here).

Is this new template obnoxious? The other was absolutely getting on my nerves. The extra-wide margins were just irritating. It had to go. None of the other Blogger templates appealed to me, and I'm not savvy enough to re-configure the old template to look how I want it to look, so I must rely on the talent of others for a fresh new look. I've requested the 'Blogging for Dummies' book from the library, but my name is far down on the list.

My best friend's new boyfriend...

Finally, a few much-needed days off from work to relax, spend time with the punkin, and catch up on blogging. I could use 2 weeks off, but they are stingy with the vacation days at the Casa de Insurance, so I'm only taking 3 days.

Do I have a desk yet in the new department I've moved to?
No.
Does my new supervisor seem overly concerned about the fact that I've worked for her for a month and a half now and still haven't relocated to her area?
No.
Has my old supervisor hired a replacement for me?
Yes.
Will he soon be needing the desk I'm still occupying for the person he's hired?
Yes.

The guy I've replaced is still refusing to move from his current location, and the new supe isn't really doing a whole lot about it. This does not bode well for the future.

On top of everything else, I'm vaguely annoyed with my best friend right now. Let's call her Mary...

At the end of March, Mary had been dating a guy for about 6 weeks, when he unexpectedly dumped her BY SENDING HER A TEXT MESSAGE. How crappy is that? She'd never used the text message feature of her phone, so this was the first text she'd ever gotten. Even crappier. Understandably, she was feeling pretty blue. Her birthday is at the end of April, so I decided, being the good friend I am, to make it a blow-out this year, to cheer her up. I planned the entire afternoon and evening, sent her an 'invitation' to the birthday extravaganza, even made a commemorative mix cd for the occasion.

About 3 weeks ago, just about 1 or 2 weeks after being dumped electronically, she met a new guy. Apparently, this could be the one. Don't get me wrong - I'm happy for her. She's an incredible person and it always astonishes me that someone hasn't already snatched her up. She has been talking about this guy constantly - let's call him John - and it all sounds great.

But...

I hate to say it, but I'm a little hesitant to meet him. She describes him as a 'not afraid to speak his mind, don't ask him a question if you don't really want to hear the answer' kind of guy (which is a good thing), yet some examples she's given of this make him sound just downright rude. He goes to church (as do we), but has commented to her several times about how boring he thinks our church sounds. His church has flashy video screens and they dance and clap their hands when the spirit moves them, and they serve bagels and juice. We're Presbyterians. Presbyterians just don't do stuff like that. But we do serve cookies & punch after the service. She doesn't want to bring him to our church on a Sunday morning because "I know he'll hate it!" That offends me. I get the feeling from the way she talks about it that she's almost ashamed of this church that we've gone to since we were babies together in the nursery.

And then there's the sex. I've never been one to share lots of bedroom details with people. I'm not a prude, and I'm not afraid to talk about sex, but I don't need to know your nitty-gritty details, and I probably won't be telling you mine. Mary's always been the same way, but suddenly with this guy, I have to hear ALL ABOUT EVERYTHING that's been going on. I've said several times "No really, you don't need to tell me all this stuff...", but to no avail. Uck.

So here we are this past Friday, which was her birthday. She got to my house a little after 1pm. I had lunch ready (a salad of baby spinach, dried cranberries, slivered almonds, thinly sliced red onion, feta cheese & balsamic vinaigrette dressing, crusty bread with herb butter, sparkling water, huge homemade lemon squares for dessert... Yummy!). We ate... she got a call on her cell from John.

We relaxed for a bit after lunch, then headed out for our first stop - manicures at the shop where I get my hair cut. I love my hair-girl. She's a miracle worker. She does great with nails, too. Mary seemed a little irritated when we got there, and kind of argued a little with my hair-girl about not wanting any color on her nails. Then she got a call on her cell from John while I was getting my nails done.

Manicures completed, we headed towards Cincinnati for dinner and a show at a place I'd found online called the Shadowbox Cabaret. Two hours of comedy skits and live music, think Mad TV. Cincinnati is about an hour-ish from where we live, which translated into lots of talk about John-this, John-that, in-between calls on the cell. Twenty miles into the trip and I was already extremely annoyed. This is completely unlike her, but I'm so glad that she's found someone that she's this enthusiastic about, I don't want to say anything. Somehow the (limited) conversation wound around to the fact that he's 5'6" tall, kind of short for a guy. "He's not shy about walking around naked after sex." Okay, that's a comment I can handle. "It's good that he feels that comfortable with you already," I reply. To which she responds, while laughing, "Yeah, well, um... he's a short guy with a big dick, and he wants everyone to know it!"

