Today's Earworm - Sorry, Wendy, you got here too late, and I don't know that one anyway - is "Eddystone Light." It was triggered by mailing something to someone who lives on "Eddy St." I haven't even heard "Eddystone Light" in years, so I'm not sure why it decided to pop up today. But there it was! So I'm walking around singing it cheerfully, fake Cornish accent and all, aloud, and blushing whenever anyone catches me.
Today's Outfit - yes, I'm once again describing an outfit. But it's an exceptionally cute one, dangit! We got a free jeans day at work, which is nice. So I'm wearing a pair of bootcut faded Levis with a long dark brown tank top with sequins on it, and a dark blue jacket with dark brown sequins. Normally I'd wear it with brown high-heeled loafers, but we got to wear sneakers today (an exceedingly rare event at work), so I'm wearing my totally non-matching but totally comfortable dark blue and silver and white Reeboks.
Today's Insult to Injury - I think I'm getting sick. Lemme tell ya, that just sucks all the way to last Tuesday. I got back from lunch with a scratchy throat and the "ahems" that don't clear it out. I was gonna go spend the night with my adorable sister, leaving my equally adorable husband the freedom to play his guitar as loud as he wants to! I was gonna go to a movie!
Clover's Injury to Injury to Insult to Injury - Her youngest son, Tate, broke his arm. I say no more. Just go visit her blog (link's on the right) if you feel like it, and give her some love. She needs it. I was planning to go by there this weekend, but don't dare, if it's true that I'm getting sick--she does NOT need my germs on top of everything else going on in her household!
Two new words I learned today - qwief, courtesy of Plimco, and emetephobia, courtesy of Nicole. I didn't know there were words for either of those things. I have qwieffed before, and never knew what it was called! And I have emetephobia, and didn't know that's what it's called! And now I do!
Two new poems I found this week, courtesy of Trista - "String Theory Sutra" by Brenda Hillman (I found this myself, while trying to puzzle out a riddle Trista posed), and "Why I Am Not a Painter" by Frank O'Hara (the real answer to the riddle Trista posed). Both are excellent poems. If you like poetry, go read 'em. You'll like 'em.
People I Love - Joe and Liz and Mom and Dad and Carol and Christa and Charles and Melissa and Sarah and Dale and Trista and Plimco and Sam Wright and Wendy and Nicole (and everybody else)
Dogs I Love - Molly and Baxter and Cydney (and everydoggy else)
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
A Slow Kind of Bad
My latest for the S. Project:
A Slow Kind of Bad
A Slow Kind of Bad
Toni was younger than Helga and I were. She was also a little—okay, a lot—peculiar. Everyone at church talked about how sweet Toni was. Helga and I just exchanged glances; occasionally one of us would say darkly that the speaker didn’t know everything.
Toni went home one weekend. She was going to join the Air Force or the Army or the Border Patrol or something like that. I don’t remember now. It’s been too long, and I’ve tried to forget all of this. Anyway, one of the requirements was that she had to have a physical, so she went to her family doctor.
Early Sunday morning I heard a persistent knocking on the front door. I looked at my clock. 4 a.m. Who on earth was at the door at 4 a.m.? I got up and met Helga at my bedroom door. She’d heard the knocking, too. We went to the door and cautiously looked through the peephole. It was Toni. Why was she knocking, when she had a key? We let her in.
After about two minutes of conversation, it was obvious that something was really wrong, something way beyond Toni’s normal peculiarity. Helga went to the phone to call Toni’s family while I kept Toni in conversation.
She looked at me eerily. “I have two visions.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I look at you like this,” she said, looking at me straight on, “I see you. But when I look at you like this,” she said significantly, “I see your color.”
“Okay. So what color am I?”
“You’re white. White is good.”
Helga came in and gave me the high sign to join her in the kitchen.
“Toni, I’ll be right back, okay?”
“She’s red. Red is evil.” Toni glared at Helga, and then stared at the wall.
_______
I joined Helga in the kitchen. “What is going on? She is—“
“Schizophrenic.”
I stared at Helga. “What?”
“Her family has been frantic. They didn’t know where she was. When she had her mental health assessment, the doctor diagnosed her with schizophrenia and gave her some prescriptions. She wouldn’t take them because she said it was against the Word of Wisdom, but she seemed pretty calm. Then she disappeared sometime during the night, and they’ve been searching everywhere.”
“Oh, my gosh. We can’t deal with this by ourselves. What do we do?”
“I’ll call Ted and Mark.” They were our home teachers.
“Good call. I’ll keep Toni occupied until they get here.”
_______
I went back into the living room and resumed my conversation with Toni. I don’t remember now much of what she said. Helga tried to come into the room, but every time she did, Toni went berserk. She kept insisting Helga was evil, and wouldn’t allow Helga to come anywhere near her. When Ted and Mark got there, Toni calmed down. They gave her a blessing, and stayed at our house until it was time to leave for church.
That morning at church Toni’s visiting teachers, two remarkably placid girls, kept her out of mine and Helga’s hair so that we could meet with a member of the Stake High Council who also happened to be a psychiatrist. He had already spoken with Toni’s family and with Toni. He told us that Toni was a paranoid schizophrenic, and was extremely delusional. He asked if we would be able to handle her for that day and night, and other arrangements would be made for her the next day. Helga and I were extremely reluctant to do so, but finally agreed.
Ted and Mark, as well as Sheila and Amber (Toni’s visiting teachers), all came back to the house with us after church. Toni got a bee in her bonnet about refusing to go into the house because the house was full of devils, but she was agreeable about having a picnic on the front lawn. So Helga and I stayed in the house preparing a meal, while the guys and Sheila and Amber stayed outside with Toni. As it grew dark, Toni was still refusing to go into the house, and we were all getting worried about what to do overnight.
Finally Toni said that if we would let her go with Sheila and Amber, she would be good, go to bed, and stay at their house all night. After careful consideration, we agreed, first warning Sheila and Amber (in private) what they were in for. They didn’t quite believe us, because other than Toni’s refusal to go into the house, they hadn’t seen any of her odd behavior. So off they went, and Helga and I just collapsed with exhaustion.
_______
At 1 a.m., the phone rang. Sheila was in hysterics. Toni had disappeared, and they couldn’t find her. Amber had called the police and was out searching. Mark and Ted, as well as the other elders in the ward, had been called and were searching. Helga and I got up and got dressed again.
We eventually found Toni crouching outside by the central air conditioning unit. She wouldn’t come into the house. Helga called the police to tell them that she was there. They came; the psychiatrist from the stake came; and some other people were there. We were asked once again if we would keep her for the rest of the night, but this time we said no. We had been through enough already, and Toni had already proven herself more than capable at getting away from the people who were attempting to care for her. I honestly don't remember who took her at that point, but I do know that she was safely taken to a mental health facility the next day.
_______
By this time it was 4 or 5 a.m. I already knew there was no way on earth I was going to be able to go to work, and I also knew that I didn’t want to spend another moment in that house. My friend Carly came and picked me up so that I could spend the day in her apartment. It had been 24 hours since Toni first started knocking on our door. That 24 hours seemed like 24 years, a long, slow kind of bad.
NOTE: This one is autobiographical. This is a true experience, much abridged in details, although not in time frame. I’ve changed the names. Oh, and "Helga" was SO not evil!! The last I heard about "Toni" she was still refusing to take meds on the grounds that it was against the Word of Wisdom, was roaming the streets of the city, converting other mentally ill people to the church, and spawning more mentally ill children. If this sounds heartless, it absolutely is not intended to be so. There are some problems for which there don't seem to be any solutions. And one more note--it is NOT against the Word of Wisdom for people to take medication that has been prescribed for them. Whatever kooky wack job things you hear about Mormons, that's definitely not a true one, okay? Trust me on this one.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Before I say what I came here to say, I have to say this first. I am one of those really annoying people who's always spouting off quotations from movies/plays/books/songs, etc. And one of my favorite quotations from "The Music Man" is when the Mayor's wife, Mrs. Shin, is being asked about something. She responds, "I am reticent. Oh, yes, I am reticent."
I say that a lot. Don't believe me? Ask my sister. I usually use that quotation when I'm indicating cautious optimism, and don't want to commit myself wholly to something, don't want to say too much. Right, Liz?
Anyway, I am reticent (see, cautiously optimistic) about the fact that I think that the Topamax may be going to work. Remember, it's September 26th, and I've had a headache since early July. I've taken a ton of different prescription medicines in an effort to either eradicate the headache or dull the pain, none of which have worked and some of which have given me itchy rashes. Hence the reticence. However, today was the 8th day of the Topamax regime, and the 1st day where I took a pill in the morning in addition to the one at bedtime. And I was a little loopy this morning, and I do still have the headache. But it's not too bad. If I had to go home and wash dishes, I could. I mean, I have no intention whatsoever of doing so, but I could if I had to or if I wanted to.
The neurologist said that most people start seeing a small bit of improvement (like, they'll notice an hour where they don't have a headache) in the second or third week. I'm now in the second week, and I'm seeing improvement, even though I haven't gotten to the hour without the headache.
So I am reticent. Oh, yes. I am reticent.
Not really, since I just wrote for five minutes about it. But you get the picture, right?
Okay. Shutting up now. Have to meet for half an hour with a new manager to explain reports and queries that I prepare. Funness. Not.
I say that a lot. Don't believe me? Ask my sister. I usually use that quotation when I'm indicating cautious optimism, and don't want to commit myself wholly to something, don't want to say too much. Right, Liz?
Anyway, I am reticent (see, cautiously optimistic) about the fact that I think that the Topamax may be going to work. Remember, it's September 26th, and I've had a headache since early July. I've taken a ton of different prescription medicines in an effort to either eradicate the headache or dull the pain, none of which have worked and some of which have given me itchy rashes. Hence the reticence. However, today was the 8th day of the Topamax regime, and the 1st day where I took a pill in the morning in addition to the one at bedtime. And I was a little loopy this morning, and I do still have the headache. But it's not too bad. If I had to go home and wash dishes, I could. I mean, I have no intention whatsoever of doing so, but I could if I had to or if I wanted to.
The neurologist said that most people start seeing a small bit of improvement (like, they'll notice an hour where they don't have a headache) in the second or third week. I'm now in the second week, and I'm seeing improvement, even though I haven't gotten to the hour without the headache.
