I haven't written in around six weeks. I seem to go in cycles of when I feel like writing and when I don't. Let's see, what's happened in all that time?
Susan, Heather, and I drove down to San Antonio (in my car) and attended an SCA event, a fiber arts college which consisted of a whole day of classes related to fiber arts, spinning, weaving, identifying fabric, various types of embroidery (I would go blind if I actually attempted blackwork.), and nalbinding, a type of fingerknitting. We agreed that we were old since in our youth, a road trip would end up with us blued, screwed, and tattooed, drunk off our asses in Tiajuana, or at the very least, in jail somewhere for some sort of socially unacceptable behavior.
Herbie had the gang all over to dinner one night to drop her bomb -- she, Dave, and kids are selling everything and moving to Argentina for a year. Because they want to. Dave said it's more socially acceptable there to be a slacker, and all he wants to do is read a paper, drink coffee in a café, and hit the beach. Their house has been on the market for almost a month now, and their tickets are for August 22nd. Susan and I are already taking bets on how long this venture will actually last. Neither of us see it actually lasting a full year.
Logan really pulled a boner. He pissed me off earlier this month by changing his plans from going camping for a couple of days (I grant him there was no where in Texas to camp that wasn't soggy or actually underwater due to some far-reaching flooding.) and instead, hopping a C-130 to Hawaii, which meant that I ended up having to use vacation days I hadn't planned on using to watch the kids and keep them from killing each other over who gets to be on the computer. Logan stayed in Hawaii a couple of days and discovered that he couldn't get back. It turns out that disabled vets aren't supposed to have "space available" flight benefits. NOW you tell me! So he had to wait for a couple of days more to get a commercial flight back which he could actually afford. Luckily, it was only $27 a night to stay on the base near Waikiki.
While he was still over there, we spoke on the phone a couple of times, and once, before we knew he doesn't really have space A benefits, I asked him if he was prepared to pay for me to fly commercial anytime he takes the kids somewhere. [You see, he never claimed me when he filed for his disabled veteran benefits. He claimed the kids, but not me. That means he and the kids get insurance, can go on base to the BX, the movies ($3 each), the pool ($1 each), and soon, the commisary, plus he can rent a cabin or tent space or marina slip at any of the bases, whether they are Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marines, anywhere in the country and some places overseas. But I can't. If he would claim me as a common-law spouse, then I could.] He said, "we'll have to see what we can do about that", which gave me cause to hope that he would finally claim me to the VA.
Monday, when I got to work, there was an email reminding me that it was Summer Enrollment time, meaning it was time to make my insurance and other benefit decisions for the upcoming fiscal year, which starts September 1st. So I called Logan to discuss the issue with him, and reminded him about what he had said. He got very testy on the issue, and told me he didn't see what good it would do me for him to claim me.
I explained that besides all the obvious benefits, one of the added benefits of having ChampVA insurance is that it would cover all my co-pays since I have BCBS of TX, plus -- I would be able to have lap-band surgery. This is my main goal.
Logan asked how it would benefit him. I guess he's just too dumb to realize that it would save me money (no co-pays), I'd get a small monthly stipend, and being able to have the surgery could possibly add years to my life. He argued and fought with me over this. He thinks I have some ulterior motive, like taking the house away from him and putting him out on the street. His paranoia really kicks in hard from time to time, and because he's twice-divorced and the divorces both came from out of the blue, blind-siding him, he is unreasonable about this issue.
So I started researching the issue, printing out things to back up my assertions as to what benefits I'd get, and in doing so, I discovered that I can file a claim myself, above his objections.
So that's what I'm going to do. After 16 years of letting Logan call the shots in our relationship, I've decided to make some decisions on my own, without consulting him. There are two of us in this relationship, I am tired of not having a vote. We're supposed to be a partnership, not a monarchy. And if I don't get a vote, I'm staging a coup.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
At least you know you're alive....
It's slow today at work, and I'm suffering from ennui despite the fact that I had a fun weekend (party with friends Saturday) and I had a health scare yesterday. I may have a hernia, and I awoke with searing, burning pain just below my ribs, right in the center of my... chest? abdomen? kinda where my diaphram is (solar plexus?). The pain was such that it woke me from a deep sleep, but not sufficiently enough that I could even call for Logan's help. In my mind, I kept thinking I needed to go to the ER, but I couldn't move to call or even say a word if I had managed to get the phone. I was scared, but eventually resigned myself that maybe I was dying and it would be okay. I fell back asleep, and was pleasantly surprised to wake up, and with no pain.
I've Got You Under My Skin
The universe has been getting on my last nerve lately. From witless drivers who rudely push their way into the space I thought of as a safe driving buffer zone distance to telemarketers who don't even bother to have actual humans call and interrupt dinner but instead resort to using computers to tell me they have an important message to clueless, undereducated sales clerks that must have failed third grade math because they stare blankly at me when I hand them $21.05 when my bill is $15.55 (My change should be $5.50, a nice round sum, rather than $4.45 if I had paid with just the $20.00.). I've had it with people.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Movin' On Up
Here's the email I sent to kith and kin this morning:
I received word late yesterday afternoon that I got the promotion I applied for here at work. I will still be in accounting, but will be one pay grade higher, with a 3% raise -- not a lot, but I will be learning some new stuff, which is really what I was looking for since what I'm now doing has become fairly rote. What's really neat is that I will have an actual office, not a cubicle in a large room, so it will be quieter, I will be nearer to a window (though won't actually have one, but can see out the window across the hall -- where I am now, there are NO windows at all), and I will have my name on a sign next to the door! I will have to take a picture of it.
I'm not sure when I'm moving across the hall because the new boss is out on medical leave (She should return on Wednesday.), and I will have to train my replacement once someone is hired. I'll keep you posted.
I received word late yesterday afternoon that I got the promotion I applied for here at work. I will still be in accounting, but will be one pay grade higher, with a 3% raise -- not a lot, but I will be learning some new stuff, which is really what I was looking for since what I'm now doing has become fairly rote. What's really neat is that I will have an actual office, not a cubicle in a large room, so it will be quieter, I will be nearer to a window (though won't actually have one, but can see out the window across the hall -- where I am now, there are NO windows at all), and I will have my name on a sign next to the door! I will have to take a picture of it.
I'm not sure when I'm moving across the hall because the new boss is out on medical leave (She should return on Wednesday.), and I will have to train my replacement once someone is hired. I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Out like a lion
I've been out of the habit of writing because I switched to the Google version of this blog, and forgot my username and password, and never got around to recovering them until today. Last month was not a very happy month, anyway, so I suppose I was avoiding writing about it.
