Woes
I have a serious triple-threat today. My head is throbbing, and my ears feel stopped up. It’s like being on a plane at high altitude, and I can’t get my ears to “pop”. Second, my ovaries have decided to use my lower back as a punching bag, and it feels I’ve been kicked by a donkey who has a fondness for anything lumbar. Lastly, (I never know when it is or it is not appropriate to use the word ‘lastly’, but I like it, so there you have it) Mister and I ate at a Mexican restaurant on SATURDAY (it is Tuesday), and it didn’t sit right with me. After a day or two of feeling really unwell, I feel like I’m dehydrated or depleted in some way (I dunno.. sodium? potassium, maybe?), and just feel Godawful.
I stayed in bed this morning, trying to think serene thoughts while feeling the crown of my head slowly freeze from the ice pack, but my back finally made me plead uncle, and I got up to take something (else). I took an Amerge earlier and am so friggin’ thankful that it has helped. I must once again tout the brilliance and wonder of my neurologist. I pray, seriously, literally and honestly, that I never, ever, EVER have to go through another bout of Status Migrainousa. It was so awful that there aren’t enough words to describe it, and, though I would never, ever hurt myself, it made me truly understand, for the first time in my sheltered life, why some may looking at ending it all as an option. Pain like that tears you down. *shudder* Anyway! Feeling somewhat better now, as evidenced by my ability to focus on a laptop monitor and type with some minimal dexterity (albeit surely the snoring dog beside me helps).
Thoughts:
Michael Jackson - I’m so sorry he died. He was so talented, and, I’m sure, misunderstood. The BET tribute was a ridiculous circus, replete with tasteless bling, even more tasteless and tacky clothing (denim prom fashions, anyone?) and fake words. These folks wouldn’t have returned his call a week ago, but now he’s the greatest thing ever. These folks make me sick. And his dad? Is the ugliest thing on the face of the Earth.
Farrah Fawcett - So very sad. She sure did fight her disease, and showed a lot more courage than I would have. What a beautiful woman. She seemed pretty on the inside, too.
Billy Mays - Y’know, in his commercials, the guy came across as loud and somewhat irritating, but I never heard him be rude, vulgar or condescending. He was just doing his job. My heart goes out to his family. I’m so sorry. So young!
Iran - the cleric…CLERIC…calling for execution of the protesters. I hope those marching in the streets find the cleric.
Nobama - it just keeps getting worse. He’s going to be the downfall of this country. He’s a deceitful liar, and we’re all screwed. Thank goodness for the Patriot Post newsletter.
Mark Sanford - There are so many bad things about this story. Normally, I’d say “What? He had an affair? Off with his gems!” - but - I hate to say this, but after reading the emails in the paper, I feel bad for everyone involved. Everyone but the mistress, that is. (Yes, he’s a floozy, too. I’m not singling out the mistress.) It’s apparent he really loves that woman, but dang, man, you have a family! Your poor wife! Your kids! Your kids, who have schoolmates who’ll be reading the emails their dad wrote to his mistress! Such an awful, awful situation. I hope all involved find some peace, and soon.
Hello, Dolly!
Oh, happy day! The mechanic called, and the transmission will cost a hair over $2K! We were expecting $3.2K-$4.5K, so this is freaking AWESOME news! Of course, it sucks monkey paws that we’ll be out $2K, but I get my sweet baby back! Momma misses her! My dear, sweet, precious kick-arse AC SUV! w00t! w00t! w00t!
*dance*
Transformers 2
We just returned from seeing this movie. While it was quite entertaining, funny, and well worth the few bucks it cost us to see it, we came away with very negative feelings regarding a couple of points:
1. Why on Earth did they feel the need to stick so much vulgar language in this movie? It’s based on kid’s toys and cartoons, for pete’s sakes. Did you really have to stick the “p-word” in there? Did it just “make” the movie? What’s next? Transformers 3 with the “n-word” or maybe one robot calling another one a d*ckhead? Completely, absolutely unecessary.
