Christmas Story gone Wrong

I completely accept and understand the need for interaction with family during the holidays.  My two most favorite days of the year include Birthdays and Christmas, because I like to do all the fun and crafty things I do to make gifts.  This year has been a bit haphazard, but, you know, very beautiful.  I just finished etching some glasses for Daran and Willie.  They turned out wonderful.  My bed sits full of yarn and I admit I have hot glue stuck in bad places, but cool gifts have been wrapped.  I'm so glad I've had these things to distract me actually, because I am being bombarded by Facebook and family, gossip and intrigue, problems I can't solve much less wholly believe (oooh it rhymed).

So of course that was written before Christmas..

Now the wrapping paper has been shed and the orgy of greed has come to its conclusion.  I lovingly call Christmas the orgy of greed although it sounds obscene, but when thinking in terms of a kid and waiting until the mad morning of finally getting to rip into everything.. that's what it is.  Being one of four kids.. I remember me and my siblings counting packages and comparing sizes and now as a parent I understand how difficult it must have been to make sure fair was fair in the difficult business of pleasing the jealous mongering of four children.  I have to say having one child happens to be a luxury and a relief because I don't have to do the agonizing over fairness.  I didn't have to figure the secret formula my parents stuck to that me and my siblings vocalized our thoughts on how the system was still rigged.

Ah, those were the times.  I bring this up because it preps for the next little gem of a story.  My best friend's kid comes in and tells me that Santa ripped her off.  Needless to say, I was floored.  I have already instilled into my daughter that Santa and I are close friends, and he talks to me about all Christmas decisions, so wow, I was floored by this statement because Nattie would never say it.  Many emotions went through my brain, the first of which was to snatch my friend's kid up and lecture her on the finer points about Christmas... but I was still in shock.

Santa brought her a bicycle.  The back wheel fell off.  These things happen.  Elves aren't perfect.  Right?  You think she said that?  Nope.  Santa ripped her off.

Her mom was just diagnosed with Crohn's disease and three days out of the hospital.  They barely had money for Christmas.  My friend is in a shambles and the tire comes off the bicycle.

I wanted to tan this kid's ungrateful behind.

I still feel bad thinking this.
A little. 

Another Hiatus Apology

Keeping up with reality and one's digital presence makes one sacrifice something along the way.  I guess I am happy to report its been blogging that suffered.  Never fear, much to report on, many topics are ready to be discussed in detail.

Duties will resume as normal, programming difficulties still being dealt with.  Will Hash in Sessions.

Small Town Hens typically are not Female

Around here, drama has just come in my mailbox.  Oh please, Find a new hobby Stokesdale.  How pathetic.

Finding logic in Strange Places

I was watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Season Two and Garak the Cardassian had a wonderful statement that seems to reflect the world today:

Truth is in the eye of the beholder.
That's why I never tell the truth,
because I don't believe there is such a thing.

How appropriate these days to akin the world to Star Trek.

Here I was thinking we were all merely weasels.

Nah, we just all follow many of those rules of acquisition.

Everyone has a bit of Ferengi in them somewhere.


 

How She Was Named

I just had to take a moment to cheer myself back up with a story.  A true one.  How I named my daughter.  She loves her life in oration.  She never tires of asking me to tell her a story.  Well, this one is sweet.

I was driving in my car, which I love to do while listening to the radio and trying to think of a name for the girl inside me.  I came across Natalie Cole's duet with her father Nat King Cole and the song and its significance chose Natalie.  The song made me burst into tears in its beauty.

It gets more Unforgettable.  My daughter's original due date was Christmas Day.  She was born much earlier, but Natalie means Christmas.  I just had to take a moment to share something sweet.

I just pulled the video up on YouTube to play for her, and my husband walked in while it was playing and knew why I was listening.  I needed a little joy, and sharing this extra part of the story with my daughter seems appropriate.  I have wandered around sad all day, and this very song was just the right dose of reason to smile.

 

Reaction to Connecticut

I sit here and try to write how I feel about yesterday and the state of the world we live in.  My husband sat on the couch and in tears asked me if I had turned the television on.  Immediately I said no.. and he told me what happened in Connecticut.  He asked me not to watch the news because he knew how deeply it would affect me .. that it would give me nightmares.  I tend to have nightmares about things that I guess my subconscious has trouble absorbing.  He was right.  I didn't watch anything until a little while ago, but I was afraid to go to sleep anyway.