What???? Back the truck up, Nelly!!

Had I not been in rush-hour traffic on a bridge crossing from Ohio into Kentucky, I very well might have pulled the car over. This is NOT the kind of information I want or NEED to hear about this guy. Not to mention the fact that I've never heard her use the word 'dick' before, as hard as that may be to believe. I'm so taken aback by this comment that all I can do is let out a pathetic laugh, while muttering "Which exit are we supposed to take on the other side of the bridge?"

Thank heavens we were headed to a place where the music was loud, making conversation nearly impossible. At the intermission of the show there was, of course, another phone call. Apparently he was working until 9pm and was very bored because business at the furniture store where he's a sales person has been slow. 46 years old and he can't find anything to occupy his time while he's at work? Hmmm....

This should be interesting...

So.......................

.................. about a month ago (and I can't believe I haven't put this up here sooner), the hubby and I were in the bedroom (don't worry, this is G rated). It was about 8:15pm. The little punkin was in bed, I was watching television, and the husband was looking at some of his school assignments. He got up to go to the kitchen... turned the doorknob... turned the doorknob again... turned the doorknob again while muttering curses under his breath. Guess what?

The door wouldn't open.

Now, this particular doorknob has given us problems since we bought the house (almost 8 years ago), and I'd been asking the husband (for about a month) to put some WD-40 on it, which usually takes care of the problem (but he didn't). The inevitable had finally happened. The latch on this thing was completely sprung and would not move a millimeter. My husband, God love him, was trying with all his might to get the door open... turning and twisting the knob and pulling as hard as he could and cussing the whole time, but nothing was happening.

Husband's idea #1: Take the doorknob off and pop the latch. A great idea but... 1) we don't keep a screwdriver in the bedroom (silly me) and 2) the screw for the doorknob is on the other side of the door.

Husband's idea #2: He'll crawl out the window and come in the front door and open the door from the outside. Another great idea but... we're settled in for the evening, so the front door is locked. Neither one of us has our keys with us. Mine are on the dining room table. His are in a basket by the front door.

Husband's idea #3: Try to jimmy the door open using a plastic card from his wallet. Although the problem was not that the door was locked, he gave it his all, but to no avail. And now his library card is ruined.

Notice that, yes, all these ideas are coming from the husband. I wasn't in the background panicking. There are times when it's best for me just to step back and let my husband do his 'man-thing', and I try my best to oblige him whenever these situations come up. Plus, it was a Tuesday and House was about to come on.

Husband's idea #4: Call his brother, who lives about 10 minutes from us, to ask if he still has the key we gave him when he house-sat for us about 4 years ago while we were on vacation.

I'm sure it doesn't come as a shock that I don't really care for my brother-in-law all that much. He has a very irritating personality. He is constantly trying to impress my father-in-law. For the first 18 months of my son's life, he would pretend to offer the boy a beer and a cigarette whenever he was over to play cards. Apparently, this was supposed to be amusing. Several times, he compared caring for our child to he and his wife caring for their dogs... "Well, when one of the dogs acts up/won't stop whining/whatever, we smack it on the nose with a rolled up newspaper." This was supposed to be amusing, also, but one night I'd had my fill, snapped at him after one of these comments, stormed out of the room and slammed the bedroom door so hard that (I'm not kidding) a picture fell off the wall. At that point, my father-in-law looked at my husband and said "She doesn't really think that he thinks the boy is a dog, does she?"

Oh my God.

But here we were, stuck in our bedroom, the boy asleep across the hall in his crib, and our best option for getting out of this alive is calling the brother-in-law that makes my eyes roll back in my head. Couldn't we call 9-1-1 instead? Isn't this an emergency? I can feel the oxygen supply decreasing rapidly, and too me that makes it an emergency.

But not really.

So the husband calls...

"Hi M, it's K. Is E home?"
(pause)
"Can you ask him to call me when he's done?"
(pause)
"Okay, thanks. Hey, do you know if he still has the key we gave him when he house-sat for us a few years ago?"
(pause)
"No... we're not locked out of the house. There's something wrong with the latch on our bedroom door, and we can't get the door open."
(It was at this moment that our humiliation became etched in the family history books. Did I hear laughter coming through the phone? I hung my head in shame.)
"Yeah, just have him come over whenever he's done. And can you ask him to be kind of quiet when he comes in? W's already asleep."

Twenty or so minutes later, we heard the front door quietly open and close. Then the doorknob rattled as E tried to open the door from the hallway. Then, a quiet knocking on the door. Did he think he'd be interrupting something?

"K? It's E." Would there be anyone else standing in our hallway at this moment? "I'm going to have to take the doorknob off. Where are your screwdrivers?"