2. Megan Fox. What is up with those lips? She was incredibly gorgeous in the last movie. What is the deal? How freaking old are you? Did you really have to get the lips lookin’ like someone smacked you a good one? She’s much less attractive with those big ol’ lips. Nasty. Tacky.
3. The idiot blonde who sat 2 seats to my left. Can you not read, you imbecile? The part where the 2 feet tall letters on the screen said NO TEXTING, this meant you, idiot. After I asked you nicely once, merely asking if you minded, because it was really distracting, you nod and make the “Oh, of course!” motions, then you proceed to do it for another 20 minutes! When you try to hide the friggin’ phone behind your purse, do you not still understand that the screen you’re so busy texting on lights up your seat like a flashlight? Why must you look over and see me glaring to get you to put the #$@#$ phone in your purse? Why? God forbid, I hope one day it’s legal to just smack the crap out of someone in a theater, because people who text and people who run their loud mouths would be first on my list.
4. What was up with the two small cars who played, well, thugs, replete with poor diction, gold teeth, no language skills and bad attitudes? Why would you want to include characters like that in any movie, unless it’s a lesson on what “not” to be like? The “bust a cap in yo ass” and the “p-word” (God, I sound like such a prude, but I HATE that word) were par for the course for the lines assigned to these characters. Completely idiotic characters, I might add. Stupid, stupid, stupid, and the move makers could have found a better way to add humor into the movie.
Doh. Ambien kicking in. (Trouble sleeping this week. Still no word on the transmission. Sigh)
Thankful
I found a fantastic coupon last week, and immediately called to schedule an appointment. It was for a professional carpet cleaning (by a company I trust), entire house, up to 2500 square feet, including stairs and deodorizing, for $99. (Plus gas fee, I’m sure.) In the words of my beloved MMORPG brethren, “w00t!”
As I think (long story - don’t ask) we’ll be moving in a few months, I’ve been wanting to start packing, slowly but steadily. Tonight, I started. Mister and I have planned to do some rearranging/cleaning for a little bit Wednesday through Friday, and we started that tonight, as well. Bless his heart, he just asked me what I needed him to do, and went right to it. How lucky can one woman get? (man-wise) My goal is to A) of course, make sure the house is clean (every room) when carpet fellows come by, as they’ll be all throughout the house, and B) when I notice things that we don’t really use but once in a blue moon, to go ahead and pack it. I have several (read: 60?) boxes of all sizes, and am hoping to cut down on what we eventually have to pack, as well as give me a big chance to donate or, more likely, throw away stuff. Yes, I know.. perfectly good stuff that someone else can use, especially in this economy, and adding to landfills and etc. We’re talking torn clothes that I don’t think can be used for crafts, chipped bowls and dog food that the dogs didn’t eat and the cat tried to bury. Things like that. (And probably as many old, ragged tee-shirts that I can convince Mister he no longer needs.) I filled up 2.5 packed boxes tonight, plus about half of a donate box that I’ll be taking to work. A dear, dear friend has a daughter that’s going through a rough time, and I’m hoping she can use what we don’t.
I talked to my dad last week - ON A WEBCAM! How funny is that? He has surprised me with how tech-savvy he’s become in the last few years. He’s always had a great mind about how things work, and has always loved gadgets used in the shop, but he’s turned out to be a bona-fide geek, and I’m so proud of him.
My dad is one of my best friends. God, how I love him.
Here’s to you, Daddy!
Worried
I scheduled this past Friday off, just so I could have a ‘me’ day. I had great plans, beginning with getting up very early, and going to eat breakfast at this great breakfast, lunch -n- brunch place right down the road. I did this, and feasted with glee on a plate of crab benedict as I joyfully made a list of my errands for the day. 2 hours later, I was about a mile from the house when my SUV started to make a weird noise. I made it home, pulled into the garage, then thought perhaps I should just take it on to the mechanic, who was only down the road a 1/2 mile or so. I put the car into reverse……and nothing.