I was out from work for a week from Feb. 12th through Feb. 16th with the flu and bronchitis on strict orders from the doctor to stay in bed -- not even sitting up to play on the computer -- because the bronchitis was threatening to turn into pneumonia. I'm better now, but still coughing up crud. At least it's mostly clear now, and not the putrid shade of green it was during the height of my illness. I finished a course of Tamiflu, which I'm not sure did anything at all, and took Mucinex DM for several days until my sense of taste returned and I couldn't get the things down, they taste so bad. The smell isn't lovely, either. I'm still sucking on an Albuterol inhaler 4 - 6 times a day, which is supposed to keep me from wheezing, but I think all it does is make me dizzy, then cause me to hack up a huge loogie. I went through FOUR boxes of Kleenex while I was sick, and went through another one my first week back at work. Gah, I hate being sick.
On the 19th, Weyland's kitten, "Wac" ("wild-assed cat", named by Logan), got hit by a car and killed. Weyland wouldn't eat dinner that night, and had trouble falling asleep. He has been having such trouble anyway, trying to get his schoolwork done. I don't know what his problem is or how to help him, but he's taken a distinct disliking of school, and won't finish his work in class or do his homework. I think he's terribly bored, and doesn't see the point of doing what he calls "baby" work, despite being in the gifted/talented program, such as it is in the EISD.
In other news, now it isn't likely that Beth will be sent to Germany. I'm kinda bummed about the whole thing because 1) She's not getting to go on an adventure to which she was looking forward, 2) I'm not getting to go on an adventure to which I was looking forward, which would have included, perhaps, meeting a couple of my penpals AND spending some time with one of my FAVORITE COUSINS and her husband, and 3) It was probably going to be my best chance at getting to go overseas.
I've only flown in a plane twice. The first time was in a little four seat airplane out in West Texas while visiting two of my other cousins out in Snyder. It was very hot, and the pilot thought it was funny to make wild maneuvers so that we girls squealed. Between the heat and the sudden drops, I got queasy and decided I didn't like flying. My second time in an airplane was flying into Love Field from Lubbock the year my parents died. Aunt Patsy and Uncle Buck had me come spend Christmas with them because I was pretty much adrift and alone that year. I remember feeling very grateful for the invitation since my sisters didn't say a word to me that year about any sort of doings. I suppose they were dealing with the loss of our parents and a sister in their own ways, but at least they both had husbands to help them with their grief. I had no one, and not hearing from them hurt. Hell, it still smarts, as I sit here at lunch, glad that no one has noticed that I have tears welling up in my eyes.
I discovered I like flying in big airplanes better than in small ones, but the take off rather unnerved me. I had to laugh at my own naivete. When I finally unclenched my hands from the armrests and relaxed enough to take in the view, when I looked down, I thought to myself, "since when does Texas have snow covered mountains?" Then the clouds cleared, and I was agog at how high in the air we were.
What is ironic is that I would love nothing better than to be a travel writer, but I have been damn few places beyond my hometown. I've been as far west as Carlsbad Caverns, NM, as far south as Galveston, TX, as far east as Fort Knox, KY, and as far north as Sallisaw, OK. But alas, no one has ever offered me the dream job, and I haven't studied much on how to get it for myself.
In the meanwhile, I do seem set to change positions here at work. I was the only person interviewed for a job which opened when a woman resigned and went back to her previous job. If hired, I will reconcile entries in the general ledger, reconcile bank entries, and serve as backup for the woman who approves all the data entry and corrections. It's not a lot more money, but it is one pay grade higher, I'd have my own office instead of a cubicle, and I'd actually end up with a lot of free time. The supervisor told me the job is feast and famine, and asked "could I amuse myself when there was nothing to do"?!? Sounds like I'll have time to write the Great American Novel (if such a thing even exists any more), all the while getting paid a whopping two tanks of gas and a lunch a week more. I won't find out until probably next week if I got the job since the supervisor is out on elective surgery, but I like my chances.
I was out from work for a week from Feb. 12th through Feb. 16th with the flu and bronchitis on strict orders from the doctor to stay in bed -- not even sitting up to play on the computer -- because the bronchitis was threatening to turn into pneumonia. I'm better now, but still coughing up crud. At least it's mostly clear now, and not the putrid shade of green it was during the height of my illness. I finished a course of Tamiflu, which I'm not sure did anything at all, and took Mucinex DM for several days until my sense of taste returned and I couldn't get the things down, they taste so bad. The smell isn't lovely, either. I'm still sucking on an Albuterol inhaler 4 - 6 times a day, which is supposed to keep me from wheezing, but I think all it does is make me dizzy, then cause me to hack up a huge loogie. I went through FOUR boxes of Kleenex while I was sick, and went through another one my first week back at work. Gah, I hate being sick.
On the 19th, Weyland's kitten, "Wac" ("wild-assed cat", named by Logan), got hit by a car and killed. Weyland wouldn't eat dinner that night, and had trouble falling asleep. He has been having such trouble anyway, trying to get his schoolwork done. I don't know what his problem is or how to help him, but he's taken a distinct disliking of school, and won't finish his work in class or do his homework. I think he's terribly bored, and doesn't see the point of doing what he calls "baby" work, despite being in the gifted/talented program, such as it is in the EISD.
In other news, now it isn't likely that Beth will be sent to Germany. I'm kinda bummed about the whole thing because 1) She's not getting to go on an adventure to which she was looking forward, 2) I'm not getting to go on an adventure to which I was looking forward, which would have included, perhaps, meeting a couple of my penpals AND spending some time with one of my FAVORITE COUSINS and her husband, and 3) It was probably going to be my best chance at getting to go overseas.
I've only flown in a plane twice. The first time was in a little four seat airplane out in West Texas while visiting two of my other cousins out in Snyder. It was very hot, and the pilot thought it was funny to make wild maneuvers so that we girls squealed. Between the heat and the sudden drops, I got queasy and decided I didn't like flying. My second time in an airplane was flying into Love Field from Lubbock the year my parents died. Aunt Patsy and Uncle Buck had me come spend Christmas with them because I was pretty much adrift and alone that year. I remember feeling very grateful for the invitation since my sisters didn't say a word to me that year about any sort of doings. I suppose they were dealing with the loss of our parents and a sister in their own ways, but at least they both had husbands to help them with their grief. I had no one, and not hearing from them hurt. Hell, it still smarts, as I sit here at lunch, glad that no one has noticed that I have tears welling up in my eyes.
I discovered I like flying in big airplanes better than in small ones, but the take off rather unnerved me. I had to laugh at my own naivete. When I finally unclenched my hands from the armrests and relaxed enough to take in the view, when I looked down, I thought to myself, "since when does Texas have snow covered mountains?" Then the clouds cleared, and I was agog at how high in the air we were.