My daughter is our only child and because of a lot of different factors she will always be my only child.  I used to have nightmares all the time about something happening to her.  When I wrecked my car, she was all I could think about and she wasn't even with me.

The thought of an entire community terrorized by the deaths of those innocent children simply makes me shudder and I hurt inside.  What kind of country are we?  What kind of society are we?  Violence seems to just hang like a cloud and you can't point a finger at one particular source.  It's everywhere.  Whose fault is it?

God where are you?  I know you're there.  What can we do?

Losing a child makes you scream inside and you don't the voice will ever stop.  Nattie is my  second child.  I lost my first child during the 23rd week of my pregnancy due to preeclampsia.  I'll never know my son Andrew, but I have Nattie and she is a treasure and a miracle.  I had preeclamsia with her as well and she was born early.  But she was born.

To think that sending her to school and someone could randomly see her little face and shoot her simply is unthinkable.  Now I have to think it.

My tears for those parents. 

GO and Send the ISS a Postcard

I logged onto NASA and sent the space station a post card that said Deck the Halls on one side, and the following text below.

I just wanted to say getting my first NASA email and realizing I had ten twenty minutes in bunny slippers to catch a glimpse of you over Stokesdale NC was  panic at the disco.  At a little after six I'm repeatedly asking my husband  Which way is North again. and again Insecure I would not see you...and magically.. TADA
At 39 this little girl waved at you guys and promised my seven year old she would have to get up feet flying for your next visit.
I will be sure my daughter and husband both  wave and  yell with me....
What the Hall is up?
I chose this card because I'm a Hall that is in process of decking her own and  proud in my own little way to know where you are in  my little world .. and time to time our paths cross. much respect.

Take a minute out of your day and support some brave people.

Go to this link:

http://www.nasa.gov/externalflash/postcard/

Making Plans for Reprisal: Sleep on It

I'm still foaming about Time Warner Cable.  However, I had enough sense to not call (again) today.  I will let it ride.. I have too much 'joy' to muster for the holidays.  I'll pull it out of somewhere.

I definitely finished my Christmas shopping today.  The online parts.  *sigh*

Santa does love me.

The stars will be much closer soon.  I'm positively giddy about allowing my NASA nerd to sit and watch way too many YouTube videos concerning telescopes.

I love Santa too.

We'll be watching all the James Bond movies over vacation.

Time Warner Cable: The Coyote is out for Birdbrain Justice. FEED ME.

I live in the beautiful glorious balmy state of North Carolina.  Those without scary legs could wear shorts and be comfortable.  There is no snow or ice or act of Lucifer that has committed heinous crimes to mastermind a way to make me so angry I throw things by icing up or drowning underground cable.  No, for the first time ever, my cable is actually out of service.  World, I am here to tell you that I can handle that.  No problem.

Its all the other bullshit tacked onto Time Warner that has me shaking I'm so angry.  I go round and round it seems.  I am beginning to think all customer service systems are based on one simple feature.  If you want to buy something, YES we will WEASEL you.  AS a bonus please let me record your voice agreeing in blood that we have bundled your entire life and just think we are Gods, because we have a complex (in another language because we can't afford American diversity of Religion.  [Press one to Agree we are your new Dealer.  Press two for Technically FUCK YOU Press three to PAY Press four to PAY with a Condom, for all other calls, PLEASE Go to our website where we can chat and tell you to Fuck Off in writing.]

The phone service hung up on me twice.  The local branch transferred me deftly back into the National Fuck You line.  Then I was told how to reboot my GOD DAMNED ROUTER.  They can come pick up the shit tomorrow right now.  I might calm down and get someone who cares, but you realize that it will take all day? 

I wanted to get into my car and drive ten miles to crap on some poor unsuspecting asshole's desk.  I have dealt with these people so many times, and its always my problem and my computer.  I don't think so, and they don't give a shit.  Here's that Sandwich.  You said you were hungry.  Eat this Faye. 

Options for the coyote.  Hold forever and threaten.  Hold forever and whore.  All with the nicest perkiest FUCK YOU I can muster in return.

Let me meditate, ruminate and try not to do something that appears as if I might be practising stupidity.

My husband had no bone to throw the wife as he has delegated these things to me.  I love him.  Its a good thing.

SO, its off ..

Surf and Whore, so I can back it all up while ten managers figure out that critical mass has already been achieved.  No turning back now.

