Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life. No. I'm not finally getting checked into rehab. But thanks for suggesting it. Fuckers.
It's the big ROWE Implementation Workshop at work! You can read about it here: http://www.icangetback.blogspot.com/.
Here you can read about my shitty Monday and how everyone is on my last nerve. I have NO clue why. NONE. It was a good weekend. The prodigal son came back to visit - hell it'd been 10 days - he was due! He brought with him NO laundry- YAY! But his entourage appeared. And appeared. And appeared. And made messes in my house. And I yelled at them. Although one pointed out that I really wasn't that mean or tough when I yelled and said that I instead offered gentle suggestions on how to behave better. Thank you - now YOU - get.the.fuck.out.
We relaxed and played. But we did stay up late all the nights. So maybe today I'm just fatigued. Or maybe I'm anxious about tomorrow. The ONLY thing I'm certain of is this: People are on my fucking nerve.
I'm going to bed now. Yes. At 7 p.m. I have to be to the office at 7:30 - AND I want to drive thru Starbucks first and reward myself for coming up with such a cool fucking suggestion that we work under a ROWE. And to those who are too stupid to understand how it ever could work. Your days here will be numbered - so just keep on with your negative "can't be done" comments. Pretty soon you'll be granted all the freedom you've ever dreamed of! Love ya!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Kitchen Gadgets
So, if you follow me on Facebook (DUH - who doesn't - I'm that.fucking.interesting) - you will have read that I've been permanently grounded (self-inflicted) from purchasing any more kitchen gadgets.
But damn the bad luck. I found a Pier One catalog today - and you could not believe the amazing things I found in there:
First - just look at the stuff:
But damn the bad luck. I found a Pier One catalog today - and you could not believe the amazing things I found in there:
First - just look at the stuff:
Look. At mouse cheese grater. My God but can you imagine the fun you'd have with that little fella? Or how about those birdie scissors? It just makes you WANT to be in the kitchen, doing kitcheny things, doesn't it?
But then, look. It gets better:
My God. But aren't they darling? Several months (maybe years now - I can't remember) -my mom made me this darling gingham apron with ric rac trim. I requested it - because if I have to be doing chores and acting all domestic - then I want to look cute doing those things. I love that apron. It's a shame that the material she used looks best when ironed and so it stays wadded up where I laid it the last time I washed it. I should iron it this weekend and drag it back out. I love that apron.
And by now, I was literally drooling. All over the Pier One catalog - because look what showed up next:
Turn your head sideways. I'm too lazy to rotate the picture. You can do some of the work around here for a change. I'm not your slave. It's a bird veggie peeler. Look how cute - I can hear it humming while I peel right now! BUT SERIOUSLY PEOPLE - LOOK AT THAT ADORABLE FLOWER SCRUBBER BRUSH BEHIND IT. I'd do dishes all day if I had one of those. Too bad I'm grounded and can't buy it. I guess someone else will have to do the dishes.
And last, but NOT LEAST - because this one folks, this one, may cause me to unground myself. Seriously - I just may have to go buy this:
IT'S A FREAKIN' MONKEY PEELER.
Who doesn't love a monkey? And what is more fun than a monkey peeling veggies?
NOTHING.
I'm in love.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Crack Kills
So yesterday, I spent the better part of the day fumigating cleaning the house. Now that the prodigal son and his entourage have departed, I have lifted my ban on cleaning. It's been almost 24 hours since I cleaned part of the house and IT'S STILL CLEAN. Bizarr-o. I was cleaning weird things - like the pantry, the fridge, the silverware drawer, the spice cabinet - why boys feel compelled to rummage these areas and destroy them is beyond me. But they do. I also went through the linen closet and refolded everything in there. I've grounded myself from purchasing kitchen gadgets, spices, tea and also sheets, blankets and hand towels. We are pretty well set for life on all of these items.
Any who - I usually use an environmentally friendly type of cleanser - something like vinegar or some green shit that some company makes. But yesterday I felt I REALLY needed something STRONG - you know - something that REALLY made the house reek of cleaning in progress. So I trapsed down to the basement and found this 55 gallon drum of Pinesol I'd purchased about 12 years ago at Sam's Club. It was perfect and just enough left for me to get the kitchen really clean. And off I went - cleaning and scrubbing and throwing shit away and my God but it was liberating!
We were set to see some friends in the evening - but I had a bit of a dilemma with the brunette - she was coming back to our house after going to a pond party (which is a horrible idea on so many different levels, but I am trying NOT to be over-protective of her) - so I wasn't sure I could make it to see my friends. Who I miss terribly and enjoy spending time with and yet never seem to find time to see them. Well, late in the afternoon, I decided to drink a beer. And it was yummy. So I had another. And then the brunette needed to be driven to the pond party. Could she drive, while I rode in the car? Sure. She has a restricted license - let's go!
But as she got out of the car at the party, I was like, "Wait. Who will drive me home? Because all of a sudden - I am drunk and cannot drive." Seriously. I didn't mention it to her - I just hopped in the seat and concentrated very intently on driving that car home. Thank God it wasn't far. And I'm like - What.The.Fuck. I'm a professional - why am I so fucking drunk after two cans of beer? So I figured I must need food and ate some crackers. And some more crackers. And I drank another couple of beers. And by this time - I cannot even walk. Seriously. I've had 4 beers and I'm so drunk I cannot walk.
I texted with the brunette's BFF's mom - she agreed to take the girls for the night instead of me having them so I could go see my friends and hang out. And the husband was headed up to get in the shower and I'm all, "Husband - I am so drunk I cannot walk." And he's all, "WTF?" And I'm all, "I know right?"
So we decided we better eat. And somehow I cooked dinner - how - I will never know because I was about as drunk as I could ever remember. And then it hit me - the headache from hell. I downed some pain reliever. And drank some iced coffee. NOTHING would kill this headache. I decided to sit down for a bit and watch a movie with the blonde (some werewolf, vampire love story shit that absolutely bored me to tears and BTW did NOTHING for my headache - bite her already and get on with it - Jesus). Still this headache does NOT cede the battle. It's winning.
So off to bed I went at 9 p.m. No friends. No laughter. No fun. Just me and me trying to give birth to my brain through my eyeball.
When I woke up this morning, I felt fine. Until I got into the kitchen and then that headache started in AGAIN. And that's when it hit me. - That blasted Pinesol. It had some crystals floating in the bottom of it:
See them? Floating? It wasn't fucking pinesol after all - or maybe it was 12 years ago - but NOW it was crystal meth. It had to be. And that would explain why I was so drunk after 4 beers. I wasn't drunk at all - I was stoned out of my fucking mind on crystal meth. Which explained not only the headache from hell, but the pin-sized pupils and the racing heart. I honestly thought the husband would have to take me to the ER. And as I lay in bed, I practiced dialing 911 on my own - wondering how my family would react when the ambulance showed up - would the husband turn them away, telling them they had the wrong house? God I hope not - because I was pretty certain I was going to die. But I didn't. But I damned near did.
And now, about 24 hours later - my hands look like this:
And I just looked in the mirror. And I look like this:
CRACK KILLS. I DO NOT LIE PEOPLE AND I CAN'T EVEN MAKE THIS SHIT UP.
BTW - the Pinesol? It's in the recylcing bin now. It's not safe to have around.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Reflecting
For some reason this week, I've done a lot of reflecting on my life - actually now that I think about it, it's been going on for several weeks. I've determined that most of the reflection is driven not by who I am today, but instead by the guilt of who I was once and how that impacted the people I love the most.