What is ironic is that I would love nothing better than to be a travel writer, but I have been damn few places beyond my hometown. I've been as far west as Carlsbad Caverns, NM, as far south as Galveston, TX, as far east as Fort Knox, KY, and as far north as Sallisaw, OK. But alas, no one has ever offered me the dream job, and I haven't studied much on how to get it for myself.
In the meanwhile, I do seem set to change positions here at work. I was the only person interviewed for a job which opened when a woman resigned and went back to her previous job. If hired, I will reconcile entries in the general ledger, reconcile bank entries, and serve as backup for the woman who approves all the data entry and corrections. It's not a lot more money, but it is one pay grade higher, I'd have my own office instead of a cubicle, and I'd actually end up with a lot of free time. The supervisor told me the job is feast and famine, and asked "could I amuse myself when there was nothing to do"?!? Sounds like I'll have time to write the Great American Novel (if such a thing even exists any more), all the while getting paid a whopping two tanks of gas and a lunch a week more. I won't find out until probably next week if I got the job since the supervisor is out on elective surgery, but I like my chances.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Plus ça change
Plus ça change, moins ça change, the French say. My daughter, Beth, who was adopted at about age 2 by my parents in order to receive Social Security for her when my dad took early retirement, was adopted by my sister, Louise, and her husband, Chris. They had been "managing conservators" of Beth since she was 6 years old and went to live with them. Beth requested this action. I'm okay with it, as I have never been much of a mother to Beth since she was 18 months old. So now she's no longer my sister legally, she's my niece.
In other news about Beth, she's accepted an assignment to go to Germany for a year beginning in May, and she says she's going to send me a ticket to visit in September. For Octoberfest, I guess. I'm very excited since I've never been overseas. I'm looking into taking a conversational German course and have resumed my regime of walking three days a week with my friend Susan.
I hope I get to meet my expat, now residing in Germany, penpal HP (whom I discovered through an ad in Alaska Man magazine back when he lived in the states), and I suppose that I should try to find my weird French penpal, Fred "we don't speak of the deads", as well. Who knows when or if I'll ever get another chance to meet either of them.
Adieu, and Auf Wiedersehen.
In other news about Beth, she's accepted an assignment to go to Germany for a year beginning in May, and she says she's going to send me a ticket to visit in September. For Octoberfest, I guess. I'm very excited since I've never been overseas. I'm looking into taking a conversational German course and have resumed my regime of walking three days a week with my friend Susan.
I hope I get to meet my expat, now residing in Germany, penpal HP (whom I discovered through an ad in Alaska Man magazine back when he lived in the states), and I suppose that I should try to find my weird French penpal, Fred "we don't speak of the deads", as well. Who knows when or if I'll ever get another chance to meet either of them.
Adieu, and Auf Wiedersehen.
Monday, December 11, 2006
A Voice from the Past
I took a hiatus from writing. I don't know why. I just didn't feel like talking. Nothing of import occurred. I'm still working at UNTHSC, I'm still shacked up with Logan, the kids are still ornery and spoiled. I've been keeping busy by getting minor repairs done to my car, such as the blower for the heater/ac/defroster (over $580, yikes!) and the driver's side door lock (You could lock it from the inside, but not the outside, though it would lock if you locked the passenger side front door or the trunk.) (over $400, yikes!). I've been trying to spend more time with friends and family.
I have a clear focus now on something I do want to write, though. My sister Grace has returned two out of several of my father's journals (I anticipate getting the rest soon.), and I have been re-reading them with the notion that my father's life story needs to be told. I have been howling with laughter because I know the players in the stories, but I think with a bit of research to expound upon some of my dad's stories, I could make a really great book. His writing makes you feel you are right in the middle of the story. And he writes about everything from world events and politics to the minute details of being a house husband in his early 70's. Re-reading my father's journals these last few weeks has made me feel closer to him, and given me a new perspective about him that I didn't comprehend when I was in my 20's.
I anticipate that I will end up doing quite a bit of geneaology and searching through archives from the Star-Telegram and Fort Worth Press (defunct in the late 70's or early 80's), two newspapers where my dad worked, looking for his letters to the editor which were somewhat famous locally. The task is a bit daunting, but it's also very energizing.
I have a clear focus now on something I do want to write, though. My sister Grace has returned two out of several of my father's journals (I anticipate getting the rest soon.), and I have been re-reading them with the notion that my father's life story needs to be told. I have been howling with laughter because I know the players in the stories, but I think with a bit of research to expound upon some of my dad's stories, I could make a really great book. His writing makes you feel you are right in the middle of the story. And he writes about everything from world events and politics to the minute details of being a house husband in his early 70's. Re-reading my father's journals these last few weeks has made me feel closer to him, and given me a new perspective about him that I didn't comprehend when I was in my 20's.
I anticipate that I will end up doing quite a bit of geneaology and searching through archives from the Star-Telegram and Fort Worth Press (defunct in the late 70's or early 80's), two newspapers where my dad worked, looking for his letters to the editor which were somewhat famous locally. The task is a bit daunting, but it's also very energizing.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Scarlett was right
I started writing at work the other day, but got booted off and couldn't reproduce my original text, so I put it off for a while, but never got back to it. Now I can't even remember what I was writing about.
Logan and I both had birthdays in the past week. No great shakes, either one. No gifts, just good beer and better cake. Logan's was Guinness and Black Forest cake. Mine was pear cider and cherry cheesecake.
Yesterday, Susan and I started a walking regimen, one mile three times a week to start. I had to rest between each quarter mile. My back was throbbing in pain. Susan's calves hurt her, but mine were fine. The back pain felt like two ice picks right where the butt dimples are, though. I did feel good last night, though, and slept very well.
Tonight, I washed dishes and tried to get the kids to help clean house. Logan and I got into a big fight -- I don't even know what started it now. But he let me understand that I am here on suffrance. He says he may put me out on the curb if things don't improve. I seriously have to get back in school and finish my degree so that I can get promoted at work. I need to be able to support myself. In some ways, I feel like I felt when Bill used to tell me that no one would ever marry me except him because I was overweight and wasn't very good looking. I actually had a few moments of feeling suicidal because I felt so helpless.
I don't know if my problem is that I am too literal-minded, I wear my heart on my sleeve, or if I'm just hormonal. The kids would be distraught if I moved out, either of my own accord or if Logan threw me out, and I don't know if Logan would do that to the kids. I also don't know which would win - his temper or his frugality. Would he put my belongings on the curb, or sell them at the flea market?
Well, tomorrow is another day, and I guess I'll drink a cider and think about all this tomorrow. I'm only making myself depressed, picking apart the situation.