And the Road Runner was always a jerk.  Poor Wil E. Coyote. Super Genius.  We'll catch that damned bird and roast it.


 

More on the Eclectic Self: Passions and Hobbies

I post about stuff and things based on the moment, and there's a ton of things I can comment on since I happen to be passionate in most anything requiring more than five minutes. So I have to admonish myself over believing I cannot offer advice and opinion because that is my so not true.

NASA emails me the location of the International Space Station when its visible over my home.  I have watched two meteor showers in the past couple of months .. so .. our secret, I'm a budding astronomy freak. I woke my kid up to watch lunar eclipse just because I wanted us to witness this rare one together. My late night googles are research for a telescope I will not regret later.  You have all read my frustrations with the world of sales and the pitfalls of uneducated or under-thinking buying.  I have been sneaking outside and freezing to death for a long time, and I believe I'm ready to watch way too much YouTube, read up on telescope ratings and researching the best reference materials.

I also have the best saltwater tank for all my expectations; my tank has even surpassed my own daydreams of what I can achieve inside of 36 gallons.  A dream from college that I wanted in this phase of my life has become so much more than fish and a shrimp.  I fell in love with the whole biosphere concept and the beauty of corals.  Corals are amazing.  The way everything interconnects simply puts me at a loss for words.  More than the equipment woes are the sparkling discoveries late night with a mag-lite, and I haven't even touched on those.  I need to tell the Hansel story sometime, and the whole evolution of my fish tank that really was not a disaster or waste of money because I put so much time into finding things out before jumping.  The talk of Mr. Secret Reef has been the end result that I am so excited and exalted to share with people.  He is coming this Wednesday to do my water change, as well ask bring more liverock and substrate.  He is going to take what I have in the tank and secure it all so I don't have London Bridge and he doesn't have this fair lady freaking about my injured fish. (Another story that is worth telling now that my blood pressure won't be affected)

You guys all know my love of being a parent and I'm sure my week of posts about birthday week made more than a few of you laugh.  I have to tell you though, I have to dust off my shoulders with pride as my daughter opened the door on my husband and I... and her response to the whole scenario besides being funny is worth sharing because the philosophy I see all this falling into might be of use to many other parents with my stoicism.

I talk alot about records and music.  About the cave in the basement.  Sometime I guess I should talk about my turntables and what I spin when I can.  Why I like being a solo DJ in my basement without an audience and where that sprung up from.

I write this post because I read back and see myself blindly thinking I've missed the whole blog concept.  The biggest error in the beginning was not posting often.  I've been thinking I need just one topic to constantly talk about, and well, I do.  Practical living of everyday life as it applies to me.  What I realize from many anonymous people's email remarks about my blog is a pure truth:  if it comes to mind, talk about it.  Not only that, be specific, because some of you want to know.  Thanks for helping me find that missing link inside all this.  Sure, the humor is great, you guys even appreciate that its actual fact and what's more, ask for more detail in that department.

I will do my very best to talk about my Gmail from readers.  I appreciate all the thumbs up on my attempts and research into webpage design and blog layout.  I promise.

I intend on somehow weaving my voice recorder files into all this.  I haven't decided where to go with it yet.  I have great things to listen to simply because you have to hear to understand.. and I want to share these things in relation to this blog, but want to protect them because they are my voice and also, they are research in the making.. on webpage design.  I started them for self discovery and growth and well, now on to more practical uses.

Anyway, its late, and I'm still watching things about telescopes and having my mind boggled.  Anyone wanting to share a blog or point me to a link on great resources for this venture are welcome!

Grow Your Own Mushrooms: Shot Down by Pessimism

My daughter is seven years old and her favorite vegetable happens to be the mushroom.  What is everyday to me surprises other people, so this bit of trivia should raise reader eyebrows.  My daughter loves them raw, sauteed and in miso soup .. any way she can snarf them.  The food most people abhor and used to think had no nutritional value .. my child's idea of delicious.  This kid hates corn.  I know.. corn.  She will eat tortilla chips and hummus, but no can do on the corn.  Will take or leave potatoes....HATES CHIPS.. won't eat cereal.  Do you think I complain?  Nope, only when in a hurry and I wish she would just try the stuff, but no budging.  I can live with this kind of rebellion.

Getting to the point:  I am doing my magical present selections, and Gardener's Supply Company was earmarked because I found Grandma the perfect present. Well I also saw the mushroom growing kit and my Nattie came to mind.  All the dirt of growing mushrooms in a self contained box.  Seven year old project heaven. 