So I am reticent. Oh, yes. I am reticent.
Not really, since I just wrote for five minutes about it. But you get the picture, right?
Okay. Shutting up now. Have to meet for half an hour with a new manager to explain reports and queries that I prepare. Funness. Not.
Monday, September 25, 2006
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO:
Nothing. Blessed, blessed silence. See, I had a reprieve from the acute pain yesterday. I still had pain, don't get me wrong, but compared to the usual pain, it was almost enjoyable. So I worked my tuchus off! Joe did laundry. By this I mean he sorted, washed, and dried the clothes, and brought them to me. I hung them up/folded them and put them away/put them in boxes to go into storage/put them into bags to give to someone who's losing weight as well. I also cleaned a bit.
But I paid for it. I woke up at 4 a.m. with so much pain that I wanted to howl. I reset my alarm, knowing there was no way on earth I was getting up at 5 a.m. to exercise. When the alarm went off at 5:30, I reset it for 5:45. And I actually went back to sleep!!!! When the alarm went off at 5:45, I had to get up. Took the shower, did the hair, did the face, got dressed, and only pouted a little bit.
But I'm at work, and I'm in so much pain that I could just cry. If it doesn't let up in a few hours, I may go home at lunch time. I'd say it's unbearable, but it's not. I mean, I'm alive, so it's bearable. But it's agonizing.
MY WEEKEND:
Saturday was rough, physically speaking. We had a change in air pressure, so I had sinus headache on top of the regular headache. I went to WW in the morning (down 2.4 pounds, for a total so far of 14 pounds!) and to breakfast with Joe (IHOP, where I got a bagel and cream cheese and a small apple juice, and watched in grossed-out fascination as he downed 3 eggs, sunny-side up, greasy hash browns, greasy bacon, and greasy buttery German-style crepes). I then went home and napped until mid-afternoon, when we went grocery shopping with Liz. And then I rested a little more until it was time to go to the play.
The play was GREAT! I loved it! Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I've only seen it live one other time, but I have a cast recording on CD and know much of the music by heart. The narrator was lovely, and had the most beautiful voice, just as warm and rich as it could be. And the boy playing Joseph was a cutie-pie. He could benefit from some voice instruction, but he had a great voice as well. At the end they did a reprise of the songs, and I got pulled up to go dance on stage. That was really fun, despite the pounding of my poor head. I took a girl from work with me, and we had a great time. I would have liked to go get dinner afterward, but the head, you know. One of these days the Topamax will kick in, and I won't be in pain all the time. Won't that be fun???
And I've already told you about yesterday. Laundry day. I haven't done more than the bare minimum in laundry since the headaches started. And I haven't done more than the bare minimum in any other housework either. But Joe was up late on Saturday night cleaning--he actually washed dishes, took out trash, started laundry--it was truly amazing! And he worked all through the day yesterday, until I told him that I had to stop because the pain had come back and I was worn out. I think he finished up the laundry, and it's waiting for me to finish putting it away tonight, which is great. And he's done the dishes, which means I can go home and throw a quick dinner together and then throw the dishes into the dishwasher without having to move a whole lot of junk out of the way. It's pathetic, that we've been living like this. I can't tell you how much I'm longing to reclaim my life.
Someone I work with just came in and wanted to know what I'd done over the weekend, because I look so beautiful today. :blush I am wearing make-up, which I don't do often enough. But she didn't think that was it. I said that I was able to get some exercise in yesterday, due to a reprieve in the head pain, and she said that must be what it is. My face doesn't look so strained and stressed. Well, that's nice!! She also said that my hair looks perfect today too. I like getting compliments. That's the second one I've gotten so far this morning! :)
I do look extra-cute, I have to admit. I'm wearing a pair of dark brown plaid patterned cuffed pants that have previously been too small for me, along with a dark brown blouse and a cool necklace. Are you bored with my descriptions of my attire? Sorry. Well, not really. Sorry to bore you with it, but it's nice to feel like I look good, and it's really nice to be fitting into things that used to be too small for me.
Nothing. Blessed, blessed silence. See, I had a reprieve from the acute pain yesterday. I still had pain, don't get me wrong, but compared to the usual pain, it was almost enjoyable. So I worked my tuchus off! Joe did laundry. By this I mean he sorted, washed, and dried the clothes, and brought them to me. I hung them up/folded them and put them away/put them in boxes to go into storage/put them into bags to give to someone who's losing weight as well. I also cleaned a bit.
But I paid for it. I woke up at 4 a.m. with so much pain that I wanted to howl. I reset my alarm, knowing there was no way on earth I was getting up at 5 a.m. to exercise. When the alarm went off at 5:30, I reset it for 5:45. And I actually went back to sleep!!!! When the alarm went off at 5:45, I had to get up. Took the shower, did the hair, did the face, got dressed, and only pouted a little bit.
But I'm at work, and I'm in so much pain that I could just cry. If it doesn't let up in a few hours, I may go home at lunch time. I'd say it's unbearable, but it's not. I mean, I'm alive, so it's bearable. But it's agonizing.
MY WEEKEND:
Saturday was rough, physically speaking. We had a change in air pressure, so I had sinus headache on top of the regular headache. I went to WW in the morning (down 2.4 pounds, for a total so far of 14 pounds!) and to breakfast with Joe (IHOP, where I got a bagel and cream cheese and a small apple juice, and watched in grossed-out fascination as he downed 3 eggs, sunny-side up, greasy hash browns, greasy bacon, and greasy buttery German-style crepes). I then went home and napped until mid-afternoon, when we went grocery shopping with Liz. And then I rested a little more until it was time to go to the play.
The play was GREAT! I loved it! Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I've only seen it live one other time, but I have a cast recording on CD and know much of the music by heart. The narrator was lovely, and had the most beautiful voice, just as warm and rich as it could be. And the boy playing Joseph was a cutie-pie. He could benefit from some voice instruction, but he had a great voice as well. At the end they did a reprise of the songs, and I got pulled up to go dance on stage. That was really fun, despite the pounding of my poor head. I took a girl from work with me, and we had a great time. I would have liked to go get dinner afterward, but the head, you know. One of these days the Topamax will kick in, and I won't be in pain all the time. Won't that be fun???
And I've already told you about yesterday. Laundry day. I haven't done more than the bare minimum in laundry since the headaches started. And I haven't done more than the bare minimum in any other housework either. But Joe was up late on Saturday night cleaning--he actually washed dishes, took out trash, started laundry--it was truly amazing! And he worked all through the day yesterday, until I told him that I had to stop because the pain had come back and I was worn out. I think he finished up the laundry, and it's waiting for me to finish putting it away tonight, which is great. And he's done the dishes, which means I can go home and throw a quick dinner together and then throw the dishes into the dishwasher without having to move a whole lot of junk out of the way. It's pathetic, that we've been living like this. I can't tell you how much I'm longing to reclaim my life.
Someone I work with just came in and wanted to know what I'd done over the weekend, because I look so beautiful today. :blush I am wearing make-up, which I don't do often enough. But she didn't think that was it. I said that I was able to get some exercise in yesterday, due to a reprieve in the head pain, and she said that must be what it is. My face doesn't look so strained and stressed. Well, that's nice!! She also said that my hair looks perfect today too. I like getting compliments. That's the second one I've gotten so far this morning! :)
I do look extra-cute, I have to admit. I'm wearing a pair of dark brown plaid patterned cuffed pants that have previously been too small for me, along with a dark brown blouse and a cool necklace. Are you bored with my descriptions of my attire? Sorry. Well, not really. Sorry to bore you with it, but it's nice to feel like I look good, and it's really nice to be fitting into things that used to be too small for me.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
The S Project
Use this line: "What exactly is a bergamot, anyway?"
__________________________________________________
I think I heard about one word in ten. The man could talk, no question about it. But he was so interested in himself that I'm not sure he even knew I was there. Theo fancied himself an oenophile, and was blathering on about this wine and that.
I don't like phonies. And I was definitely getting the phony vibe from Theo. So I decided to test him. "What exactly is a bergamot, anyway?" I asked innocently.
"Aah, bergamot," he smiled knowingly. "Have you ever had bergamot? It is a warm, rich red wine from Italy. It's very," he paused--searching for just the right word-- "subtle."
I smiled slightly, successfully repressing a snicker.
Encouraged by my response, he went on talking about wine. He had evidently been reassured of my complete ignorance, and felt free to continue my education.
Okay. He's a phony. Time to bring him down. The waiter hovered nearby, and I signaled him over. "I'd like a cup of Earl Grey, please."
"Certainly. And you, sir?"
"That sounds wonderful. I'll have one as well."
As we sipped our hot teas, Theo commented on the unusual flavor.
I smiled. "It's bergamot."
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, stiffly.
"Bergamot. The Bergamot orange gives Earl Grey tea its unique flavor."
He didn't move.
I continued. "Bergamot is also available in essential oils, and is good for skin conditions and halitosis. You might want to give it a try." I signaled the waiter and paid for my meal.
I looked at Theo, observing the red creeping up his face. "If you had actually conversed with me, instead of lecturing me, you might have learned that I'm a sommelier. Then you would have avoided looking like an idiot, and we might have had a second date."
I left. I know I was cruel, but life is too short for me to saddle myself with narcissistic imbeciles.
__________________________________________________
I think I heard about one word in ten. The man could talk, no question about it. But he was so interested in himself that I'm not sure he even knew I was there. Theo fancied himself an oenophile, and was blathering on about this wine and that.
I don't like phonies. And I was definitely getting the phony vibe from Theo. So I decided to test him. "What exactly is a bergamot, anyway?" I asked innocently.
"Aah, bergamot," he smiled knowingly. "Have you ever had bergamot? It is a warm, rich red wine from Italy. It's very," he paused--searching for just the right word-- "subtle."
I smiled slightly, successfully repressing a snicker.
Encouraged by my response, he went on talking about wine. He had evidently been reassured of my complete ignorance, and felt free to continue my education.
Okay. He's a phony. Time to bring him down. The waiter hovered nearby, and I signaled him over. "I'd like a cup of Earl Grey, please."
"Certainly. And you, sir?"
"That sounds wonderful. I'll have one as well."
As we sipped our hot teas, Theo commented on the unusual flavor.
I smiled. "It's bergamot."