See - several years ago - I don't even remember when to be honest - I got divorced from the first husband. Which in turn, started my life anew. A process of redefining who I was. And in that process, I met new people, went new places, and dressed differently. And in that process, I became a selfish ass. My new world was all about ME. I gave no regard to my family, those who had been my friends forever OR my kids (that's the toughest one to swallow). If I didn't like what someone in my family or what some of friends said - I just stopped talking to them. The end. I'm done with you. You don't understand and all you want to do is criticize. I'm out.
I would tell people I would meet them somewhere or visit them, and then make excuses NOT to be there because I just frankly did not want to go or to see them. I didn't give a shit if it hurt them, because the world revolved around me and my new found freedom - which was all about having fun and being irresponsible. And God how I had fun. The most fun I think I've ever had in my entire life.
And my kids were very young - and the prodigal son started behaving VERY badly. And I couldn't deal with it - because it was too real - and I wasn't ready to admit that I was a total fuck up - so I sent the kids to live with their father. And not a single person that I thought loved me ever told me to wake the fuck up. NONE. They either stood back silently and watched me self-destruct or they just encouraged me to be strong and keep moving forward. There were days I would find myself crying and wishing my paternal grandmother was still alive - because I knew if she was, she would be at my house taking control and not allowing the shit that was going on to continue. And I knew I would resent her for it - but at the same I knew I needed someone else to take control. But alas, I was on my own and not a single person ever bothered to point out to me how badly I was screwing up.
One day I woke up - it was kind of a slow wake up call - but it started when I met my now husband. And then when I found out I was pregnant with the blonde - I REALLY woke up. All of a sudden it occurred to me that my new-found fun lifestyle and selfishness and disregard for everyone else and their feelings was a horrible way to live my life. I often think that blonde is my maternal grandmother's spirit - sent to me to save me from my self. And I started the very long and very painful journey to repairing relationships and sisterhoods that I had destroyed along the way. Taking a good long look at the people that were in my present day life - assessing their value to my life and oddly enough - ousting about 98% of them. They added no value. They weren't true friends. They weren't even good people. They were selfish and harmful. I don't begrudge them today - but I also don't embrace them or care to be around them. Some will attempt to "friend" me on Facebook. I ignore their requests. They are poison to my life and who I am today and I refuse to accept them and their bullshit back into my life.
But lately, the past keeps reappearing more than I had ever imagined. Mainly through conversations with those that I love and hold dear and with whom I've established strong relationships. And at the end of the conversations - I find myself with that feeling - that one that is like I got hit in the stomach - the one that enrages me and I find myself ranting and raving and carrying on while my poor husband has to sit there and listen to me for hours until I finally talk myself down from the ledge. I know I recently made a friend mad with my rants - because he got up and left my house. I don't care. The people he has now befriended and is enamored by are people from my past and they are NOT good people. And I'm sorry if he didn't like hearing MY (and my husband's) versions of the story - the cold, hard truth about his new "friend" and his lack of integrity or moral dignity.
Because I'm kind-hearted and because I'm no longer a selfish ass - many times I find myself accepting people from the past back into my life - giving them benefit of the doubt - not holding grudges. And I'll be damned if 99% of the time - it ends up the same way - some shit just never changes. Case in point: I allow my ex husband to hang out with us at our house because I think it's just easier on the kids. But every time we end up at odds over something - whether it's spoken right then or not - by the time he leaves - I'm pissed all over again - just like I was every single day of my married-to-him life. Same with my now-husband's "brother" - he's a adulteress pig and always will be. We finally had to come clean with the in-laws and tell them that the "brother" is just not welcome in our home. Period. The end. We tried. But he is just not anyone we want in our home or to associate with.
Right before the prodigal son left for college, we had a conversation that lasted into the wee hours of the morning. And in that conversation - he finally verbalized to me what I believe he was acting out and didn't know how to verbalize so many years ago before I sent him to live with his dad. And it went like this: You LIED. You said you would be home or that you were at work - and you were not and you never came home - you just shifted us from one babysitter to another - but worst of all - YOU LIED.
And I broke down - and all I could say in response was - You are correct. I lied. I was a selfish irresponsible ass and didn't give a shit who I was hurting in the process. I am sorry that you were impacted by that and it's a guilt I will live with the rest of my life.
And then he opened his mouth and I was so fearful of what would come out - because I was fearful it would be more truth that would sting my heart, but what I heard was - "But then you changed and you turned out to be the BEST DAMNED mom anyone could ever want. You have been here every single day of my life - and you have done everything you have said you would do. You've kept every promise. You've been there for me every step of the way and there are days when you saved my life and didn't even know it."
And THAT is why I'm NOT reflecting on who I am today - because I'm proud and happy with who I am today. But boy it sure does cause me to reflect on my past - when I was selfish and irresponsible and not giving a shit about anyone else's feelings. And that reflection sure does make it easier to remember to not begrudge those that fostered my path of destruction - but instead to just choose not to allow them in my life again. And that's also why I tell it like it is - and tell people if they're screwing up their lives or playing with fire. It may not do a lick of good - but at least when they wake up - they'll remember that I was the one that warned them. I'm sure my kids despise when I tell them the brutal truth - and that they'll regret certain decisions or actions - I really don't care. At least they'll know I loved them enough to be honest with them.
See - several years ago - I don't even remember when to be honest - I got divorced from the first husband. Which in turn, started my life anew. A process of redefining who I was. And in that process, I met new people, went new places, and dressed differently. And in that process, I became a selfish ass. My new world was all about ME. I gave no regard to my family, those who had been my friends forever OR my kids (that's the toughest one to swallow). If I didn't like what someone in my family or what some of friends said - I just stopped talking to them. The end. I'm done with you. You don't understand and all you want to do is criticize. I'm out.
I would tell people I would meet them somewhere or visit them, and then make excuses NOT to be there because I just frankly did not want to go or to see them. I didn't give a shit if it hurt them, because the world revolved around me and my new found freedom - which was all about having fun and being irresponsible. And God how I had fun. The most fun I think I've ever had in my entire life.
And my kids were very young - and the prodigal son started behaving VERY badly. And I couldn't deal with it - because it was too real - and I wasn't ready to admit that I was a total fuck up - so I sent the kids to live with their father. And not a single person that I thought loved me ever told me to wake the fuck up. NONE. They either stood back silently and watched me self-destruct or they just encouraged me to be strong and keep moving forward. There were days I would find myself crying and wishing my paternal grandmother was still alive - because I knew if she was, she would be at my house taking control and not allowing the shit that was going on to continue. And I knew I would resent her for it - but at the same I knew I needed someone else to take control. But alas, I was on my own and not a single person ever bothered to point out to me how badly I was screwing up.
One day I woke up - it was kind of a slow wake up call - but it started when I met my now husband. And then when I found out I was pregnant with the blonde - I REALLY woke up. All of a sudden it occurred to me that my new-found fun lifestyle and selfishness and disregard for everyone else and their feelings was a horrible way to live my life. I often think that blonde is my maternal grandmother's spirit - sent to me to save me from my self. And I started the very long and very painful journey to repairing relationships and sisterhoods that I had destroyed along the way. Taking a good long look at the people that were in my present day life - assessing their value to my life and oddly enough - ousting about 98% of them. They added no value. They weren't true friends. They weren't even good people. They were selfish and harmful. I don't begrudge them today - but I also don't embrace them or care to be around them. Some will attempt to "friend" me on Facebook. I ignore their requests. They are poison to my life and who I am today and I refuse to accept them and their bullshit back into my life.