My transmission is dead.
$3200 for a rebuilt one/$4500 for a new one.
I haven’t cried yet, but my supposedly wonderful day off went completely to hell, and I’m so upset. Between Abigail’s procedures and medication, my savings isn’t what I want it to be, and I don’t want to have to dip into my 401K to fix this effing car. (Pardon the language.)
It’s going to the shop tomorrow, but we’ve already started to look for another car.
Sigh.
Listening
…to Outlander, by the illustrious and brilliant Diana Gabaldon.
My favorite line:
…but the bones sometimes remain, faithful echoes of the shape,
to bear some last faint witness to the glory of what was.
<3 Crafts
Beautiful piece by JacksonCreede on Etsy:
I’ve also thinking of sending off for some of these from Fat Quarter World:
Blue Kaffe Fassett Lovey Charm Squares
…in order to make some of these reusable makup remover pads. How cute is that? I go through a ton of cotton pads, and would love something more eco-friendly.
Non Compos Mentis
Snap.
That’s entirely different from what I want to say right now, but as I try
to write less “colorfully” than I sometimes speak, it will have to do.
I’ve been listening to Voyager, one of the books in the Outlander
series by Diana Gabaldon. It’s an Audible.com download, and the
book is rather long, thus it’s been divided into multiple parts. I just
finished part 3, and found, to my great dismay, that I apparently
did NOT load part 4 on to my iPod.
I have books 3 and 4 of the series in my handy little device, but cannot
move forward because I am ridiculously involved in this series, and
feel sure that catastrophe would ensue, were I to skip so much as
one line.
Meh. This sounds so minor, and like something that could be summed
up in a Twitter posting. As I’ve not yet succumbed to the evil that is
Twitterdom, this is my only outlet. I told my dear friend in the next
cube, and she gasped. I thanked her for her appropriate response to
such a situation of this gravity. She rolled her eyes. (That, I’m afraid,
is the truly appropriate response.)
Non compos mentis. That’s me. (Not of sound mind.)
Liars, A Poem & Memories of New York
I recently took a class entitled “Non-Verbal Communication.” I selected the class myself, but didn’t expect it to be overly interesting. I was actually amazed at how much I learned, and how often I’ve applied what I learned in the several days since. The main point the instructor emphasized was not to judge by one thing, such as assuming someone is closed or non-approachable simply because they have their arms crossed. (They may just be cold, or it may just be habit.)
It was fascinating, and I’m most impressed with the instructor. For example, she pointed out some differences between the way men and women react to certain situations.Take a conversation where someone is listening intently to someone else. A man (generally) sits back, whereas a woman (generally) will sit forward, leaning into the conversation. A man may sit back with his legs open, whereas a woman will keep her knees closed or legs crossed. A man may unconsciously position himself so that he takes up more space, whereas women may position themselves to take up the smallest space possible. These are generalizations, of course, and not everyone behaves as such, but in the last few days, it’s been interesting to see how many people do seem to act like this.
There were all sorts of visual clues, such as touching the face with the finger on the cheek, pointed up, and the thumb curled along the chin (critical assessment [I'm not in agreement with you.]), touching or scratching the head in front of or behind the ear, scratching one’s head, jingling items or coins in one’s pants pocket, looking up, looking down, cuticle-picking, that wretched (my opinion) teeth-sucking sound and several others.
Finally, the Pièce de Résistance of the class was a volunteer project. Myself and three others were led into the hall, and the instructor asked us to find something that only three of us had in common. After we’d done so, we’d have a few minutes to advise the fourth person, and afterwards would be led back into the room, to be questioned by the class.