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, stiffly.
"Bergamot. The Bergamot orange gives Earl Grey tea its unique flavor."
He didn't move.
I continued. "Bergamot is also available in essential oils, and is good for skin conditions and halitosis. You might want to give it a try." I signaled the waiter and paid for my meal.
I looked at Theo, observing the red creeping up his face. "If you had actually conversed with me, instead of lecturing me, you might have learned that I'm a sommelier. Then you would have avoided looking like an idiot, and we might have had a second date."
I left. I know I was cruel, but life is too short for me to saddle myself with narcissistic imbeciles.
Okay. I'm going to quit complaining for now. I actually haven't been complaining as much as you may think; I've been researching fundraising ideas. I don't know yet what to do, but I'm going to find out. On to other topics.
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO:
1. Bangles, Walk Like an Egyptian
2. The Clash, London is Burning
3. Dandy Warhols, Bohemian Like You
4. Josie and the Pussycats, Pretend to Be Nice
5. Falco, Rock Me, Amadeus
6. Stray Cats, Stray Cat Strut
7. Pink, Missundaztood
8. Pink, Stupid Girls
9. Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody
10. Barenaked Ladies, One Week
Well, I tried loading my "pissed off" mix last night. Obviously something went wonky, because only a few songs on this list are from my pissed off mix. Maybe I'd better read the instructions to my iPod.
WHAT I'M READING:
It's still With a Tangled Skein, by Piers Anthony. I'm really digging his Incarnations of Immortality series. It's complex, and really plays with the head.
HOW I LOOK:
Cute. Extremely. Today I'm wearing a brown skirt and brown grannie boots, a chartreuse cami and matching shrug, and my watch has a chartreuse brocade band today. My hair still looks nice--I like the cut--and I can't believe only one person at work has noticed that I cut 3 inches off my hair!!! I'll get Joe to take a picture of me when I get home, so you can see my cute new haircut.
HOW I FEEL:
I'm still extremely crabby, and getting Clover's news did not make me any less crabby; it just made me determined. In the words of the River magnet hanging by my desk: "No power in the 'verse can stop me." (Thank you, Joss Whedon. I bow before the greatness that is you.) I took the Topamax last night as directed. Diet sodas don't taste gross (yet), so I'm savoring a diet Dr. Pepper. I still have the headache, not that that's any surprise, but I'm holding on to the hope that it will begin to dissipate in a few weeks.
CREATIVELY SPEAKING:
I have come up with some character work this week, and need to write. Maybe I'll work on that this week.
WHAT I'M LISTENING TO:
1. Bangles, Walk Like an Egyptian
2. The Clash, London is Burning
3. Dandy Warhols, Bohemian Like You
4. Josie and the Pussycats, Pretend to Be Nice
5. Falco, Rock Me, Amadeus
6. Stray Cats, Stray Cat Strut
7. Pink, Missundaztood
8. Pink, Stupid Girls
9. Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody
10. Barenaked Ladies, One Week
Well, I tried loading my "pissed off" mix last night. Obviously something went wonky, because only a few songs on this list are from my pissed off mix. Maybe I'd better read the instructions to my iPod.
WHAT I'M READING:
It's still With a Tangled Skein, by Piers Anthony. I'm really digging his Incarnations of Immortality series. It's complex, and really plays with the head.
HOW I LOOK:
Cute. Extremely. Today I'm wearing a brown skirt and brown grannie boots, a chartreuse cami and matching shrug, and my watch has a chartreuse brocade band today. My hair still looks nice--I like the cut--and I can't believe only one person at work has noticed that I cut 3 inches off my hair!!! I'll get Joe to take a picture of me when I get home, so you can see my cute new haircut.
HOW I FEEL:
I'm still extremely crabby, and getting Clover's news did not make me any less crabby; it just made me determined. In the words of the River magnet hanging by my desk: "No power in the 'verse can stop me." (Thank you, Joss Whedon. I bow before the greatness that is you.) I took the Topamax last night as directed. Diet sodas don't taste gross (yet), so I'm savoring a diet Dr. Pepper. I still have the headache, not that that's any surprise, but I'm holding on to the hope that it will begin to dissipate in a few weeks.
CREATIVELY SPEAKING:
I have come up with some character work this week, and need to write. Maybe I'll work on that this week.
Damn It!
Clover got more bad news. Please go visit and give her some encouragement. And please keep them in your thoughts and prayers, if you're the praying type.
I don't believe in karma anymore. You do good, and good gets returned to you, right? No. Not even close. If that were so, there would be a lot of people who would be prospering mightily, while a lot of others would be suffering mightily. But it just doesn't work that way.
Clover's situation--they're working their tails off trying to make ends meet and provide for their family and their seriously ill son, but make too much money to qualify for the aid they so desperately need--is one of the situations that drove me insane while I was at CPS. I have a "Blue Book." It's published by the United Way of Tarrant County, and has resources for everything you can imagine. I have searched through that book time and again to give referrals to various clients. The people who were actually working and trying to provide for their families, I usually couldn't give them one damned thing. But the people who were content to sit on their lazy asses and let the government and everyone else provide for them, yeah, those I was able to give referrals for everything from groceries and prescriptions to transportation and medical care.
It's wrong. It's just wrong. And it sucks. And I'm pissed.
I'm going to figure out how to do a big fundraiser for Chase's transplant, and I'm going to find a way to pay for it. He is not going to suffer because of the injustices of the world we live in. If you have any ideas, let me know, because the line stops here. I'm making this happen!
I don't believe in karma anymore. You do good, and good gets returned to you, right? No. Not even close. If that were so, there would be a lot of people who would be prospering mightily, while a lot of others would be suffering mightily. But it just doesn't work that way.
Clover's situation--they're working their tails off trying to make ends meet and provide for their family and their seriously ill son, but make too much money to qualify for the aid they so desperately need--is one of the situations that drove me insane while I was at CPS. I have a "Blue Book." It's published by the United Way of Tarrant County, and has resources for everything you can imagine. I have searched through that book time and again to give referrals to various clients. The people who were actually working and trying to provide for their families, I usually couldn't give them one damned thing. But the people who were content to sit on their lazy asses and let the government and everyone else provide for them, yeah, those I was able to give referrals for everything from groceries and prescriptions to transportation and medical care.
It's wrong. It's just wrong. And it sucks. And I'm pissed.
I'm going to figure out how to do a big fundraiser for Chase's transplant, and I'm going to find a way to pay for it. He is not going to suffer because of the injustices of the world we live in. If you have any ideas, let me know, because the line stops here. I'm making this happen!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Neurologist appointment update
I met with the neurologist today. I really like him. He was very thorough in his explanations, listened to what I had to say, and showed that he cares about helping me get better. Basically, I'm in what he described as a "headache rut." He gave me some samples and a prescription of something that should start working within a few weeks. It's safe to take long-term, as treatment for migraines is actually a secondary use to what it was initially approved for.
I looked up the drug, and it has some potential positive side effects. It will at least have a neutral effect on my weight, which is great after having taken so many different things that had an adverse effect on my weight; furthermore, it has been shown to cause weight loss in some people. Bonus! Would that I am one of those people! And it apparently also makes carbonated drinks, particularly diet sodas, taste rankly repulsive, also good for my diet. Yes, I do drink diet sodas, but I do better weight-loss wise when I stick to water. So yay again.
He said if I have any adverse reactions to the drug to call him; otherwise, I'll go back in a month for a follow up. So the news that I've got probably two more weeks before I even start having any time without a headache makes me sad, but the thought that I'll start having time without headaches in as few as two weeks makes me happy. For now, I'm just looking forward to going home and crashing. It's been a pain-filled day.
I looked up the drug, and it has some potential positive side effects. It will at least have a neutral effect on my weight, which is great after having taken so many different things that had an adverse effect on my weight; furthermore, it has been shown to cause weight loss in some people. Bonus! Would that I am one of those people! And it apparently also makes carbonated drinks, particularly diet sodas, taste rankly repulsive, also good for my diet. Yes, I do drink diet sodas, but I do better weight-loss wise when I stick to water. So yay again.
He said if I have any adverse reactions to the drug to call him; otherwise, I'll go back in a month for a follow up. So the news that I've got probably two more weeks before I even start having any time without a headache makes me sad, but the thought that I'll start having time without headaches in as few as two weeks makes me happy. For now, I'm just looking forward to going home and crashing. It's been a pain-filled day.
What I'm Listening to:
Maroon 5, Sunday Morning
Sixpence None the Richer, There She goes
Paris Combo, Fibre de Verre
Queen, Radio GaGa
Dean Martin, You Belong to Me
Peter Gabriel, I Don't Remember
Cast of Hairspray, You Can't Stop the Beat
Cast of Hairspray, Blood on the Pavement
Fine Young Cannibals, Good Thing
???, Taking Care of Business
What I'm Reading:
Just finished Bearing an Hourglass, by Piers Anthony
Just starting With a Tangled Skein, by Piers Anthony
How I'm Feeling:
Cranky. Hungry. Headache-y. It dawns on me that I've been in a bad mood all week. Computer problems, for one. I moved to a different desk in my office, and this computer reeks. And the headache, you know, the one that never ends? It's been bad this week, because I've had sinus headaches on top of the neverending headache. I'm leaving in a few minutes for my neurologist appointment. I hope he figures out what's wrong and fixes it.
How I'm Looking:
Cute. Very cute. Joe colored my hair on Saturday, and it's a different shade than I'm used to. And I got it cut yesterday, and it's very cute. And I'm wearing brown jeans, a long white tank top, with a key lime green cardigan on top that has a butterfly made from bronze and irridescent bugles on it. And brown sandals that make flapping noises when I walk.
Gotta run--I'll post again after my doctor appointment.
Maroon 5, Sunday Morning
Sixpence None the Richer, There She goes
Paris Combo, Fibre de Verre
Queen, Radio GaGa
Dean Martin, You Belong to Me
Peter Gabriel, I Don't Remember
Cast of Hairspray, You Can't Stop the Beat
Cast of Hairspray, Blood on the Pavement
Fine Young Cannibals, Good Thing
???, Taking Care of Business
What I'm Reading:
Just finished Bearing an Hourglass, by Piers Anthony
Just starting With a Tangled Skein, by Piers Anthony
How I'm Feeling:
Cranky. Hungry. Headache-y. It dawns on me that I've been in a bad mood all week. Computer problems, for one. I moved to a different desk in my office, and this computer reeks. And the headache, you know, the one that never ends? It's been bad this week, because I've had sinus headaches on top of the neverending headache. I'm leaving in a few minutes for my neurologist appointment. I hope he figures out what's wrong and fixes it.