But lately, the past keeps reappearing more than I had ever imagined. Mainly through conversations with those that I love and hold dear and with whom I've established strong relationships. And at the end of the conversations - I find myself with that feeling - that one that is like I got hit in the stomach - the one that enrages me and I find myself ranting and raving and carrying on while my poor husband has to sit there and listen to me for hours until I finally talk myself down from the ledge. I know I recently made a friend mad with my rants - because he got up and left my house. I don't care. The people he has now befriended and is enamored by are people from my past and they are NOT good people. And I'm sorry if he didn't like hearing MY (and my husband's) versions of the story - the cold, hard truth about his new "friend" and his lack of integrity or moral dignity.
Because I'm kind-hearted and because I'm no longer a selfish ass - many times I find myself accepting people from the past back into my life - giving them benefit of the doubt - not holding grudges. And I'll be damned if 99% of the time - it ends up the same way - some shit just never changes. Case in point: I allow my ex husband to hang out with us at our house because I think it's just easier on the kids. But every time we end up at odds over something - whether it's spoken right then or not - by the time he leaves - I'm pissed all over again - just like I was every single day of my married-to-him life. Same with my now-husband's "brother" - he's a adulteress pig and always will be. We finally had to come clean with the in-laws and tell them that the "brother" is just not welcome in our home. Period. The end. We tried. But he is just not anyone we want in our home or to associate with.
Right before the prodigal son left for college, we had a conversation that lasted into the wee hours of the morning. And in that conversation - he finally verbalized to me what I believe he was acting out and didn't know how to verbalize so many years ago before I sent him to live with his dad. And it went like this: You LIED. You said you would be home or that you were at work - and you were not and you never came home - you just shifted us from one babysitter to another - but worst of all - YOU LIED.
And I broke down - and all I could say in response was - You are correct. I lied. I was a selfish irresponsible ass and didn't give a shit who I was hurting in the process. I am sorry that you were impacted by that and it's a guilt I will live with the rest of my life.
And then he opened his mouth and I was so fearful of what would come out - because I was fearful it would be more truth that would sting my heart, but what I heard was - "But then you changed and you turned out to be the BEST DAMNED mom anyone could ever want. You have been here every single day of my life - and you have done everything you have said you would do. You've kept every promise. You've been there for me every step of the way and there are days when you saved my life and didn't even know it."
And THAT is why I'm NOT reflecting on who I am today - because I'm proud and happy with who I am today. But boy it sure does cause me to reflect on my past - when I was selfish and irresponsible and not giving a shit about anyone else's feelings. And that reflection sure does make it easier to remember to not begrudge those that fostered my path of destruction - but instead to just choose not to allow them in my life again. And that's also why I tell it like it is - and tell people if they're screwing up their lives or playing with fire. It may not do a lick of good - but at least when they wake up - they'll remember that I was the one that warned them. I'm sure my kids despise when I tell them the brutal truth - and that they'll regret certain decisions or actions - I really don't care. At least they'll know I loved them enough to be honest with them.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Bank vs Man
Okay guys. Here's the deal. I'm going to give you all a brief lesson on keeping a checkbook. If you've already mastered it - GREAT! If you don't want to hear the brutal truth - then don't read this post.
Having been either employed by, or working directly with banks for the last 33 years, and having grown up with a mother that was a banker - I feel as though I'm an expert on the subject matter so I'm going to give y'all a lesson. It's quite simple and it's limited to transactional type accounts (those on which you can transact purchases, etc - does not apply to CD's and deposit accounts from which you cannot withdraw):
The bank shows you have $100 in your account.
But you wrote a check yesterday for $50 that has not yet cleared your account.
The bank has NO CLUE that you wrote that check - NONE - so if you call and ask for your balance (which is by far the WORST and most illogical way EVER to check your balance on a transactional account) - they will tell you the balance is $100.
So you go ahead and spend $95 at the shoe store on some kick-ass Nikes you fell in love with. You use your debit card and the $95 is taken from your account that night.
That SAME night, that check for $50 comes through - guess what? YOU ARE OVERDRAWN. Why? Because you did NOT have $100 in YOUR account - you only had $50 in YOUR account - remember - you wrote the check for $50. So yes, now you are overdrawn.
The ONLY way to keep track of this shit is in a register - or on a piece of paper - or I do mine on software. It's a very simple process:
Write down the starting balance in YOUR account
Subtract the amount of each and every withdrawal, debit purchase and check you write
The difference is the BALANCE IN YOUR ACCOUNT
90% of the time - the BALANCE IN YOUR ACCOUNT will NOT equal the BANK'S balance of your account - because they don't know what the fuck you're spending and where and when and they have no clue what hasn't cleared yet - they only know what their records show.
And every month - the nice bank will send you a statement - RECONCILE it - I'll give you a lesson on that in a separate post. Many banks even offer FREE online access - which allows you to go online for FREE and look at your transactional history so you can make certain that YOU have logged everything in YOUR register correctly. Sometimes I forget to write shit down - so this online service is a Godsend for me.
Last month, the prodigal son overdrew his account. And he came to me and asked me where the money went. I have no clue son - let's look at your register. He didn't have one. Well did he have his online password? Nope. Well, I can't tell you where the money went if you have no record of what you spent and you cannot access the bank's record of it. So then, he tried to get clever with me, "Well, I had a lot of money - and I'm not accusing the bank of stealing it, but I'm just sayin' it's gone and I don't understand why."
A few days later, his monthly statement arrived in the mail. I found it a few hours later - torn into a million pieces in the trash can. Something tells me the answer to the mysterious money disappearance was revealed in that statement. It was spent at Sonic. McDonalds. The Kwiki Mart.
But please - for the love of God, little baby Jesus and everything Holy people - quit calling the BANK and asking THEM how much money YOU have.
And this is NOT directed at a particular person to whom this recently happened - it's really not - your experience was just a reminder to me as to how many people end up spending thousands of dollars a year on overdraft charges and ruining their credit because they are under the impression the bank keeps track of YOUR money. They keep track of THEIR money. Not yours. Step up and take responsibility for YOUR money. You'll be happy you did.
And I hope to hell my husband reads this because he also is not familiar with a checkbook register and checks his balance with the bank daily. It's exhausting.
We keep separate accounts.
UPDATE: Seriously? For 33 years I've worked in or with banking? I started working when I was 11. My parents were a pain in the ass like that. Sad part: I honestly thought long and hard about that number before I typed it. Clearly - you do NOT need to be a mathematician to be a banker - see prior posts about my math skills. That's why they all have 10 keys on their desks. And likely it also explains why they don't know how much fucking money you have in the bank - they can't add or subtract. Listen to me people - I've been around them for EVER.
Having been either employed by, or working directly with banks for the last 33 years, and having grown up with a mother that was a banker - I feel as though I'm an expert on the subject matter so I'm going to give y'all a lesson. It's quite simple and it's limited to transactional type accounts (those on which you can transact purchases, etc - does not apply to CD's and deposit accounts from which you cannot withdraw):
- The BANK (or credit union, or whatever) is NOT the record keeper of your money. YOU ARE.
