I had my eyes checked at the health fair here on campus Wednesday. WITH my glasses on, my distance vision was 20/40 in one eye and 20/50 in the other. So I'm going to the eye doctor tomorrow. I thought I noticed a change recently, but GAD, that's bad. I'm going to try to do contacts again. Now that the kids are no longer in diapers, I have a little more time in the morning to fait ma toilette. If nothing else, I can wear my glasses until I get to work and then put the contacts in once I get here. My reading vision is still fine, thank goodness. I'm sure it's only a matter of time, though, before the near and far fields pass each other headed opposite directions. Herbie and I were talking about having Lasik surgery done this year, now that we're both 40, but since my eyes aren't through changing, it will have to be a while. Besides that, my Payflex medical fund has been drastically reduced by having hundreds of cavities filled in Brighid's mouth.
Logan is now out from under Chapter 13 bankruptcy. He paid it completely off last month. So now begins the house repair saga which will, I'm sure, last as long as the Nibelungen Cycle. The major repairs (roof - AGAIN, foundation, and kitchen floor) probably won't happen until he's able to secure a home improvement loan, but small stuff such as broken windows, window screens, a few small plumbing projects, and painting can be done a little bit at a time. Our goal is to fix up the house, pay down our debt to improve our credit scores, sell the house, and buy a new house in a better school district. As a disabled vet with a 100% disability rating, Logan is eligible for a home loan at 5% with no down payment and no closing costs if he takes a home which is a VA foreclosure. Can't beat that with a stick. Eventually, we'd like to find a property with at least 5 acres, but we will most likely have to go to a moderately nice house in the meanwhile. My participation in all this will consist mostly of de-cluttering and de-funkifying the house we're in now -- a Herculean task, for sure.
I can't remember if I've already written about Paul, the son I placed for adoption back when I was in college. (I'm too lazy to look through the log here.) I made contact a couple of months ago with his mother, Jean. She gave my email address to Paul, and since then, we've been writing on and off. He's like me in that he can be very blunt, perhaps painfully so. I let him know I'm the same way, and have no problems telling him anything he wants to know. So I told him the truth about his father, that being that it was just a one-night stand with a guy I barely knew, a friend of a friend. I wasn't the abandoned girlfriend left to twist in the wind is the point. He seemed to deal okay with that knowledge, so I gave him a link to a website where he could read about the events that lead to the execution of Bill Chappell. I haven't written anything about Chappell, but I've been thinking of doing so, if only for the catharsis that will come of it. Of course, it would be cool if a book did emanate from my musings, but I have no real ending for a book yet, so only time will tell.
Socrates said, "An unexamined life is not worth living." Still, I have to wonder if it is a sound philosophy. There are many things that happened surrounding the murders of my mother, father, and sister, which are as unnamed files that can't be immediately accessed. Once in a while, someone will say something which causes an unnamed memory to surface, and there are also some ugly things which might be too hurtful - mainly to others - to let out into the light of day, but for the most part, I think writing about all the unpleasantness, even when painful, will be a good thing.
On a totally unrelated note, it is a good thing that today I finished my course of antibiotics, and was finally able to take the antifungal pill (just one!) the doctor prescribed for the unbearable external yeast infection which has been causing me to itch like the fury. Tonight, I may bathe in plain yogurt for good measure. The only thing that has kept me from scratching myself raw is that any labial abrasions sting like hell when urine passes over them. TMI? LOL
Friday, April 29, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
A Good Time Was Had By All
Saturday was Girls Night Out. Susan picked me up, and we all met at Shellie's new house, which I like much better than Herbie's house, since it's easier to get to. Not to bash Herbie's digs, but her house looks like a furniture showroom, too perfect, and not cozy at all. I'm always afraid I'm going to ruin something. We didn't have to pay a Sherpa guide to make it up the driveway. At Shellie's, we mostly sat at the kitchen table and then on the lawn furniture in the sunroom since the new couch is going back to be replaced by a darker color. We didn't want to risk spilling margaritas on it if it's not going to stay.
Dinner was good, at Carraba's next to North East Mall. Back at Shellie's, we taught Heather how to play poker, drank margaritas, ate chocolate, strawberries and cream, and banana pudding Shellie's mother-in-law made since Shellie can't cook. I felt almost sick, it was so good. The best part, though, was just the sitting around, talking. Eric was with us, and kept saying we need to plan on going to Las Vegas for my birthday in September. If only. I won most of the hands of poker, so I kept telling the gals that we needed to be betting real money!
The party finally broke up around 3 a.m. When I got home, I noticed the slight pain I felt earlier in the night had developed into a full blown panic attack. I felt pain shooting from my jaw all the way down to my wrist -- on my left side, which can be a symptom of a heart attack. I took a Tylenol #3, but got no relief. Logan gave me a Darvocet, and then a Flexeril. After having Logan massage my arm and shoulder and taking a second Darvocet, I was finally able to fall asleep around 7 a.m. I slept 'til 4 p.m., when Eric called and woke me. After talking to him a while, I got up, brushed my teeth, peed, checked my email, made myself a cup of soup, then went back to bed at 7 p.m. to watch a little t.v., but I fell asleep until 9 p.m., when I awoke as if I'd set an alarm clock just in time to watch my new favorite show, Gray's Anatomy. It was over at 10 p.m., and I had no trouble falling asleep after calling Eric to give him an update on my pain situation.
I have been mulling over something he said about about GM cars and who might drive them. For some reason, it makes me sad. I'd drive just about anything now, considering that my ten-year old Taurus is dead, and Logan won't front me the money to fix it -- not that it's really worth fixing, mind you, when the repair bill costs more than the price I paid my sister for the car. I guess as one's financial position improves, one's ability to stomach the bourgeoisie declines. Let's just say I fondly remember sailing over the asphalt waves on I-30 in a boat of a car, a "myrna-mobile". Money is great, don't get me wrong. I'd love to have more of it, but just enough so that I could stop worrying about paying the bills, the average, garden variety bills. In a lot of ways, though, money has been a bad thing. It's kept me apart from my friends, as I can't afford to live the way they do.
This again raises the specter of writing. I'm currently mulling over the idea of writing a children's book based on a story told to me by Dennis, our former Nigerian boarder. I'd have Eric do the pictures since my drawing consists mostly of stick figures. We need to plan a meeting with Sandy and Gary, as they have actual contacts in the publishing world.
Well, this has drifted, as it usually does, from the topic I started, and lunch is almost over, so that's all for now. -30-
Dinner was good, at Carraba's next to North East Mall. Back at Shellie's, we taught Heather how to play poker, drank margaritas, ate chocolate, strawberries and cream, and banana pudding Shellie's mother-in-law made since Shellie can't cook. I felt almost sick, it was so good. The best part, though, was just the sitting around, talking. Eric was with us, and kept saying we need to plan on going to Las Vegas for my birthday in September. If only. I won most of the hands of poker, so I kept telling the gals that we needed to be betting real money!
The party finally broke up around 3 a.m. When I got home, I noticed the slight pain I felt earlier in the night had developed into a full blown panic attack. I felt pain shooting from my jaw all the way down to my wrist -- on my left side, which can be a symptom of a heart attack. I took a Tylenol #3, but got no relief. Logan gave me a Darvocet, and then a Flexeril. After having Logan massage my arm and shoulder and taking a second Darvocet, I was finally able to fall asleep around 7 a.m. I slept 'til 4 p.m., when Eric called and woke me. After talking to him a while, I got up, brushed my teeth, peed, checked my email, made myself a cup of soup, then went back to bed at 7 p.m. to watch a little t.v., but I fell asleep until 9 p.m., when I awoke as if I'd set an alarm clock just in time to watch my new favorite show, Gray's Anatomy. It was over at 10 p.m., and I had no trouble falling asleep after calling Eric to give him an update on my pain situation.
I have been mulling over something he said about about GM cars and who might drive them. For some reason, it makes me sad. I'd drive just about anything now, considering that my ten-year old Taurus is dead, and Logan won't front me the money to fix it -- not that it's really worth fixing, mind you, when the repair bill costs more than the price I paid my sister for the car. I guess as one's financial position improves, one's ability to stomach the bourgeoisie declines. Let's just say I fondly remember sailing over the asphalt waves on I-30 in a boat of a car, a "myrna-mobile". Money is great, don't get me wrong. I'd love to have more of it, but just enough so that I could stop worrying about paying the bills, the average, garden variety bills. In a lot of ways, though, money has been a bad thing. It's kept me apart from my friends, as I can't afford to live the way they do.
This again raises the specter of writing. I'm currently mulling over the idea of writing a children's book based on a story told to me by Dennis, our former Nigerian boarder. I'd have Eric do the pictures since my drawing consists mostly of stick figures. We need to plan a meeting with Sandy and Gary, as they have actual contacts in the publishing world.
Well, this has drifted, as it usually does, from the topic I started, and lunch is almost over, so that's all for now. -30-
Friday, April 22, 2005
It Finally Came Home to Roost
I am so proud. Brighid told me the other day, "I only want to wear black clothes." Now to dig through old pictures and find one of myself, back in the "good old days", at some place like Bauhaus, dressed all in black, brooding, angst-riddled, confident of the enormity of my depression or the importance of my sorrow. ROTFLMAO
I took Brighid shopping, bought her a couple pairs of black pants, a couple of black shirts, and two new bras. 34C, almost a D, and only 12 years old. Oh my god. Logan will need to install bars on her bedroom window soon. Terrifying, absolutely terrifying.
Logan was rather depressed yesterday. After finally getting his little "john boat" repaired and in the water and having spent the previous weekend fishing, he returned to the boat where it left it docked while on the errands of picking the kids up from school and me from work to find someone swiped all his fishing equipment. I guesstimate it to be a few hundred bucks worth, at least. He just missed catching the thieves by about 5 minutes. Someone gave a description of the people and the car to the cops, but I doubt anything will come of it. Not real high on the priority list. I'm just really surprised Logan didn't have sense to put everything back in the van before leaving the boat anchored. Hell, I'm surprised he left the boat even. He's smarter than that, usually.
So now Logan is in a pissy mood (Who wouldn't be?), and has been snapping at me and the kids. Going fishing on the weekends was supposed to be his chance to blow off steam, but now it's the source of it. I'd tell him to go hunting or something this weekend, but it's Gals' Night Out to celebrate Herbie's birthday (which was March 15th), and to christen Shellie's new house by spilling margaritas on the rug or some such. Eric is going to join us, as he's an honorary member of The Gals (formerly Barbarous Brazos Broads, Bitches, or Bimbos as the case may be). I'm sure a fun time will be had by all. Details tomorrow at ten. No, wait, maybe Sunday at 6. P.M., that is.