How I'm Looking:
Cute. Very cute. Joe colored my hair on Saturday, and it's a different shade than I'm used to. And I got it cut yesterday, and it's very cute. And I'm wearing brown jeans, a long white tank top, with a key lime green cardigan on top that has a butterfly made from bronze and irridescent bugles on it. And brown sandals that make flapping noises when I walk.
Gotta run--I'll post again after my doctor appointment.
Friday, September 15, 2006
What I'm Listening To:
- Nena, 99 Red Balloons
- from Moulin Rouge, Spectacular Spectacular
- Whatever their names are, Obsession
- Rod Stewart, For Sentimental Reasons
- from Moulin Rouge, Lady Marmalade
- Bangles, Manic Monday
- Barbara, Si la Photo Est Bonne
- Billy Idol, Dancing With Myself
- Avril Lavigne, Sk8er Boi
- Whatever their names are, Still the One
Do regular iPods show the name of the artist and the tune? See, I just have a Shuffle, and it doesn't. But that's okay, I'm happy with what I have and not complaining. But I don't feel like looking up the artists for the songs I don't recall the artist of. Did that even make sense? It did to me, but then, that's me. Weird and all.
For someone who's had a headache for over two months, I'm in a remarkably good mood today. I'd be dancing except my ankle is still too sore to do more than a medium paced walk. And I'm a very rapid walker, so it's been hard to slow myself down.
I don't know if I'll be blogging this weekend, so don't be surprised if I'm MIA until Monday.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
What I'm Listening To:
Today's playlist is a little embarrassing to confess to. So, without further ado:
1. Sweet, Ballroom Blitz
2. Rod Stewart, Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?
3. Josie and the Pussycats, Those Three Small Words
4. Village People, YMCA
5. REM, Losing My Religion
6. GoGos, We Got the Beat
7. Men at Work, Who Can It Be Now?
8. Letters to Cleo, I Want You to Want Me
9. Foreigner, Jukebox Hero. I have a funny story--well, no, not funny, but a story, nonetheless--associated with this song.
10. Stevie Ray Vaughn, If the House is a'rockin'
First the Jukebox Hero story. I was 17 or 18, still living at home. I worked in Dallas, quite a long way from home. I went with a guy I was crushing on to see Van Halen. He picked me up from work and did the driving. We were both underage, but that didn't stop us from drinking and necking after the concert. We had left his friend's house where we'd been hanging out, and he was driving me back to my office so I could get my car and go home. He was probably speeding, or giving off other indications that he was intoxicated, as a police cruiser flashed its lights and turned on the sirens. Instead of pulling over, the idiot actually sped up and tried to outrun the cops. The single cruiser was joined by another two or three. I heard the song Jukebox Hero playing on his car radio while I was screaming at him to pull over. He finally did pull over, and was immediately searched, cuffed, and put into a police car. The police told me I was free to go. When I panicked and said that I was miles away from either my own car or from my home, they allowed my date to give me a few quarters (we'd spent all the cash I had with me during the evening) and the phone number of one of his friends who lived nearby before they DROVE OFF AND LEFT ME alone, in Highland Park Dallas, at about 2 a.m. I called my date's friend, and he and his father came to pick me up. Instead of taking me back to my car, they very kindly drove me all the way to Fort Worth where I lived. I had some scary moments, though, while I was waiting for them to arrive. I saw a car cruise by me quite slowly; it turned and came back the opposite direction even more slowly, and then turned again. Fortunately my rescuers got there before the people in the car got back to me. I had been mentally rehearsing the way my mother had taught me to defend myself in a life-or-death situation, but was grateful that I didn't have to try it out.
You know, I was angry and disgusted then with the police. And over the years, the anger and disgust have not ceased. I'm 42 now, nearly 43, and it still appalls me that they left a nubile young woman alone at 2 a.m. on a street corner in Dallas, with no transportation and my nearest relatives tens of miles away.
I have no idea what happened to my date after he spent the night in jail. His mother, when I called the next day to check on him, spat accusations at me like it was my fault the moron was driving drunk and didn't pull over when the police first tried to stop him. I never saw him again.
Okay, enough of that. I'm changing subjects. I was thinking earlier today about that Dandy Warhols song I love so much, Bohemian Like You. And it occurred to me that I spent much of my life playing different parts. When I was little, we moved a lot. A whole lot. And I was naturally shy and withdrawn, and it became more and more difficult to make friends because I knew that we were going to leave them behind. So whenever I found someone who would tolerate me, I began adapting to the expectations of that person and his or her group of friends. I was hanging out with stoners? Okay, so I'll dress like they do and listen to music I hate. Didn't do any drugs, though. I was hanging out with punk rockers? Okay, I'll rip my clothes and put safety pins through my shirts, but I'm not piercing my tongue or anything else. Was I hanging out with Mormon moms? Okay, I'll wear the clothes and do the crafts. Anything in an attempt to fit in. And I never had any true friends, because no one knew me. I mean, I had friends, sure, people that I hung out with. But all of those people, when I decided I wasn't going to play that particular role anymore, dumped me faster than a red-hot ember. Oh--and for an example of what I used to be like, watch Freaks and Geeks. I swear I had some of those clothes, and I remember walking around in my Dad's old military jackets.
It's taken a lot of courage for me to take off my masks and be myself. Sometimes I'm not even sure who I am, but that's okay. I've got eternity to figure it out. I'm glad for the friends I have who love me despite anything. It takes courage to be willing to stand up and stand out, and I'm glad that I've been learning how to have that kind of courage. Because what's worse: having plenty of friends who don't know and don't care to know the real you, or having a very few friends who love you despite the eccentricities and quirks and strangeness? I know which is worse. I've been to both places. And I'm happy where I am.
Okay, one more change of topic and then I'm done. I mentioned a song being an earworm the other day. Today while I was at lunch I started thinking about other earwormy songs. It's a Small World, Beer Barrel Polka, and Lucille are among them. Look, laugh if you must, but I've just confessed how strange I am, so you should expect it by now. Anyway, I remembered the worst earwormy song ever written. Breakfast at Tiffany's. Have you ever heard it? If you have, you're probably already mentally singing it while you cuss me out. I hate that song. I hate that all I have to do is think of it in order to mentally sing it for day. I hate when I hear it in the grocery store, and catch myself dancing down the aisles while singing along. (I hate even worse when I get caught dancing down the aisles while singing along.) So what's your worst earworm song? Share, so I can quit thinking about Breakfast at Tiffany's!
Today's playlist is a little embarrassing to confess to. So, without further ado:
1. Sweet, Ballroom Blitz
2. Rod Stewart, Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?
3. Josie and the Pussycats, Those Three Small Words
4. Village People, YMCA
5. REM, Losing My Religion
6. GoGos, We Got the Beat
7. Men at Work, Who Can It Be Now?
8. Letters to Cleo, I Want You to Want Me
9. Foreigner, Jukebox Hero. I have a funny story--well, no, not funny, but a story, nonetheless--associated with this song.
10. Stevie Ray Vaughn, If the House is a'rockin'
First the Jukebox Hero story. I was 17 or 18, still living at home. I worked in Dallas, quite a long way from home. I went with a guy I was crushing on to see Van Halen. He picked me up from work and did the driving. We were both underage, but that didn't stop us from drinking and necking after the concert. We had left his friend's house where we'd been hanging out, and he was driving me back to my office so I could get my car and go home. He was probably speeding, or giving off other indications that he was intoxicated, as a police cruiser flashed its lights and turned on the sirens. Instead of pulling over, the idiot actually sped up and tried to outrun the cops. The single cruiser was joined by another two or three. I heard the song Jukebox Hero playing on his car radio while I was screaming at him to pull over. He finally did pull over, and was immediately searched, cuffed, and put into a police car. The police told me I was free to go. When I panicked and said that I was miles away from either my own car or from my home, they allowed my date to give me a few quarters (we'd spent all the cash I had with me during the evening) and the phone number of one of his friends who lived nearby before they DROVE OFF AND LEFT ME alone, in Highland Park Dallas, at about 2 a.m. I called my date's friend, and he and his father came to pick me up. Instead of taking me back to my car, they very kindly drove me all the way to Fort Worth where I lived. I had some scary moments, though, while I was waiting for them to arrive. I saw a car cruise by me quite slowly; it turned and came back the opposite direction even more slowly, and then turned again. Fortunately my rescuers got there before the people in the car got back to me. I had been mentally rehearsing the way my mother had taught me to defend myself in a life-or-death situation, but was grateful that I didn't have to try it out.
You know, I was angry and disgusted then with the police. And over the years, the anger and disgust have not ceased. I'm 42 now, nearly 43, and it still appalls me that they left a nubile young woman alone at 2 a.m. on a street corner in Dallas, with no transportation and my nearest relatives tens of miles away.
I have no idea what happened to my date after he spent the night in jail. His mother, when I called the next day to check on him, spat accusations at me like it was my fault the moron was driving drunk and didn't pull over when the police first tried to stop him. I never saw him again.
Okay, enough of that. I'm changing subjects. I was thinking earlier today about that Dandy Warhols song I love so much, Bohemian Like You. And it occurred to me that I spent much of my life playing different parts. When I was little, we moved a lot. A whole lot. And I was naturally shy and withdrawn, and it became more and more difficult to make friends because I knew that we were going to leave them behind. So whenever I found someone who would tolerate me, I began adapting to the expectations of that person and his or her group of friends. I was hanging out with stoners? Okay, so I'll dress like they do and listen to music I hate. Didn't do any drugs, though. I was hanging out with punk rockers? Okay, I'll rip my clothes and put safety pins through my shirts, but I'm not piercing my tongue or anything else. Was I hanging out with Mormon moms? Okay, I'll wear the clothes and do the crafts. Anything in an attempt to fit in. And I never had any true friends, because no one knew me. I mean, I had friends, sure, people that I hung out with. But all of those people, when I decided I wasn't going to play that particular role anymore, dumped me faster than a red-hot ember. Oh--and for an example of what I used to be like, watch Freaks and Geeks. I swear I had some of those clothes, and I remember walking around in my Dad's old military jackets.