- The bank (or credit union - you get the jist) does NOT know what YOUR balance is. - They know what THEIR balance on your account is.
- They have NO CLUE what transactions may be out there in the cloud and yet to clear THEIR record of your account.
The bank shows you have $100 in your account.
But you wrote a check yesterday for $50 that has not yet cleared your account.
The bank has NO CLUE that you wrote that check - NONE - so if you call and ask for your balance (which is by far the WORST and most illogical way EVER to check your balance on a transactional account) - they will tell you the balance is $100.
So you go ahead and spend $95 at the shoe store on some kick-ass Nikes you fell in love with. You use your debit card and the $95 is taken from your account that night.
That SAME night, that check for $50 comes through - guess what? YOU ARE OVERDRAWN. Why? Because you did NOT have $100 in YOUR account - you only had $50 in YOUR account - remember - you wrote the check for $50. So yes, now you are overdrawn.
The ONLY way to keep track of this shit is in a register - or on a piece of paper - or I do mine on software. It's a very simple process:
Write down the starting balance in YOUR account
Subtract the amount of each and every withdrawal, debit purchase and check you write
The difference is the BALANCE IN YOUR ACCOUNT
90% of the time - the BALANCE IN YOUR ACCOUNT will NOT equal the BANK'S balance of your account - because they don't know what the fuck you're spending and where and when and they have no clue what hasn't cleared yet - they only know what their records show.
And every month - the nice bank will send you a statement - RECONCILE it - I'll give you a lesson on that in a separate post. Many banks even offer FREE online access - which allows you to go online for FREE and look at your transactional history so you can make certain that YOU have logged everything in YOUR register correctly. Sometimes I forget to write shit down - so this online service is a Godsend for me.
Last month, the prodigal son overdrew his account. And he came to me and asked me where the money went. I have no clue son - let's look at your register. He didn't have one. Well did he have his online password? Nope. Well, I can't tell you where the money went if you have no record of what you spent and you cannot access the bank's record of it. So then, he tried to get clever with me, "Well, I had a lot of money - and I'm not accusing the bank of stealing it, but I'm just sayin' it's gone and I don't understand why."
A few days later, his monthly statement arrived in the mail. I found it a few hours later - torn into a million pieces in the trash can. Something tells me the answer to the mysterious money disappearance was revealed in that statement. It was spent at Sonic. McDonalds. The Kwiki Mart.
But please - for the love of God, little baby Jesus and everything Holy people - quit calling the BANK and asking THEM how much money YOU have.
And this is NOT directed at a particular person to whom this recently happened - it's really not - your experience was just a reminder to me as to how many people end up spending thousands of dollars a year on overdraft charges and ruining their credit because they are under the impression the bank keeps track of YOUR money. They keep track of THEIR money. Not yours. Step up and take responsibility for YOUR money. You'll be happy you did.
And I hope to hell my husband reads this because he also is not familiar with a checkbook register and checks his balance with the bank daily. It's exhausting.
We keep separate accounts.
UPDATE: Seriously? For 33 years I've worked in or with banking? I started working when I was 11. My parents were a pain in the ass like that. Sad part: I honestly thought long and hard about that number before I typed it. Clearly - you do NOT need to be a mathematician to be a banker - see prior posts about my math skills. That's why they all have 10 keys on their desks. And likely it also explains why they don't know how much fucking money you have in the bank - they can't add or subtract. Listen to me people - I've been around them for EVER.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Catching Up
You might as well stop reading right now, go get yourself a 30 pack and then come back. Grab your smokes while you're at it - you're going to be here awhile on this one. I see it's now been 14 days since I last posted. My sincerest apologies to my 5 faithful readers. Contrary to popular belief - I did NOT intend to leave y'all high and dry. I've been busy. Too busy to remember half the shit I've been doing actually - but I'll try to fill you in here.
First and foremost - I've been working. See, I'm gearing up for our new culture at work - you can read about that over at http://www.icangetback.blogspot.com/ - don't bother heading there just yet - as I haven't posted a damned thing over there recently either. I'll get to it after this - maybe. If I'm still awake. Or alive. I work. And work. And work. You see, what I've discovered (which I'm sure will come as no surprise to those of you who know me well) - I seem to have a problem - with addiction. Addiction to whatever suits my fancy at the moment. And when the fancy hits me - I'm ALL IN. Fuckin' Texas Hold 'Em style - that's how I live my life. When I work - I work - day and night. It's all I talk about. It's all I think about. When I walk. I walk. Day and night - walk. When I drink - I drink all the booze in the house. When I cook - I cook 85 meals for 75 countries. When I watch TV - I watch it for weeks upon end and never leave my bed. I'm a damned addict. I've admitted it. Tomorrow I'm going to make a schedule for myself - one that embraces both work and home life - with a little focus on everyone and everything and one that helps me find BALANCE. I cannot be trusted to just "live" - because I immediately become obsessed with whatever is I'm doing.
Blah blah blah. Okay - I'm over that - and see - I was apologizing for not being here and my explanation of WHY almost turned into a 50 page essay on addiction. I'm an addict. Obsessive compulsive. That's me.
So where have I been since August 4th? I'll tell you:
One day I made pickles. That's right. Pickles. Me. I made them. Thanks to my friend over at http://thedillpickleboutthat.blogspot.com/ gave me a short tip on Facebook about how to do it and she made it sound so easy, I decided to go for it! See, I'd been reading all about it on the local extension office website (whatever the fuck an extension office is) and it had me totally freaked out - but the pickle said it was simple and who knows more about how to make pickles than a pickle herself, right? It was simple!! And here they are to prove I made them:
I'll miss him.
So that pretty much sums it up! I'm sure there are some other things I did - none of which I guess were terribly exciting. If I think of them, you can bet I'll write about them!
First and foremost - I've been working. See, I'm gearing up for our new culture at work - you can read about that over at http://www.icangetback.blogspot.com/ - don't bother heading there just yet - as I haven't posted a damned thing over there recently either. I'll get to it after this - maybe. If I'm still awake. Or alive. I work. And work. And work. You see, what I've discovered (which I'm sure will come as no surprise to those of you who know me well) - I seem to have a problem - with addiction. Addiction to whatever suits my fancy at the moment. And when the fancy hits me - I'm ALL IN. Fuckin' Texas Hold 'Em style - that's how I live my life. When I work - I work - day and night. It's all I talk about. It's all I think about. When I walk. I walk. Day and night - walk. When I drink - I drink all the booze in the house. When I cook - I cook 85 meals for 75 countries. When I watch TV - I watch it for weeks upon end and never leave my bed. I'm a damned addict. I've admitted it. Tomorrow I'm going to make a schedule for myself - one that embraces both work and home life - with a little focus on everyone and everything and one that helps me find BALANCE. I cannot be trusted to just "live" - because I immediately become obsessed with whatever is I'm doing.
Blah blah blah. Okay - I'm over that - and see - I was apologizing for not being here and my explanation of WHY almost turned into a 50 page essay on addiction. I'm an addict. Obsessive compulsive. That's me.