I took Brighid shopping, bought her a couple pairs of black pants, a couple of black shirts, and two new bras. 34C, almost a D, and only 12 years old. Oh my god. Logan will need to install bars on her bedroom window soon. Terrifying, absolutely terrifying.
Logan was rather depressed yesterday. After finally getting his little "john boat" repaired and in the water and having spent the previous weekend fishing, he returned to the boat where it left it docked while on the errands of picking the kids up from school and me from work to find someone swiped all his fishing equipment. I guesstimate it to be a few hundred bucks worth, at least. He just missed catching the thieves by about 5 minutes. Someone gave a description of the people and the car to the cops, but I doubt anything will come of it. Not real high on the priority list. I'm just really surprised Logan didn't have sense to put everything back in the van before leaving the boat anchored. Hell, I'm surprised he left the boat even. He's smarter than that, usually.
So now Logan is in a pissy mood (Who wouldn't be?), and has been snapping at me and the kids. Going fishing on the weekends was supposed to be his chance to blow off steam, but now it's the source of it. I'd tell him to go hunting or something this weekend, but it's Gals' Night Out to celebrate Herbie's birthday (which was March 15th), and to christen Shellie's new house by spilling margaritas on the rug or some such. Eric is going to join us, as he's an honorary member of The Gals (formerly Barbarous Brazos Broads, Bitches, or Bimbos as the case may be). I'm sure a fun time will be had by all. Details tomorrow at ten. No, wait, maybe Sunday at 6. P.M., that is.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Heil Ratzinger!
Dateline: 04/19/05
fizziecoffee (12:59:47 PM): well, I just got off the phone with my cousin Marc in LA.
fizziecoffee (1:00:02 PM): He's going to be here a week from Friday and we're going out
fizziecoffee (1:00:03 PM): lol
lymadelina (1:00:13 PM): to where?
fizziecoffee (1:00:19 PM): He's going to be ready for some "bonding" HAHAHHA
fizziecoffee (1:00:35 PM): anything gay.
fizziecoffee (1:00:48 PM): or otherwise. hahaha. I'm just certain that he's going to want to be entertained
lymadelina (1:00:49 PM): where are you flying out to?
fizziecoffee (1:01:09 PM): Oh, no, I'm not flying out to anywhere. He and his aunt are flying IN
fizziecoffee (1:01:24 PM): and he's going to want to escape. Apparently she never shuts up
lymadelina (1:01:54 PM): oh
fizziecoffee (1:04:04 PM): So, anyway, he's a hoot
lymadelina (1:04:18 PM): sounds fun
lymadelina (1:04:30 PM): you'll have to introduce me to him
fizziecoffee (1:04:43 PM): We'll pick a night
fizziecoffee (1:07:37 PM): I am so fucking hungry
fizziecoffee (1:08:07 PM): I shouldn't be hungry at all. I've eaten enough for 6 people in the last 3 days. You'd think I was either pregnant or a friggin weight lifter
lymadelina (1:16:34 PM): or maybe you have a tape worm
fizziecoffee (1:17:10 PM): doubtful. I'd look emaciate. I'm FAR from it
lymadelina (1:17:38 PM): just a thought
lymadelina (1:17:50 PM): it could be recent, not enough time to look emaciated.
fizziecoffee (1:17:55 PM): HAHA
fizziecoffee (1:18:06 PM): and just where the hell would i have gotten a tapeworm from?
fizziecoffee (1:18:57 PM): Oh my goodness. This resume is awful and it's going to take more than an hour to fix
fizziecoffee (1:18:59 PM): Lordy
lymadelina (1:20:00 PM): um... the gettin' place??
fizziecoffee (1:20:32 PM): I'm not sure what that means
fizziecoffee (1:20:54 PM): what DO you mean?
fizziecoffee (1:21:03 PM): what is "the gettin' place"?
fizziecoffee (1:21:23 PM): I'm just a little black raincloud...hovering over...your honey tree
lymadelina (1:21:26 PM): that's what Pappy used to say if you asked him where he got something
fizziecoffee (1:21:34 PM): LOL
fizziecoffee (1:21:35 PM): HAHAHAH
lymadelina (1:21:37 PM): hey, even honeytress need rain
fizziecoffee (1:21:43 PM): Sorry, I'm not up on my Pappyisms
lymadelina (1:21:44 PM): honey trees
lymadelina (1:21:48 PM): LOL
fizziecoffee (1:21:49 PM): buahhahahahaha
fizziecoffee (1:22:01 PM): THAT will be my new intro line on my yahoo personals
lymadelina (1:24:02 PM): you remember chicken butt
lymadelina (1:24:05 PM): turkey trot
fizziecoffee (1:24:10 PM): sure
lymadelina (1:24:15 PM): baby elephant walk is Logan's addition to that line
fizziecoffee (1:24:19 PM): but not "from the gettin' place"
fizziecoffee (1:24:30 PM): hahaha
fizziecoffee (1:24:43 PM): PINK ELEPHANTS ON PARADE!
lymadelina (1:24:55 PM): one of my favorite things is how on Valentine's Day, he'd go around all day making poems
fizziecoffee (1:25:08 PM): who, Logan? or Pappy?
fizziecoffee (1:25:56 PM): NO, but I seen a housefly!!!
lymadelina (1:26:25 PM): Pappy
fizziecoffee (1:26:46 PM): I'm having Disney flashbacks
lymadelina (1:26:46 PM): "Roses are red and sometimes yellow... I'd like to be your Valentine's fellow."
fizziecoffee (1:26:54 PM): back when it was witty, not broadway
fizziecoffee (1:27:27 PM): We now would like to induct the following persons into the St. Valentine's fellowship
lymadelina (1:31:14 PM): apples are red and sometimes green... you're the best Valentine I've ever seen
lymadelina (1:31:21 PM): :)
fizziecoffee (1:33:28 PM): Chicken soup smells so good, I like the broth, You, on the other hand, smell like a Visigoth
fizziecoffee (1:34:53 PM): Valentine's is over, This much is true, So wait 'til next year, For your poetry brew
fizziecoffee (1:36:09 PM): it's the BAD POETRY AWARD
fizziecoffee (1:37:28 PM): Roses start out red then warp to speckles of pink, Those little bee geneticists, I wonder what they must think!
fizziecoffee (1:38:46 PM): I'm crummy at this game, for 'tis been a while since I've played,
lymadelina (1:38:52 PM): :)
fizziecoffee (1:39:02 PM): If I blunder once again, in bed I should have stayed.
lymadelina (1:39:14 PM): but there's a new Pope, so your soul is saved!!
fizziecoffee (1:39:19 PM): OH?
fizziecoffee (1:39:23 PM): no more black smog?
fizziecoffee (1:40:17 PM): do tell
lymadelina (1:43:43 PM): http://story.news.yahoo.com/fc?cid=34&tmpl=fc&in=World&cat=Papacy_and_the_Vatican
lymadelina (1:44:03 PM): or go to http://www.lookitthehellupyourself.com
fizziecoffee (1:44:42 PM): FIRST GERMAN POPE IN CENTURIES
fizziecoffee (1:44:46 PM): LOL
fizziecoffee (1:44:53 PM): yeah, I WONDER WHY
lymadelina (1:45:58 PM): He was a Hitler Youth
lymadelina (1:46:08 PM): has "atoned" wtf ever that means
lymadelina (1:46:43 PM): I think all Germans during that time period were involved, or under suspicion themselves
fizziecoffee (1:48:00 PM): I would think it was a form of patriotism. That, and the fear of not belonging to the group meant that you would be executed
fizziecoffee (1:51:34 PM): Where did you find that factual tidbit?
fizziecoffee (1:51:41 PM): I only read through the main story
lymadelina (1:54:39 PM): Heard it on the evening news a couple of nights ago.
fizziecoffee (1:56:49 PM): NICE
fizziecoffee (1:56:50 PM): lol
fizziecoffee (1:57:24 PM): Hitler Youth takes Rome. Reinstates curfew for all non-catholics
lymadelina (1:57:28 PM): http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=514&e=12&u=/ap/pope_ratzinger_profile
fizziecoffee (1:57:47 PM): "CIRCUMCISION IS A SIN AGAINST GOD"
fizziecoffee (1:57:51 PM): News at Eleven
lymadelina (1:58:13 PM): lol
fizziecoffee (2:01:25 PM): "Angry homosexuals firebomb Sistine chapel. Carabiniere are baffled and cannot stop the looting. Red velvet shredded throughout the streets of Roma, people screaming 'Non gridi per me, Argentina!'"
fizziecoffee (2:01:28 PM): News at Five
lymadelina (2:03:06 PM): ROTFLMAO
fizziecoffee (2:03:39 PM): "Italian buddhists have begun immolating themselves on the steps of the Vatican. Mayhem ensues as the local firefighters cannot put them out. Investigators believe they have been wearing POLYESTER robes."
fizziecoffee (2:03:44 PM): News at Eleven
fizziecoffee (2:04:08 PM): Pope declares WAR on all non-catholics
lymadelina (2:05:33 PM): Swiss Guard attacks? In THOSE clothes??
fizziecoffee (2:05:46 PM): lol
fizziecoffee (2:06:49 PM): "Jewish Drag Queens Storm Vatican Doors. Oy! I Broke A Nail!"
fizziecoffee (2:10:18 PM): "I'll gefilte your fish, you dirty old HAG!" was heard being shouted by one particularly statuesque Golda Meir impersonator.
fizziecoffee (2:11:47 PM): "Turkey Makes Surprise Move and Changes National Religion From Islam To Catholicism. Italy Fears International Buggery."
lymadelina (2:13:38 PM): OMG, stop it. I'm running of of Kleenex.