It's taken a lot of courage for me to take off my masks and be myself. Sometimes I'm not even sure who I am, but that's okay. I've got eternity to figure it out. I'm glad for the friends I have who love me despite anything. It takes courage to be willing to stand up and stand out, and I'm glad that I've been learning how to have that kind of courage. Because what's worse: having plenty of friends who don't know and don't care to know the real you, or having a very few friends who love you despite the eccentricities and quirks and strangeness? I know which is worse. I've been to both places. And I'm happy where I am.
Okay, one more change of topic and then I'm done. I mentioned a song being an earworm the other day. Today while I was at lunch I started thinking about other earwormy songs. It's a Small World, Beer Barrel Polka, and Lucille are among them. Look, laugh if you must, but I've just confessed how strange I am, so you should expect it by now. Anyway, I remembered the worst earwormy song ever written. Breakfast at Tiffany's. Have you ever heard it? If you have, you're probably already mentally singing it while you cuss me out. I hate that song. I hate that all I have to do is think of it in order to mentally sing it for day. I hate when I hear it in the grocery store, and catch myself dancing down the aisles while singing along. (I hate even worse when I get caught dancing down the aisles while singing along.) So what's your worst earworm song? Share, so I can quit thinking about Breakfast at Tiffany's!
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
What I’m Listening To:
Here are the jewels my iPod dealt out this morning
Stevie Ray Vaughn, Crossfire
BeeGees, Night Fever
Aerosmith, Dude Looks Like a Lady
Sansévérino, Mal Ô Mains
Coralie Clément, La Mer Opale
Stevie Ray Vaughn, If the House Is a’Rockin’
Paris Combo, Traits de Caractere
Rod Stewart, Stardust
Animotion, Obsession
Barenaked Ladies, It’s All Been Done
Doing this has been fun. My head’s always hurting so badly that I tend to put on some light instrumental music as background noise during the day, but can’t really listen to much else. I’ve been able to get my 10 songs played in the morning, and about the time I get to song #10, my head’s hurting badly enough that I have to turn it off. But then I have 10 songs that I get to think about during the day. I occasionally get an earworm—today’s is Obsession. I hate that song. I’m not sure why I have it in my mix.
I just read a bit of sublime Firefly fan fiction. If you are a Firefly geek, I strongly recommend checking it out. You can find it at: http://juliefortune.livejournal.com/43425.html. The writer captures the voices of the characters beautifully.
Oh, and by the way, don’t think that means I regularly read fan fiction. I don’t. Well, not often, anyway. Liz pointed me toward this one, and as she is the consummate Joss Whedon fan, I trusted her. And my trust was rewarded. I blush to confess, however, that I have also been reading Trixie Belden fan fiction to amuse myself in the slow times. Most of it is sheer dreck, but there are a few writers whose stuff I’ve enjoyed. One is good enough that I wish she’d drop the fan fiction and write a good novel. I’d read it.
Á la Wendy, I downloaded some fun blinkies to my computer. But I don’t know how to get them to play on my blog template. Once I figure it out, they’ll be up there for your pleasure and enjoyment.
I’m still reading a lot of Piers Anthony. I’m about 2/3’s of the way through A Spell for Chameleon, and finished The Pale Horse yesterday. In the “Incarnations of Immortality” series, I have now started on Book 2, Bearing an Hourglass. Being the medievalist that I am, I was utterly delighted to see a descendent of Sir Gawain (even pronounced properly) in ghostly form in the opening of the book.
I’ll close with a thought for the day: “Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson. Note that he instructed us to drink the wild AIR, not the wild BEER. Beer Bad! (Season 4 of Buffy).
Here are the jewels my iPod dealt out this morning
Stevie Ray Vaughn, Crossfire
BeeGees, Night Fever
Aerosmith, Dude Looks Like a Lady
Sansévérino, Mal Ô Mains
Coralie Clément, La Mer Opale
Stevie Ray Vaughn, If the House Is a’Rockin’
Paris Combo, Traits de Caractere
Rod Stewart, Stardust
Animotion, Obsession
Barenaked Ladies, It’s All Been Done
Doing this has been fun. My head’s always hurting so badly that I tend to put on some light instrumental music as background noise during the day, but can’t really listen to much else. I’ve been able to get my 10 songs played in the morning, and about the time I get to song #10, my head’s hurting badly enough that I have to turn it off. But then I have 10 songs that I get to think about during the day. I occasionally get an earworm—today’s is Obsession. I hate that song. I’m not sure why I have it in my mix.
I just read a bit of sublime Firefly fan fiction. If you are a Firefly geek, I strongly recommend checking it out. You can find it at: http://juliefortune.livejournal.com/43425.html. The writer captures the voices of the characters beautifully.
Oh, and by the way, don’t think that means I regularly read fan fiction. I don’t. Well, not often, anyway. Liz pointed me toward this one, and as she is the consummate Joss Whedon fan, I trusted her. And my trust was rewarded. I blush to confess, however, that I have also been reading Trixie Belden fan fiction to amuse myself in the slow times. Most of it is sheer dreck, but there are a few writers whose stuff I’ve enjoyed. One is good enough that I wish she’d drop the fan fiction and write a good novel. I’d read it.
Á la Wendy, I downloaded some fun blinkies to my computer. But I don’t know how to get them to play on my blog template. Once I figure it out, they’ll be up there for your pleasure and enjoyment.
I’m still reading a lot of Piers Anthony. I’m about 2/3’s of the way through A Spell for Chameleon, and finished The Pale Horse yesterday. In the “Incarnations of Immortality” series, I have now started on Book 2, Bearing an Hourglass. Being the medievalist that I am, I was utterly delighted to see a descendent of Sir Gawain (even pronounced properly) in ghostly form in the opening of the book.
I’ll close with a thought for the day: “Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson. Note that he instructed us to drink the wild AIR, not the wild BEER. Beer Bad! (Season 4 of Buffy).
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
From My Whiteboard
I e-mailed this to some friends yesterday, but wanted it to be in my blog. I remember. I will always remember.
Usually at work I put two trivia questions and a quotation on my whiteboard. I did that this morning, and then wiped it off. Trivia didn't seem to be appropriate. Instead I filled my board with quotations pertaining to 9/11.
"The terrorist acts on September the 11th were a turning point for our nation. We saw the goals of a determined enemy: to expand the scale of their murder and force America to retreat from the world. And our nation accepted a mission: we will defeat this enemy." --President George W. Bush
"Understand the causes of terror? Yes, we should try, but let there be no moral ambiguity about this: nothing could ever justify the events of September 11 and it is to turn justice on its head to pretend it could." --British Prime Minister Tony Blair
"A group of us are going to do something." --Thomas E. Burnett Jr., U.S. flight 93, moments before the plane crashed in rural Pennsylvania
"What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would learn? Whatever it was, please know that you failed. Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned your cause. Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our resolve. . . . You don't know my people. You don't know what we're capable of. You don't know what you just started. But you're about to learn." --Leonard Pitts Jr., Miami Herald
Usually at work I put two trivia questions and a quotation on my whiteboard. I did that this morning, and then wiped it off. Trivia didn't seem to be appropriate. Instead I filled my board with quotations pertaining to 9/11.
"The terrorist acts on September the 11th were a turning point for our nation. We saw the goals of a determined enemy: to expand the scale of their murder and force America to retreat from the world. And our nation accepted a mission: we will defeat this enemy." --President George W. Bush
"Understand the causes of terror? Yes, we should try, but let there be no moral ambiguity about this: nothing could ever justify the events of September 11 and it is to turn justice on its head to pretend it could." --British Prime Minister Tony Blair
"A group of us are going to do something." --Thomas E. Burnett Jr., U.S. flight 93, moments before the plane crashed in rural Pennsylvania
"What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would learn? Whatever it was, please know that you failed. Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned your cause. Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our resolve. . . . You don't know my people. You don't know what we're capable of. You don't know what you just started. But you're about to learn." --Leonard Pitts Jr., Miami Herald
The first ten songs on my iPod today are:
Foreigner, Urgent
Letters to Cleo, I Want You to Want Me
The Trammps, Disco Inferno
Robert Palmer, Simply Irresistible
François Feldman, Les Enfants d’Aujourd’Hui
Dean Martin, Volare
Billy Idol, White Wedding. Okay, I really like Billy Idol, even if he did steal his look from Spike.
Letters to Cleo, Cruel to be Kind
Bette Midler & Linda Ronstadt, Sisters
Pink, Don’t Let Me Get Me
In other news, I have a job! Yes, friends, the company where I’ve been temping for one week short of 11 months has FINALLY hired me. The reason it took so long is because I held out for a better job title and more money, and the approval process went all the way to the president of the company. Yesterday was my “first day” as an employee. Of course, HR still hasn’t given me the paperwork to fill out and I’m still using my temp badge and temp ID’s, but that seems to be typical. I like it here, so it’s worth it to me.
I also managed to wrench my right ankle pretty badly. It’s such a stupid little story. On Saturday Liz and I went to the mall to go walking, and I twisted my ankle when I was getting out of the car. It didn’t hurt, so we went ahead and walked. And walked and walked and walked and walked. When I woke up Sunday morning I was in pain!! I got an ankle wrap Sunday evening, and wore it yesterday to work, where I hobbled around like a 97-year-old woman with brittle bones. Today I’m a little better; I’m hobbling around like an 82-year-old woman with brittle bones! Hey—you’ve got to take the good as it comes, right?
The headaches are still going strong. But the neurologist appointment is a week from tomorrow, and I’m holding out hope that he’ll be able to figure out what the deal is and help me find some relief.
Foreigner, Urgent
Letters to Cleo, I Want You to Want Me
The Trammps, Disco Inferno
Robert Palmer, Simply Irresistible
François Feldman, Les Enfants d’Aujourd’Hui
Dean Martin, Volare
Billy Idol, White Wedding. Okay, I really like Billy Idol, even if he did steal his look from Spike.
