Fried.

This week has been killer at work. I’ve been doing all my regular ad scheduling, data gathering, spreadsheet inputting, marketing analysis stuff, but I’ve also been proofreading a book (the second of three) and listening to an interview (of sorts) while transcribing certain points of this interview. I’m classified as a part-time employee, but these past two weeks I may as well have been full-time. To say that my brain is mush, would be putting it mildly. My fingers won’t follow my brain’s commands and my brain feels like it’s fighting to run through molasses. I should have this sign on my desk.

 

 

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P.S. Even trying to find a sign was a struggle for my brain. So I just made one. Not nearly as funny as a real one, but it gets the idea across.

 

So given the fact that I can’t string together enough cohesive thoughts to make a whole post, I’ll just give you a few little tidbits that are jumping around in this skull of mine.

 

1. In the last five days, I think I’ve gotten about 26 hours of sleep. The person/animal that wakes me up tomorrow morning had better be severely injured or else they are going to be face to face with a very grouchy mama. Oh who am I kidding? There’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to sleep in. Between my dog and my four year old, I can kiss any hope of sleeping in goodbye.
2. I’m really fucking hungry but I can’t find a single thing that sounds even remotely good to eat. And I just went grocery shopping last night. I hate when that happens.
3. I bought some new hair clips at the store last night. Kind of like those butterfly clips, but with a slightly different shape and the words “Will not slip” on the cardboard. This is important to me because my hair is pretty fine and is constantly falling out of anything I try to put in it. I twisted my hair up onto the back of my head this morning, put a clip in, and completely forgot it was there! It’s fucking amazing to me that this clip has stayed in place for like 12 hours! Unheard of!
4. My daughter got a hamster for her 11th birthday last year. (I thought it was a bad idea given all the other animals we have in this house. And I did not want to end up being the one that cleaned it’s cage.) Tuesday, she noticed something on her little rat’s hamster’s face and she wanted to clean it off. Pretty soon she came running out of her room because whatever it was, was not coming off. She started freaking out – crying and generally being hysterical - because she didn’t know what was wrong with it. After some close examination on the part of Hubby and Drama Queen, they came to the conclusion it might be a tooth. (Did I mention I didn’t want the thing?) I looked it up online and sure enough, hamster’s teeth have been known to become over grown and puncture their cheek. All that needs to be done is for the tooth to be trimmed back to it’s normal size. Hubby called the vet the next morning and made plans to take her in Thursday morning to have it taken care of. All day Drama Queen was stewing around worried about what was happening. Thursday afternoon the vet called Hubby back and asked that he come in to talk about what needed to be done before they did anything. Not. A. Good. Sign. (Have I said that I thought getting this thing would be a bad idea?) Hubby and Drama Queen left to go see what was up. Drama Queen was only allowed to go if she promised to stay in the truck. Not too long later, the three of them were home. Protruding tooth and all. Hubby said it was going to be over $150 for the “surgery” to trim the tooth (which had become so overgrown that it actually started to curl because her lower tooth had fallen out and it had nothing to grind against to keep it naturally trim) and then we would have to keep bringing her back every so often to get it trimmed. At a price tag of more than $60 a pop. (Oh dear God, did I not say that we shouldn’t have let her get the damn thing?!) Hubby said thanks but no thanks, paid the $60+ dollars for them to do nothing but grace us with their presence, and brought her home. After a couple calls, he found another clinic that would do it for less, though not as little as I would have liked. It was farther away, but they made the trip this morning and the little rodent got her tooth trimmed. Apparently one of the vet assistants (are they called nurses, too?") said this was the worst overgrown hamster tooth she’d ever seen. (Joy. We’re the worst hamster owners ever. Maybe I should have been a little less vehement about not wanting the thing. Now I feel guilty) They even got to bring it home to show the rest of us. I was going to take a picture of it, but now I can’t find the pill bottle it was put in. I’m slightly disturbed that this tooth has suddenly gone missing. I just pray that Hubby threw it away and that Drama Queen didn’t sneak off with it somewhere. Though I suppose we should frame the damn thing since it cost us about $120!

 

Well, I’m going to have to leave it at that because, well because Drama Queen has been sitting here in the living room with me watching the Olympics and she won’t stop talking, and I can’t hear myself think. Add that to my already addled brain and you have a very unstable situation. And toss in some beer (can you see me smiling?) and who knows what could come out of my mouth. Or I guess my fingers in this case. Until next time.

Dare I Show My Face?

I feel really guilty. Like really REALLY guilty. I’ve been away from here for so long, I’m scared to pick it up again. Honestly, I was blown away to see that I still have followers. You all deserve great big hugs for that. I don’t deserve any of you.

 

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So to catch you up – in a nutshell – I’m doing okay. Thank you to those of you who worried about my sudden disappearance. I got a little bit obsessed with Facebook (that happens to me a lot, it’s a horrible personality trait that I have) and of course the kids and the snakes and some small odd jobs and all things domestic kept me very occupied. Then in February, I got a part time job away from home. Talk about a godsend. I was seriously losing my mind just staying at home with the kids all the time. I work in advertising, (not the creative part of it, though I do a little with that) doing scheduling and analysis. I also am my boss’ secretary in a way. And I also get to do a lot of proofreading work, which is really cool. Right now I’m proofing three different books. Not fiction, but you can’t have it all, right? I love the work. I love the people. Well – most of the people, but that’s a story for another day. But even with that, I’m glad to be there. And now it’s even more of a godsend because we’ve put the kids in private school. The extra income is definitely needed now. I just realized though that now that I’m working I have to change my bio. Not totally a stay-at-home mom anymore. Dammit! Okay, I’m kidding. It’s not that big of a deal. I guess.

 

But, here I am, trying my hand at this again. I’m trying to catch up with all the blogs that I follow because good lord, there have been some major changes in the lives of those I love to read. But that guilt thing is raising it’s ugly head again because there’s no way I can catch all the way back up. I apologize. I feel like I’ve let you down. I’m going to try. Things are always crazy here, but I really feel like I need that verbal spewing where I can just say whatever I think. Goodness knows I can’t do that at home and work has lots of rules (no swearing, which I could completely understand if we were always with the public, but we’re in the back offices and rarely see the public), so I’m on full censorship there.

 

(Side note: when I searched for “guilty face” for a picture to use, this is what came up.)

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One last thing before I go. I’m attempting to change the look of it here (I know. I know…it’s not happening very fast. These things take time. Patience people! Said the least patient person on the planet.) and I’m trying to get Kat’s button to show up here. No luck yet. We’ll see what other things I can spice up around here.