They worked for over an hour, first getting the doorknob off, then prying apart the latch. It was as if the latch had fused itself into the door frame, and the only way to get it out was to completely destroy it with a screwdriver and a hammer. I got a very dirty look when I helpfully said (still annoyed that we were in this situation in the first place, and convinced that we would not be if he'd listened to me and oiled-up the door like I'd been asking him too) "Hopefully the house won't catch on fire while we're stuck in here", so I laid on the bed and watched House. I think my brother-in-law could sense that it was best not to make any comments on the situation once we were freed, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was storing away all sorts of smart-ass comments that he would unleash on K the next time they play cards. Like he needs any ammunition for his 7th-grade sense of humor.

And, of course, our son slept through the whole thing.

I am not sure we rewrite history when we think about those we love that have died or if we just forgive them their humanness and remember their spirit.

I've been thinking a lot, not surprisingly, about my dad lately. Two weeks from Wednesday will be the first anniversary of his death, which I just cannot believe. I hate that time seems to move so much faster now that I have a child.

I ran across the quote above on another blog I was looking at, about 2am Saturday when I couldn't sleep. I read it and suddenly many things that have rattled around in my head this past year came into sharp focus.

My father was not a perfect man, or father, by any means. I think I've said on here before that I don't think he ever truly wanted to be a father, but rather accommodated my mother by agreeing to adopt 2 children since she could not bear any of her own. He worked hard as a civilian fork-lift operator at the Air Force base we live close to, up at 5am Monday thru Friday for 10-12 hour days. He wasn't overly affectionate, and when he was angry he could be mean. I don't remember him ever playing games with us, or helping us with our homework, or reading us a book. That's what Mom did when her health permitted. I'm sure he was overly-strict, especially with my older brother. Their relationship was never good, and when my brother left for college he didn't look back. Rejection, plain and simple. He seemed to want to forget where he came from. To the day he died, my father was so proud of my brother, of the fact that he followed our grandfather's example and became a minister, of his first two grandchildren that he rarely got to see. Both of my parents understood that he had his own life to lead and family to take care of, so they gave him his space to do so and didn't interfere, never complained that they rarel got a visit or even so much as a phone call from their oldest child.

No, he was not the ideal father, but I can't say he had much of an example to learn from. My father was the son of Presbyterian missionaries. He was born in Toledo, OH in 1920. He lived with my grandparents in the French Cameroons in west-central Africa until he was old enough to go to school, then was sent back to the U.S. to either attend boarding school, or live with a family willing to board a missionary's child and attend whatever school the family was in the district of. He moved almost yearly, and didn't graduate from high school until he was 22. The visits to him and his two older brothers from their parents were few and far between until they retired from mission work in the early 1960's and settled in Florida.

My father and I became very close after my mother died. I was amazed, because my relationship with him had never been wonderful... not as bad as his relationship with my brother, but we had our share of knock-down, drag-out fights. He opened up about things that I don't think he'd talked about in 30 years. He told me about his experiences in WWII. He told me about his first wife and that it was she that left him for another man, which I'd never known before. He was a special person and I miss him very, very much (some of you reading this may be gasping with shock, but it's true!).

No one's childhood is perfect. Some are far worse than others, yes, but ours was not that bad when you get right down to it. We didn't have excess, but we never lacked for anything. My mother was manic-depressive, for God's sake. Pile that on top of two kids, and it's amazing that my dad stayed the course. I realized as a young adult that they did the best they could, and that's all that should matter. I wish my brother could see that... I've tried to make him see that... but I don't think he ever will. And that's a shame.

I'm quite certain they're going to take away my blogging privileges soon. I've just blinked my eyes and the month of April is almost gone. It's almost as if I can hear time whooshing past me. Work, eat, sleep... work, eat sleep... work, eat, sleep... you get the idea. Nothing new here. It all feels very tedious.

4 weeks into it and I'm already wishing I hadn't taken this new job. The new supe still has not found a desk for me in the new department. The guy I replaced is still sitting in his 'old' desk, as he still works for the Casa de Insurance but now reports directly to our corporate office instead of to anyone locally. Another desk/space/whatever you want to call the blue-fabric lined cubicles we sit in was found for him, but he refuses to move to it because it's too small for him. A step down from what he has now. It is a smaller desk area, but 1) it's temporary until another area of the building is renovated and 2) stop whining, you big baby, the supervisor has told you have to move so I can have your seat, so move! My former supe has already filled my spot in his department, and will soon need the desk that I still occupy. I have a feeling I'll be pushing my belongings around in a Walmart shopping cart before the end of next week.