Logan and I both had birthdays in the past week. No great shakes, either one. No gifts, just good beer and better cake. Logan's was Guinness and Black Forest cake. Mine was pear cider and cherry cheesecake.
Yesterday, Susan and I started a walking regimen, one mile three times a week to start. I had to rest between each quarter mile. My back was throbbing in pain. Susan's calves hurt her, but mine were fine. The back pain felt like two ice picks right where the butt dimples are, though. I did feel good last night, though, and slept very well.
Tonight, I washed dishes and tried to get the kids to help clean house. Logan and I got into a big fight -- I don't even know what started it now. But he let me understand that I am here on suffrance. He says he may put me out on the curb if things don't improve. I seriously have to get back in school and finish my degree so that I can get promoted at work. I need to be able to support myself. In some ways, I feel like I felt when Bill used to tell me that no one would ever marry me except him because I was overweight and wasn't very good looking. I actually had a few moments of feeling suicidal because I felt so helpless.
I don't know if my problem is that I am too literal-minded, I wear my heart on my sleeve, or if I'm just hormonal. The kids would be distraught if I moved out, either of my own accord or if Logan threw me out, and I don't know if Logan would do that to the kids. I also don't know which would win - his temper or his frugality. Would he put my belongings on the curb, or sell them at the flea market?
Well, tomorrow is another day, and I guess I'll drink a cider and think about all this tomorrow. I'm only making myself depressed, picking apart the situation.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Pig in a Poke
I'm loving the new-to-me Benz. It handles sooo well, and it likes to go fast; I have to monitor my speed closely, in order not to get a ticket. Logan says it wants to go fast 'cuz it misses the Autobahn. (Auto Bahn?) But the little car has developed a problem. Well, it probably had the problem when we got it, but we didn't notice it. It needs the radiator repaired. It overheats in the evenings, on the ride home. It may be that there is a leak or a crack; I don't know. It runs just fine in the morning, but come time to go home, it gets hot about 3/4 of the way home. Yesterday was the worst. It started steaming, so I immediately pulled over to the Walgreen's parking lot and called Logan, who came to my rescue, adding water & antifreeze/coolant with the engine running. It rode home perfectly after that, and did well this morning. Logan has it today, investigating getting it repaired, which sounds to cost the better part of $250.00, though Logan may be able to get some kind of crack sealer for aluminum and get the hole(s) to plug up enough to fix the problem. We shall see.
I hope that works, because I was hoping to buy a metal detector for the kids & me to use in our new hobby, treasure hunting. The severe drought here in N TX has the lakes and rivers so low that I thought the kids and I might have some luck going along the banks & shores, looking for lost coins & jewelry. I'm sure we'll find our share of bottle tops & nails, but it will be fun to try. And the main point (though the kids don't know this) is to get them outside, doing some exercise, and away from the computer, which causes lots of strife.
I hope that works, because I was hoping to buy a metal detector for the kids & me to use in our new hobby, treasure hunting. The severe drought here in N TX has the lakes and rivers so low that I thought the kids and I might have some luck going along the banks & shores, looking for lost coins & jewelry. I'm sure we'll find our share of bottle tops & nails, but it will be fun to try. And the main point (though the kids don't know this) is to get them outside, doing some exercise, and away from the computer, which causes lots of strife.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Top Drawer
I'm feeling very happy and excited today. Yesterday, after various finagling which included convincing Logan to put up the title to the decrepit Suburban as collateral, I obtained a loan in order to buy a car. Logan spied an '89 Mercedes E (6 valve, 3.0 L) for sale in a neighborhood near work. He describes it as "very cherry". The Blue Book value on it is $4,100.00, but the guy selling it was only asking $3,500.00. We took it for a spin, and Logan loved it. It is very sound mechanically, and very good appearance-wise as well. Logan bargained the seller down to $3,300.00. I pick it up tomorrow. Finally, a car in my name after being chauffeured by Logan for over a year. "A friend" and I, along with Herbie and Susan, are planning an excursion tomorrow, a drive about town in my new car, lunch at Red Lobster (which is very good for being a chain restaurant), and perhaps shopping or a movie.
The other item that has me excited is the prospect of a new job with a considerable jump in pay. A position opened up (Administrative Technical Support Specialist is the overblown title) in the Facilities Management department. It came open only because a lady died of cancer. The job entails keeping spreadsheets and writing reports on the construction projects on campus. I had a very promising interview yesterday, and my boss said he would give me a glowing recommendation despite the fact that he doesn't want to lose me.
Logan is happy since I gave him some money to fix the white van so that he can park it next to the curb in order to free up the driveway for my new car. Also, I paid for the title transfer on the Suburban since I needed the title to get the loan. And obstensibly, the Surburban was bought for me to drive back in 2002. But since it only gets 10 mpg, it no longer makes sense to drive it. We need to sell it once I pay off my loan and clear the title.
Gad, all the paperwork involved with getting vehicles bought, tagged, inspected, & etc. almost makes one want to ride a horse.
If I get the new job and I'm going to be driving a Mercedes, I'll sure feel like I'm in the top drawer. I may even let Logan drive it once in a while so I can sit in the back and say, "home, James!"
The other item that has me excited is the prospect of a new job with a considerable jump in pay. A position opened up (Administrative Technical Support Specialist is the overblown title) in the Facilities Management department. It came open only because a lady died of cancer. The job entails keeping spreadsheets and writing reports on the construction projects on campus. I had a very promising interview yesterday, and my boss said he would give me a glowing recommendation despite the fact that he doesn't want to lose me.
Logan is happy since I gave him some money to fix the white van so that he can park it next to the curb in order to free up the driveway for my new car. Also, I paid for the title transfer on the Suburban since I needed the title to get the loan. And obstensibly, the Surburban was bought for me to drive back in 2002. But since it only gets 10 mpg, it no longer makes sense to drive it. We need to sell it once I pay off my loan and clear the title.
Gad, all the paperwork involved with getting vehicles bought, tagged, inspected, & etc. almost makes one want to ride a horse.
If I get the new job and I'm going to be driving a Mercedes, I'll sure feel like I'm in the top drawer. I may even let Logan drive it once in a while so I can sit in the back and say, "home, James!"
Friday, July 28, 2006
A Moving Experience
I had a moving experience last night. And early this morning. And shortly after arriving at work. The gas pains are mostly gone. If I was a good friend like ERIC, who shall henceforth be referred to as just "a friend" since he got his knickers in a twist over my telling the world (or the handful of people I can count on one hand who actually read this blog) that he rolled his Dad's Cadillac one night after allegedly leaving a bar where he may or may not have imbibed several drinks, and then allegedly having to swerve to avoid another driver who allegedly came over into "a friend's" lane (can't use "he" again, as it is an ambiguous reference), but who am I to say since I wasn't there, and as such, this is all heresay anyway, then I would EMAIL YOU ALL A PHOTOGRAPH of the results of my many excursions to the toilet this past day. But I'm not that kind of friend. For which you may be very glad unless you secretly ... suffer? practice? (I can't think of how to term this.) coprophilia. Here's a link to the Wikipedia page on the topic, if you're interested:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coprophilia
This led to learning a fascinating fact: "The German colloquial term for scat fetishism is Kaviar." I'll bet that makes for some careful ordering when one wishes for caviar.