 

So thank you again my loyal followers. You are the best of the blogosphere. You sure made this erratic lady feel good.

Nonsensical Babble

So yeah. Wow.

 

My followers are dropping like flies. But that’s okay. My last few posts were pretty doom and gloom and who wants to sit and read that crap? Hell, I wouldn’t want to be around me either. It’s just my luck that I can’t get away from myself.

 

Anyway. I still have my faithful friends reading this, so I’ll continue with what I was originally planning. My brain isn’t really firing on all cylinders today, so I’ll just apologize in advance if this doesn’t make much sense. It’s not making a whole lot of sense in my brain yet either. We’ll just wade through this nonsense together, shall we?

 

Have any of you (you know, the ten people reading this) ever had a quote, whether it be from a book or a movie or maybe from another person, pop into your head and you just can’t place where it originated? Or worse yet, have something pop into your head that you can’t place but don’t even know why it showed up in the first place? Anyone, anyone? No? Okay, it must just be me then.

 

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That’s been my whole day today. The first instance does actually have a reason for being in my head, but I just can’t seem to figure out where it came from. I was washing my hands and looked at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t even a “I’m going to study myself in the mirror and notice every flaw and every attribute.” (Oh crap, am I the only one that does that too?!) No, this was just a “glance at my reflection for something to do while washing my hands” kind of look. I was wearing one of Hubby’s old sweatshirts and of course it’s much too big for me. And I noticed that because it made my shoulders look much broader and my arms look about twice as big as normal, it actually made me look like my head had shrunk. And I got the image from a movie of a guy that has his head shrunk on his shoulders. But I couldn’t figure out what movie. All. Day. I kept bringing the image into my mind and tried adding more detail to it to make it clearer. Tried to concentrate on the actor’s face to help me out. Tried adding dialogue that might clue me in. Finally, tonight, I came to the conclusion that I think it was from the movie “Beetlejuice”, but I’m still not 100% sure. Michael Keaton did get his head shrunk in “Beetlejuice”, didn’t he?

 

(Side question. Are movie titles underlined or in quotes? It’s so hard to remember all the grammatical rules even when I’m not feeling like only half of my brain is functioning.)

 

Then, again in the bathroom, (What? That’s about the only place where I get two minutes of absolute silence so it’s not unusual for my brain to run rampant then. Well, if I’m lucky and don’t have the three year old following me in. Or calling for me on the other side of the locked door. Yes, I lock myself in the bathroom. I’ll take peace and quiet any way I can get it.)

 

But, back to my story. I was in the bathroom and for no apparent reason, a line from a movie popped into my head. It was, “What with him being dead an’ all.” That was it and I can’t understand why that particular line decided to make an appearance. Again, I couldn’t remember where it had come from. I kept hearing it being said by Sandra Bullock (love her! fyi), but it wasn’t loud enough or clear enough for me to be sure. So, being the obsessive personality that I am, I ran it over and over in my head in hopes of placing the line. The best I can come up with is maybe “Practical Magic” but I can’t remember the context enough to be sure.

 

This shit happens to me all the time and I make myself nuts analyzing the where’s and why’s of it. I’ve woken up with songs in my head with no explanation why they’re there. Probably the weirdest one was one morning waking up with a Lady Gaga song, but I couldn’t tell you which one because I don’t listen to her music. Like. At. All. Not even a station that might play her music. I’m a country music girl all the way. (Well, with a lot of Tori Amos and a smattering of other non-country stuff from high school on my mp3 player.) The only reason I knew it was her was because it’s one of the songs from the X-Box Kinect game Dance Central. So maybe I was dreaming about the one night I played that game at my sister’s house. Who knows. Maybe it’s my subconscious trying to send me messages. Or maybe I’m farther off my rocker than I thought.

 

I seriously do wish I could come up with a reason for half the nonsense that rattles around inside my brain. But I honestly don’t think there is a rational explanation to be found.

Spring Break For Kids?

This week starts the beginning of Spring Break for my daughter’s school district. It also just happens to correspond with the end of the trimester, meaning early dismissals and parent/teacher conferences. Translation? Hell for parents! For working parents it means figuring out childcare for the three days of early dismissal and the six weekdays (yes, I said six!) they are off for spring break. For stay-at-home parents like myself, it means listening to my kids bicker and fight for those six should-be school days. And an interrupted naptime schedule for the early dismissal days. (For my three year old. Not for me. Although a nap is sounding pretty good right about now.) I think I’d like to put in for a well deserved respite from my kids vacation. Too bad the odds of that happening are about as good as lightning striking a lotto jackpot winner.

 

But seriously, who came up with the idea that elementary kids needed spring break? When I was a kid, we got an Easter Break and that consisted of Good Friday and the Monday after Easter. That’s it folks. The rest of the time our sorry little butts were in our desks. Even in high school we didn’t get a spring break. Sure I would have liked the days off to just lay around and be lazy (or grab more hours at work when I was old enough to have a job), but it didn’t really matter all that much to me. I mean, it’s not like I had big plans to head down to Daytona Beach or Cancun or whatever other hot spot for spring break. Come on. It’s high school. We’re teenagers. Not college students.

 

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I guarantee when my kids are in high school, they are not going to be allowed on any spring break trips unless it’s a family one. (And it certainly won’t look like the picture!) There is no possible way I would ever allow that. I’ve heard too many tales, seen too many news stories, and watched too much MTV spring break specials to ever consider it.

 

And elementary? Really? What are they gonna do? Plan a trip to Chuck E. Cheese for five straight days?! Campout in the park? I haven’t heard of too many parents planning spring break vacations with their kids either. The whole thing is just craziness I think. Elementary kids, and even middle school and high school students do not need six days off for spring break. I hope the teachers do something really extravagant because from the way I see it, they’re the only ones who are coming out on top in this bargain.

 

Now just so you don’t think all I ever do is bitch (although I will admit I do it a lot. Ask my poor husband.), I’ll do something a la Paul and list three good things that happened yesterday.

 

1. I had an awesome sandwich for lunch yesterday and I’m having one again today. (Turkey on oat-nut bread with mayo, lettuce, and provolone cheese. So good!)
2. I got the majority of things done from my list. (Too bad some of the things like laundry and dishes keep multiplying and are never truly done.)
3. At my PTA meeting last night I got to jerk the chain of City PTA. (I take such joy from disagreeing with them, I think there must be something wrong with me.) A member had attended the last City PTA meeting where the officers for City were asking those who attended to go back to their individual units and get money to pay for the lunches at State Convention (which is being held in our town) of seven little old ladies that normally attend the Founder’s Day luncheon that was cancelled. I raised the question that since they have $200 in their budget to cover Founder’s Day and they’re not having it why do they need money from us? That made everyone pause and reconsider whether or not we really need to take money out of our budget to pay for something that isn’t our responsibility. The issue is tabled for now and it makes me happy. (I must have an evil streak in me.)