Eventually, after 10 minutes or so, the class would vote as to which one was lying. After some discussion, we found that three of us had been to New York, and one fellow had not. We chatted a bit, then headed back and stood in the front of the room. We were assigned numbers (I was number 4), and the questioning began. I was asked aeveral questions, such as when did my New York visit occur (2 weeks before Desert Storm), did I notice any food stands (yes, hot dog stands), in what manner of transportation did I arrive to New York (I believe we drove into the city), how did I get around in New York (we walked; I was too chicken to ride the subway, and with the way the taxi cabs drove [Nascar comes to mind], I was determined not to get into one), what part of New York did I visit (I was staying in Commack, Long Island, and we also visited New York City), what do I remember most (*see note), and what did I dislike the most (perhaps time has blurred any bad memories, but I don’t remember disliking anything about my visit). 15 or so minutes later, the instructor announced that it was time to vote. I was grinning inwardly, because I thought the fellow next to me (#3, AKA the Liar) had done a wretched job of being dishonest. He stammered at times, had long pauses in his answers, and it just seemed so obvious that he was the one! Keep in mind, there were 15 people in the class. Minus the four of us, this leaves 11 voters.
The instructor said “Number One?”, and 1 person raised her hand.
“Number Two?” 2 people raised their hands.
“Number Three?” …….. 1 person…. raised her hand.
“Number Four?” The rest of the class raised their hand, and people burst out laughing at the look on my face. I couldn’t stop from blurting “What the hell?” - and people laughed even harder.
Seriously! What the hell? Even the instructor snickered. When Lying Fellow ™ stepped forward and announced that he was the culprit, he smirked at me. I told him to bite me, and that the voting just means he’s a skilled liar. He laughed even harder at that
I asked why folks thought I was the one, and people said, in general, that
had an answer for everything, almost like it was scripted. Egads. I had tried to think of everything someone might ask, and did go over in my mind what I’d say, but..OMG. Pffft.
*As to what I remember most of New York:
The most enormous bagels I’d ever seen, and in more flavors than I thought bagels could be made in. They covered an entire plate! (OK, probably not, but in my memory they were gigantic.)
The WTC towers. We went in and up to the top, and I stood against the rail and leaned forward, laying my head against the window. I looked out across the city and found it beautiful and neverending. The words of the poem Ronald Reagan quoted after the Challenger disaster came to mind:
And while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space…put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
(High Flight, by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.).
I cried. It made me feel so small, so very small, and yet a part of something so much more. It was magical.
Going to a buffet and not recognizing a single thing. Seriously. I like my
food, y’ken? But I recognized nothing.
Sitting around the table with my friend’s family, and seeing them literally lean forward when I started to talk. (I am inherently Southern, and my accent reflects this. More Charlestonian than twang, thank you kindly.) They were so precious, and taught me the phrase “It’s a pisser!” (pronounced:”piss-uh”).
The graveyard I saw while going over a bridge (turnpike?). It was enormous, and seemed to go on forever.
Meeting the first Jewish person I’d ever met. I can’t remember his name, but he was fascinating, and patiently explained Judaism to me. I’d honestly not known anything about it, and he was a delightful teacher.
The people. Some were louder, walked faster, talked quicker and seemed to hurry through life, but everyone was kind and interesting. I’d love to go back. =)
Reading: Psychomech, by Brian Lumley
iPod: Voyager, by Diana Gabaldon
Radio: NPR
TV: Fringe, Lie to Me, Heroes, 24, Eleventh Hour, &.. I think that’s it.
(Damn the DVR. I’ve watched more TV this past year than I have in the
prior 30!)
Favorite line in current book: “All the other inhabitants in orbit around her, like planets around a sun.:
High Flight
by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds…and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of…wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up, the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor even eagle flew.
And while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space…
…put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
You can’t escape it.
My dog runs from her own farts.
The thing is, she’s usually sitting on or right next to me when she does this. All will be well with the world, then - *pfft!* - and she scampers (lumbers, actually) away, leaving me to eventually bellow and gag. I usually have a laptop perched on my legs, and can’t lunge for fresh air.
The dog, she is smart. Yes, my English profs would have a field day with that sentence, but I imagined it said in a thick Russian accent, so there you have it.
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