Perhaps this weekend I'll be inspired with some witty prose to post on here...

Toto, I don't think we're in Ohio anymore...

An important anniversary slipped quietly by me this past Monday. I can't believe I didn't think about it until several days later. If you're curious, or just don't have anything better to do some afternoon, Google '1974 Xenia tornado'.

April 3, 1974... during a 24 hour period, 148 tornados hit the South and Midwest. The Super Outbreak. As far as I know, it's still the worst outbreak in history. The theory is that several smaller tornados came together to form the monster F5, one of six F5 tornados that day, that hit Xenia, OH. That's a picture of it up there, as it was coming into town. It was on the ground for over 9 minutes, and the path it cut through the town was almost a mile wide. It killed 33 people and destroyed over 1300 homes & buildings. The city was declared a national disaster area, and the National Guard was called in. It took nearly 3 months to haul all of the rubble and debris out of the city.

But hey, Richard Nixon came to visit.

I grew up in Xenia. Lived there until I got married at 27 and moved to where I live now, about 20 minutes or so away. I was 4 when the tornado hit. It's sounds very cliche, but I do remember it quite vividly. I was in pre-school with about 100 other kids at the Nazarene church. I'd gone out to the drinking fountain and was going back to my classroom when the fire alarm in the church went off. Being the polite child that I was, I tried to push past the teacher so I could get into the room and get at the back of the line, but she grabbed me and shoved me in front, then started marching us down the hall. We huddled there for what seemed like forever. The electricity went out pretty quickly, but what I remember most is the noise. It was just incredible, this deafening roar of wind. I can still hear it in my mind.

Then it was over. No one in the church was hurt, although as I was looking back over news stories of the day, I read for the first time that a man who'd helped the teachers get the kids to the basement was killed near the church as he was trying to get back to his home. We sang songs, and the teachers gave us Cheez-its and cold tomato soup for supper. The memory of it gets fuzzy at that point. The church above us was destroyed. I'm sure there was considerable debris removal that had to be done before they could get us out of the basement. Pardon me for waxing religious for a moment, but it truly was a miracle that none of us were hurt.

I was one of the last kids to have someone come for them. My dad had tried to drive through town to get me, but the roads were blocked so he had to take the car home, then walk from our house to the church, about a mile I think. It was still raining. Somebody gave him a scarf to put around my head, and he carried me home. I remember looking back over his shoulder at the church, or, I should say, the enormous pile of bricks and boards that used to be the church. When I think about it now, the first thing that comes to mind is that I can't imagine what my dad must have felt when he first saw where the building I was supposed to be in used to be standing. My mom was fine, sitting at home with a friend that had been visiting that afternoon. My brother was fine. Our house sustained very little damage - we were at the very edge of the path the tornado cut through town. Some shingles blew off, and a tree in our yard was uprooted. My mom had refused to go down into our storm cellar, which as it turned out was a smart move. The storm cellar was tiny, maybe big enough for 3-4 average size adults to stand shoulder to shoulder but not bigger. The top of the tree in our backyard that fell landed directly on the storm cellar door. Had they been down there, there's no telling how long it would've taken someone to find them, and I can't imagine they would've made it very long, considering how small the space was.

Maybe it's silly after all this time... strong winds and bad storms still give me an anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I always breath a little easier when the month of April is over. K thinks I'm silly, but everytime there's a tornado warning in our area, I remind him what the plan is if one is spotted and we need to take cover (he grabs the boy, I grab blankets and pillows, and we jump into the tub in the bathroom that's in the middle of our house, him on one end, me on the other and the boy in between). At the same time, though, movies like Twister and programs about storm chasers just fascinate me.

In 1990, another tornado swept through Xenia. Not nearly as big, but it still left its mark. I wasn't in town that night (although I was supposed to have been), but it brought all those old feelings back. It's almost like my hometown has some kind of curse on it.

Friday Grab Bag

On February 7, 1964, the day The Beatles arrived at New York's Kennedy Airport, Baskin-Robbins introduced a new flavor of ice cream called Beatle Nut to commemorate their first appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show. The flavor consisted of pistachio ice cream with chocolate ribbons and walnuts.


Martial arts legend Bruce Lee, who starred in as Kato in the Green Hornet series and then in his own martial arts classics like Enter the Dragon was a cha-cha instructor in Hong Kong, and in 1958 at the age of 18 won the Hong Kong cha-cha championship.


The skull of 18th-century Austrian musical genius Joseph Haydn was stolen from his coffin a few days after his burial in 1809. The thief, a student of phrenology, passed it on to his friends. Eventually, the skull found its way to the Anatomical Museum in Vienna, where it remains today.