If I Woke Up In A Psych Ward

I noticed this morning on Facebook that there’s one of those status games floating around. Normally I usually don’t pay attention to any of them. I rarely do the “re-post as your status” things because honestly, who cares? This one however, did catch my eye.

It said, “You and I wake up in a psychiatric ward together. Using 4 words, what would you say to me? NOTE: If you comment you must copy and past this to your status, so I may comment on yours as well.... Be a good sport and play along.... 4 words is harder then you think.”

I didn’t feel like commenting and re-posting, but I thought what an interesting thing to blog about! (And, really, isn’t it great when a blog topic just sort of falls into your lap?) The first thing I thought of when I read “wake up in a psych ward” was, “Some days I think I actually should be in a psych ward.” The second thing I thought was, (if I woke up in a psych ward I would say) “I like it here!” I mean, really. I’d be able to just relax and not have kids and all sorts of people nagging me and needing me (in a purely non-sexual way; I’m all for needing me sexually) and expecting the world from me. It would just be me. Maybe they’d let me have my books. My laptop? Probably not. Sure, there would be pesky doctors and nurses around, but think about the meds they could give me!

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To say that I’ve been stressed is putting it lightly. Aside from the kids and family, there are tons of things pulling me in all directions. I think the biggest one right now is PTA. I’ve been Treasurer of my daughter’s elementary school PTA for two and a half years. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t like it anymore. The work load is immense and every time I turn around there’s another meeting being scheduled that I have to attend. I just got an email yesterday from one of our presidents (whom I love dearly and enjoy spending time with) but she was setting up our next board meeting. I thought to myself, “Didn’t we just finish our last board meeting?!” Well, yes and no. It was in the middle of February when we had it. So yes, we did just have one, but no because it’s already been two and a half weeks. And there was a City PTA meeting that I should have gone to, but skipped because I have reached the point where I just don’t give a shit about what City PTA is doing. (Because we have multiple elementary, middle and high schools, there is a City PTA that brings all the units together. It’s total bullshit in my opinion.) And I have a meeting of the whole next week. It’s really good that I don’t have a job outside of the house. I cannot wait for July to come because then I will no longer be an officer. Or even a member of PTA anymore. I’ve had it! I’m throwing in the towel. I have come to the conclusion that all the effort I spend fighting City PTA isn’t going to change how they operate and I don’t want to waste my time and sanity on it any more. And because I don’t like the way they operate, but refuse to change, I refuse to give them any more of my money. I decided that I am no longer going to shell out my membership dues to a group that doesn’t manage it wisely. And you know what? I’m proud of myself for saying enough is enough. Maybe they won’t miss my contributions next year because my daughter will be at middle school and most of them won’t know me. But if they knew me from my time at the elementary school, they would miss what I could have done for them. (I know it sounds like I’m tooting my own horn, but I really have made a difference in the PTA I’m in now.)

I’m also stressing today because of this Facebook group that I joined. Here I was thinking I could take it slow and gradually work myself into it. Nope. They threw me right into the deep end! Although, it’s probably a small role that I’ll be performing, but I want it to be right and I don’t have much time to research it. So I’ve been scouring my books and the internet on how to draw out evil spirits from an object. I have searched and searched and am coming up pretty empty. So I think I’m just going to have to make it up. Cross your fingers for me. I know once I get a couple of these storylines under my belt, I’ll feel more comfortable, but right now I’m freaking out. And I know that it’s supposed to be fun, but I’m such a perfectionist. I can’t help going to the extreme to make things right. That may explain why I get so stressed out about things all the time.

But anyway, back to me waking up in a psych ward. What would I say? (There’s no way I can limit myself to four words. That’s just not gonna happen.)

“Is this where I sign up?”

“I’d like some of that too.”

“I’m claustrophobic. Can you take the straight jacket off? I’ll just sit here. I promise.”

“Shock therapy isn’t really my thing, but a massage would be great.”

I Think My Dog Is Plotting Against Me

I’m sure you’re asking yourselves, “why would he do that?” And I don’t really know the answer to that. He’s got a fabulous life now. I’m trade with him in a second. Bristol (yes, named after Bristol Motor Speedway) pretty much only eats and sleeps with the occasional five minutes of running around after a toy. (He’s not big on exercise.) But maybe it’s pay back for the days before my new fancy laptop when I would spend my son’s entire nap time on the computer and not on the couch with him. (He really likes laying next to people on the couch under a blanket. He gets cold easily.) Or maybe it’s for the nights when he was a puppy and I subscribed to the philosophy that dogs were not meant to sleep in bed with their owner, but in a crate in the kitchen. (He hogs the bed now.) Or maybe it’s because he hates going outside to do his “business” when it’s cold out. Whatever the reason, I’m convinced he’s out to get me.

 

 

“Now, what on Earth would give me that idea?” I can hear you muttering to yourselves. I know you think I’m crazy. Maybe so. But listen to the evidence before judging.

 

I like to have peace and quiet. Like 85% of the time. I’m not a rowdy person. (Usually.) I like quiet activities. If I had the entire house to myself for a whole day with no TV, phone, or radio, I would be perfectly happy. You won’t hear a complaint from me. How I’ll raise two kids to the age of 18 and get them moved out before I lose my sanity is sort of beyond me. But I digress. My dog, like I mentioned before, is a pretty inactive little guy. He’s perfect that way. But he also thinks he’s a big guard dog. (Aside from being part cat and half human, as my husband likes to say.) Part of being a guard dog in his expert opinion, is barking at every single noise he thinks he hears and every single motion he thinks he sees outside. I am fortunate to live sort of out in the country (even though it is a subdivision) and in an area that doesn’t get a lot of traffic driving by. I would without a doubt suffer from hysterics if I were in town. No matter how many times I’ve heard my dog bark, it still startles me every time he starts. And there are times when I can’t get him to stop, making my nerves buzz like a power line knocked down in a storm.

 

Have you ever read a book where one of the characters (usually it’s a maternal figure) is overwhelmed by her nerves and headaches and has to spend hours upon hours in her bed? Like Mrs. Bennett in Pride and Prejudice or Emily Tallis in Atonement? Sometimes I swear that is not a far stretch for me. If only I had servants that would take care of the children and running the household for me.

 

So imagine Mrs. Bennett with my dog barking at every little sound and every leaf that happens to blow by. That’s me.