lymadelina (2:13:43 PM): ROTFLMAO
fizziecoffee (2:13:49 PM): LMAO
fizziecoffee (2:13:52 PM): you're joking
fizziecoffee (2:13:53 PM): hahahah
lymadelina (2:14:11 PM): just glad I'm not wearing mascara
fizziecoffee (2:14:18 PM): hahahhahaha
lymadelina (2:15:20 PM): I just retrieved my Coke from the freezer. mmmm slushy
fizziecoffee (2:15:30 PM): "Pope Benedict Keeps It On The DL. Turkey Opens Doors To Kurdish Minorities. Shah Comments 'WHOOPS'"
fizziecoffee (2:15:45 PM): Yummy, Coke slushy
fizziecoffee (2:15:57 PM): I am having plain ol' vanilla diet coke on ice
fizziecoffee (2:16:14 PM): it's SO synthetic. I'd almost swear I was drinking vinyl
lymadelina (2:16:59 PM): just drink water if you don't want calories
lymadelina (2:17:03 PM): why bother?
fizziecoffee (2:18:05 PM): oh, it's not the calories, it's the sugar I'm avoiding. I don't enjoy the hypoglycemic crash afterwards
fizziecoffee (2:18:34 PM): Makes me nauseous, gives me the shakes, headache, and shortness of breath
fizziecoffee (2:19:00 PM): it's not just an "ooh, I'm really tired now" thing
lymadelina (2:19:30 PM): hmm
fizziecoffee (2:19:33 PM): it's more of an "ooh, I really fucked up and shouldn't have had that much sugar all at once
lymadelina (2:19:34 PM): too bad
fizziecoffee (2:22:20 PM): Pope Declares All Non-Catholics Unclean. Shocking International Handshake with China...No Washie, No Savie! Millions Flock To Yangtzee River Baptize-Fest.
fizziecoffee (2:28:41 PM): I'm having visions of middle-aged men wearing plaid short shorts, knee-high white socks and white button-down shirts and blue ties, goose-stepping down the streets
fizziecoffee (2:28:59 PM): OMG, it's the Benedict Youth!
fizziecoffee (2:29:00 PM): RUN!
lymadelina (2:37:55 PM): don't forget the sandals
fizziecoffee (12:59:47 PM): well, I just got off the phone with my cousin Marc in LA.
fizziecoffee (1:00:02 PM): He's going to be here a week from Friday and we're going out
fizziecoffee (1:00:03 PM): lol
lymadelina (1:00:13 PM): to where?
fizziecoffee (1:00:19 PM): He's going to be ready for some "bonding" HAHAHHA
fizziecoffee (1:00:35 PM): anything gay.
fizziecoffee (1:00:48 PM): or otherwise. hahaha. I'm just certain that he's going to want to be entertained
lymadelina (1:00:49 PM): where are you flying out to?
fizziecoffee (1:01:09 PM): Oh, no, I'm not flying out to anywhere. He and his aunt are flying IN
fizziecoffee (1:01:24 PM): and he's going to want to escape. Apparently she never shuts up
lymadelina (1:01:54 PM): oh
fizziecoffee (1:04:04 PM): So, anyway, he's a hoot
lymadelina (1:04:18 PM): sounds fun
lymadelina (1:04:30 PM): you'll have to introduce me to him
fizziecoffee (1:04:43 PM): We'll pick a night
fizziecoffee (1:07:37 PM): I am so fucking hungry
fizziecoffee (1:08:07 PM): I shouldn't be hungry at all. I've eaten enough for 6 people in the last 3 days. You'd think I was either pregnant or a friggin weight lifter
lymadelina (1:16:34 PM): or maybe you have a tape worm
fizziecoffee (1:17:10 PM): doubtful. I'd look emaciate. I'm FAR from it
lymadelina (1:17:38 PM): just a thought
lymadelina (1:17:50 PM): it could be recent, not enough time to look emaciated.
fizziecoffee (1:17:55 PM): HAHA
fizziecoffee (1:18:06 PM): and just where the hell would i have gotten a tapeworm from?
fizziecoffee (1:18:57 PM): Oh my goodness. This resume is awful and it's going to take more than an hour to fix
fizziecoffee (1:18:59 PM): Lordy
lymadelina (1:20:00 PM): um... the gettin' place??
fizziecoffee (1:20:32 PM): I'm not sure what that means
fizziecoffee (1:20:54 PM): what DO you mean?
fizziecoffee (1:21:03 PM): what is "the gettin' place"?
fizziecoffee (1:21:23 PM): I'm just a little black raincloud...hovering over...your honey tree
lymadelina (1:21:26 PM): that's what Pappy used to say if you asked him where he got something
fizziecoffee (1:21:34 PM): LOL
fizziecoffee (1:21:35 PM): HAHAHAH
lymadelina (1:21:37 PM): hey, even honeytress need rain
fizziecoffee (1:21:43 PM): Sorry, I'm not up on my Pappyisms
lymadelina (1:21:44 PM): honey trees
lymadelina (1:21:48 PM): LOL
fizziecoffee (1:21:49 PM): buahhahahahaha
fizziecoffee (1:22:01 PM): THAT will be my new intro line on my yahoo personals
lymadelina (1:24:02 PM): you remember chicken butt
lymadelina (1:24:05 PM): turkey trot
fizziecoffee (1:24:10 PM): sure
lymadelina (1:24:15 PM): baby elephant walk is Logan's addition to that line
fizziecoffee (1:24:19 PM): but not "from the gettin' place"
fizziecoffee (1:24:30 PM): hahaha
fizziecoffee (1:24:43 PM): PINK ELEPHANTS ON PARADE!
lymadelina (1:24:55 PM): one of my favorite things is how on Valentine's Day, he'd go around all day making poems
fizziecoffee (1:25:08 PM): who, Logan? or Pappy?
fizziecoffee (1:25:56 PM): NO, but I seen a housefly!!!
lymadelina (1:26:25 PM): Pappy
fizziecoffee (1:26:46 PM): I'm having Disney flashbacks
lymadelina (1:26:46 PM): "Roses are red and sometimes yellow... I'd like to be your Valentine's fellow."
fizziecoffee (1:26:54 PM): back when it was witty, not broadway
fizziecoffee (1:27:27 PM): We now would like to induct the following persons into the St. Valentine's fellowship
lymadelina (1:31:14 PM): apples are red and sometimes green... you're the best Valentine I've ever seen
lymadelina (1:31:21 PM): :)
fizziecoffee (1:33:28 PM): Chicken soup smells so good, I like the broth, You, on the other hand, smell like a Visigoth
fizziecoffee (1:34:53 PM): Valentine's is over, This much is true, So wait 'til next year, For your poetry brew
fizziecoffee (1:36:09 PM): it's the BAD POETRY AWARD
fizziecoffee (1:37:28 PM): Roses start out red then warp to speckles of pink, Those little bee geneticists, I wonder what they must think!
fizziecoffee (1:38:46 PM): I'm crummy at this game, for 'tis been a while since I've played,
lymadelina (1:38:52 PM): :)
fizziecoffee (1:39:02 PM): If I blunder once again, in bed I should have stayed.
lymadelina (1:39:14 PM): but there's a new Pope, so your soul is saved!!
fizziecoffee (1:39:19 PM): OH?
fizziecoffee (1:39:23 PM): no more black smog?
fizziecoffee (1:40:17 PM): do tell
lymadelina (1:43:43 PM): http://story.news.yahoo.com/fc?cid=34&tmpl=fc&in=World&cat=Papacy_and_the_Vatican
lymadelina (1:44:03 PM): or go to http://www.lookitthehellupyourself.com
fizziecoffee (1:44:42 PM): FIRST GERMAN POPE IN CENTURIES
fizziecoffee (1:44:46 PM): LOL
fizziecoffee (1:44:53 PM): yeah, I WONDER WHY
lymadelina (1:45:58 PM): He was a Hitler Youth
lymadelina (1:46:08 PM): has "atoned" wtf ever that means
lymadelina (1:46:43 PM): I think all Germans during that time period were involved, or under suspicion themselves
fizziecoffee (1:48:00 PM): I would think it was a form of patriotism. That, and the fear of not belonging to the group meant that you would be executed
fizziecoffee (1:51:34 PM): Where did you find that factual tidbit?
fizziecoffee (1:51:41 PM): I only read through the main story
lymadelina (1:54:39 PM): Heard it on the evening news a couple of nights ago.
fizziecoffee (1:56:49 PM): NICE
fizziecoffee (1:56:50 PM): lol
fizziecoffee (1:57:24 PM): Hitler Youth takes Rome. Reinstates curfew for all non-catholics
lymadelina (1:57:28 PM): http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&cid=514&e=12&u=/ap/pope_ratzinger_profile
fizziecoffee (1:57:47 PM): "CIRCUMCISION IS A SIN AGAINST GOD"
fizziecoffee (1:57:51 PM): News at Eleven
lymadelina (1:58:13 PM): lol
fizziecoffee (2:01:25 PM): "Angry homosexuals firebomb Sistine chapel. Carabiniere are baffled and cannot stop the looting. Red velvet shredded throughout the streets of Roma, people screaming 'Non gridi per me, Argentina!'"
fizziecoffee (2:01:28 PM): News at Five
lymadelina (2:03:06 PM): ROTFLMAO
fizziecoffee (2:03:39 PM): "Italian buddhists have begun immolating themselves on the steps of the Vatican. Mayhem ensues as the local firefighters cannot put them out. Investigators believe they have been wearing POLYESTER robes."
fizziecoffee (2:03:44 PM): News at Eleven
fizziecoffee (2:04:08 PM): Pope declares WAR on all non-catholics
lymadelina (2:05:33 PM): Swiss Guard attacks? In THOSE clothes??
fizziecoffee (2:05:46 PM): lol
fizziecoffee (2:06:49 PM): "Jewish Drag Queens Storm Vatican Doors. Oy! I Broke A Nail!"
fizziecoffee (2:10:18 PM): "I'll gefilte your fish, you dirty old HAG!" was heard being shouted by one particularly statuesque Golda Meir impersonator.
fizziecoffee (2:11:47 PM): "Turkey Makes Surprise Move and Changes National Religion From Islam To Catholicism. Italy Fears International Buggery."
lymadelina (2:13:38 PM): OMG, stop it. I'm running of of Kleenex.
lymadelina (2:13:43 PM): ROTFLMAO
fizziecoffee (2:13:49 PM): LMAO
fizziecoffee (2:13:52 PM): you're joking
fizziecoffee (2:13:53 PM): hahahah
lymadelina (2:14:11 PM): just glad I'm not wearing mascara
fizziecoffee (2:14:18 PM): hahahhahaha
lymadelina (2:15:20 PM): I just retrieved my Coke from the freezer. mmmm slushy
fizziecoffee (2:15:30 PM): "Pope Benedict Keeps It On The DL. Turkey Opens Doors To Kurdish Minorities. Shah Comments 'WHOOPS'"
fizziecoffee (2:15:45 PM): Yummy, Coke slushy
fizziecoffee (2:15:57 PM): I am having plain ol' vanilla diet coke on ice
fizziecoffee (2:16:14 PM): it's SO synthetic. I'd almost swear I was drinking vinyl
lymadelina (2:16:59 PM): just drink water if you don't want calories
lymadelina (2:17:03 PM): why bother?