So. That's all I'm gonna say about that. ("Thank God," I can just hear you saying.)
In other news, Logan's staples and stitches were removed from his knee yesterday, and he was walking without his cane today. It's amazing how quickly he's recovered. His surgery was just two weeks and four days ago, and he seems almost back to... no better than normal. Next up, the left shoulder impingement which may be caused by a bone spur. For a really good diagram, point your browser to:
http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/fact/thr_report.cfm?Thread_ID=133&topcategory=Shoulder
Anyway, that's enough about medical stuff. And lunch is over, so back to the salt mine!
Now, for your edifaction, ten artists (in no particular order) I've ripped to my computer at work so I can listen to something decent while I slog away here. All these artists move me in one way or another (sometimes, more than one):
Dean Martin
Bauhaus
John Prine
The Smithereens
Bob Dylan
Ian & Sylvia
Robert Earl Keen, Jr.
Sisters of Mercy
The B-52s
Cake
So, what are YOU listening to, right now? Drop me a line at: jsitton@hsc.unt.edu.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coprophilia
This led to learning a fascinating fact: "The German colloquial term for scat fetishism is Kaviar." I'll bet that makes for some careful ordering when one wishes for caviar.
So. That's all I'm gonna say about that. ("Thank God," I can just hear you saying.)
In other news, Logan's staples and stitches were removed from his knee yesterday, and he was walking without his cane today. It's amazing how quickly he's recovered. His surgery was just two weeks and four days ago, and he seems almost back to... no better than normal. Next up, the left shoulder impingement which may be caused by a bone spur. For a really good diagram, point your browser to:
http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/fact/thr_report.cfm?Thread_ID=133&topcategory=Shoulder
Anyway, that's enough about medical stuff. And lunch is over, so back to the salt mine!
Now, for your edifaction, ten artists (in no particular order) I've ripped to my computer at work so I can listen to something decent while I slog away here. All these artists move me in one way or another (sometimes, more than one):
Dean Martin
Bauhaus
John Prine
The Smithereens
Bob Dylan
Ian & Sylvia
Robert Earl Keen, Jr.
Sisters of Mercy
The B-52s
Cake
So, what are YOU listening to, right now? Drop me a line at: jsitton@hsc.unt.edu.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
The Slop Jar Blues
If I was more computer savvy, I'd create a sound clip to sing you this song:
I was sittin' on the slop jar,
waitin' for my bowels to move.
(I gotta doo-doo, I gotta doo-doo!)
Yes, I was sittin' on the slop jar,
waitin' for my bowels to move.
(I gotta doo-doo, I gotta doo-doo!)
And if they don't move by Tuesday, I'm gonna have the blues.
(I gotta doo-doo, I gotta doo-doo!)
There are many more lines to this gem, and many more which can be made up as one sings along, as would oft occur when I first heard it, riding the band bus (one time, in band camp...) with the mostly black band during my high school days, but I will spare you, gentle reader, with further assaults.
What brings this song to mind is the state of my bowels. I've felt ill the past four days, being very windy, having severe gas pains, bouts of astoundingly loud and long, almost trumpet like flatulence, and the inability to pass much of anything despite a couple of bowls of raisin bran, a couple of cups of prunes, two stool softeners, six laxative pills, and enough water to fill a toilet bowl several times over. I haven't a clue as to what brought on this bout of dyspepsia, but if it does not abate forthwith, then I feel I have no other recourse than to consult my physician in order to rule out any type of blockage which might result in surgery.
My father used to say that as we age, we become more childlike, particularly absorbed with matters of our elimination. I hope to God this is not true, for it is incredibly annoying, having this topic so much on my mind of late. I'd rather spend my time thinking about more pleasant things like, say, the nagging dull pain in my back which causes me to wonder if I'm developing a kidney stone, or the sharp pain I sometimes get in my knee, which causes me to wonder if I will need knee surgery soon. Logan went to the VA hospital today to have the staples removed from his knee, which he says, feels better in some ways and worse in others, so I look upon possible surgery with some trepidation.
Mostly, though, I would just like to be back to normal, where the course of my digestion ran like the tide, constant, predictable, and without any thought to trying to hold it back or force it to flow. Gad, it's awful to feel so old. Though I guess it beats the alternative. Hey, another day above ground! At least with a grumbling gut, I have no doubts that I'm still alive! (How's that for a silver lining??)
I was sittin' on the slop jar,
waitin' for my bowels to move.
(I gotta doo-doo, I gotta doo-doo!)
Yes, I was sittin' on the slop jar,
waitin' for my bowels to move.
(I gotta doo-doo, I gotta doo-doo!)
And if they don't move by Tuesday, I'm gonna have the blues.
(I gotta doo-doo, I gotta doo-doo!)
There are many more lines to this gem, and many more which can be made up as one sings along, as would oft occur when I first heard it, riding the band bus (one time, in band camp...) with the mostly black band during my high school days, but I will spare you, gentle reader, with further assaults.
What brings this song to mind is the state of my bowels. I've felt ill the past four days, being very windy, having severe gas pains, bouts of astoundingly loud and long, almost trumpet like flatulence, and the inability to pass much of anything despite a couple of bowls of raisin bran, a couple of cups of prunes, two stool softeners, six laxative pills, and enough water to fill a toilet bowl several times over. I haven't a clue as to what brought on this bout of dyspepsia, but if it does not abate forthwith, then I feel I have no other recourse than to consult my physician in order to rule out any type of blockage which might result in surgery.
My father used to say that as we age, we become more childlike, particularly absorbed with matters of our elimination. I hope to God this is not true, for it is incredibly annoying, having this topic so much on my mind of late. I'd rather spend my time thinking about more pleasant things like, say, the nagging dull pain in my back which causes me to wonder if I'm developing a kidney stone, or the sharp pain I sometimes get in my knee, which causes me to wonder if I will need knee surgery soon. Logan went to the VA hospital today to have the staples removed from his knee, which he says, feels better in some ways and worse in others, so I look upon possible surgery with some trepidation.
Mostly, though, I would just like to be back to normal, where the course of my digestion ran like the tide, constant, predictable, and without any thought to trying to hold it back or force it to flow. Gad, it's awful to feel so old. Though I guess it beats the alternative. Hey, another day above ground! At least with a grumbling gut, I have no doubts that I'm still alive! (How's that for a silver lining??)