Letters to Cleo, Cruel to be Kind
Bette Midler & Linda Ronstadt, Sisters
Pink, Don’t Let Me Get Me
In other news, I have a job! Yes, friends, the company where I’ve been temping for one week short of 11 months has FINALLY hired me. The reason it took so long is because I held out for a better job title and more money, and the approval process went all the way to the president of the company. Yesterday was my “first day” as an employee. Of course, HR still hasn’t given me the paperwork to fill out and I’m still using my temp badge and temp ID’s, but that seems to be typical. I like it here, so it’s worth it to me.
I also managed to wrench my right ankle pretty badly. It’s such a stupid little story. On Saturday Liz and I went to the mall to go walking, and I twisted my ankle when I was getting out of the car. It didn’t hurt, so we went ahead and walked. And walked and walked and walked and walked. When I woke up Sunday morning I was in pain!! I got an ankle wrap Sunday evening, and wore it yesterday to work, where I hobbled around like a 97-year-old woman with brittle bones. Today I’m a little better; I’m hobbling around like an 82-year-old woman with brittle bones! Hey—you’ve got to take the good as it comes, right?
The headaches are still going strong. But the neurologist appointment is a week from tomorrow, and I’m holding out hope that he’ll be able to figure out what the deal is and help me find some relief.
Friday, September 08, 2006
I'm tired of thinking up titles
That was always the hardest part about writing a paper, thinking up a title for it. I think only one or two papers had titles so obvious that even I couldn't miss them, including my best paper about the roles of women (Madonna vs. Whore) in Eugene O'Neill's play "The Great God Brown." So I'm rebelling today. I'm not going to try to think up a title for today's post. I'm not getting graded on it; I'm not getting paid for it; I don't even know if more than 3 people will read it. But I love all 3 of my readers!! :)
Okay, so first things first. My iPod presented the following 10 songs for me this morning:
1. Foreigner, Hot Blooded. My first really serious boyfriend tried to seduce me with this song. What was he thinking???
2. Katrina and the Waves, Walking on Sunshine. I would hate this song for its unrelenting perkiness, but I can't quite manage the hatred. But I will say that it was not the song for me this morning.
3. The Proclaimers, I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) . I've loved this one since I first heard it. Perhaps it's their accents. I'm a sucker for a sexy accent.
4. I really blush to list this next one. Josie and the Pussycats, Pretend to Be Nice. But, okay, have you ever listened to the Josie and the Pussycats soundtrack? It's got two or three songs that I really like. And the movie was so farcical that I loved it.
5. Les Nubians, One Step Forward. I may have mentioned before my love for Les Nubians. You really should check them out.
6. Rod Stewart, You're in My Soul. If the first really serious boyfriend had tried to seduce me with this song, he'd have stood a much better chance of success.
7. Police, Message in a Bottle. Mmmmmm. Sting.
8. Paris Combo, Berceuse Insomnique. I like their shtick. They make fun music.
9. Barbara, Si La Photo Est Bonne. This is a cool song about how you can't really tell about a person just by looking at his photo. I like it.
10. Orleans, Still the One. Another song I wish I could hate but can't quite.
Okay, on to different things. The head? It still hurts. Badly. The only way I persuaded myself to come to work today was by promising myself that I could go home early. I won't, of course, but whatever works, right?
The diet? Not going so well this week. I finally said the heck with it, and will get back on the wagon tomorrow. It happens. This is real life, and things aren't always going to be perfect. Heck! Things are never perfect.
Chase? He's back in the hospital with a ruptured spleen. Please go visit Clover and leave her an encouraging word or two. He's doing all right, but the doctors don't want to remove his spleen until they do the liver transplant. We're hoping that he gets placed higher up on the transplant list. I love Chase. I don't even know how to describe him. He is adorable, snotty, goofy, and not infrequently a little 40-year-old man in a 10-year-old's body. All Clover's kids are great, but Chase's health issues have definitely taken a toll on him.
This is it for now. My objective for the day is to make it through the work day without crying because of the pain in my head, and to get through the evening without yelling at my husband when he tries to fix my problems with solutions that don't work. Peace out.
Okay, so first things first. My iPod presented the following 10 songs for me this morning:
1. Foreigner, Hot Blooded. My first really serious boyfriend tried to seduce me with this song. What was he thinking???
2. Katrina and the Waves, Walking on Sunshine. I would hate this song for its unrelenting perkiness, but I can't quite manage the hatred. But I will say that it was not the song for me this morning.
3. The Proclaimers, I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) . I've loved this one since I first heard it. Perhaps it's their accents. I'm a sucker for a sexy accent.
4. I really blush to list this next one. Josie and the Pussycats, Pretend to Be Nice. But, okay, have you ever listened to the Josie and the Pussycats soundtrack? It's got two or three songs that I really like. And the movie was so farcical that I loved it.
5. Les Nubians, One Step Forward. I may have mentioned before my love for Les Nubians. You really should check them out.
6. Rod Stewart, You're in My Soul. If the first really serious boyfriend had tried to seduce me with this song, he'd have stood a much better chance of success.
7. Police, Message in a Bottle. Mmmmmm. Sting.
8. Paris Combo, Berceuse Insomnique. I like their shtick. They make fun music.
9. Barbara, Si La Photo Est Bonne. This is a cool song about how you can't really tell about a person just by looking at his photo. I like it.
10. Orleans, Still the One. Another song I wish I could hate but can't quite.
Okay, on to different things. The head? It still hurts. Badly. The only way I persuaded myself to come to work today was by promising myself that I could go home early. I won't, of course, but whatever works, right?
The diet? Not going so well this week. I finally said the heck with it, and will get back on the wagon tomorrow. It happens. This is real life, and things aren't always going to be perfect. Heck! Things are never perfect.
Chase? He's back in the hospital with a ruptured spleen. Please go visit Clover and leave her an encouraging word or two. He's doing all right, but the doctors don't want to remove his spleen until they do the liver transplant. We're hoping that he gets placed higher up on the transplant list. I love Chase. I don't even know how to describe him. He is adorable, snotty, goofy, and not infrequently a little 40-year-old man in a 10-year-old's body. All Clover's kids are great, but Chase's health issues have definitely taken a toll on him.
This is it for now. My objective for the day is to make it through the work day without crying because of the pain in my head, and to get through the evening without yelling at my husband when he tries to fix my problems with solutions that don't work. Peace out.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Faith's Alphabet
A is for Age: Forty-two
B is for booze of choice: No booze. None. Sorry. So let's make B stand for, oh, I dunno, breakfast of choice? I eat a light yogurt with either All Bran or Grapenuts stirred into it on weekdays.
C is for Career: Administrative Assistant. Boring, lame, and pathetic. I know. I'm working toward being able to change that answer to Writer. I'm a writer now, but nobody has paid me one red cent yet.
D is for Dog: Molly
E is essential items you use/love everyday: Great Lash mascara, Get Even powder by Benefit, and my watch.
F is for favorite song of the moment: "Bohemian Like You" by the Dandy Warhols
G is for favorite games: to watch live, baseball. To play, Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit.
H is for hometown: Lone Star, Texas
I is for instruments you play: piano (well); clarinet (beginnerish)
J is for jam or jelly you like: strawberry
K is for kids: Tad and Ellie, but they're in heaven
L is for last kiss: my dog's nose
M is for most admired trait: Persistence
N is for name of your crush: Joey
O is for overnight hospital stays: 1976 when I had my tonsils removed; 2001 when I had a breast reduction; and 2002 when I had my hysterectomy.
P is for phobias: arachnids and insects, large crowds
Q is for quotations you like: "The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do."--Walter Bagehot "Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go."--T.S. Eliot "I am a part of all I have seen."--Alfred Lord Tennyson "Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie."--Shakespeare "A vision without action is called a daydream; but then again, action without vision is called a nightmare."--Jim Sorensen "Everything comes to him who hustles while he waits."--Thomas Edison
R is for biggest regret: The times I quit trying.
S is for sweets of your choice: Reese's peanut butter cups
T is for time you wake up: Between 5:45 and 6:15.
U is for underwear: nylon
V is for vegetables you love: I love almost all vegetables. Even turnips and eggplant have their place. I call that place the garbage can, but you may disagree.
W is for worst habit: Eating when I'm stressed or emotionally overloaded.
X is for x-rays you've had: Lots o'--too many to count.
Y is for yummy food you make: Everything I make is yummy. I make particularly good soup.
Z is for zodiac: Sagittarius
B is for booze of choice: No booze. None. Sorry. So let's make B stand for, oh, I dunno, breakfast of choice? I eat a light yogurt with either All Bran or Grapenuts stirred into it on weekdays.
C is for Career: Administrative Assistant. Boring, lame, and pathetic. I know. I'm working toward being able to change that answer to Writer. I'm a writer now, but nobody has paid me one red cent yet.
D is for Dog: Molly
E is essential items you use/love everyday: Great Lash mascara, Get Even powder by Benefit, and my watch.
F is for favorite song of the moment: "Bohemian Like You" by the Dandy Warhols
G is for favorite games: to watch live, baseball. To play, Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit.
H is for hometown: Lone Star, Texas
I is for instruments you play: piano (well); clarinet (beginnerish)
J is for jam or jelly you like: strawberry
K is for kids: Tad and Ellie, but they're in heaven
L is for last kiss: my dog's nose
M is for most admired trait: Persistence
N is for name of your crush: Joey
O is for overnight hospital stays: 1976 when I had my tonsils removed; 2001 when I had a breast reduction; and 2002 when I had my hysterectomy.
P is for phobias: arachnids and insects, large crowds
Q is for quotations you like: "The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do."--Walter Bagehot "Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go."--T.S. Eliot "I am a part of all I have seen."--Alfred Lord Tennyson "Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie."--Shakespeare "A vision without action is called a daydream; but then again, action without vision is called a nightmare."--Jim Sorensen "Everything comes to him who hustles while he waits."--Thomas Edison
R is for biggest regret: The times I quit trying.
S is for sweets of your choice: Reese's peanut butter cups
T is for time you wake up: Between 5:45 and 6:15.
U is for underwear: nylon
V is for vegetables you love: I love almost all vegetables. Even turnips and eggplant have their place. I call that place the garbage can, but you may disagree.
W is for worst habit: Eating when I'm stressed or emotionally overloaded.
X is for x-rays you've had: Lots o'--too many to count.
Y is for yummy food you make: Everything I make is yummy. I make particularly good soup.