fizziecoffee (2:18:05 PM): oh, it's not the calories, it's the sugar I'm avoiding. I don't enjoy the hypoglycemic crash afterwards
fizziecoffee (2:18:34 PM): Makes me nauseous, gives me the shakes, headache, and shortness of breath
fizziecoffee (2:19:00 PM): it's not just an "ooh, I'm really tired now" thing
lymadelina (2:19:30 PM): hmm
fizziecoffee (2:19:33 PM): it's more of an "ooh, I really fucked up and shouldn't have had that much sugar all at once
lymadelina (2:19:34 PM): too bad
fizziecoffee (2:22:20 PM): Pope Declares All Non-Catholics Unclean. Shocking International Handshake with China...No Washie, No Savie! Millions Flock To Yangtzee River Baptize-Fest.
fizziecoffee (2:28:41 PM): I'm having visions of middle-aged men wearing plaid short shorts, knee-high white socks and white button-down shirts and blue ties, goose-stepping down the streets
fizziecoffee (2:28:59 PM): OMG, it's the Benedict Youth!
fizziecoffee (2:29:00 PM): RUN!
lymadelina (2:37:55 PM): don't forget the sandals
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
It's not a too-mah!
Well, turns out it's "just" a boil, a "follicular" boil. But a boil on one's privates is no ordinary boil. Add to the annoyance is an external yeast infection. So I'm taking antibiotics, which will aggravate the yeast infection. So once I'm finished with the antibiotics (in TEN days), I start on another medication to kill the yeast infection. I just hope the antibiotics work, and I don't end up having to have the boil LANCED. On the off chance that there's some staph around the house causing me these skin afflictions, I'm going to wash all the bedding with bleach. I just washed my blankets a week ago, but you can't be too careful if it's staph. At least it's not flesh-eating bacteria. Oy, vey.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
It's a too-mah!
More skin afflictions. I'm starting to feel like Job. Maybe I have leprosy. Or the plague. Most likely, it's just irritation caused by the lovely stress incontinence, but it could be Bartholin's gland cysts, a tumor, or (very unlikely) cancer. The indignity is worse than with the butt crack rash, especially since I haven't shaved my legs in, oh, a year maybe. Why bother? I can't reach the backs of them, so I end up looking like some weird skunk, with a hairy stripe down the backs of my legs. I was surprised to actually get an appointment today. I figured it would be a week, at least. So today, at 2:45, I get to cross the parking lot to the Patient Care Center here at the medical school and have my nether region investigated. Oh, the joy!
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Walkies & Boiling for Dollars!
I've had lots of fun since I last wrote a week ago or so. Eric and I went out for his birthday. We met up at our new favorite bar, the Shamrock, which is owned by Logan's friend Matt McEntire, an honest-to-goodness Irishman. (It's not new; It just replaced JJ's Hideaway as our favorite is all.) He was running late, having gotten some last minute work he had to finish before beginning the weekend. So I walked from work to the Shamrock, thinking it was only about 6 or 7 blocks. Turns out, it was closer to 9 or 10. I was tired when I got there, and glad for the glass of cold water I had before ordering a vodka & 7. By the time Eric arrived, I had had three fuzzy navels as well - doubles, all of them, so my tired legs were no longer a bother. He generously closed out my tab and returned my debit card to me. Matt showed up, bought Eric a shot, and impressed me by remembering when I brought newborn Brighid in to see him at his old bar, a tiny hole-in-the-wall across from the Federal Building, years ago.
Chris, our favorite bartender, raved about the creme brule when Eric mentioned we were headed to Pappadeaux. So when we were ready to leave (after having divine seafood fondue, jumbo shrimp, seafood kibobs with lovely, meaty mahi-mahi, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus), Eric ordered a creme brule with raspberries to take back to Chris. It must have been good because our bar tab was only $28, and I KNOW we drank more than that.
Again, I had to drive home since Eric overdid it a bit on the birthday celebrating. We crashed into my bed to be attacked by vampire kitties. Or so it seems. Any time anyone gets still for a minute, a kitten (well, okay, the kittens are teenagers by now) will jump on him, go for the neck, and nurse on whatever clothing is handy, usually a tee-shirt. It just looks like the kittens are attacking, poor orphan kitties. Well, not really orphans, but plucked from their mother as soon as possible, the kitties have grown up thinking humans are their parents.
Saturday, we ran all over town with the kids in tow, first to the Dollar Store or is it Family Dollar? so Eric could by a gimmie cap to hide his hair, then to Mrs. Baird's for day old bread to feed the ducks. We then hit Golden Corral for the breakfast brunch, then Dollar Tree for "Cheap Chinese Stuff" as Brighid calls it, then to the duck pond on Trail Lake Drive. After feeding the ducks, we went to the Friends of the Fort Worth Library book sale, then to Y2 Komics so the kids could spend the money Uncle Eric gave them for no good reason. Okay, Brighid did clean Eric's car, but $40 to do so?!? Weyland made $40 for fetching a huge plate of bacon and ham from the buffet and for flagging down the "coffee boy". Eric was just feeling flush and overly generous, I suppose. We ended the spree by lunching at Charley's where Eric had an avacado burger, and I had a chicken mushroom sandwich, some really good homestyle fries, and a chocolate malt. I hadn't had one in years, so it was extra tasty. The kids, of course, had the usual: Weyland, cheeseburger, dry bread, lettuce, and Brighid, cheeseburger, dry bread. It was a wonderful weekend.
Monday when I got home from work, I was feeling particularly good, so Weyland and I took Bashful for a walk. Brighid was too engrossed by the internet and chatting IM with her "buds" to be bothered by taking her own dog for a walk. Weyland was all gung ho for it, though, so we walked. We started out behind the house, surveying the new construction that will eventually ruin the view from the kitchen window. We walked down the new dirt road all the construction vehicles have created. Lots of trees have been knocked down in the name of progress. We continued down the path 'til we got to the creek.
It was a LONG walk. Since we were so "far from civilization", in Weyland's estimation at least, I let Bashful off the leash. He ran, lept, sniffed, dug, and thoroughly enjoyed himself. He was so cute, bounding through the grass, very rabbit-like, his ears straight up, his tail wagging the whole time. But like I said, we walked a long way, so much so, that I had to sit down to rest about five times. I think the walk did all three of us good, though. Bashful had a blast, Weyland ran around collecting wildflowers, most of which we were able to identify using the excellent Wildflowers of Texas by the oddly named Geyata Ajilvsgi, and when we stopped, I felt muscles twitching which I had forgotten I had. Weyland looked much better with a little sun, his cheeks looking rosy, rather than their regular mayonnaise color, and his nose had cinnamon sugar sprinkles of freckles. (My freckles are pretty much limited to my arms, and in time, I suppose, be mistaken for liver spots.) All in all, a good time was had by all.
Gross out warning: Tuesday, I felt a sore spot on my back, so I had Logan look at it. Turns out, it was a nasty boil. Logan squeezed it, and gobs of gook came out. It still hurt the next day, so Logan squeezed it again. More sebaceous oil, pus, and blood this time. So every morning and evening, we got into the habit of pumping crud from the boil on my back. A couple of times, there was so much stuff under such pressure (which explains why it hurt so god awful much) that when Logan squeezed it, it spewed out on to his shirt, the wall, the couch, etc. Yesterday, Monday the 11th, was the first day it actually didn't hurt, and only a tiny bit of plasma emitted. It's itching now, a sign, I suppose, that it's actually healing. I've come to the conclusion that the increase in skin problems I've been suffering (rashes, discoloration, yeast, boils, & etc.) are due to morbid obesity.
Last night, (It's taken me a blasted week to write all this!), I felt like something the cat buried and the dog dug up. I've got a bad cold, complete with coughing, nasal congestion, and hawking up huge green loogies. My nose is getting sore from blowing it, even though Logan bought Puffs with lotion. I went straight to bed after work yesterday. Logan had taken off to Richard's house for a while, probably to fiddle with the sailboat. I called to tell him I needed chocolate. He was such a sweetie! I guess I don't give him enough credit. He came home with Hershey's Nuggets, my favorite of which are milk chocolate with toffee and almonds, Hershey's Kisses, Reeses' Peanut Butter Cup Miniatures, and milk chocolate Dove bars. I guess I'm not sophisticated enough to prefer dark chocolate. Give me sweet, creamy, luscious milk chocolate every time. Logan also fixed homemade chicken noodle soup with olive oil added and plenty of garlic. Olive oil and garlic will cure most ailments, as far as I'm concerned. That, and Tylenol #3 and half a Darvocet. My cramps were so bad yesterday, I almost took a muscle relaxer as well, but the combination of chocolate, soup, and pain pills had me floating. It was only my desire to watch Letterman that kept me awake past 9 p.m.
I'm still fighting the cold today, so I hope to have a hot toddy or maybe some mulled wine after work, and maybe tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich. The only drawback to having a cold and being cossetted is that I can't breathe through my nose, so I can't use my CPAP machine at night, which means sleep apnea rears its ugly head again. But Gilmore Girls is a rerun tonight, so I might catch up on some sleep by going to bed at 7 p.m. I'm sure I can fall asleep that early. It's just a question of the kids letting me stay asleep. It makes me happy, just thinking about my soft bed, clean sheets, and a kitten or two cuddled up on the covers. The only thing that would make it better would be if Logan would snuggle with me, but since he doesn't want the plague, he's keeping his distance. At least he will cook for me when I'm sick. For all I say, I do love him. And I know he loves me. The drugs must be making me sappy. :)
Chris, our favorite bartender, raved about the creme brule when Eric mentioned we were headed to Pappadeaux. So when we were ready to leave (after having divine seafood fondue, jumbo shrimp, seafood kibobs with lovely, meaty mahi-mahi, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus), Eric ordered a creme brule with raspberries to take back to Chris. It must have been good because our bar tab was only $28, and I KNOW we drank more than that.