 

And, even worse, my dog will do it when I’m sleeping. My bedroom is on the far side of our house which is situated unfortunately close to our next door neighbor’s garage. They have two dogs of their own and one of them is constantly barking. So there are nights when I’m trying to sleep and the neighbors put their dogs out (sometimes as late as 11 or 12 at night) before they go to bed. My dog will hear the other dog barking outside and lose his mind. He goes absolutely batty! I throw myself to the foot of the bed to make him stop, not only for my own sake, but so that he doesn’t wake up my son. (My daughter is old enough to go back to bed on her own without any help from me.) Repeat the exact situation but at 5:30 in the morning when the neighbors wake up and have to put their dogs out. If that isn’t a shock to the system that is probably whittling days off my life, I don’t know what is.

 

But, I can still hear you thinking, “Sounds like pretty typical dog behavior. I’m sure it’s nothing personal.” Possibly. But he plots against me in another way. And what’s worse, I think my son is in on it.

 

Let me explain the insanity of my house. Before my son was born, it was my husband, me, our daughter, and our dog. Bristol is a boy, but more than that, he’s a miniature dachshund. A.k.a weiner dog. So my husband and the dog formed what Hubby calls, “The Weiner Club.” (First rule of The Weiner Club is that there is no Weiner Club.) So when my son was born, he was allowed into the club based on the fact that he has, well, you know. A weiner. There are times when my husband will be sitting on the floor doing something with my son and Bristol will come over and join the group. And no joke, they sit at the three corners of a triangle. When my husband would see this happening, he would declare that a meeting of The Weiner Club was taking place. When I would notice what was happening, my husband would quickly disband the group and they would go their separate ways. This is just one example of the silliness that occurs in my house nearly every day.

 

But back to how Bristol is plotting against me. I said before that he doesn’t like to go outside to do his business because of the cold. On the really cold winter days, we will usually leave the garage door down so that he could do his stuff without having to actually go all the way outside. Now, it’s turning into a habit, even though it is starting to warm up outside. His favorite place to poop is directly underneath the driver’s door or the backseat door on the driver’s side. Now, most of the time, I notice it and remember that it’s there long enough to get it scooped up and thrown away before it causes problems. But there are days when I swear the dog has covert meetings with my son and they arrange for my son to thrown a major temper tantrum right as we’re getting ready to leave the house. When that happens I’m so preoccupied with pinning my son into the car seat that I forget about that nice little present Bristol has left for me. And as I step down out of the backseat onto the garage floor, I step right into it.

 

Today was the second time this winter it’s happened. Which I suppose isn’t terrible when you think of all the days winter has. But when it’s stuck to the bottom of your shoe, it’s pretty terrible.

 

Could my dog be plotting my mental demise? Maybe not, but you never know…

I Just Can’t Focus Today

This seems to be a common affliction today. This lack of focus. My brain just doesn’t seem up to the task of processing anything. I’d like to blame it on lack of sleep, but I know I’ve been getting more sleep than my poor friends Kat (who’s so very sick; go over to her blog and give her some love) and Jewels (who’s been battling her own bouts of insomnia), so it doesn’t really seem right that I complain. But I did have two thoughts that I wanted to throw out there. If for nothing else than to free up the brain power it’s taking to ponder these ideas.

 

My laptop is supposed to be delivered today and according to the tracking information, is on the truck for delivery. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if part of the tracking details gave you an up-to-the minute GPS location? It seems too hard to pull off (from a company’s perspective), but think about it this way. If each truck (or airplane) were equipped with GPS (which I imagine most of them are), then all it would require for this GPS tracking would be one extra scan. They scan the package when it comes and goes from their “terminals” so if they could scan the ID of each vehicle it was going on to, that information could go into the computer system and their websites could show the GPS location of the package. That way you could see how far away the truck is from your home and wouldn’t have to keep looking out your window every 15 minutes to see if you can see the truck coming around the corner. Not like I am, or anything…

 

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My other thought was this: When you see an actor in two different shows playing totally different characters, does it affect how you look at each character? There is an actor that has a small role on Sesame Street’s “Elmo’s World.” His name is Bill Irwin and he plays Mr. Noodle.

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Last year, he took a role on one of my favorite shows, “CSI.” He plays a psychopath serial killer, Nate Haskill. I’m not sure if the character by itself freaks me out or if I’m more freaked out by him because I’ve seen him play this other character. Whichever the case, he’s scary!

 

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The fact that he is also a trained clown may be the reason for my fear. He’s always sort of disturbed me on Sesame Street, too. (I hate clowns! Scary, scary, scary!)

Just A Bunch Of Gobblety-Gook (Plus Yoga!)

I really didn’t know what to write about, so I’m just gonna start talking at random and see where it leads. Fortunately, I’m not on any cold meds right now, so my head is firmly attached to my neck and all body parts feel as they should. In other words, I don’t think there will be any fog-related, incoherent babble. Well, just based on what I’ve written so far, I could be wrong.

 

The first thing I wanted to mention was this really cool bookshelf that is down at the bottom of my blog. All the way down there. Coolest. Thing. Ever. (Thanks Chanel for letting me steal it from you.) I love putting all the books (that I could remember) that I’ve read in there and then ranking and reviewing them. Okay, well, I haven’t actually gotten around to reviewing them, but it’s in the plan to do so. Feel free to peruse my book shelf and see if there’s something there that might tickle your fancy. I’ve even included books that I haven’t liked so much just so I can keep track of how many I’ve read over the course of the year. Maybe you’ll like one that I didn’t. Never hurts to try.

 

Another thing is I have a poll that I started over the weekend. It’s mostly out of curiosity because I really have no intention of changing the way I do things. But I have been wondering how many people go back and read the comments that the blogger may have left for you or the comments that other people read. Sometimes I start asking questions in my replies to comments and I don’t know if you’ll ever see them or not. So, vote if you so choose and if you want to comment on the poll, please feel free. I’d like to think of my blog (as I’m sure many other bloggers do) as an open discussion where we can talk back and forth. It makes life more interesting, doesn’t it?

 

Today my daughter doesn’t has school because of President’s Day and it’s really thrown things out of whack for me. I’m such a creature of habit, any little deviation from my normal day makes me feel all discombobulated the rest of the day. Today also happened to be my first day of yoga class so that’s a whole new element of my daily schedule that I’ll have to get used to. So instead of trying to sleep in and be lazy on my daughter’s day off, I was up at my regular “school day” time and had myself and both kids ready and out the door at 8:30 so they could play at my mother-in-law’s house while I tried out this whole yoga thing.