Z is for zodiac: Sagittarius
What I'm Listening To Today
Here are the first ten songs that played on my iPod in shuffle mode today:
1. Queen, Radio Ga-Ga
2. Rod Stewart, Someone to Watch Over Me. I couldn't help but giggle at the incongruity of Rod Stewart singing, "I'm a little lamb who's lost in the woods."
3. REM, Losing My Religion
4. Pink, Just Like a Pill
5. Dandy Warhols, Bohemian Like You
6. Bette Midler, Mambo Italiano
7. Styx, The Best of Times
8. Timbuk3, Gotta Wear Shades
9. Dexy's Midnight Runners, Come On Eileen
10. Falco, Rock Me Amadeus
There are more than a few 80s songs here, aren't there? Why didn't Les Nubians or Paris Combo come up, so I could impress you with my love for French pop? Why not more alternative music? And why the heck didn't Sweet blast out Ballroom Blitz for me? That usually comes up in the first few songs I play. There's no Dean Martin or Tony Bennett here, nor the lone Hank Williams song I have in this mix.
Just out of curiosity, I waited to hear what song 11 would be before I finished this post. It's another Pink song, Get This Party Started.
I've got to turn the iPod off now. It's not doing a lot for my headache. But hey, I only got caught jamming by one person, and no one at all caught me when I briefly unthinkingly sang along with Rod Stewart before remembering no one else could hear the music.
1. Queen, Radio Ga-Ga
2. Rod Stewart, Someone to Watch Over Me. I couldn't help but giggle at the incongruity of Rod Stewart singing, "I'm a little lamb who's lost in the woods."
3. REM, Losing My Religion
4. Pink, Just Like a Pill
5. Dandy Warhols, Bohemian Like You
6. Bette Midler, Mambo Italiano
7. Styx, The Best of Times
8. Timbuk3, Gotta Wear Shades
9. Dexy's Midnight Runners, Come On Eileen
10. Falco, Rock Me Amadeus
There are more than a few 80s songs here, aren't there? Why didn't Les Nubians or Paris Combo come up, so I could impress you with my love for French pop? Why not more alternative music? And why the heck didn't Sweet blast out Ballroom Blitz for me? That usually comes up in the first few songs I play. There's no Dean Martin or Tony Bennett here, nor the lone Hank Williams song I have in this mix.
Just out of curiosity, I waited to hear what song 11 would be before I finished this post. It's another Pink song, Get This Party Started.
I've got to turn the iPod off now. It's not doing a lot for my headache. But hey, I only got caught jamming by one person, and no one at all caught me when I briefly unthinkingly sang along with Rod Stewart before remembering no one else could hear the music.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Another Book Meme
What can I say? I love books. No surprise, that.
1. You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451. Which book do you want to be?
Jane Eyre. I've read that book so many times I know bits of it by heart already. I would say any of the Harry Potters, as I know much more of them by heart, but I figure there are plenty o' people out there who would like to be Harry Potter. So I'll stick with Jane Eyre.
2. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Amusingly enough, I used to have a crush on Mr. Rochester, until I met my stepfather. There is a line Mr. Rochester says to Jane that sounds just like it came out of my stepfather's mouth: "Young lady, I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative tonight." So I quit jonesing for Mr. Rochester. And I did have a bit of a crush on Sirius Black until he bit it. I sort of had a thing for Heathcliff, but he turned into such a nasty git that I got over that one real quick. But the fictional character who still owns that part of my heart is Benedick. I'll always love Benedick.
3. The last book you bought is:
A Spell for Chameleon, by Piers Anthony. I'm on a Piers Anthony binge right now.
4. The last book you read is:
Ghosts of Albion: Accursed, by Christopher Golden and Amber Benson. I ripped it off from my sister, who probably wants me to give it back. I guess I will. But it was good. I'm looking forward to reading the next Albion book.
5. What are you currently reading?
A Spell for Chameleon, see above.
6. Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Harry Potter (I'm counting the whole series as one book, whether you like it or not.) :-)
Vanity Fair. I've tried multiple times to read that blasted book, and haven't yet been able to wade through Thackeray's turgid prose. Perhaps if I were stranded on a deserted island and all the other books were eroded by the elements and only Vanity Fair were left, I might read it. Maybe. Or I might take my chances with the sharks. One never knows.
Les Miserables. That's a dang long book, might take me a day or two to read. It'd kill a little time, and I could amuse myself by singing "Who am I? Who am I? I'm Jean Valjean!"
The Watcher's Guides. Again, I'm counting several books as one. But they'd be cool because they've got episode summaries, quotations, interviews, pictures -- I could relive the Buffy glory days and amuse myself for a while.
And to finish it off, how about Samuel Pepys' diaries? (Once more, of course, counting many volumes as one book.) They'd take a while to read, and are dang fascinating reading.
I'm not going to bother tagging anyone. My sister will rip this meme off anyway, and the others whose responses I'd love to see (ahem, Clover, Trista, Wendy) probably won't do it anyway. Well, Trista might. But she's really swamped right now; I'd hate to add to her burden. Oh, and if I may add one more book to my deserted island list, I'm going to add Crocodile on the Sandbank, by Elizabeth Peters (the first Amelia Peabody book). Bonus!
1. You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451. Which book do you want to be?
Jane Eyre. I've read that book so many times I know bits of it by heart already. I would say any of the Harry Potters, as I know much more of them by heart, but I figure there are plenty o' people out there who would like to be Harry Potter. So I'll stick with Jane Eyre.
2. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Amusingly enough, I used to have a crush on Mr. Rochester, until I met my stepfather. There is a line Mr. Rochester says to Jane that sounds just like it came out of my stepfather's mouth: "Young lady, I am disposed to be gregarious and communicative tonight." So I quit jonesing for Mr. Rochester. And I did have a bit of a crush on Sirius Black until he bit it. I sort of had a thing for Heathcliff, but he turned into such a nasty git that I got over that one real quick. But the fictional character who still owns that part of my heart is Benedick. I'll always love Benedick.
3. The last book you bought is:
A Spell for Chameleon, by Piers Anthony. I'm on a Piers Anthony binge right now.
4. The last book you read is:
Ghosts of Albion: Accursed, by Christopher Golden and Amber Benson. I ripped it off from my sister, who probably wants me to give it back. I guess I will. But it was good. I'm looking forward to reading the next Albion book.
5. What are you currently reading?
A Spell for Chameleon, see above.
6. Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Harry Potter (I'm counting the whole series as one book, whether you like it or not.) :-)
Vanity Fair. I've tried multiple times to read that blasted book, and haven't yet been able to wade through Thackeray's turgid prose. Perhaps if I were stranded on a deserted island and all the other books were eroded by the elements and only Vanity Fair were left, I might read it. Maybe. Or I might take my chances with the sharks. One never knows.
Les Miserables. That's a dang long book, might take me a day or two to read. It'd kill a little time, and I could amuse myself by singing "Who am I? Who am I? I'm Jean Valjean!"
The Watcher's Guides. Again, I'm counting several books as one. But they'd be cool because they've got episode summaries, quotations, interviews, pictures -- I could relive the Buffy glory days and amuse myself for a while.
And to finish it off, how about Samuel Pepys' diaries? (Once more, of course, counting many volumes as one book.) They'd take a while to read, and are dang fascinating reading.
I'm not going to bother tagging anyone. My sister will rip this meme off anyway, and the others whose responses I'd love to see (ahem, Clover, Trista, Wendy) probably won't do it anyway. Well, Trista might. But she's really swamped right now; I'd hate to add to her burden. Oh, and if I may add one more book to my deserted island list, I'm going to add Crocodile on the Sandbank, by Elizabeth Peters (the first Amelia Peabody book). Bonus!
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
A Moment of Clarity
As I mentioned earlier, today's been a rough day. Pain, stress at work, and stupid little accidents. I came home and stuffed my face, like that's really going to help. All it did is give me a stomach ache, use the rest of my weekly points allowance, and make me a little apprehensive about Saturday's weigh-in. I then took some medicine for my headache. Two hours later, I took some more. I'm finally starting to feel sleepy now, which is a good thing. But in between the time it took for the medicine to kick in, I had a moment of clarity after a bout of sobbing.
Okay. Here's the thing. When I went to work for CPS, I did it because I wanted to help people. It hit me this evening that I don't know if I really did help anyone at all. (Hence the sobbing.) On one hand I think that taking that job was the number one worst mistake I've ever made in my life. But on the other hand, I felt so clear, so positive that it was what I needed to do at that time in my life. I met some amazing people, people that I just loved and would have done anything possible for, and people that could not see beyond their own immediate needs to take care of their families.
As I was thinking of that tonight, and thinking how much I loved the people I served, how much I wanted to help them reach for something better, I began thinking about the Savior. I know how much he loves me, and started wondering how many times he feels as sorrowful over my choices as I did over the choices of the families I worked with. How many times has he grieved as I stubbornly clung to my own immediate needs to the detriment of my true needs?
This isn't a new thought. I beat myself up pretty frequently over my bad choices. And I know that beating myself up isn't helpful, but I do it anyway. It's just that the thought hit me with such a peculiar clarity tonight that it brought an immediate sense of peace. I thought of a verse in Isaiah, where the Lord invites me to "reason together" with him. Sometimes my faith wavers just a bit, not in God or in Jesus Christ, but in myself. Sometimes I wonder if this is the right church. Sometimes I wonder if any of this even matters, if there is any point in the suffering I've experienced. But in those moments like that I had tonight, I know that it does matter. There is a point. I matter.
Today at work I tuned into the BYU radio station, playing the instrumental stream. I can't say that it brought a lot of peace in my hectic day, but I did notice and appreciate it. And it must have sunk in, because as I thought about things tonight I began to hear the words of those hymns. "Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace, when other sources cease to make me whole?" I wanted to go play the piano, something I haven't done in quite some time, but Joe has blocked the path to my piano with all his musical equipment.
I think I want to move the piano back into the living room. And I am glad to know that life matters, and that even though I make a dreadful muddle of things so much of the time, I can go to the Lord and he and I can reason together.