So where have I been since August 4th? I'll tell you:
One day I made pickles. That's right. Pickles. Me. I made them. Thanks to my friend over at http://thedillpickleboutthat.blogspot.com/ gave me a short tip on Facebook about how to do it and she made it sound so easy, I decided to go for it! See, I'd been reading all about it on the local extension office website (whatever the fuck an extension office is) and it had me totally freaked out - but the pickle said it was simple and who knows more about how to make pickles than a pickle herself, right? It was simple!! And here they are to prove I made them:
And we've opened one jar and they are YUMMY!!! I put wasabi powder in a few jars. I gave one of those jars to my dad - he said they were good but not terribly hot. I'll have to open a jar and find out for myself. I plan on making more too - as soon as the cucumbers decide to cooperate!
I also made numerous batches of zucchini brownies. Trust me - I'm an addict. I made numerous batches. Okay - maybe it was two. But it seemed like a lot. I plan to make more. I don't have a picture of them because they are gone in an instant. Here's the recipe - you try it too!! http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Zucchini-Brownies/Detail.aspx
And then, because I still had zucchini coming out my ears. I decided to make these: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Connies-Zucchini-Crab-Cakes/Detail.aspx
They tasted like shit and we ended up throwing them away. Which was really a shame because think of all the brownies I could have had with the zucchini that went to waste in those nasty assed crab cakes. Don't make those - they are shitty.
And I went to World's of Fun. There are no pictures of that because I was stoned on Xanax and also because I didn't want to carry my camera or phone around with me. We went with my brother and his family. There were 9 of us. That's an odd number. And the kids ranged in ages from 18-6. It was approximately 786 degrees that day we went. Perfect weather for trapsing on black asphalt with a slew of kids. I mostly hated fucking Camp Snoopy and I think in my heat induced state, I may have threatened to kill Snoopy. I know I told the kids who wanted to go on the "rides" in Camp Snoopy NO and that if all they wanted to do was jump on a fucking bouncy castle, I could have rented one for the ENTIRE week for what it cost me to get them into Worlds of Fun. I'm fun to take to places like that. Mainly because I'm highly tolerant of children and am always able to be understanding and patient.
I don't think I'll be invited next year.
I spent a lot of time shopping - for going back to school shit. On one adventure to Bed Bath & Beyond - the brunette and I ran across this little gem:
If you've read my stance on body hair, you'll be VERY surprised to learn I did NOT purchase this for my husband. Although I did put it on the list of shit to get him for his birthday.
There was a storm that came through - I think it was just last Friday actually - and I looked out the back window and saw this:
And then I cried. And while I was crying, I decided to look out the front window. And I saw a rainbow - both ends were in view. I took a picture, but I'm too damned lazy to upload it at the moment. Fine. Here it is:
So I cried some more.
Then I moved the prodigal son 3+ hours away to college. His new life. Without me. It was my birthday. And also my ex husband and his 52 kids and wife went along. We were just like a traveling circus. 9 of us - ranging in age from 44 - 2. Dropping an 18 year old off at college. My favorite part of the day was when my step-wife placed a framed picture of her, my ex, and their 52 kids on the prodigal son's desk. It was logical. They've been there for every single major rite of passage in his life. It only stood to reason he should have a framed picture of them on his desk in his dorm. I didn't have a picture of us handy in my purse. Hell, I couldn't even remember the last time we had a family picture taken. I think it was 6 years ago. He was still shorter than me. My heart bled with this realization and tears welled up. How could I have fucking forgotten to bring a picture of our family for his room? What the hell kind of mother was I? I looked over toward their picture again - it was face down on the desk. I was the BEST kind of mother - that's what I was. He didn't need a picture of us - we've been there at every single lousy assed practice, game, concert, recital. It was US that was there for the pain and the tears and the lessons. But by crocky, it was THEM that was there that day - the biggest fucking day of his life so far - of course they'd be there - it's important to steal my thunder - rob me of my moment with him. As I squeezed him damned near to death hugged him, and kissed his cheek over and over, my throat got a huge lump in it - but I didn't cry. I made him promise he'd look both ways before he crossed the street and then I kissed him one last time and walked away. And when I got out to the car, I took one last look back toward his dorm - AND THERE HE WAS STANDING 2 DAMNED FEET BEHIND ME. And that's all I needed to see to know that it was as hard on him as it was on me. And I can't type about this anymore right now because NOW I've decided to bawl. I'm so proud of him. He even cleaned his room before he left - see:
So that pretty much sums it up! I'm sure there are some other things I did - none of which I guess were terribly exciting. If I think of them, you can bet I'll write about them!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Hi! Hand over ALL your Money...........
.... and PLEASE - make that in the form of multiple checks - preferably an entire BOOK of checks. Thank you.
School enrollment day. What a complete cluster fuck. The ONLY good part about it is that I only had 2 to enroll in the public school system today rather than the normal 3. Had I been blogging a year ago it would have been the same story - but even worse. If I knew how the hell to do a lick of math I'd tell you exactly by how much it would be worse - or by how much it was better this year just by virtue of having one less kid - but I suck at math and I've been telling my calculator for an hour what I want it to perform and it just sits there looking back at me like it can't hear me or something. (By the way - it's MY idea to have a calculator that just LISTEN to plain English and return the value - so don't be all stealing my idea and shit).
Anyway - so enrollment. It always starts out with "fill out the paper work."
Where the hell is the paperwork you had on file last year? Couldn't you just ask me if there are any changes to it? Wouldn't that make a helluva lot more sense not only to ME, but to you - because now you have to pay someone to fucking rekey that shit into the computer. You use computers, I assume?
Fill out more paperwork: Child's Name; Date of Birth; Gender; Other Children in the Home; Address; Phone Numbers; so on and so forth.
Why? I fucking told you her name on the first piece of paper I filled out - it hasn't changed in the 6' we traveled to get to the "STEP 2" table. This could be SO much more efficient people - you HAVE heard of computers and databases haven't you?
Please write out a check for $124.
For WHAT?
Textbooks and fees.
I thought this was a FREE education?
It is.
No. It's not. You just told me to write a fairly large check.
That's for fees.
For what?
Textbooks, lockers, copies, internet, BOWLING.
BOWLING? What.the.fuck. does that have to do with an education?
Your child enrolled in bowling.
I don't even understand why in the hell you would OFFER a dumbass class like bowling. Don't you have life-skills classes here, like BASKETWEAVING?
No. We ran out of reeds.
Ah - good. A teacher with a sense of humor. Good enough then - you tricky fuck - here's your $124 check - BYE!!
No - you need to go to "that" table over there - "STEP 3" and fill out some more forms.
- Child's Name?
The same as it has been since we walked in here and the same it's always been for 15 years. Yet I was handed some more forms - to fill out the same damned information - name, address, phone number, other children in the house, etc. ITS THE SAME PEOPLE - IT'S CALLED A DATABASE - FUCKING BUILD ONE!
I'll need a check for $50.
For what?
A yearbook.
Fine.
You only want one yearbook?
I only have ONE high school student - what would I do with more than one yearbook?
Do you want it personalized?
Does it cost more?
Yes.
Then no- we have a sharpie at home - I'll write her name on it there.
Proceed to Table 4 please.....
Where they now want MORE money - activity fees. Lunch money. You want to boost the band? The fine arts? NO - I want to get online - fill out the basic information ONCE - ONCE - you hear me? ONCE - when they enroll in kindygarten. And then each year I want to UPDATE that information - because her name never fucking changes. NEVER. Neither does her date of birth. NOR do her parents or siblings - they are ALWAYS the same. And I want to then associate each child to each other so YOU can figure out who goes with whom. I'm sick of writing it down over and over and over and over - and I'm SICK of writing 15 checks at one school to enroll - it's called an accounting system - GET ONE. Jesus. You CAN split one check out and send it "on the books" to different places.