Again, I had to drive home since Eric overdid it a bit on the birthday celebrating. We crashed into my bed to be attacked by vampire kitties. Or so it seems. Any time anyone gets still for a minute, a kitten (well, okay, the kittens are teenagers by now) will jump on him, go for the neck, and nurse on whatever clothing is handy, usually a tee-shirt. It just looks like the kittens are attacking, poor orphan kitties. Well, not really orphans, but plucked from their mother as soon as possible, the kitties have grown up thinking humans are their parents.
Saturday, we ran all over town with the kids in tow, first to the Dollar Store or is it Family Dollar? so Eric could by a gimmie cap to hide his hair, then to Mrs. Baird's for day old bread to feed the ducks. We then hit Golden Corral for the breakfast brunch, then Dollar Tree for "Cheap Chinese Stuff" as Brighid calls it, then to the duck pond on Trail Lake Drive. After feeding the ducks, we went to the Friends of the Fort Worth Library book sale, then to Y2 Komics so the kids could spend the money Uncle Eric gave them for no good reason. Okay, Brighid did clean Eric's car, but $40 to do so?!? Weyland made $40 for fetching a huge plate of bacon and ham from the buffet and for flagging down the "coffee boy". Eric was just feeling flush and overly generous, I suppose. We ended the spree by lunching at Charley's where Eric had an avacado burger, and I had a chicken mushroom sandwich, some really good homestyle fries, and a chocolate malt. I hadn't had one in years, so it was extra tasty. The kids, of course, had the usual: Weyland, cheeseburger, dry bread, lettuce, and Brighid, cheeseburger, dry bread. It was a wonderful weekend.
Monday when I got home from work, I was feeling particularly good, so Weyland and I took Bashful for a walk. Brighid was too engrossed by the internet and chatting IM with her "buds" to be bothered by taking her own dog for a walk. Weyland was all gung ho for it, though, so we walked. We started out behind the house, surveying the new construction that will eventually ruin the view from the kitchen window. We walked down the new dirt road all the construction vehicles have created. Lots of trees have been knocked down in the name of progress. We continued down the path 'til we got to the creek.
It was a LONG walk. Since we were so "far from civilization", in Weyland's estimation at least, I let Bashful off the leash. He ran, lept, sniffed, dug, and thoroughly enjoyed himself. He was so cute, bounding through the grass, very rabbit-like, his ears straight up, his tail wagging the whole time. But like I said, we walked a long way, so much so, that I had to sit down to rest about five times. I think the walk did all three of us good, though. Bashful had a blast, Weyland ran around collecting wildflowers, most of which we were able to identify using the excellent Wildflowers of Texas by the oddly named Geyata Ajilvsgi, and when we stopped, I felt muscles twitching which I had forgotten I had. Weyland looked much better with a little sun, his cheeks looking rosy, rather than their regular mayonnaise color, and his nose had cinnamon sugar sprinkles of freckles. (My freckles are pretty much limited to my arms, and in time, I suppose, be mistaken for liver spots.) All in all, a good time was had by all.
Gross out warning: Tuesday, I felt a sore spot on my back, so I had Logan look at it. Turns out, it was a nasty boil. Logan squeezed it, and gobs of gook came out. It still hurt the next day, so Logan squeezed it again. More sebaceous oil, pus, and blood this time. So every morning and evening, we got into the habit of pumping crud from the boil on my back. A couple of times, there was so much stuff under such pressure (which explains why it hurt so god awful much) that when Logan squeezed it, it spewed out on to his shirt, the wall, the couch, etc. Yesterday, Monday the 11th, was the first day it actually didn't hurt, and only a tiny bit of plasma emitted. It's itching now, a sign, I suppose, that it's actually healing. I've come to the conclusion that the increase in skin problems I've been suffering (rashes, discoloration, yeast, boils, & etc.) are due to morbid obesity.
Last night, (It's taken me a blasted week to write all this!), I felt like something the cat buried and the dog dug up. I've got a bad cold, complete with coughing, nasal congestion, and hawking up huge green loogies. My nose is getting sore from blowing it, even though Logan bought Puffs with lotion. I went straight to bed after work yesterday. Logan had taken off to Richard's house for a while, probably to fiddle with the sailboat. I called to tell him I needed chocolate. He was such a sweetie! I guess I don't give him enough credit. He came home with Hershey's Nuggets, my favorite of which are milk chocolate with toffee and almonds, Hershey's Kisses, Reeses' Peanut Butter Cup Miniatures, and milk chocolate Dove bars. I guess I'm not sophisticated enough to prefer dark chocolate. Give me sweet, creamy, luscious milk chocolate every time. Logan also fixed homemade chicken noodle soup with olive oil added and plenty of garlic. Olive oil and garlic will cure most ailments, as far as I'm concerned. That, and Tylenol #3 and half a Darvocet. My cramps were so bad yesterday, I almost took a muscle relaxer as well, but the combination of chocolate, soup, and pain pills had me floating. It was only my desire to watch Letterman that kept me awake past 9 p.m.
I'm still fighting the cold today, so I hope to have a hot toddy or maybe some mulled wine after work, and maybe tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich. The only drawback to having a cold and being cossetted is that I can't breathe through my nose, so I can't use my CPAP machine at night, which means sleep apnea rears its ugly head again. But Gilmore Girls is a rerun tonight, so I might catch up on some sleep by going to bed at 7 p.m. I'm sure I can fall asleep that early. It's just a question of the kids letting me stay asleep. It makes me happy, just thinking about my soft bed, clean sheets, and a kitten or two cuddled up on the covers. The only thing that would make it better would be if Logan would snuggle with me, but since he doesn't want the plague, he's keeping his distance. At least he will cook for me when I'm sick. For all I say, I do love him. And I know he loves me. The drugs must be making me sappy. :)
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
My second favorite poem
if up's the word; and a world grows greener
minute by second and most by more ---
if death is the winner and life is the winner
(and beggars are rich but misers are poor)
--- let's touch the sky:
with a to and a fro
(and a here there where) and away we go
in even the laziest creature among us
a wisdom no knowledge can kill is astir ---
now dull eyes are keen and keen eyes are keener
(for young is the year, for young is the year)
--- let's touch the sky:
with a great (and a gay
and a steep) deep rush through amazing day
it's brains without hearts have set saints against sinner;
put gain over gladness and joy under care ---
let's do as an earth which can never do wrong does
(minute by second and most by more)
--- let's touch the sky:
with a strange (and a true)
and a climbing fall into far near blue
if beggars are rich (and a robin will sing his
robin a song) but misers are poor ---
let's love until noone could quite be (and young is
the year, dear) as living as i'm and you're
--- let's touch the sky:
with a you and a me
and an every (who's any who's some) one who's we
minute by second and most by more ---
if death is the winner and life is the winner
(and beggars are rich but misers are poor)
--- let's touch the sky:
with a to and a fro
(and a here there where) and away we go
in even the laziest creature among us
a wisdom no knowledge can kill is astir ---
now dull eyes are keen and keen eyes are keener
(for young is the year, for young is the year)
--- let's touch the sky:
with a great (and a gay
and a steep) deep rush through amazing day
it's brains without hearts have set saints against sinner;
put gain over gladness and joy under care ---
let's do as an earth which can never do wrong does
(minute by second and most by more)
--- let's touch the sky:
with a strange (and a true)
and a climbing fall into far near blue
if beggars are rich (and a robin will sing his
robin a song) but misers are poor ---
let's love until noone could quite be (and young is
the year, dear) as living as i'm and you're
--- let's touch the sky:
with a you and a me
and an every (who's any who's some) one who's we
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Ducky
My favorite poem, at least today, is "Ducks' Ditty" from The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame:
Ducks' Ditty
All along the backwater,
Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!
Ducks' tails, drakes' tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight,
Busy in the river!
Slushy green undergrowth
Where the roach swim --
Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim.
Everyone for what he likes!
WE like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!
High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call --
WE are down a-dabbling
All along the backwater,
Through the rushes tall,
Ducks are a-dabbling,
Up tails all!
Ducks' tails, drakes' tails,
Yellow feet a-quiver,
Yellow bills all out of sight,
Busy in the river!
Slushy green undergrowth
Where the roach swim --
Here we keep our larder,
Cool and full and dim.
Everyone for what he likes!
WE like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!
High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call --
WE are down a-dabbling
Up tails all!
I was feeling so down when I started writing this evening, that I knew the only thing for it was to contemplate something like "Ducks' Ditty". Funny, how a simple, rhythmic cadance can drive the blues away, at least temporarily.
The weather turned springlike again today, after shocking the new buds with snow Easter morning. Of course, the snow didn't last long. If you slept in, you missed it, which I did. I only got to see it on the news. Luckily, our yard is acting like it never happened. I will ask Logan to take some pictures of the daffodils, tulips, and roses, before they fade with the heat that is surely on the heels of this glorious weather. I thought I might take myself a nosegay to work tomorrow to cheer me the rest of the week, but I wonder if daffodils, tulips, and roses make a small enough bouquet to be considered a nosegay. Funny word, that.
Well, dinner is ready (chicken pot pie), so I need to go feed everyone. For tomorrow, I may consider the poetry of e e cummings.
The weather turned springlike again today, after shocking the new buds with snow Easter morning. Of course, the snow didn't last long. If you slept in, you missed it, which I did. I only got to see it on the news. Luckily, our yard is acting like it never happened. I will ask Logan to take some pictures of the daffodils, tulips, and roses, before they fade with the heat that is surely on the heels of this glorious weather. I thought I might take myself a nosegay to work tomorrow to cheer me the rest of the week, but I wonder if daffodils, tulips, and roses make a small enough bouquet to be considered a nosegay. Funny word, that.
Well, dinner is ready (chicken pot pie), so I need to go feed everyone. For tomorrow, I may consider the poetry of e e cummings.
Somerset Maugham was right
I don't feel the angst of youth anymore, at least not in regards to love. I accept what is for now, hope for a better relationship in the future, but don't cry over it (at least not very often). What does cause me worry, though, almost all the time like a persistant ditty stuck in my head, is money troubles.
I think I finally convinced Weyland to turn in his homework (which he claims is too easy and boring) and get good grades by explaining that the only way for him to avoid having crappy, clunker cars like his parents is to get good enough grades to be able to go to a good college so he can get a good job. I'm sick to death of all the clutter in my life, and that includes the beaters sitting out in the driveway.
I worry that I've stuck my head in the sand about my taxes for the past three years. I worry that I can't find all the damned receipts to send in to the TexFlex service and that I'll be charged back -- my own money, mind you -- for OTC purchases.