I'm not saying this anything like as clearly as I can understand it, but I just don't know how to say it any better. While I was at CPS, I felt the strongest sense of purpose. When I got up in the morning, I felt like it was going to make a difference in someone's life. That's a big difference from now, when all I do is go pull credit bureau reports and prepare spreadsheets for a few hours, and then spend the rest of the day writing or reading or doing whatever I can to amuse myself. It makes me wonder if there is still a purpose in my life, because nothing I do at work is even remotely earth-shattering in importance. But I work hard, and I do the work of two people in less than half the time of one person, so I feel that I earn the money I make. And I try to be a good person. And I matter, and there is a purpose to my life, even if I don't know what it is. That's a good thing to know.
Okay. Here's the thing. When I went to work for CPS, I did it because I wanted to help people. It hit me this evening that I don't know if I really did help anyone at all. (Hence the sobbing.) On one hand I think that taking that job was the number one worst mistake I've ever made in my life. But on the other hand, I felt so clear, so positive that it was what I needed to do at that time in my life. I met some amazing people, people that I just loved and would have done anything possible for, and people that could not see beyond their own immediate needs to take care of their families.
As I was thinking of that tonight, and thinking how much I loved the people I served, how much I wanted to help them reach for something better, I began thinking about the Savior. I know how much he loves me, and started wondering how many times he feels as sorrowful over my choices as I did over the choices of the families I worked with. How many times has he grieved as I stubbornly clung to my own immediate needs to the detriment of my true needs?
This isn't a new thought. I beat myself up pretty frequently over my bad choices. And I know that beating myself up isn't helpful, but I do it anyway. It's just that the thought hit me with such a peculiar clarity tonight that it brought an immediate sense of peace. I thought of a verse in Isaiah, where the Lord invites me to "reason together" with him. Sometimes my faith wavers just a bit, not in God or in Jesus Christ, but in myself. Sometimes I wonder if this is the right church. Sometimes I wonder if any of this even matters, if there is any point in the suffering I've experienced. But in those moments like that I had tonight, I know that it does matter. There is a point. I matter.
Today at work I tuned into the BYU radio station, playing the instrumental stream. I can't say that it brought a lot of peace in my hectic day, but I did notice and appreciate it. And it must have sunk in, because as I thought about things tonight I began to hear the words of those hymns. "Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace, when other sources cease to make me whole?" I wanted to go play the piano, something I haven't done in quite some time, but Joe has blocked the path to my piano with all his musical equipment.
I think I want to move the piano back into the living room. And I am glad to know that life matters, and that even though I make a dreadful muddle of things so much of the time, I can go to the Lord and he and I can reason together.
I'm not saying this anything like as clearly as I can understand it, but I just don't know how to say it any better. While I was at CPS, I felt the strongest sense of purpose. When I got up in the morning, I felt like it was going to make a difference in someone's life. That's a big difference from now, when all I do is go pull credit bureau reports and prepare spreadsheets for a few hours, and then spend the rest of the day writing or reading or doing whatever I can to amuse myself. It makes me wonder if there is still a purpose in my life, because nothing I do at work is even remotely earth-shattering in importance. But I work hard, and I do the work of two people in less than half the time of one person, so I feel that I earn the money I make. And I try to be a good person. And I matter, and there is a purpose to my life, even if I don't know what it is. That's a good thing to know.
The Candy Tree
Yesterday I told Tate (Clover's youngest) that I have a candy tree in my back yard. Every so often, when the candy on the tree gets ripe, I pick it and take it over to their house. He looked suspiciously at me, and said that he wants to see my candy tree. I promised that he could come over around Halloween, when it will be ripe again, and he can pick some candy off the tree. He said that he would just go over to my house and sneak in my back yard, but I told him that unripe candy will make him very sick, so he has to wait until it's ripe. He wanted to go plant 3 tootsie pops to make his own candy tree, but I somehow convinced him that they wouldn't grow. I told him that my dog once took a bag of Hershey's kisses and buried it in the back yard. We found that bag, but maybe she buried some other candy, and that's what made my candy tree grow. His older and less gullible brother Chase suggested that the candy tree gets watered with sugar water, but I hastily vetoed that, and said that we don't take any extra special care with the candy tree. It just grows.
So it's all set. I've invited them over on the 28th of October for a candy harvest. I'll have to post pictures of the great event afterward.
I also told Clover and her husband that Joe has a tattoo of the Marshall logo on his butt. (He doesn't, of course, but is an avid fan of the Marshall amps/stacks/heads/whatever they're called.) That lie backfired, as he told me on the way home that he wants to get a Marshall logo tattooed on one cheek, and a Gibson Les Paul tattooed on the other cheek. He's joking, right? Of course I won't let him, so it's a moot point, but still-- nah. He's joking.
I've got to quit telling lies.
So it's all set. I've invited them over on the 28th of October for a candy harvest. I'll have to post pictures of the great event afterward.
I also told Clover and her husband that Joe has a tattoo of the Marshall logo on his butt. (He doesn't, of course, but is an avid fan of the Marshall amps/stacks/heads/whatever they're called.) That lie backfired, as he told me on the way home that he wants to get a Marshall logo tattooed on one cheek, and a Gibson Les Paul tattooed on the other cheek. He's joking, right? Of course I won't let him, so it's a moot point, but still-- nah. He's joking.
I've got to quit telling lies.
My Glorious Weekend
It wasn't necessarily so much of a holiday, but I had a decent weekend, for the most part. Joe took me and Liz out Saturday night for dinner (Red Robin) and a movie. He wanted to see Talladega Nights, and Liz wanted to see Little Miss Sunshine. I went with her to see that one, as Will Ferrell tends to drive me even more bonkers than I already am. Little Miss Sunshine definitely had some vile moments, but I enjoyed the rest of the movie. Steve Carrell was just wonderful as the suicidal Proust scholar, and I thought the entire cast did a beautiful job.
I spent much of Saturday trying on clothes that I had put away several years ago when they got too little (yes, 90% of that batch now fit) and trying on clothes that I bought in the last two years that are getting too big, so that I could get my closet better organized. I'm now down 12 pounds, and I truly love getting back into my smaller clothes. I need to make Joe take me out to the storage unit, so I can get the other boxes of small clothes out of there. I know I've got some for the size I am now, and it would be nice to have a slightly more expanded wardrobe. On Saturday evening I got a terrible craving for bad food, so instead I went out and bought two really cute cotton camisoles, one black and one ecru, to wear under my sweaters and jackets. And I then went to Subway to get a sub for dinner instead of the fried whatever I wanted that evening. Joe spent the day working overtime, so I didn't get to see much of him. He got home around 8, and we immediately headed out to Central Market. If you're not familiar with Central Market, it's a wonderful grocery store with the most sublime produce imaginable.
I took things easy Sunday, as my perpetual headache was behaving badly. Liz and I did take an hour and a half walk for exercise on Sunday afternoon, and my head was just pounding heavily by the time I got home.
On Monday we met Liz and my Dad and Monster for lunch. I forgot to look up the points for the restaurant we went to, and ended up spending considerably more points for lunch than I wanted to. And then Joe and I took a casual dinner over to Pat's and Clovers, and got their kids all hopped up on sugar before we left. I managed to eat way more there than I realized as well. When I totted up the points this morning, I was absolutely disgusted to realize how many I spent yesterday. It's okay, of course; I dipped into my weekly points allowance and it's not going to hurt me or anything. It was just a good reminder of how I need to plan ahead before going out to eat, and measure out my portions of the good food before we take dinner over to our friends house. I'm the only one who was eating the baked lays, so it wouldn't have bothered anyone for me to have weighed out my one-ounce portion and taken it in a baggie as opposed to taking a whole bag of the chips. So lesson noted, and I move on.
Today has been a terrible, awful, no good, very bad day. My perpetual headache is causing much pain today. I've cried two or three times. And I forgot my sunglasses, so I had to pick up a pair during my lunch break today. And my printer is out of toner, and the guy who has to put the toner into the printers is not in today. And the other printer I use when my printer isn't working is also out of toner. And I knocked over a bottle of Propel all over my desk. I get off in about an hour and a half. I'm planning to go home, take a shower, take two pain pills, eat a bunch of grapes, and go to sleep. Sounds fun, eh?
I spent much of Saturday trying on clothes that I had put away several years ago when they got too little (yes, 90% of that batch now fit) and trying on clothes that I bought in the last two years that are getting too big, so that I could get my closet better organized. I'm now down 12 pounds, and I truly love getting back into my smaller clothes. I need to make Joe take me out to the storage unit, so I can get the other boxes of small clothes out of there. I know I've got some for the size I am now, and it would be nice to have a slightly more expanded wardrobe. On Saturday evening I got a terrible craving for bad food, so instead I went out and bought two really cute cotton camisoles, one black and one ecru, to wear under my sweaters and jackets. And I then went to Subway to get a sub for dinner instead of the fried whatever I wanted that evening. Joe spent the day working overtime, so I didn't get to see much of him. He got home around 8, and we immediately headed out to Central Market. If you're not familiar with Central Market, it's a wonderful grocery store with the most sublime produce imaginable.
I took things easy Sunday, as my perpetual headache was behaving badly. Liz and I did take an hour and a half walk for exercise on Sunday afternoon, and my head was just pounding heavily by the time I got home.
On Monday we met Liz and my Dad and Monster for lunch. I forgot to look up the points for the restaurant we went to, and ended up spending considerably more points for lunch than I wanted to. And then Joe and I took a casual dinner over to Pat's and Clovers, and got their kids all hopped up on sugar before we left. I managed to eat way more there than I realized as well. When I totted up the points this morning, I was absolutely disgusted to realize how many I spent yesterday. It's okay, of course; I dipped into my weekly points allowance and it's not going to hurt me or anything. It was just a good reminder of how I need to plan ahead before going out to eat, and measure out my portions of the good food before we take dinner over to our friends house. I'm the only one who was eating the baked lays, so it wouldn't have bothered anyone for me to have weighed out my one-ounce portion and taken it in a baggie as opposed to taking a whole bag of the chips. So lesson noted, and I move on.
Today has been a terrible, awful, no good, very bad day. My perpetual headache is causing much pain today. I've cried two or three times. And I forgot my sunglasses, so I had to pick up a pair during my lunch break today. And my printer is out of toner, and the guy who has to put the toner into the printers is not in today. And the other printer I use when my printer isn't working is also out of toner. And I knocked over a bottle of Propel all over my desk. I get off in about an hour and a half. I'm planning to go home, take a shower, take two pain pills, eat a bunch of grapes, and go to sleep. Sounds fun, eh?
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