Then I went to the elementary school where it was the same shit - over and over and over - and they want $97 for a 2nd grader to go to school.
Are you fucking kidding me? I just paid that SAME textbook rental fee for a sophomore.
Our books are expensive.
They are NOT. They cannot be the same price as those used at the high school. I don't believe you.
Do you want a spirit shirt?
No I don't want a fucking spirit shirt.
Well here's an order form anyway - you may change your mind.
What I need is a damned school supply list.
Which they happily provided and as I read it discovered I have to not only provide 2 reams of copy paper BUT - I also need to provide:
4 tennis balls (likely for the chairs) - which is fucking fascinating because they are sold in tubes of 3. So I had to buy 2 tubes and now I have 2 balls left over. Maybe I'll strap them on and march up to the next school board meeting and have a little chat with them about inefficiencies and how they cause WASTE and how better off their finances would be if they weren't so fucking stupid and go themselves better organized. Look. You want tennis balls on the chairs - fine. I can appreciate that - I also hate loud noise (but notice I also intentionally do not work in a school - but whatever) - so what you do is simple - you count the chairs you have (fuck, even I can do THIS math problem) then you multiply that number by 4. Then that's the TOTAL number of balls you need. Then you either a) go online and find them at a great price in bulk and pass that cost to each child on a pro-rata basis (I'll explain how to figure that later if you need me to because I can also do that math problem) - OR b) you just take the TOTAL - then divide it by 3 (since balls are sold in tubes of 3) and you determine how many TUBES of balls you need. Then you take that number, multiply it by the cost of a tube of balls plus the sales tax - that's becomes your TOTAL cost of buying the balls by the tube - then you divide that number by the number of kids in your class and tell each parent to just pay that amount. Oh - - and YOU go to fucking Walmart and buy the balls yourself since YOU are the one that actually wants them and they add NOTHING to the overall value of my child's education. It's simple.
Next asinine thing on the list - 2 BLACK bullet point Dry-Erase Markers. They don't MAKE bullet point Dry-Erase markers. They have CHISEL point - is that what you mean? Oh - and guess what? They do not sell them in bundles of 2 BLACK - you can get 2 - but they are different colors - and you can get 4 - but they, too, are different colors. But you cannot buy 2 together that are black. Nor can you just buy 1. Sorry. They do not sell those at Walmarts. So again - ORDER THEM IN FUCKING BULK AND JUST PASS THE 72 CENTS ON TO ME. Or maybe - I'll just order them in bulk and donate them to you and save all the parents a trip around town trying to find something that does not fucking exist.
I think EVERY teacher should have to shop their school supply list at least ONCE. Shop it at Walmarts like we all do. See how much fucking sense it makes. Try it.
But the good news: instead of $1,000 free education enrollment day like it was last year - I got out of that place spending only $600!!! WOO HOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! I ROCK!!!
Oh wait - I haven't bought school clothes or put money in lunch accounts yet.
Shit.
School enrollment day. What a complete cluster fuck. The ONLY good part about it is that I only had 2 to enroll in the public school system today rather than the normal 3. Had I been blogging a year ago it would have been the same story - but even worse. If I knew how the hell to do a lick of math I'd tell you exactly by how much it would be worse - or by how much it was better this year just by virtue of having one less kid - but I suck at math and I've been telling my calculator for an hour what I want it to perform and it just sits there looking back at me like it can't hear me or something. (By the way - it's MY idea to have a calculator that just LISTEN to plain English and return the value - so don't be all stealing my idea and shit).
Anyway - so enrollment. It always starts out with "fill out the paper work."
Where the hell is the paperwork you had on file last year? Couldn't you just ask me if there are any changes to it? Wouldn't that make a helluva lot more sense not only to ME, but to you - because now you have to pay someone to fucking rekey that shit into the computer. You use computers, I assume?
Fill out more paperwork: Child's Name; Date of Birth; Gender; Other Children in the Home; Address; Phone Numbers; so on and so forth.
Why? I fucking told you her name on the first piece of paper I filled out - it hasn't changed in the 6' we traveled to get to the "STEP 2" table. This could be SO much more efficient people - you HAVE heard of computers and databases haven't you?
Please write out a check for $124.
For WHAT?
Textbooks and fees.
I thought this was a FREE education?
It is.
No. It's not. You just told me to write a fairly large check.
That's for fees.
For what?
Textbooks, lockers, copies, internet, BOWLING.
BOWLING? What.the.fuck. does that have to do with an education?
Your child enrolled in bowling.
I don't even understand why in the hell you would OFFER a dumbass class like bowling. Don't you have life-skills classes here, like BASKETWEAVING?
No. We ran out of reeds.
Ah - good. A teacher with a sense of humor. Good enough then - you tricky fuck - here's your $124 check - BYE!!
No - you need to go to "that" table over there - "STEP 3" and fill out some more forms.
The same as it has been since we walked in here and the same it's always been for 15 years. Yet I was handed some more forms - to fill out the same damned information - name, address, phone number, other children in the house, etc. ITS THE SAME PEOPLE - IT'S CALLED A DATABASE - FUCKING BUILD ONE!
I'll need a check for $50.
For what?
A yearbook.
Fine.
You only want one yearbook?
I only have ONE high school student - what would I do with more than one yearbook?
Do you want it personalized?
Does it cost more?
Yes.
Then no- we have a sharpie at home - I'll write her name on it there.
Proceed to Table 4 please.....
Where they now want MORE money - activity fees. Lunch money. You want to boost the band? The fine arts? NO - I want to get online - fill out the basic information ONCE - ONCE - you hear me? ONCE - when they enroll in kindygarten. And then each year I want to UPDATE that information - because her name never fucking changes. NEVER. Neither does her date of birth. NOR do her parents or siblings - they are ALWAYS the same. And I want to then associate each child to each other so YOU can figure out who goes with whom. I'm sick of writing it down over and over and over and over - and I'm SICK of writing 15 checks at one school to enroll - it's called an accounting system - GET ONE. Jesus. You CAN split one check out and send it "on the books" to different places.
Then I went to the elementary school where it was the same shit - over and over and over - and they want $97 for a 2nd grader to go to school.
Are you fucking kidding me? I just paid that SAME textbook rental fee for a sophomore.
Our books are expensive.
They are NOT. They cannot be the same price as those used at the high school. I don't believe you.
Do you want a spirit shirt?
No I don't want a fucking spirit shirt.
Well here's an order form anyway - you may change your mind.
What I need is a damned school supply list.
Which they happily provided and as I read it discovered I have to not only provide 2 reams of copy paper BUT - I also need to provide:
4 tennis balls (likely for the chairs) - which is fucking fascinating because they are sold in tubes of 3. So I had to buy 2 tubes and now I have 2 balls left over. Maybe I'll strap them on and march up to the next school board meeting and have a little chat with them about inefficiencies and how they cause WASTE and how better off their finances would be if they weren't so fucking stupid and go themselves better organized. Look. You want tennis balls on the chairs - fine. I can appreciate that - I also hate loud noise (but notice I also intentionally do not work in a school - but whatever) - so what you do is simple - you count the chairs you have (fuck, even I can do THIS math problem) then you multiply that number by 4. Then that's the TOTAL number of balls you need. Then you either a) go online and find them at a great price in bulk and pass that cost to each child on a pro-rata basis (I'll explain how to figure that later if you need me to because I can also do that math problem) - OR b) you just take the TOTAL - then divide it by 3 (since balls are sold in tubes of 3) and you determine how many TUBES of balls you need. Then you take that number, multiply it by the cost of a tube of balls plus the sales tax - that's becomes your TOTAL cost of buying the balls by the tube - then you divide that number by the number of kids in your class and tell each parent to just pay that amount. Oh - - and YOU go to fucking Walmart and buy the balls yourself since YOU are the one that actually wants them and they add NOTHING to the overall value of my child's education. It's simple.