I worry that I can't afford to fix all the cavity riddled teeth my family has. So far, just Brighid and I are having just a fraction the almost $5000 worth of dental work done that the dentist recommends.
I worry that our house is in dire need of repair.
Sometimes the worry about everything coalesces into a mass of doubt and a horrible sense of helplessness.
Few people kill themselves for love (really, the lack thereof). Most do it over the worry caused by poverty. I don't feel suicidal, but I do feel the helpless feeling coming on. How do you stop emotions from barrelling full force into your brain? The dread is overwhelming.
I think I finally convinced Weyland to turn in his homework (which he claims is too easy and boring) and get good grades by explaining that the only way for him to avoid having crappy, clunker cars like his parents is to get good enough grades to be able to go to a good college so he can get a good job. I'm sick to death of all the clutter in my life, and that includes the beaters sitting out in the driveway.
I worry that I've stuck my head in the sand about my taxes for the past three years. I worry that I can't find all the damned receipts to send in to the TexFlex service and that I'll be charged back -- my own money, mind you -- for OTC purchases.
I worry that I can't afford to fix all the cavity riddled teeth my family has. So far, just Brighid and I are having just a fraction the almost $5000 worth of dental work done that the dentist recommends.
I worry that our house is in dire need of repair.
Sometimes the worry about everything coalesces into a mass of doubt and a horrible sense of helplessness.
Few people kill themselves for love (really, the lack thereof). Most do it over the worry caused by poverty. I don't feel suicidal, but I do feel the helpless feeling coming on. How do you stop emotions from barrelling full force into your brain? The dread is overwhelming.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
He is risen?
Fairly subdued day, today. The kids hunted Easter eggs in the very wet grass, ate tons of Peeps, Jelly Belly jelly beans, and candy eggs. I didn't really buy any chocolate this year except for the chocolate bunny awarded to Brighid for finding the most eggs. Weyland selected the peanut butter bunny as his reward for finding the prize egg. We didn't have anything special for breakfast, but might cook the ham or the lasagne currently in the freezer for dinner. For lunch, Logan made me a baked potato.
I'm just not in the mood to do much of anything. My ideal Easter breakfast is Eggs Benedict made with shirred eggs rather than poached eggs (The sight of cooked egg white makes me ill.), strawberry shortcake with fresh strawberries and homemade whipped cream, and Lady Grey tea with cream. Dinner should be ham baked with pineapples and maraschino cherries, roasted new potatoes, and asparagus with real butter melted on top. Homemade wheat rolls and sweet tea or a nice Riesling or Pinot Grigio, maybe even a Pinot Noir round out the meal.
Since we didn't have a sit down meal (at least not yet, anyway), the typical prayer didn't get said. I've been reflecting on how my mother would always try to make it to the sunrise Easter service, yet her whole life, she was so conflicted about religion. She was a Baptist, converted to Catholicism at the age of 9 on her own (Her parents remained Baptists.), entered a convent as a postulant at the age of 11, came home around 14 or so because, as she always said, she "could do the poverty and the chasity, but not the obedience." Later, she dabbled in Eastern religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism, Hare Krishna-ism (What do they call themselves, Krishnaites? Krishners? I dunno....), and later even Wiccan beliefs. But she ended up back in the Catholic church, which is the first church she consciously attended.
It's days like this that I feel a mournful sort of loss for my mother. In many regards, I looked to her for my spiritual bearings in that I believe one should continue to strive throughout one's life, the way she did, for truth and understanding. I certainly don't believe in the literal translation of the bible, nor do I think the Pope is infallible. But I do believe Jesus was a real person, a teacher, a prophet perhaps, and definitely a person worthy of study.
That Jesus can be an inspiration to many is compelling. Even though the jury is still out, in my estimation, as to whether or not he was truly a miraculous figure, I do find inspiration in some passages of the New Testament. Unschooled that I am in the more scholarly aspects of religion, I still think it's worth the effort to learn what I can about the religion in which I have been raised. I read things like the Book of Thomas the Contender from the Nag Hammadi texts, and have to wonder if perhaps Jesus was married and having troubles with his wife (most likely Mary Magdalene).
But this discussion tires me, and makes me sad, as it makes me think about Mommy. Maybe that's the problem I have with any organized religion, it makes me think of her. I was taught that no matter what, God loves us, and that Christ is the expression of that love. I can only hope it's true.
I'm just not in the mood to do much of anything. My ideal Easter breakfast is Eggs Benedict made with shirred eggs rather than poached eggs (The sight of cooked egg white makes me ill.), strawberry shortcake with fresh strawberries and homemade whipped cream, and Lady Grey tea with cream. Dinner should be ham baked with pineapples and maraschino cherries, roasted new potatoes, and asparagus with real butter melted on top. Homemade wheat rolls and sweet tea or a nice Riesling or Pinot Grigio, maybe even a Pinot Noir round out the meal.
Since we didn't have a sit down meal (at least not yet, anyway), the typical prayer didn't get said. I've been reflecting on how my mother would always try to make it to the sunrise Easter service, yet her whole life, she was so conflicted about religion. She was a Baptist, converted to Catholicism at the age of 9 on her own (Her parents remained Baptists.), entered a convent as a postulant at the age of 11, came home around 14 or so because, as she always said, she "could do the poverty and the chasity, but not the obedience." Later, she dabbled in Eastern religions such as Buddhism and Hinduism, Hare Krishna-ism (What do they call themselves, Krishnaites? Krishners? I dunno....), and later even Wiccan beliefs. But she ended up back in the Catholic church, which is the first church she consciously attended.
It's days like this that I feel a mournful sort of loss for my mother. In many regards, I looked to her for my spiritual bearings in that I believe one should continue to strive throughout one's life, the way she did, for truth and understanding. I certainly don't believe in the literal translation of the bible, nor do I think the Pope is infallible. But I do believe Jesus was a real person, a teacher, a prophet perhaps, and definitely a person worthy of study.
That Jesus can be an inspiration to many is compelling. Even though the jury is still out, in my estimation, as to whether or not he was truly a miraculous figure, I do find inspiration in some passages of the New Testament. Unschooled that I am in the more scholarly aspects of religion, I still think it's worth the effort to learn what I can about the religion in which I have been raised. I read things like the Book of Thomas the Contender from the Nag Hammadi texts, and have to wonder if perhaps Jesus was married and having troubles with his wife (most likely Mary Magdalene).
But this discussion tires me, and makes me sad, as it makes me think about Mommy. Maybe that's the problem I have with any organized religion, it makes me think of her. I was taught that no matter what, God loves us, and that Christ is the expression of that love. I can only hope it's true.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Happy Bunny Day
God is a mountain, and everyone in the world stands on the mountain - yet no two people can see exactly the same view. Or so my mother taught me. She learned this from Father Hoover, of all the Catholic priests she knew, the man with which she had the fiercest love/hate relationship. I always suspected they had had an affair, yet years after she was killed, I read in the paper that he had been accused of a homosexual relationship with a young adult. Vickie, my mom's best friend, contends that in a past life, Father Hoover was the captain of a ship, my mother was the Chanteyman, and she was on board to witness the captain have the chanteyman keelhauled, not port to starboard, as is the usual manner, but bow to stern.
Logan claims to be an unreconstructed Celt, whatever the hell that means. I'm ambivalent about God, as I've always believed a truly loving god/God would step in and alleviate pain and suffering, rather than allow it to exist. Also, my scientifc mind can find no evidence of life after death. But being the child of two highly spiritual (albeit in highly diverse ways) people, I'm just superstitous enough to recognize some holidays just in case.
We rarely do little more than fix a nice meal, say a prayer, and have an Easter egg hunt for the kids. So should I bother dying eggs tonight and hiding them tomorrow, when:
1. It's almost 7 p.m., and I haven't started yet.
2. It's supposed to be rainy and cold tomorrow, which makes for crappy Easter egg hunts.
3. Logan is sick as a dog and doesn't give a damn if tomorrow even comes.
4. My children suspect I'm the Easter bunny.
5. I'd rather play online spades than make a mess in the kitchen.
6. I'm trying to think up a bunch of excuses rather than go get the damned stuff to dye eggs.
Oh, hell, I guess I'll dye eggs tonight, even though I LOATHE boiled eggs.
After all, aren't the children entitled to their chocolate and marshmallow secularized (if that's even a word) holiday? Our country (Madison Avenue?) seems to be doing the same thing to Easter as what has been done to Christmas. I mean, isn't it really a supplanted pagan holiday anyway? Eggs = fertility, Easter = Eostre, and Easter sunrise services seem to have replaced the Pagan custom of welcoming the sun God at the vernal equinox.
So Happy Bunny Day, everyone!
Logan claims to be an unreconstructed Celt, whatever the hell that means. I'm ambivalent about God, as I've always believed a truly loving god/God would step in and alleviate pain and suffering, rather than allow it to exist. Also, my scientifc mind can find no evidence of life after death. But being the child of two highly spiritual (albeit in highly diverse ways) people, I'm just superstitous enough to recognize some holidays just in case.
We rarely do little more than fix a nice meal, say a prayer, and have an Easter egg hunt for the kids. So should I bother dying eggs tonight and hiding them tomorrow, when:
1. It's almost 7 p.m., and I haven't started yet.
2. It's supposed to be rainy and cold tomorrow, which makes for crappy Easter egg hunts.
3. Logan is sick as a dog and doesn't give a damn if tomorrow even comes.
4. My children suspect I'm the Easter bunny.
5. I'd rather play online spades than make a mess in the kitchen.
6. I'm trying to think up a bunch of excuses rather than go get the damned stuff to dye eggs.
Oh, hell, I guess I'll dye eggs tonight, even though I LOATHE boiled eggs.
After all, aren't the children entitled to their chocolate and marshmallow secularized (if that's even a word) holiday? Our country (Madison Avenue?) seems to be doing the same thing to Easter as what has been done to Christmas. I mean, isn't it really a supplanted pagan holiday anyway? Eggs = fertility, Easter = Eostre, and Easter sunrise services seem to have replaced the Pagan custom of welcoming the sun God at the vernal equinox.
So Happy Bunny Day, everyone!