 

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The class, honestly, went better than I expected. It was bigger than I hoped it would be, but like everything else I’ve experienced at the Y, I’m the youngest in the group by probably ten years, (although the majority of the class had a good 25-35 years on me.) But this time, it worked out in my favor because I’m still quite a bit more flexible than most of them. (Not all I don’t think because there are some freakishly in shape retired people there!) It was the start of a new session, but as the instructor didn’t recognize me, she came over and introduced herself and asked if I had taken any yoga classes before. I said no, but I had done it on the Wii. I laughed when I said it because I didn’t think it was going to make much of a difference, but it really did help. She told me that she would show certain modifications to some of the positions, and I could work at my own pace. But being the superstar that I am (just kidding, I’m actually nowhere close to superstar status,) I didn’t need to do any of the modifications to make it easier. Did I feel it? Oh yeah. Am I going to be sore? I think in some parts of my body I will be, but I really enjoyed it! Even the instructor after the class said I did really well (“I’m a natural” were her exact words) and that the Wii must have helped. (I don’t know why I giggle every time I talk about doing yoga on the Wii. It sounds so kidish. Oh well.)

 

After my class, I picked my kids up and at my husband’s recommendation, took them to McDonald’s for lunch. That was stupid on top of brain dead. With no school today, the place was packed and the play place was a nightmare come true. Kids were everywhere and adults were scarce. Even my kids were a bit taken aback by the commotion (ah, I’m raising them well) and didn’t feel like staying long. My daughter (much to my amazement) patiently helped her brother through the tunnels and showed him where I was sitting and watching, so they could wave. He was pretty scared so they only went through the thing a handful of times because he was going so…slow…But she was good and only left him sit once while she crawled up and around calling for him to follow her. But I watched in horror as big kids chased little kids trying to scare them and one big sister kept picking up her very small (maybe two year old) sister by the wrists and standing her on one of the play tables, then telling her to jump from the table to the stool to the floor. Um, hello, can we get a parental figure over here please?! We’ve got a big sister trying to maim little sister! (Parents/caregivers should come up with a code system like cops or doctors for situations like that. “We’ve got a 10-16 in progress! Requesting parental authority immediately!” Just a thought.) Maybe I should have been the one to step in and stop it, but frankly, I’ve seen it enough times where a parent goes ape shit on another parent for trying to tell their kids what to do and I just wasn’t prepared to deal with that. If we would have been at the school, yes, I would have been more comfortable stopping the behavior. But McDonald’s? Nope. Sorry. Maybe that makes me less of a good person, but that’s me.

 

That was when I decided it was time to go home (the kids had had enough trying to compete for tunnel space anyway) so I could get my little guy down for his nap and laundry started. It’s way late to be starting laundry (did I mention my whole day goes to shit when my schedule is messed up?), but I’m trying to get through it.

 

Oh yeah, a piece of good news. Remember when I talked about my son always wanting to be on the computer any time I would try to sit down at it? My husband and I ordered a laptop for me over the weekend and I should have it by the end of the week! Do you hear angels singing? Cause I do! I’m so excited because now I’ll be able to relax on the couch and write whatever, any time I get the words flowing in my brain! It’ll be great! No more having to pick between watching TV with Hubby or working on the computer. I’ll be able to do both! And in situation like now, where the neighbor comes over, rings the doorbell to ask if my daughter can come over to play and it wakes up my sleeping son. Goddamn it! Okay, deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Impressions

Is it wrong that I notice people and wonder what their story is? Maybe that’s not the right way of describing it. (I wish there was a website were you could type in your “definition” of a word and it would give you a list of possible matches. If you know of one, let me know!) Maybe what I mean is, is it wrong that I wonder what’s going on behind closed doors? (Not in the sick, voyeuristic way, but in the metaphorical way.)

 

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Let me explain.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I went to my daughter’s D.A.R.E. graduation. (As much as I appreciate what the program is trying to do, I’m so glad it’s over. You can read about why here.) Anyway, toward the end of the little “ceremony” they had, they played a slideshow of photos the kids had taken of each other while eating lunch or during recess. They were cute and sometimes pretty funny because it was just a bunch of kids being kids and being silly. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I have limited patience and a group of kids being wild and silly is not my cup of tea. But these were pictures so I didn’t have to live through it, I just got to enjoy the smiles on their faces. But I happened to spot another mother in the audience during the slideshow and she was expressionless. Practically scowling. I didn’t see her crack a smile, laugh, or even lift one side of her mouth to show she was enjoying the pictures. I don’t really know her all that well, but since her daughter and mine have been in the same school together since Kindergarten, ours paths have crossed. She always seems to be somber, unapproachable, and almost hostile. I have also seen her husband at the school on occasion and he seems very different than her. So then, I can’t help but wonder, Is he cheating on her? How is he able to be happy when he has to be around such a grumpy person? Odds are he’s probably not, and who knows, maybe she’s a wild sex goddess in the bedroom and carefree and fun at home. I don’t know and it’s not really my business, but still that nagging thought is there.

 

Another example. In my subdivision, there is a nice house (and when I say nice, it’s looks nice from the outside. I’ve never been inside.) The family that owns the house just bought it and moved in last summer (I believe.) Yesterday, when I was coming home after dropping my daughter off at school, I saw a For Sale Sign in their yard. Me being who I am, wondered why they were moving so soon. And I proceeded to come up with a list of reasons why someone would sell and move out of a house they had so recently purchased. But, what business is it of mine? Why do I need to speculate their reasons for moving? I don’t. It doesn’t affect me at all.

 

For a while, I kept telling myself that it wasn’t a big deal that I was doing this. I mean, I don’t usually share my curiosities. And I told myself that most people probably do this. But then I started wondering what people see or think when they see me.

 

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When people see me, do they see a friendly person trying to do good for her family? Would they suspect that I’m actually scared and lonely and at my wit’s end?

 

Do they see a young mother unable to control her kids or do they give me the benefit of the doubt and assume I’m trying as hard as I can?

 

Do they think because I have a nice house and truck that we got an inheritance and spent it all on that? Or would believe my husband worked hard to earn what we have?

 

Do they see a confident young woman with the whole world ahead of her? Would they wonder if I’m actually crying out to be seen?

 

Do they see someone who is modest and a goody two-shoes? Would they ever think that I’m actually craving more sex with my husband, but is too afraid of rejection to go after it?

 

Do they see a young woman? Would they ever guess my actual age and then add on thirty more years for the age I feel?