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Happy Birthday, youngest daughter
Brighid turned 14 yesterday, and I'm am thankful that she's alive (having been hit by a car and hospitalized for a week about two years ago) and not pregnant. (I had my first daughter when I was 14, and I just learned my brother's daughter is 7 months pregnant at 17.)
I'm taking her and her best friend to lunch at Benihana's in Los Colinas (or Lost Colitis, as Logan calls it), then we might take in a flick, say, The Devil Wears Prada or some such.
Brighid is becoming more fun as she gets older. I thoroughly enjoy her bizarre sense of humor. We laugh at the ridiculous and poke fun at the arrogant. One of her chief amusements is turning the radio up loud on classical music when we're at a red light next to a car which is blaring rap at hearing-loss inducing decibels. She appreciates the humor of David Letterman, Eddie Izzard, and Pee Wee Herman. We laugh a lot together, which is good, since it will help when the bad times happen, which I know they will. She's 14 now, and just starting the journey up "fools' hill", as my mother called it, that passage of one's life during which one's parents become eat up with the dumb ass.
A child climbing fools' hill will become amazed that his parents are able to function, given the level of their stupidity. A child climbing fools' hill will become deathly embarrassed of one's entire family, and require being dropped off at least a block away from whatever function he is attending. And a child climbing fools' hill would far rather be seen in outdated clothing than with one's family in public. Luckily, one reaches the summit of fools' hill around the age of 18, and is usually back in the foothills of fools' hill by the age of 22.
So I try having fun with Brighid now, while she still likes me and thinks I have useful things to say. Happy Birthday, youngest daughter. Your mommy loves you and is glad you were born 14 years ago.
I'm taking her and her best friend to lunch at Benihana's in Los Colinas (or Lost Colitis, as Logan calls it), then we might take in a flick, say, The Devil Wears Prada or some such.
Brighid is becoming more fun as she gets older. I thoroughly enjoy her bizarre sense of humor. We laugh at the ridiculous and poke fun at the arrogant. One of her chief amusements is turning the radio up loud on classical music when we're at a red light next to a car which is blaring rap at hearing-loss inducing decibels. She appreciates the humor of David Letterman, Eddie Izzard, and Pee Wee Herman. We laugh a lot together, which is good, since it will help when the bad times happen, which I know they will. She's 14 now, and just starting the journey up "fools' hill", as my mother called it, that passage of one's life during which one's parents become eat up with the dumb ass.
A child climbing fools' hill will become amazed that his parents are able to function, given the level of their stupidity. A child climbing fools' hill will become deathly embarrassed of one's entire family, and require being dropped off at least a block away from whatever function he is attending. And a child climbing fools' hill would far rather be seen in outdated clothing than with one's family in public. Luckily, one reaches the summit of fools' hill around the age of 18, and is usually back in the foothills of fools' hill by the age of 22.
So I try having fun with Brighid now, while she still likes me and thinks I have useful things to say. Happy Birthday, youngest daughter. Your mommy loves you and is glad you were born 14 years ago.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Your Tax Dollars At Work
Yesterday, I cooled my heels damn near all day, waiting while Logan had his leg taken apart and rebuilt. He's currently cooped up at the VA hospital, but at least he has a morphine pump, so every 6 minutes he can knock himself back out. From what I understand, knee surgery is exquisitely painful. 24 hours after the surgery, they made him get up and walk on it (with crutches, of course). He's not a happy camper.
The VA hospital is gargantuan, taking up approximately 4 - 5 city blocks square. The meandering of buildings is a rabbit warren inside. One employee I spoke to on an elevator said he lost 35 pounds his first 4 months working there. I was worn out when I got home.
I was dumbfounded by the size of the complex and the number of people awaiting (in various states of patience) services. Many of them seemed just a disability check away from being homeless, several seemed slightly schizophrenic, and most seemed forlorn and depressed. In spite of the soothing atmosphere, nice furnishings, and friendly volunteers, I went away with a vague feeling of hopelessness for the whole situation. We're currently creating a bumper crop of new veterans, and Logan tells me Congress still hasn't funded the VA in the budget. I can't think of anything witty to say about this. In my mind, it's outrageous. Even a Republican Senator, John McCain, thinks there is too much pork barrel spending in the budget:
http://mccain.senate.gov/index.cfm?fuseaction=Newscenter.ViewPressRelease&Content_id=1722
and lists several pro-veteran issues on his website:
http://mccain.senate.gov/index.cfm?fuseaction=Issues.ViewIssue&Issue_id=35
Odd, that I find myself agreeing with a Republican. But I guess as one grows older, one becomes more fiscally conservative. In any case, I don't hold out much hope for things getting better for Vets anytime soon.
The only amusing portion of the day was the ride home. I could not, for love nor money, get the driver's side door to shut. The latch is stuck in the closed position, and won't disengage in order to catch on the pall. So I drove home, 37 miles, with my arm out the window, holding the door shut. Today, I have an aching Flexor carpi radialis, and needless to say, I'm taking the car in to be repaired in the morning. Today, I rode to work with a Bungee cord holding the door shut. I am so saving up for a new car.
The VA hospital is gargantuan, taking up approximately 4 - 5 city blocks square. The meandering of buildings is a rabbit warren inside. One employee I spoke to on an elevator said he lost 35 pounds his first 4 months working there. I was worn out when I got home.
I was dumbfounded by the size of the complex and the number of people awaiting (in various states of patience) services. Many of them seemed just a disability check away from being homeless, several seemed slightly schizophrenic, and most seemed forlorn and depressed. In spite of the soothing atmosphere, nice furnishings, and friendly volunteers, I went away with a vague feeling of hopelessness for the whole situation. We're currently creating a bumper crop of new veterans, and Logan tells me Congress still hasn't funded the VA in the budget. I can't think of anything witty to say about this. In my mind, it's outrageous. Even a Republican Senator, John McCain, thinks there is too much pork barrel spending in the budget:
http://mccain.senate.gov/index.cfm?fuseaction=Newscenter.ViewPressRelease&Content_id=1722
and lists several pro-veteran issues on his website:
http://mccain.senate.gov/index.cfm?fuseaction=Issues.ViewIssue&Issue_id=35
Odd, that I find myself agreeing with a Republican. But I guess as one grows older, one becomes more fiscally conservative. In any case, I don't hold out much hope for things getting better for Vets anytime soon.