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Clearing the Air
Went out with Eric night before last for a mini-pub crawl again. Ducked into the Flying Saucer to learn it really is just a draught bar, so we then went up a block to the 8.0. Eric had three martinis, well dirrrrrty vodka martinis, but anyway, I had three glasses of red merlot, and sampled the fried calamari aka rubber bands that Eric ordered without consulting me to learn I'd just as soon eat fried rubber bands. After we left there, it was back to The Shamrock to see our favorite bartender, Chris, and teach him how to make Box Office Poison (dark chocolate truffle liqueur, vodka, and Grand Marnier) after having two or three (I was getting kind looped at this point.) Bailey's on the rocks and two double mandarin vodka twists (Eric) and another tall clear drink, of which I never learned the name. I had to drive home, so I showed Eric some lovely sites in Near South Side (a neighborhood near downtown Fort Worth) which would be wonderfully suited to being turned into a studio/apartment/office. Eric gushed about the idea. I wonder if he even remembered it the next day.
Nearing home, we detoured to the Whataburger for french fries and a vanilla shake (me) and a hamburger all the way, fries, and a Diet (!) Coke (Eric). We were dancing in the car to 70's funk, which was pretty funny to witness if you were the black guy at the drive-through window. Eric grabbed my shake, took a big sip, then tried to kiss me and in doing so, got shake all over my face, up my nose, on my shirt, etc. I was drunk enough that I thought it was funny. If I had been sober, I might have been mad. Eric was in a surprisingly affectionate mood. He was somewhat self-conscious, though, as he kept asking me if he looked good. I finally told him, "yeah, I'd do you," so he shut up.
I emailed Sara a joke, and she replied back asking how things were, so she and I have been talking a little. I feel sort of in the middle, in that I can sympathize with both her and Eric. I don't like the feeling one little bit. I'd still like to be Sara's friend, but I have to figure out how to do it without incurring Eric's ire. I'm grownup enough that I won't hate someone just because a friend asks me to. I just need to figure out how to tell him that it's really none of his business. I mean, unless she had done something truly harmful to Eric rather than just get pissed off over their living & money arrangements and ask him to leave, then I'd certainly take bad behavior into consideration.
In other news, later today a lady from a "durable medical equipment supplier" will come to work to bring me a CPAP machine and show me how to set it up. I'll report back later as to whether or not I can breath tonight. It's supposed to help my sleep apnea. If I'm able to sleep without waking up over 200 times per night, I might actually feel worth a damn and feel like getting a bit of exercise. Who knows?
Nearing home, we detoured to the Whataburger for french fries and a vanilla shake (me) and a hamburger all the way, fries, and a Diet (!) Coke (Eric). We were dancing in the car to 70's funk, which was pretty funny to witness if you were the black guy at the drive-through window. Eric grabbed my shake, took a big sip, then tried to kiss me and in doing so, got shake all over my face, up my nose, on my shirt, etc. I was drunk enough that I thought it was funny. If I had been sober, I might have been mad. Eric was in a surprisingly affectionate mood. He was somewhat self-conscious, though, as he kept asking me if he looked good. I finally told him, "yeah, I'd do you," so he shut up.
I emailed Sara a joke, and she replied back asking how things were, so she and I have been talking a little. I feel sort of in the middle, in that I can sympathize with both her and Eric. I don't like the feeling one little bit. I'd still like to be Sara's friend, but I have to figure out how to do it without incurring Eric's ire. I'm grownup enough that I won't hate someone just because a friend asks me to. I just need to figure out how to tell him that it's really none of his business. I mean, unless she had done something truly harmful to Eric rather than just get pissed off over their living & money arrangements and ask him to leave, then I'd certainly take bad behavior into consideration.
In other news, later today a lady from a "durable medical equipment supplier" will come to work to bring me a CPAP machine and show me how to set it up. I'll report back later as to whether or not I can breath tonight. It's supposed to help my sleep apnea. If I'm able to sleep without waking up over 200 times per night, I might actually feel worth a damn and feel like getting a bit of exercise. Who knows?
Monday, March 21, 2005
The Cat Will Play
I wrote almost nothing last week. I was too busy at work since Jeanine took the week off to have spring break with her kids and I did the job of two people. Also, went to the dentist (I have three million cavities.) and the pulmonary doctor to get set up to have a CPAP machine brought to the house (I'm sure the technician will be scarred for life or at least severely traumatized by the squalor.) sometime in the next two weeks. I had to battle the stupid insurance company in order to be seen.
I swear, life was in many ways easier when we were totally broke and on welfare. Medicaid paid for everything, no co-pay, no battles with insurance. My previous battle with Weyland's dental insurance company really made me feel life was easier being dirt poor and letting Uncle Sam pay everything. Aetna DMO feels Weyland, at 9 years old, is not a child, and so will not approve having a pediatric dentist. So Weyland can't be sedated, which means no dental care whatsoever because the fraidy cat won't sit still for a shot of novacaine. I'm switching carriers in September, that's for sure.
Saturday night, Eric picked me up and we went on a mini-pub crawl - first to the Shamrock, then to JJ's, then to Ol' South Pancake House for breakfast (biscuits & gravy and home fries), then the Oui Lounge for a nightcap. At the Oui Lounge, there was a girl crashed out in a chair. She was so drunk she had to be carried to a cab by her boyfriend. Eric actually took a picture of her, head all flopped over to one side, slumped in her chair. I am so glad that part of my life is over.
Then we had a sleep-over of sorts. He crashed in the bed next to me and slept til around 10 or 11. His cat, Missy, got on the bed and sniffed of him, then took off to be with Logan. How quickly they forget. She thinks she's Logan's cat now. She follows him from room to room. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and Missy had to sit on the counter and supervise. When he went back into the front room, she followed him. She didn't do anything except watch him at the sink. Odd cat.
Speaking of odd cats, the whole reason Eric came to get me for the evening is because he and Sara tore the blanket, so to speak, and he needed to vent. I don't know what the catalyst was, but he moved home with his parents. Sara's had some catty remarks on her blog recently, but doesn't come out and say anything specific. I know it is sometimes like a soap opera, being around Eric. There can be high drama. But Sara seems to have some sort of complex. Everyone in her life seems to have it in for her. I told Eric that when everyone you know is crazy and evil, then perhaps it's really you. But then again, maybe some people just attract nuts. I know I do.
What's really sad is that I thought Sara and I were going to be good friends. She's certainly intelligent, which I greatly admire in a person. But I've known Eric much longer, and have a history with him that I can't put aside in order to remain her friend. Eric is fiercely loyal, and demands the same from his friends. Besides, I have a real problem letting down my guard with Sara in regards to the whole money issue. I seriously don't like the kind of people that like to live where they have to join a home owners' association. I would pay NOT to live with their ilk. I've been too poor too long that I'm almost a snob about being white-trash, if that is even possible.
Back at work today, I get a quote from my dentist. $3300 just to fix my rotten teeth. Another $900 for Brighid. Logan hasn't even been to the dentist yet, and Weyland won't let them look at his mouth. I've half a mind to just yank them all and get dentures. It might be cheaper.
And still no decision on a vehicle. Logan wants me to get an electric motorcycle, sort of like a Vespa. It doesn't require registration or insurance, and only goes 18 mph. Not no. HELL no. I'd be dead within a week. The first redneck that saw my fat ass hanging off the seat would have it in for me. The traffic is too heavy on the route to work, even if I go the back way, through the rich neighborhood near Colonial Country Club. You know, the old saw has it that money won't buy you happiness. But I've never heard anyone complain about having too much money. It can certainly buy some terrific substitutes for happiness. If money was no object, I'd go see the dentist who does all the work in one day, buy a new car, and take all the cats to the vet to get their shots rather than have to wait for hours at the low-cost clinic. 7 cats times $4 each = $28.00, more than I have in the bank today.
Should I play the lotto tonight? The jackpot is something like 35 million. That would buy a lot of cat food....
I swear, life was in many ways easier when we were totally broke and on welfare. Medicaid paid for everything, no co-pay, no battles with insurance. My previous battle with Weyland's dental insurance company really made me feel life was easier being dirt poor and letting Uncle Sam pay everything. Aetna DMO feels Weyland, at 9 years old, is not a child, and so will not approve having a pediatric dentist. So Weyland can't be sedated, which means no dental care whatsoever because the fraidy cat won't sit still for a shot of novacaine. I'm switching carriers in September, that's for sure.
Saturday night, Eric picked me up and we went on a mini-pub crawl - first to the Shamrock, then to JJ's, then to Ol' South Pancake House for breakfast (biscuits & gravy and home fries), then the Oui Lounge for a nightcap. At the Oui Lounge, there was a girl crashed out in a chair. She was so drunk she had to be carried to a cab by her boyfriend. Eric actually took a picture of her, head all flopped over to one side, slumped in her chair. I am so glad that part of my life is over.
Then we had a sleep-over of sorts. He crashed in the bed next to me and slept til around 10 or 11. His cat, Missy, got on the bed and sniffed of him, then took off to be with Logan. How quickly they forget. She thinks she's Logan's cat now. She follows him from room to room. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, and Missy had to sit on the counter and supervise. When he went back into the front room, she followed him. She didn't do anything except watch him at the sink. Odd cat.
Speaking of odd cats, the whole reason Eric came to get me for the evening is because he and Sara tore the blanket, so to speak, and he needed to vent. I don't know what the catalyst was, but he moved home with his parents. Sara's had some catty remarks on her blog recently, but doesn't come out and say anything specific. I know it is sometimes like a soap opera, being around Eric. There can be high drama. But Sara seems to have some sort of complex. Everyone in her life seems to have it in for her. I told Eric that when everyone you know is crazy and evil, then perhaps it's really you. But then again, maybe some people just attract nuts. I know I do.
What's really sad is that I thought Sara and I were going to be good friends. She's certainly intelligent, which I greatly admire in a person. But I've known Eric much longer, and have a history with him that I can't put aside in order to remain her friend. Eric is fiercely loyal, and demands the same from his friends. Besides, I have a real problem letting down my guard with Sara in regards to the whole money issue. I seriously don't like the kind of people that like to live where they have to join a home owners' association. I would pay NOT to live with their ilk. I've been too poor too long that I'm almost a snob about being white-trash, if that is even possible.
Back at work today, I get a quote from my dentist. $3300 just to fix my rotten teeth. Another $900 for Brighid. Logan hasn't even been to the dentist yet, and Weyland won't let them look at his mouth. I've half a mind to just yank them all and get dentures. It might be cheaper.