 

So maybe it’s not such a good idea to try to see what’s under the surface. There are things behind the masks probably better left unseen. Maybe I shouldn’t spend so much time wondering about what’s happening inside other people and just focus on what’s happening inside me.

 

I know this is a little different post than what I normally do and I don’t really know where I’m going with it, but getting it out of my head somehow clarifies my thoughts. Let’s just call it some mental cleansing and leave it at that.

A Doll? Really?

I love the royal family. And I don’t live in the UK. Never even visited. (It’s definitely on my list of places I want to go before I die, though!) But I find the British royal family fascinating! I haven’t always been interested, but I think the death of Princess Di sparked my interest and made me aware of the royals. Especially because when I told my sister (I was the first in family to hear about Diana’s death), she was genuinely sad and affected by the news. She had watched Prince Charles and Princess Di’s wedding. (I, of course, did not as I was only about four months old. I might have been in the room though.) So, I started paying attention to what was happening with the royal family. Not obsessively or anything like that, but if I saw a headline, I would read it.

 

I started reading historical fiction about the royals. Especially King Henry VIII and all his wives. Queen Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots. The War of the Roses. I devoured novels written by Philippa Gregory, Alison Weir, and R. Garcia y Robertson. I couldn’t get enough, to the point I began wondering if maybe I had lived a past life during the reign of King Henry VIII. *shrugs* It’s fun to imagine, I guess.

 

Naturally, (or maybe it’s not natural, I don’t know) I formed a crush on Prince William. Watched the boys go from poor children who had lost their mother to the men they are today. Cringed at Prince Harry’s antics. Was proud of their military service. So when Prince William started dating and then finally got engaged to Kate Middleton, I was excited. Another royal wedding! And one I might actually get to watch! So, yes, I’ve been interested in Kate’s ring and what her dress might look like. And what the whole event will look like. But I found the below ad (I feel like The Simple Dude doing one of his catalog “Half-Assed Weekend Posts”!) and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it’s gone too far.

 

 

A doll? Sold by the Danbury Mint? This is America right? We’re not under the British rule anymore are we? I mean, even though I love the royal family and am excited for the wedding, would not buy this. I wonder how many people are ordering it. And then if you’ll notice, you don’t even know what the dress will look like on your doll because Kate’s real dress hasn’t been revealed.

 

 

So whoever’s ordering will send in their “Advance Reservation Application” and then wait for the wedding day to arrive, wait some more for the seamstresses to create the replica gown, and wait even more for the whole doll to be assembled and sent to them. I don’t know about you, but that seems like an awful lot of waiting with a pretty hefty price tag attached to it. Is it really worth all that? I guess you really have to love the royal family. Or maybe think it’s an investment and will be worth even more someday. But what do I know?

 

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Switching subjects, I just wanted to throw a thank you out there. When I took my daughter into school this morning, the outside temperature shown on my truck read a chilly –14^o F and the school crossing guards were out braving the cold. I think they sometimes go unrecognized and are underappreciated for all that they do. I know that the crossing guards at my daughter’s school won’t see this, but those of you who are reading might remember it the next time you see someone helping others, even in uncomfortable conditions. And maybe you’ll stop and say thank you. I think I’ll make them something and leave it for them at the school. Because even though they’re not helping my child, they’re helping someone’s child, and that’s what matters.

The Three-Way

Ha-ha. I thought that might get your attention.

 

Have you ever had an IM going with more than one person at a time? It’s tricky. Hell, it’s tricky chatting with one person because you can both be typing at the same time and one of you could be continuing the conversation while the other person has switched subjects. Imagine doing that face to face. You’d both be talking at the same time and then only after you were finished talking would you stop and think about what the other person had said. Doesn’t work so good.

 

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Well, I had an experience a while back of someone I’m almost positive was chatting with me and someone else at the same time.

 

I was on Facebook and a dear person to me came online and a chat window popped up. Someone from my high school days. I won’t even try to explain what our relationship was because I can’t even figure it out. But suffice it to say, I still think he’s great so I don’t hold any of this against him. (And if he’s reading this, I hope he won’t hold this against me.)

 

We were chatting and I asked what his plans were for the weekend. He told me he had his son so they might try to catch a movie. I said I thought that sounded fun. I asked what he was thinking about seeing. He replied he hadn’t looked to see what was playing and that he’d better do that if they were going to go. I say something incredibly witty (not really, but it’s fun to pretend!) about how he’d hate to show up at the theater with his kid (who’s like five or six) and not have there be anything age appropriate. Time passes and he doesn’t say anything. Okay, no biggie. (I guess.) I continue playing my game.

 

Then he types something along the lines of if he were free to do anything tonight, but it cut off mid-thought. I looked at it for a while and wasn’t sure how to respond. I quickly came to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t meant for me, but that he was talking to someone else. More time passes and he doesn’t say anything so I start getting paranoid that maybe it was said to me and I’m being rude for not responding. Finally, he types something kinda like what he had started saying, but morphed it into even if he could do anything tonight, he wouldn’t know what to do. I could just picture him, seeing what he typed on my chat window and frantically trying to cover his tracks. You know, trying to play it cool and make it seem like he’s only talking to me.

 

But I saw through the act. And I laughed. All he would have had to do was say, "’Oops! I meant to say that to Steve or Justin or Mark (or whoever!) Sorry.’ and it wouldn’t have turned into this story. That’s what I would have done. Laughed at my stupidity and carried on. Doesn’t that make more sense? Isn’t that what you would have done? But instead, he tried to make it seem like I was the only thing he was focused on. But I’ve never been the only thing he focused on. Why would it be any different now when our lives have gone in such different directions?

 

But, honestly, how many of us focus on only one thing anymore? I know I don’t. Not even when it comes to my kids. There’s just too much happening everyday to give everything your undivided attention. While I’m writing this, I’ve been answering about a hundred emails from people because I have a meeting tonight and we’re all trying to get ready for it. I’m also putting together my report for said meeting, I have laundry that needs to go into the dryer and clothes that need to come out of the dryer to be folded. And grrr, another load that needs to go in the washer. Piss. Thank God the little guy is sleeping right now or I would be tearing my hair out. And then my husband would get mad because, for some reason, he likes my long hair. And he would blame my blog for taking up so much of my time. Well, my blog and PTA for taking up so much of my time. But he wouldn’t care that I lost a bunch of time this morning at the Y working out. Nope. Because the Y is his “insurance policy” that I stay thin. He actually called it that once. I don’t mind I guess, because in some way he’s right. (It did sting a little at first, but  I’m over it now. I like going to the Y. So far.)

 

Whoa, that went farther off track than I thought. I think I’ve had enough coffee for today, thanks.