The only amusing portion of the day was the ride home. I could not, for love nor money, get the driver's side door to shut. The latch is stuck in the closed position, and won't disengage in order to catch on the pall. So I drove home, 37 miles, with my arm out the window, holding the door shut. Today, I have an aching Flexor carpi radialis, and needless to say, I'm taking the car in to be repaired in the morning. Today, I rode to work with a Bungee cord holding the door shut. I am so saving up for a new car.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
A whole month, shot to hell....
Yes, I'm alive. But just barely. I've been sick for a week, and just haven't been in the mood to do much of anything, let alone write.
Today is my third day back at work after missing three days (two whole days and a half of two days, so that makes it three in my book) due to this cold I still haven't shaken. Thursday last week, I started feeling tired, ran a low grade fever, and started losing my voice. My throat hurt, was very scratchy, and my sinuses were plugged. Then the bronchitis kicked in. I spent four days in bed coughing up my lungs and spitting out huge, yellow loogies. Then the sneezing, watery eyes, and runny nose started. I wanted to cry, I felt so bad. But between the cough syrup, expectorant, and antihistamines, I managed to deal. I'm back to having my sinuses slammed shut and I'm still coughing up crud, but it's clear now, and I'm feeling markedly better, so I returned to work since I had to get the leases paid and the journal entries done before the end of the month. We have Monday and Tuesday off, so I plan on spending the weekend in bed with a thermos of hot toddies.
When I returned to work on Tuesday, I had a letter on my desk from my boss' boss, informing me that as of September 1st, I'm getting a raise of $100 per month. Not great, and not the reclassification of my job that my boss requested for me, but a merit raise is a merit raise. Herbie thinks I should just put the money in a savings account to save up for a new car, but I'm thinking I'll put the money directly on my credit card bills in order to pay them down faster, thus saving me more money in interest fees charges than I could make on interest gained by a savings account. In any case, it was a nice ego boost, as the letter mentioned just how great a worker I am! Yeah, I know, corporate b.s. "Atta Girl" notices are just paper. What counts is the green paper you get as a result.
On a different tangent, I had a grand time in Cisco visiting with my cousins. Weyland stayed in the pool almost the whole time we were there, and as a result, and despite many well-intentioned slatherings of sun block by me, he looked like a boiled lobster by Sunday. Brighid must have taken her one remaining brain cell out, played with it, and lost it because she accepted a cousin's dare: lick the tiles in the pool. I cannot fathom what she was thinking. Oh, wait! She wasn't! It was no surprise that she became ill an hour or so later with a fever and diarrhea. You know, I never suspected I'd have to tell a child, "don't lick the swimming pool tiles!" Live and learn.
My cousin Martha brought me the neatest thing from her dad's old printing shop: the hot type her dad set for my dad of my birth announcement. I didn't even know it existed, as I've never seen the finished product. I just bawled when I saw it, which made Martha bawl. It was just so emotional, seeing a tangible thing that represented the bond between our fathers. Both were printers, both ran linotype presses, and both were great with words. Odd how some gracefully formed bits of steel could bring about such a storm of feelings.
On the 4th, we're going to see the Cats play at La Greave field. Tickets were only $5 here at work, and there's going to be fireworks after (unless the severe drought we're in causes the powers that be to cancel them), and tailgate parties before. We're going to bring the de rigueur hot dogs, watermelon, and margaritas. There's nothing like sitting half baked at a baseball game. What's cool about seeing the Cats play is that all the seats are good since it's such a small venue. We're only 5 rows back, along the third baseline, so we should have a good view of anyone trying to make it to home plate.
The only other news of import is that Eric rolled the Cadillac Wednesday the 21st. He was leaving the Shamrock after meeting with a client when someone tried to come over into his lane without looking. So he swerved, hit the median, and rolled. He got a slight concussion, a laceration on his forehead, and lots of little cuts caused by the broken windshield. The cops took him to the hospital first, then to the Mansfield jail since Tarrant County was full.
I had my phone turned off since I was sick and didn't want to be bothered, so I didn't get the two calls Eric put in to me before getting ahold of Logan. Logan went and sprung him from jail, then spent the day chauffeuring Eric around, as his license had been temporarily suspended. It took a couple of days and a forged, notarized document for Eric to get the auto pound to let him get his laptop out of the trunk. The last time I spoke to Eric a couple of days ago, the car was still in the pound. It's in his dad's name, so they aren't releasing it to Eric, though they might let the insurance company haul it away.
Eric's parents are in the UK on vacation, so it may be a few more days until the shit hits the fan. In the meanwhile, Eric is staying close to home and pretty much incommunicado. How fun is that?
Today is my third day back at work after missing three days (two whole days and a half of two days, so that makes it three in my book) due to this cold I still haven't shaken. Thursday last week, I started feeling tired, ran a low grade fever, and started losing my voice. My throat hurt, was very scratchy, and my sinuses were plugged. Then the bronchitis kicked in. I spent four days in bed coughing up my lungs and spitting out huge, yellow loogies. Then the sneezing, watery eyes, and runny nose started. I wanted to cry, I felt so bad. But between the cough syrup, expectorant, and antihistamines, I managed to deal. I'm back to having my sinuses slammed shut and I'm still coughing up crud, but it's clear now, and I'm feeling markedly better, so I returned to work since I had to get the leases paid and the journal entries done before the end of the month. We have Monday and Tuesday off, so I plan on spending the weekend in bed with a thermos of hot toddies.
When I returned to work on Tuesday, I had a letter on my desk from my boss' boss, informing me that as of September 1st, I'm getting a raise of $100 per month. Not great, and not the reclassification of my job that my boss requested for me, but a merit raise is a merit raise. Herbie thinks I should just put the money in a savings account to save up for a new car, but I'm thinking I'll put the money directly on my credit card bills in order to pay them down faster, thus saving me more money in interest fees charges than I could make on interest gained by a savings account. In any case, it was a nice ego boost, as the letter mentioned just how great a worker I am! Yeah, I know, corporate b.s. "Atta Girl" notices are just paper. What counts is the green paper you get as a result.
On a different tangent, I had a grand time in Cisco visiting with my cousins. Weyland stayed in the pool almost the whole time we were there, and as a result, and despite many well-intentioned slatherings of sun block by me, he looked like a boiled lobster by Sunday. Brighid must have taken her one remaining brain cell out, played with it, and lost it because she accepted a cousin's dare: lick the tiles in the pool. I cannot fathom what she was thinking. Oh, wait! She wasn't! It was no surprise that she became ill an hour or so later with a fever and diarrhea. You know, I never suspected I'd have to tell a child, "don't lick the swimming pool tiles!" Live and learn.
My cousin Martha brought me the neatest thing from her dad's old printing shop: the hot type her dad set for my dad of my birth announcement. I didn't even know it existed, as I've never seen the finished product. I just bawled when I saw it, which made Martha bawl. It was just so emotional, seeing a tangible thing that represented the bond between our fathers. Both were printers, both ran linotype presses, and both were great with words. Odd how some gracefully formed bits of steel could bring about such a storm of feelings.