And still no decision on a vehicle. Logan wants me to get an electric motorcycle, sort of like a Vespa. It doesn't require registration or insurance, and only goes 18 mph. Not no. HELL no. I'd be dead within a week. The first redneck that saw my fat ass hanging off the seat would have it in for me. The traffic is too heavy on the route to work, even if I go the back way, through the rich neighborhood near Colonial Country Club. You know, the old saw has it that money won't buy you happiness. But I've never heard anyone complain about having too much money. It can certainly buy some terrific substitutes for happiness. If money was no object, I'd go see the dentist who does all the work in one day, buy a new car, and take all the cats to the vet to get their shots rather than have to wait for hours at the low-cost clinic. 7 cats times $4 each = $28.00, more than I have in the bank today.
Should I play the lotto tonight? The jackpot is something like 35 million. That would buy a lot of cat food....
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
not much worth writing about, eh?
Well, we just thought it was spring. Really, it doesn't start until what, the 20th? 21st? And with tomorrow being St. Patrick's day & all, it's time to plant potatoes. The past weekend threatened rain, but it pretty much held off, with only a few sprinkles on the windshield. We tried to go to the Easter Bash held out at Lockheed RA, but the door lock jammed, and I couldn't get the door closed. I drove the van home hanging on to the door to keep it from flying open. Logan got home shortly after I did, managed to fix the door, and get us out to the picnic just as it was winding up, despite another 2 hours scheduled. The kids didn't even get to enter their Easter bonnets in the contest which was supposed to happen 1 1/2 hours after we had arrived, but had already been held. I was very disappointed and somewhat pissed. We went ahead and left, and made it home in time to round up the dog and take him to the low cost rabies clinic. We had to wait in line over THREE hours, but we managed to get Bashful vaccinated and microchipped for a total of $14.00. The day was redeemed by Weyland having a blast playing on the playground equipment and Brighid meeting a girl who like anime as much as she does. Brighid got the little girl's IM screen name, so that's another anime nut added to her buddy list.
I went to the dentist today to find out that I have three million cavities. The "treatment specialist" was out today, so it will be tomorrow before I find out just how much it's going to cost, getting all my cavities filled as well as a crown and perhaps a root canal. Joy. Joy, joy, joy, joy, joy. It's a good thing I don't fear the dentist. I just resent the fact that the dentist never seems able to do everything in just one or two visits.
Like I said, tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day, and people at work are going to wear green and bring snacks. It's an excuse to have a party. They love parties, my co-workers. I'm going to attempt to make cookies tonight. If they get burnt or end up tasting like crap, I'm going to take cold cuts and cheese. I guess green beer is out of the question.
I'm going to run to Big Lots! to see if they have any shamrock shaped cookie cutters. Also, I need green food color to make green sugar. I may buy a lottery ticket as well. Can't win if you don't play.
I went to the dentist today to find out that I have three million cavities. The "treatment specialist" was out today, so it will be tomorrow before I find out just how much it's going to cost, getting all my cavities filled as well as a crown and perhaps a root canal. Joy. Joy, joy, joy, joy, joy. It's a good thing I don't fear the dentist. I just resent the fact that the dentist never seems able to do everything in just one or two visits.
Like I said, tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day, and people at work are going to wear green and bring snacks. It's an excuse to have a party. They love parties, my co-workers. I'm going to attempt to make cookies tonight. If they get burnt or end up tasting like crap, I'm going to take cold cuts and cheese. I guess green beer is out of the question.
I'm going to run to Big Lots! to see if they have any shamrock shaped cookie cutters. Also, I need green food color to make green sugar. I may buy a lottery ticket as well. Can't win if you don't play.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Castles in the Air
Haven't felt like writing much the last couple of days. Saturday was busy, shopping for Allison's wedding gift, and Sunday was the wedding shower. I had a pronounced feeling that I didn't fit in with the assembled company. The women were so polished and posh, with manicured finger and toe nails, coifed hair, fashionable clothes, shoes too high and pointy for my taste, and handbags too small to hold anything but a cell phone, a set of keys, and a credit card. Maybe a lipstick too, but nothing more.
I used to love wearing tight shirts, short skirts, stiletto heels, stockings with garters, pushup bras, & etc. I would spend hours getting my eyelashes just right. I spent loads of money on "being seen", going to concerts, clubs, etc., so I could meet guys and get laid in the hopes of meeting "the one". Well, I finally gave all that up and dressed preppy for work when I worked at Bookstop and Herbie got married (and no longer partied with me), and I met Logan. I don't think he's "the one", but he is the one for now. He and I have some things in common, but not as much as I'd like. I want a guy who will lay in bed with me of a Sunday morning, working the New York Times crossword puzzle. I want a guy who will kiss the backs of my knees. I want a guy who actually enjoys cunnilingus rather than once in a blue moon consenting to performing it.
I think my weight has aged me, though. I won't wear heels even if I have to go barefooted. My purse is full of crap I might need "just in case", which includes medicine and a Swiss Army knife Logan gave me as a birthday present one year. Occasionally, I even find things like crayolas and Legos, which have help making their way into my bag. I find that I'm less tolerant of loud noise, what passes for music nowadays, and being shacked up with a guy who doesn't seem to think I'm very smart.
I know my life didn't get where it is overnight. I can make changes. I didn't start off feeling depressed, but this sure sounds down. I really don't mean it that way. I guess I just feel old, and am wondering how to go about making things better.
I need to improve my environment, my health, and my prospects. I'm working on my environment by beginning to get the house de-cluttered and cleaned, planting flowers, hanging curtains, and painting, and at work, I'm putting up pictures, cards, and drawings the kids have done. I'm going to the dentist and the pulmonary doctor next week. I need to get set up to get a CPAP machine so I can feel better and deal with my sleep apnea that keeps me sleepy and exhausted most of the time. Once I'm sleeping better, I hope to have more energy to workout, clean house, and do things like archery and fencing. With more energy, I hope, will come weight loss. With weight loss, I hope to look better. Also, I'm trying to get my bills paid off so I can look for a small apartment close to work.
Eventually, I hope to live on my own, or perhaps with the kids so that I can find "the one." It's not that I don't love Logan -- I do, deeply -- it's just that I think I would be happier being treated better, being appreciated. Of course, all these plans are just that, plans. But I think it helps make things real to get them written down, if not on paper, at least somewhere.
I used to love wearing tight shirts, short skirts, stiletto heels, stockings with garters, pushup bras, & etc. I would spend hours getting my eyelashes just right. I spent loads of money on "being seen", going to concerts, clubs, etc., so I could meet guys and get laid in the hopes of meeting "the one". Well, I finally gave all that up and dressed preppy for work when I worked at Bookstop and Herbie got married (and no longer partied with me), and I met Logan. I don't think he's "the one", but he is the one for now. He and I have some things in common, but not as much as I'd like. I want a guy who will lay in bed with me of a Sunday morning, working the New York Times crossword puzzle. I want a guy who will kiss the backs of my knees. I want a guy who actually enjoys cunnilingus rather than once in a blue moon consenting to performing it.
I think my weight has aged me, though. I won't wear heels even if I have to go barefooted. My purse is full of crap I might need "just in case", which includes medicine and a Swiss Army knife Logan gave me as a birthday present one year. Occasionally, I even find things like crayolas and Legos, which have help making their way into my bag. I find that I'm less tolerant of loud noise, what passes for music nowadays, and being shacked up with a guy who doesn't seem to think I'm very smart.
I know my life didn't get where it is overnight. I can make changes. I didn't start off feeling depressed, but this sure sounds down. I really don't mean it that way. I guess I just feel old, and am wondering how to go about making things better.
I need to improve my environment, my health, and my prospects. I'm working on my environment by beginning to get the house de-cluttered and cleaned, planting flowers, hanging curtains, and painting, and at work, I'm putting up pictures, cards, and drawings the kids have done. I'm going to the dentist and the pulmonary doctor next week. I need to get set up to get a CPAP machine so I can feel better and deal with my sleep apnea that keeps me sleepy and exhausted most of the time. Once I'm sleeping better, I hope to have more energy to workout, clean house, and do things like archery and fencing. With more energy, I hope, will come weight loss. With weight loss, I hope to look better. Also, I'm trying to get my bills paid off so I can look for a small apartment close to work.
Eventually, I hope to live on my own, or perhaps with the kids so that I can find "the one." It's not that I don't love Logan -- I do, deeply -- it's just that I think I would be happier being treated better, being appreciated. Of course, all these plans are just that, plans. But I think it helps make things real to get them written down, if not on paper, at least somewhere.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
More Fun With Fonts
- Last night, I went to Kroger and bought the store brand of Rose's lime juice, Bluebell vanilla ice cream, fixin's for s'mores, and (because I went through the self service aisle) Boones' farm melon wine. Woo hoo! When I got home, the kids made s'mores in the microwave, and I made a vanilla ice cream and melon (honeydew, not cantaloupe or watermelon) wine smoothie.
- Today, I made a limeade slush.
- Brighid also used the smoothie machine and made chocolate milkshakes.
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I like THIS color best on my blogpage, I think.
What color do you like?
Is orange verdana prettier than pink trebuchet? What about red trebuchet? I like verdana, but I think trebuchet is easier to read.
What about Lucida Grande? Courier is newsprint type. And everyone uses Times Roman, only this is just called Times. The Visigoths must have gotten to it.
This font size is for the nearly blind, but it is not as large as DOOMSDAY, which takes up most of the page when you type
What about Lucida Grande? Courier is newsprint type. And everyone uses Times Roman, only this is just called Times. The Visigoths must have gotten to it.
This font size is for the nearly blind, but it is not as large as DOOMSDAY, which takes up most of the page when you type
WAR!
Webdings
Webdings
webdings
Webdings
Webdings
webdings
Funny, that type doesn't look like webdings. Once, when I went to Cisco for a few days, I visited my Uncle Bruce at his print shop. He gave me a dingbat, and said, "here, a dingbat for a dingbat." I still have that little piece of moveable type. I wonder what happened to his old linotype machine. I'd love to learn how to use it. Pappy set hot type for years, running a linotype machine for first The Press and then The Star-Telegram (aka the Startle-Gram).
Well, enough of this for now.
--30--
Well, enough of this for now.
--30--
Friday, March 04, 2005
How do it work??
Just experimenting, nothing to say except I want a limeade slush.
I want a limeade slush.
I want a limeade slush.
I want a limeade slush.
I want a limeade slush.
I want a limeade slush.
I want a limeade slush.
Which color looks more like limeade? limeade? limeade? limeade?
- I am going to Sonic to get myself a limeade slush.
Does gray look good on this background?
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