 

I’ll just leave it at this. Three-ways can be a tough act to pull off. Even if it’s just online.

 

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Ugh, I Wish the Grocery Store Delivered!

Have you ever had those moments, or maybe entire days, where you just don’t have the ingredients for something you were really wanting to make? Or worse, you’ve started making something and don’t have enough of an ingredient? But it’s just not possible, for one reason or another, to make it to the grocery store? What do you do? Do you shelve that idea and figure out something else to make? Do you make it without? Or do you, gulp, use a substitute ingredient? (I suppose the answers to those questions would depend a lot on what ingredient was missing!)

 

Well, this was my dilemma yesterday. Figuring out what to have for lunch is always a struggle for me because most of the time I’m not interested in whatever “kid friendly” meal I have just prepared for my son (and daughter on non-school days). Yesterday I was about to make another boring peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I remembered the new container of turkey slices I had gotten for my husband. Usually, I don’t like eating deli meat sandwiches, but it just sounded too good to pass up. And when I have a turkey sandwich, I love having lettuce on it. I pull out the turkey, but naturally, we don’t have lettuce.

 

Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Why didn’t you buy lettuce when you bought the container of turkey?’ And you would be right to ask that. But, like I said before, I’m not big on deli meat. So I don’t eat it very often. And for a while last summer, I was on a salad kick and always had tons of lettuce on hand. But I get sick of eating the same thing over and over. And like everything else, I soon tired of salads and haven’t bought lettuce in…well I guess a really long ass time because I can’t remember how long ago it was.

 

So, no lettuce for my turkey. But rather than let that spoil my craving for a turkey sandwich, I made it without and enjoyed it. For the most part.

 

I was also planning on roasting a chicken in the oven for supper last night. I was getting everything ready for it to go into the oven and I had a moment of panic. “Oh God, do we have chicken broth?” I opened the cupboard and looked on every shelf, even the ones I knew wouldn’t have it. Nothing. Crap.

 

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See, I’m not a super cook, but I have found that when I put chicken broth in the bottom of my roasting pan and then baste the chicken while it’s cooking, it turns out pretty good. My husband is incredibly picky and hates when food is “too bland.” The chicken broth helps me with that. (I also rub the chicken, inside and out, with salt, but it’s just not enough on it’s own.) This would be the perfect time to pick up the phone, call the grocery store, and say, “Hi, I’m an idiot and forgot to buy something that I really need right now. Could you please deliver some chicken broth and some romaine lettuce? Thanks!” No such luck.

 

Time to get creative. I had to cook this chicken because it was getting too close to the expiration date for me to put it off any longer and I really, really wanted leftovers for chicken salad sandwiches. I lightly ground some pepper over the chicken and rubbed it and the salt in. I knew I had some beef broth from when I cooked a beef roast last week. I grabbed it out of the fridge and poured it in the bottom of the pan. I added extra water to dilute it some and maybe take away some of the “beefy” flavor. Then I worried I had put in too much water, so more beef broth went in. (I told you I’m not a great cook. “Top Chef” will definitely not be calling me to audition any time soon.) Into the oven it went and I crossed my fingers.

 

After cooking and basting and waiting for my husband to get home, I got the chicken out of the pan and (after letting it sit for an appropriate time) started carving it. And I have to tell you, I did a pretty kickass job at carving. Even if it didn’t taste good, it sure looked good! I dished up the food and got everything on the table. The moment of truth…and it was actually pretty good! The skin tasted wonderful and while the meat didn’t have as much flavor as I would have liked, there were no complaints and no suggestions for improvement!

 

Hurray me! Supper was saved!

 

Have any of you been in this sort of predicament?

Followers, Facebook, and Daimons???

First off, I have to say a huge thank you to all the people who stopped over to check out my blog and a warm welcome to those of you that decided to stick around and “follow” this little escape that I have created for myself. Thanks to Average Girl for hosting such a great party! I had so much fun and I found some really great blogs and really great people. I’m a little intimidated now because I feel like I have an expectation to live up to. I’ll do my best, but don’t be too harsh on me. It is a simple life I lead, although I do try to find the funny or ironic in something among my days. Some days are easier than others. *sigh*

 

I’m not a huge fan of Facebook for a number of reasons I won’t go into right now, but I am a huge fan of the games you can play on Facebook. I’m not kidding, if I could, I would be online all day, jumping from game to game. But alas, I cannot and have forced myself to pick one. One little game to keep me happy and yet still seeming to share my time and life with my Facebook friends. (Which are almost entirely either family members or friends that I still have face-to-face contact with.)

 

So, Frontierville, it is. If you’re not familiar and care to know, the premise of the game is that you’re a pioneer and clearing a homestead to turn into a town and a place for your family to join you. I love it because it combines a lot of gameplay features that I like. You have to raise animals, grow crops, build buildings, find collectibles, and complete missions. The downside, however, is that you have to have a certain number of neighbors (or Facebook friends that also play) to unlock certain items to continue completing missions. And that’s a huge downside for me because I don’t have a huge number of Facebook friends (I mean, really, we can’t all be superstars!) and even fewer actually play games. Grrr. Of course, you can use real money to unlock those items, but I refuse to get sucked into that scam! (Okay, so I know it isn’t really a scam, but it’s the principle. I hate that a free game is trying to trick you into spending money.)

 

But…if they would make it a stand alone game that you could buy in the store and play by yourself, I would buy it in a heartbeat! I think I’d even spend thirty bucks for it. (I can’t imagine it being worth more than that because if you play games like I tend to, it probably wouldn’t take too long to complete.) So instead of needing neighbors, it would just require a certain level to unlock items. I would have so much more fun with it that way and it would virtually eliminate my frustrations with the game. (At least, I think so.) And they would get their cash money out of me. It’s a win-win!

 

Then there is this group my sister has been wanting me to join ever since my hiatus from Facebook. It’s a role playing group (on Facebook. Isn’t everything these days?) based on characters from a book series. I started borrowing and reading the books just before Thanksgiving and wow, they are great! They’re the Dark Hunter series by Sherrilyn Kenyon and the plots revolve around Greek Gods and Goddess, Daimons (a sort of vampire human looking creature that steals the souls from humans), Dark Hunters (soulless, immortals that are in charge of hunting Daimons and protecting humans), and the (usually) human women that can’t resist the sexy Dark Hunters. So on Facebook, people have adopted the persona of different characters and they interact online as if they are the character. I’m reluctant to try it out. For one thing, the concept behind how these beings all came to be is a little confusing and I don’t want to say something inaccurate. (And end up looking stupid.) Also, I don’t know any of the other people in this group besides my sister and I am very shy with people I don’t know. (Although I could treat it like I’m writing something here. I’ve really been trying to come out of my shell on the blogs.) And, these books are very sexual among the main characters. (I mean, they are romance novels.) Now my sister picked a minor character that doesn’t have that kind of role and I would have to do the same, but…I don’t know. It’s all very confusing. Who would I be and what would I do? But then again, it’s not like becoming your own person. You have to be a character that all these people are familiar with and already have a preset notion what it should be like. Can I live up to that without coming off as some lame person trying to fit in?