On the 4th, we're going to see the Cats play at La Greave field. Tickets were only $5 here at work, and there's going to be fireworks after (unless the severe drought we're in causes the powers that be to cancel them), and tailgate parties before. We're going to bring the de rigueur hot dogs, watermelon, and margaritas. There's nothing like sitting half baked at a baseball game. What's cool about seeing the Cats play is that all the seats are good since it's such a small venue. We're only 5 rows back, along the third baseline, so we should have a good view of anyone trying to make it to home plate.
The only other news of import is that Eric rolled the Cadillac Wednesday the 21st. He was leaving the Shamrock after meeting with a client when someone tried to come over into his lane without looking. So he swerved, hit the median, and rolled. He got a slight concussion, a laceration on his forehead, and lots of little cuts caused by the broken windshield. The cops took him to the hospital first, then to the Mansfield jail since Tarrant County was full.
I had my phone turned off since I was sick and didn't want to be bothered, so I didn't get the two calls Eric put in to me before getting ahold of Logan. Logan went and sprung him from jail, then spent the day chauffeuring Eric around, as his license had been temporarily suspended. It took a couple of days and a forged, notarized document for Eric to get the auto pound to let him get his laptop out of the trunk. The last time I spoke to Eric a couple of days ago, the car was still in the pound. It's in his dad's name, so they aren't releasing it to Eric, though they might let the insurance company haul it away.
Eric's parents are in the UK on vacation, so it may be a few more days until the shit hits the fan. In the meanwhile, Eric is staying close to home and pretty much incommunicado. How fun is that?
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Death Tour 2006
The Gals and I went cemetery visiting this past Sunday: Cottondale, where my parents, sister, maternal grandparents, maternal grandmother's parents and siblings, and numerous other cousins (including Machine Gun Kelly) are buried, Mount Olivet, where Herbie's mother is buried, Rendon, where Shellie's parents and brother are buried and where we had a nice picnic lunch (There's a picnic area for that purpose, so don't think we're so morbid.), and Rose Hill (now Shannon~Rose Hill or Rose~Shannon Hill, I think, having joined with the Shannon family of funeral directors; incidentally, I lived across the street from Rose Marie Shannon Lewis and her passel of what was it, 11 children?), where Susan's mother (and, incidentally, Lee Harvey Oswald) are buried. Hebie took pics, which I will add once she emails them to me.
Other than that, not much else upon which to comment besides the kittens, which are growing like weeds. I'll post new pics of them as well, maybe when I get home since I'm at work now and don't have the pics on my work computer.
Friday, we're going to the Sitton family reunion in Cisco, so I'll be incommunicado for four days during which I'll socialize with my cousins, beat several people at Scrabble®, eat too much, swim as much as possible, and try to convince someone else to be president of the Sitton Family Association. I may even play 42, though I'm not very good at it. Much fun will be had by all, I'm sure. I will post lots of photos afterwards.
As far as visiting the graves, I'm glad I did. I had not been in many years. I was pretty well composed. I almost cried, but didn't. It's been 18 years since my parents and sister died. The hurt hasn't gone away yet, but it's not as near the surface.
Other than that, not much else upon which to comment besides the kittens, which are growing like weeds. I'll post new pics of them as well, maybe when I get home since I'm at work now and don't have the pics on my work computer.
Friday, we're going to the Sitton family reunion in Cisco, so I'll be incommunicado for four days during which I'll socialize with my cousins, beat several people at Scrabble®, eat too much, swim as much as possible, and try to convince someone else to be president of the Sitton Family Association. I may even play 42, though I'm not very good at it. Much fun will be had by all, I'm sure. I will post lots of photos afterwards.
As far as visiting the graves, I'm glad I did. I had not been in many years. I was pretty well composed. I almost cried, but didn't. It's been 18 years since my parents and sister died. The hurt hasn't gone away yet, but it's not as near the surface.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Awwww.....
Partly Cloudy and her six kittens which were one day old the day these pictures were taken:
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Even More Japanese Gardens Pictures
Here are some more pictures taken at the Japanese Gardens, about half by me and half by Brighid:
Thursday, April 20, 2006
or so Hamlet says
I just learned some new words, which makes me excited, especially because I like to play Scrabble and work crossword puzzles:
tawse - a leather strap slit into strips at the end and used especially for disciplining children
hygroscopic - readily taking up and retaining moisture
anadromous - ascending rivers from the sea for breeding
catadromous - living in freshwater and going to the sea to spawn
agromania - intense desire to be in open spaces (an intense form of spring fever, perhaps?)
cancrine - of, like or pertaining to crabs
hieromania - pathological religious visions or delusions
quoz - absurd person or thing (This is a very good word for Scrabble.)
tawse - a leather strap slit into strips at the end and used especially for disciplining children
hygroscopic - readily taking up and retaining moisture
anadromous - ascending rivers from the sea for breeding
catadromous - living in freshwater and going to the sea to spawn
agromania - intense desire to be in open spaces (an intense form of spring fever, perhaps?)
cancrine - of, like or pertaining to crabs
hieromania - pathological religious visions or delusions
quoz - absurd person or thing (This is a very good word for Scrabble.)
Monday, April 10, 2006
More Japanese Garden Pics
Here are the rest of the pics from the Japanese Gardens. Including some fun ones. I was unable to post them all on the same entry. Too bad I don't have sound clips to go with these. (All photos copyright Susan Scott-Wilson except as noted.)
We decided Sunday, April 2nd was "Insult As Many People As Possible Day", so in addition to telling various ethnic jokes and moving the furniture when blind people visit, Eric snapped this beauty of me and Shellie:
Now you know why some cities have rules against drinking in public parks. If Fort Worth does, I never found it on their website, which I scoured for over thirty minutes, looking for anything regarding possessing alcohol in parks. I 'spose they could get us for public intoxication, and maybe Eric and Shellie for public lewdness, but no one complained, and we didn't see cop one that day, so --- heh heh --- we got away with our awful behavior.
We decided Sunday, April 2nd was "Insult As Many People As Possible Day", so in addition to telling various ethnic jokes and moving the furniture when blind people visit, Eric snapped this beauty of me and Shellie:
Now you know why some cities have rules against drinking in public parks. If Fort Worth does, I never found it on their website, which I scoured for over thirty minutes, looking for anything regarding possessing alcohol in parks. I 'spose they could get us for public intoxication, and maybe Eric and Shellie for public lewdness, but no one complained, and we didn't see cop one that day, so --- heh heh --- we got away with our awful behavior.
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