Next asinine thing on the list - 2 BLACK bullet point Dry-Erase Markers. They don't MAKE bullet point Dry-Erase markers. They have CHISEL point - is that what you mean? Oh - and guess what? They do not sell them in bundles of 2 BLACK - you can get 2 - but they are different colors - and you can get 4 - but they, too, are different colors. But you cannot buy 2 together that are black. Nor can you just buy 1. Sorry. They do not sell those at Walmarts. So again - ORDER THEM IN FUCKING BULK AND JUST PASS THE 72 CENTS ON TO ME. Or maybe - I'll just order them in bulk and donate them to you and save all the parents a trip around town trying to find something that does not fucking exist.
I think EVERY teacher should have to shop their school supply list at least ONCE. Shop it at Walmarts like we all do. See how much fucking sense it makes. Try it.
But the good news: instead of $1,000 free education enrollment day like it was last year - I got out of that place spending only $600!!! WOO HOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! I ROCK!!!
Oh wait - I haven't bought school clothes or put money in lunch accounts yet.
Shit.
Monday, August 2, 2010
The night monster trucks and loggers took over the world
So I just had the worst night of non-sleep. I'm not sure what triggered it - exhaustion from the weekend? Withdrawal from whiskey? (It had been almost 15 hours). Anxiety? Pre-menopause? Likely all those things. It started when I was shook from a decent sleep by the sound of the doorbell in the middle of the night. I got up, irritated that the husband didn't budge or offer to check the door and what was going on. As soon as I walked toward the door, I could see the lights of a police car or other emergency vehicle outside of the house. But when I looked out the front window to verify it was an official at the front door, instead what I saw was the entire front yard full of loggers - men dressed in jeans and flannel shirts - drinking and littering my yard with beer cans and liquor bottles. And they were all driving monster trucks and had parked them all over my lawn.
Of course I immediately ran to the phone to dial 911 and as soon as I dialed, one of those loggers hopped in his monster truck and drove it - straight into our house. I was standing in the pantry we've only talked about building and watching the monster truck heading toward me and nothing was making sense - I couldn't speak to the operator - my voice would not work because it was totally stricken silent from fear. But somehow I managed to get the words out - they were broken and high pitched and I was angry I couldn't speak them fluidly or clearly for the operator. And then it was quiet. The person on the other end did not speak or offer reassurance. I stared at the phone wondering how they would know where I lived and to where to send help. Then DUH - of course moron - it's the LAND LINE - they can track that shit. Help will be here soon.
And then I woke up. For real this time. It was a damned nightmare - there wasn't anyone in the yard or at the door. It was the non-existent pantry that tipped me off to the whole thing and likely started pushing my mind out of the deep sleep to a state of consciousness. Loggers. Monster trucks. Why in the hell would I dream about any of these things? I hadn't seen or watched, nor do I even know any loggers. I did read an article about a teenager being killed at a monster truck show over the weekened. We did get a call last evening asking what was going on near our house because a friend had seen lights (but we never saw them nor did we have a clue what he was talking about). It was terribly disturbing though. And then I couldn't fall back to sleep the way I needed and wanted to the rest of the night.
Plagued. By hot flashes. I'm hot. I tear off the blanket and flip the pillow. I'm cold. I cover up. I'm hot. I tear off the blanket and flip the pillow. I'm cold. I cover up. I hear that women go crazy during menopause. It's likely true. Who wouldn't? Loggers. Monster trucks attacking your house. Hiding out in places you have only talked about building. The inability to stabilize your body temperature for more than 10 minutes at a time. It's enough to drive the sanest people over the edge.
The alarm went off at 5:55. I hit snooze and dozed back off. Then, when I awakened again, I was pissed - that damned alarm had not gone off 9 minutes later as it was supposed to - I wondered if the snooze feature was finally shot from having been overworked all these years. I grabbed the clock and held it at arms length so I could see the damend thing - 5:58. Seriously? It had been but 2 minutes and my psychotic brain and body were telling me it had been hours.
Instead of getting straight in the shower as is my normal routine, I decided to blog and drink coffee first this morning. Looking to settle my mind from the trauma of the night. It's not working. I'm still shaking. And when I do get back upstairs to take my shower, the husband will likely quiz me as to why I did not follow my normal routine. And I will have to explain: Because I'm wore the fuck out from chasing loggers and monster trucks out of our yard all night and likely I also have PTS now - no thanks to you - fucker - sleeping through the entire ordeal.
Men. I will find a way to make this his fault. Trust my word.
Of course I immediately ran to the phone to dial 911 and as soon as I dialed, one of those loggers hopped in his monster truck and drove it - straight into our house. I was standing in the pantry we've only talked about building and watching the monster truck heading toward me and nothing was making sense - I couldn't speak to the operator - my voice would not work because it was totally stricken silent from fear. But somehow I managed to get the words out - they were broken and high pitched and I was angry I couldn't speak them fluidly or clearly for the operator. And then it was quiet. The person on the other end did not speak or offer reassurance. I stared at the phone wondering how they would know where I lived and to where to send help. Then DUH - of course moron - it's the LAND LINE - they can track that shit. Help will be here soon.
And then I woke up. For real this time. It was a damned nightmare - there wasn't anyone in the yard or at the door. It was the non-existent pantry that tipped me off to the whole thing and likely started pushing my mind out of the deep sleep to a state of consciousness. Loggers. Monster trucks. Why in the hell would I dream about any of these things? I hadn't seen or watched, nor do I even know any loggers. I did read an article about a teenager being killed at a monster truck show over the weekened. We did get a call last evening asking what was going on near our house because a friend had seen lights (but we never saw them nor did we have a clue what he was talking about). It was terribly disturbing though. And then I couldn't fall back to sleep the way I needed and wanted to the rest of the night.
Plagued. By hot flashes. I'm hot. I tear off the blanket and flip the pillow. I'm cold. I cover up. I'm hot. I tear off the blanket and flip the pillow. I'm cold. I cover up. I hear that women go crazy during menopause. It's likely true. Who wouldn't? Loggers. Monster trucks attacking your house. Hiding out in places you have only talked about building. The inability to stabilize your body temperature for more than 10 minutes at a time. It's enough to drive the sanest people over the edge.
The alarm went off at 5:55. I hit snooze and dozed back off. Then, when I awakened again, I was pissed - that damned alarm had not gone off 9 minutes later as it was supposed to - I wondered if the snooze feature was finally shot from having been overworked all these years. I grabbed the clock and held it at arms length so I could see the damend thing - 5:58. Seriously? It had been but 2 minutes and my psychotic brain and body were telling me it had been hours.