 

It’s kinda funny in a messed up way that I stress out over something that really doesn’t mean anything. But that’s just me, I guess. A worrier. But I’m interested to know if there are other people in groups like this and if these are questions or issues you’ve had to tackle as a part of a RPG. I’ll let you know how it goes if I decide to give it a try.

It’s a Tall World After All

I’m short. I thought I’d just get that out of the way so you have some idea where this post is coming from. I’m a full five feet of shortness and after reading the hilarious post by Average Girl, I got to thinking about how life in this world, okay country (I’ve never travelled outside the US, so I guess I’d better stick with what I know), is tailored to tall people.

 

As I type this, I am sitting at a desk that I hate from the depths of hell because it is too tall. It has a smallish surface for writing or for paperwork with a pullout drawer for the keyboard underneath and above it has an even smaller surface for the monitor. Keep in mind, none of these pieces are adjustable. So, with the monitor adjusted as low as it can be and angled down as far as it will go (which, for the record, is hardly anything!) it is still too high for me to comfortably see. To avoid having my neck snap in half and my head roll down my back, I sit on a bar stool to give me the height needed to see the monitor. But then, I can’t use the keyboard drawer because my knees are jammed up against the writing surface. Which means I have to keep my keyboard on the writing surface, leaving no place for anything else! I mean, really, my plate of chips are balanced on the edge, half on the mousepad, cozied up next to my mouse, praying I don’t suddenly shake the mouse and send the plate crashing to the floor. And yes, I did say a barstool, but it’s not one of those fancy high-backed, cushioned fancy things. No, no. It’s a wooden circle on four legs. So give me a moment to cry about how my neck hurts, and my back hurts, and even my butt is getting a bit sore. Okay. I’ll suck it up now. I’ve been asking for a new desk for…a year now? I’m not sure. It seems like it’s been longer that I’ve wanted one, but I can’t remember when I actually told my husband that I wanted to buy one. Of course, he and I have completely different ideas as far as what the new desk should look like, but until we actually start trying to pick one out, I’ll leave that subject alone.

 

Maybe I should back up and say I had the incredible foresight to fall in love and marry someone six feet tall. So he has no real concept of what I have to go through. (It’s a double edged sword. Tall genes for kids, no empathy.) He jokes about my being short by telling me to pick up things that have fallen to the ground because, “I’m closer to it.” It is  funny, even I can admit it.

 

But anyway, he’s in no real hurry to find a new desk because the one we have works just fine for him. But I really need a new one. Desperately.

 

It’s not just the desk though. Have you ever tried rolling out cookie dough or stirring something on a counter that is too high? Trust me, it’s a pain in the ass. And the arms. (Okay, not literally in the ass, but I’m sure you figured that out.) I want to know why they can’t make stoves and counters and all that stuff shorter. I mean, have two options. Picture walking into an appliance store and having the salesperson say to you, “These are our standard stoves, but over here we have our selection of stoves geared toward those 5’7” and under.” You can’t tell me there are so few short people in this world (ugh, I did it again) country, that it’s not worth it to have two sizes.

 

Or have you ever sat at a table to eat but the table is only five or six inches below your chin? It makes you feel like you’re seven years old. About the only time I feel comfortable sitting somewhere is at my daughter’s school because everything is made for people my size or smaller. But then I have gotten confused for a student, so that’s kind of a win-lose situation. I actually sit on my feet when eating at home to put me up above the table a little more. Sometimes I think it would just be easier to sit on a booster seat,  but I’ve tried it at the computer and my butt is a little too big to fit. So the comfort factor keeps me from doing that. Well, that and my pride. I just can’t win.

 

And shopping. Oh man, shopping is such a pain. Grocery shopping is a treat because anything on the higher shelves is tough for me to reach. But I’m not against climbing. I’ll actually step onto the lower shelf (as long as it’s clear of goods of course!) to reach the upper shelves before I would ask for help. I’m not good with strangers. But clothes shopping presents it’s own challenges. From pants that are too long to shoes that don’t fit, it’s all so frustrating for me. Have you ever tried finding a cute pair of heels in the little girl section? (Well, if you’re a guy, probably not. At least, I wouldn’t think so.) But try finding a cute “grown up” pair of heels in a size three. If you find some, give me a call. I’m always looking.

 

Well, I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but I just wanted to shed some light on the problem of being “vertically challenged” for all of those blessed with height. And to all of those out there like me, we’ll cry on each other’s shoulders and give each other a boost when we need it. Because there has to be something good about being short. Like picking stuff up off the floor, I guess.

So Um, Do You Guys Know Each Other?

Driving around town, I always like to check out houses. My main purpose for this is because I like to play The Sims computer games and I like to get ideas for house designs. Sometimes I’ll even get ideas for my own house exterior. It was during one of my trips through town last fall that a newly painted house caught my eye. It was one that I’ve driven past probably a thousand times, but it wasn’t until they repainted it, that it really got my attention.



As you can see from the picture (which I know isn’t great, it’s harder than it seems to get a picture as you’re driving by), it became a very original color yellow. Definitely not my choice for house color, but hey, to each his own. If they like it, great! That’s all that matters.

Maybe a month later, again, going about my daily activities, I spied a second house that got a new paint job. This time just the front door. Is it just me, or is that the exact same shade of yellow as the first house?!



Which makes me wonder, do they know each other? Did the owner of the first house say to his buddy one day, ‘Hey, I’ve got some paint leftover from when I painted my house. I don’t want it keep it around. Do you want to take it for something?’ In which the second guy replies, ‘Oh, that’s perfect! The wife has been bitchin’ at me to paint our front door. I’ll do it with that!’ (Okay, so I know that’s probably not really how guys talk to each other, but I’m  pretty inexperienced in that realm.)

I mean, really, what are the odds that two complete strangers both went to the hardware store and picked out the exact strange yellow? How many people see that color and say, ‘That is what I want for the outside of my house!’? It’s not a common yellow for houses. It’s probably not even a common yellow for much of anything. So how is it that two houses both ended up with it? I guess it will remain an unsolved mystery for now.