Instead of getting straight in the shower as is my normal routine, I decided to blog and drink coffee first this morning. Looking to settle my mind from the trauma of the night. It's not working. I'm still shaking. And when I do get back upstairs to take my shower, the husband will likely quiz me as to why I did not follow my normal routine. And I will have to explain: Because I'm wore the fuck out from chasing loggers and monster trucks out of our yard all night and likely I also have PTS now - no thanks to you - fucker - sleeping through the entire ordeal.
Men. I will find a way to make this his fault. Trust my word.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
More on Sunday
Okay, so I am totally a Facebook creeper. I admit it. I LOVE to look at other people's pictures on Facebook. And it's the people I don't really know but can get to their pics because a mutual friend is tagged or something - THOSE are the ones that I'm most intrigued by. So I'm clicking along in Facebook and procrastinating on getting my chores done and see that the Prodigal Son was tagged in a picture - so I go look. Well he's not actually in the picture - his truck is. So I keep going through all this little gal's pics and it's her and her 3 besties and they are doing this totally random shit around town and taking pics along the way. And I'm cracking up because I love young adults - I love their spirit and their zest for life and I love how they do just totally random shit without worrying what anyone else is thinking.
And then I figure it out - they were on a scavenger hunt, but instead of looking for shit, they had to perform all these random acts and it was totally hysterical. Some of the things they did:
1. Find a cop and take your picture with him eating a donut.
2. Pump a stranger's gas
3. Bag a stranger's groceries
4. and so on and so forth....
You get the picture. And it occurs to me that I'm pretty sure Lola over at http://www.raisinaruckus.typepad.com/ would definitely make up such a list and take her kids out for the day and do this kind of shit. And while I'm thinking of her giggling and running and taking pictures and building this amazing memory with her kids, I find myself totally fucking jealous of her and her random acts scavenger hunt that she's never even heard of (yet) and taken. Bitch gets to do all the fun shit. BUT THEN IT HITS ME: WE CAN MAKE THIS INTO A FAMILY EVENT! AND WE CAN ALL DO IT FROM WHEREVER AND PUT IT ON A SHARED SITE AS WE DO EACH OF THESE THINGS. OMG - I'm so totally brilliant!!!
Lola - when you read this - let me know if you're in and Reg you too! We can coordinate it and it would be so fun to collaborate on it and then get everyone involved!!!!!!
I'm a genius! If any of you reading this decide to embark on such an adventure - SHARE YOUR PICS and story!!!!
And then I figure it out - they were on a scavenger hunt, but instead of looking for shit, they had to perform all these random acts and it was totally hysterical. Some of the things they did:
1. Find a cop and take your picture with him eating a donut.
2. Pump a stranger's gas
3. Bag a stranger's groceries
4. and so on and so forth....
You get the picture. And it occurs to me that I'm pretty sure Lola over at http://www.raisinaruckus.typepad.com/ would definitely make up such a list and take her kids out for the day and do this kind of shit. And while I'm thinking of her giggling and running and taking pictures and building this amazing memory with her kids, I find myself totally fucking jealous of her and her random acts scavenger hunt that she's never even heard of (yet) and taken. Bitch gets to do all the fun shit. BUT THEN IT HITS ME: WE CAN MAKE THIS INTO A FAMILY EVENT! AND WE CAN ALL DO IT FROM WHEREVER AND PUT IT ON A SHARED SITE AS WE DO EACH OF THESE THINGS. OMG - I'm so totally brilliant!!!
Lola - when you read this - let me know if you're in and Reg you too! We can coordinate it and it would be so fun to collaborate on it and then get everyone involved!!!!!!
I'm a genius! If any of you reading this decide to embark on such an adventure - SHARE YOUR PICS and story!!!!
All Totally Random Shit
I was reading someone else's blog yesterday and as I read it, I found myself totally depressed by the writer's words. It was a predictable outcome in this person's life. I believe I even called it 20 years ago that this is what would ultimately become of this person. And now, as I read their blog, I was saddened by the reality. And also I felt a little guilty that I had predicted this would be the way it would come to be for them. I wonder if I ever warned them in my out loud voice - - likely not. I likely just mentioned it over and over again to other people behind their back. I wish I'd said it out loud. Now maybe their life would be different. I was also so disturbed by their words, that I found myself mentioning it to my husband later in the night. Telling him what had become of this person and their marriage and their life. And at that moment, I felt VERY lucky - to have married my best friend - someone who WANTS to be with me every waking moment of my life. Who will go to the ends of the earth to please me and do things for me and loves me no matter what. I decided to stop wasting my energy on being sad for this other person and instead invest that energy into my best friend and try to give back to him all the love he gives to me. Sometimes I'm not terribly loving or giving. I forget. It happens. Like now. While we all sit in separate rooms of the house. I guess we are all in need of our alone time though. I'll wander out there in a bit. Problem is, the minute I wander out, someone needs me for something. And sometimes I just don't want to feel needed. I just want to "be".
I have lost my sense of humor. I can't think of a single witty or clever thing to say. Somehow I've lost it. What I find is that I'm a know it all of sorts all of a sudden. I need to get the hell over that. I think I've always been a bit of a know it all - but that's not my fault. I can't be blamed because I know a lot of shit. Deal with it.
We're going on a family "trip" in week. A day at an amusement park. I'm already having anxiety attacks about it. There will be people there - lots of them. And some will be fat and stink. I bet they have germs too. And it will be hotter than hell. And I have to put my baby on a death trap ride. I've also convinced myself that there is a 99.9% chance someone will die while we are there. Should be a great day. We're going with my brother and his family. There will be 10 of us total. The kids age in range from 18-6. I'm going to take half a Xanax before I get in the car that morning - hopefully that will be enough to bury the anxiety and afford me a good time that day. I should also likely get some ear plugs. And Germ X. When did I totally lose my sense of adventure? I think walking to our back two acres is an adventure - one which I'm not willing to take but once a year. Seriously. When the hell did this happen?
The blonde wants me to go on a bike ride with her today. I want to. I really do. But it's just too damned hot. I'm staying in the house with the curtains closed and pretending it's winter outside. I might even make a pot of chili for dinner. Sometimes you just gotta have a break from the heat. It happens.
Good lord, is this not the most mundane post ever. Yes. Signing off...
I have lost my sense of humor. I can't think of a single witty or clever thing to say. Somehow I've lost it. What I find is that I'm a know it all of sorts all of a sudden. I need to get the hell over that. I think I've always been a bit of a know it all - but that's not my fault. I can't be blamed because I know a lot of shit. Deal with it.
We're going on a family "trip" in week. A day at an amusement park. I'm already having anxiety attacks about it. There will be people there - lots of them. And some will be fat and stink. I bet they have germs too. And it will be hotter than hell. And I have to put my baby on a death trap ride. I've also convinced myself that there is a 99.9% chance someone will die while we are there. Should be a great day. We're going with my brother and his family. There will be 10 of us total. The kids age in range from 18-6. I'm going to take half a Xanax before I get in the car that morning - hopefully that will be enough to bury the anxiety and afford me a good time that day. I should also likely get some ear plugs. And Germ X. When did I totally lose my sense of adventure? I think walking to our back two acres is an adventure - one which I'm not willing to take but once a year. Seriously. When the hell did this happen?
The blonde wants me to go on a bike ride with her today. I want to. I really do. But it's just too damned hot. I'm staying in the house with the curtains closed and pretending it's winter outside. I might even make a pot of chili for dinner. Sometimes you just gotta have a break from the heat. It happens.
Good lord, is this not the most mundane post ever. Yes. Signing off...
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