I show the idea to John and he looked at me as if I lost my mind.  He calculated price verses grocery store.  Note to self: do like always and allow Christmas to be a surprise to everyone except the woman on Santa's payroll.

I am one for not just what the present is, but the impression and memory it has the potential to create.

Case in point:  We opened up the boxes of Christmas decorations and I have all the Christmas books inside.  My daughter whooped with glee when she found an Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas Story with a 45 record inside.

I know.  It is difficult to keep a straight face when husband can't see past horizon of this is cursory look.  He will come around.  He always does.  He knows who makes him look so damned good.

 

Petit Fours Make Me Smile

Another reason marriage keeps me grounded.. I love the soft sweet moments.  When after a day of worry in other realms, I'm enfolded ... and its no sandwich.. much sweeter...

Now off to go brush my teeth and wash the stars out of my eyes. 
I love my husband.
(Now where are my ...) Yes, John I do.  Tell Santa, that Compressed coal is just fine with me. :)



Dear Santa, John will Vouch for me.



Lyle Lovett "If I Had A Boat": Was the Best Concert EVER in Greensboro!

This man gives the greatest concert, no matter where he is, no matter the crowd.
And this song, well, its just about like my logic....

Upon Ascending into the Light

Its good I read my own writing because I guess all the symbols must mean the adjectives are some very country grammar.. those four letter word descriptors that only demean the IQ when frustration threatens to take hold.

I have a pretty decent sized IT department for one household containing three people, one Pomeranian, four (possibly five) fish and a tank full of corals.. oh yeah and one grandma next door.  I'm admitting to the following because there's no one to stop me from total social disaster *EEE GADS*  My network currently contains four computers.  One beefed up desktop and three laptops.  Sadly though, I still have possession of a six year old Trojan Toshiba Satellite... that works if one does not mind that I hooked it to an old monitor to see and found a late night deal on a portable optical drive if I need to access it.  It's the Frankencomputer, not used at the moment... as I'm juggling other technical maneuvers.  That Toshiba doesn't hold a candle to the Dell Dimension Desktop my husband is clinging to because of an old version of Quickbooks that the closet control freak can't let go of... for some time he used not being able to print to the HP printer from his laptop as a reason to keep the thing.... but he keeps his mouth shut because between his choice of laptop and that damnable printer sealed the mice type in our marriage.  He is no longer allowed to buy anything electronic for our household.

So count it up, four ... five... six.  Computers.  OK.  Learning fast here.  The network also contains three shared printers.  The bat cave monitors them all and houses the cable and router.. and a network external drive for backup.. and for Apple alone I have a drive that holds all brands of add ons that owning two iPods have to push upon a person.

Network also has to take into account the wii and the 3DS gameboys that get on the net..factor in the blu-ray player and my nook... and of course my very smart phone.

Where does this leave me?  I have software busy sorting through pictures and video for duplicates.  Tedious.  I have Kaspersky Pure checking to see if I can operate more than one computer at a time to understand how to lock down the fort.

Do I have Internet for the rest of the world?  No.  I used to feel bad about telling people to go to McDonald's.. but not anymore.  Let a stranger have your password and they see the keys to my world.  They might not steal my porn, but the guy who borrowed the phone for a second just might decide shopping as me might be fun.

I've had the scare of someone being on my network and Time Warner tell me I'm just having Homegroup problems and I get a very nasal snotty Man that I'm grateful to understand, but pissed that I'm paying him to fix the issue, not use my name ten times and tell me to not worry (because obviously I'm an idiot that should be impressed by his prowess of being able to tell me the crap plugged into his router, which a month ago DID allow me to change my own information THANK YOU.

I get going on these techno stories because they simply are too much drama for one person to wrap themselves around.  I am not stupid.  I am so glad I keep receipts and write things down.  It makes many people mad that I don't budge.



Closest Thing to My Name on Someone other than My Dad



All I want to do is consolidate these components, shop on the Internet, write on my blog, and keep pursuing the idea of compiling all my writing into my own website.  For myself.

It takes a bunch of those sandwiches I talk about in my title to realize the more I learn, the angrier I get.  Oh and I am not attempting to make it a crappy, it isn't.  I would just like for customer service to be popular on the first ring and concern and help funnel its way toward me when I reach for it in such a way that leads to future confidence, less calls.... and you know

OH GOD! can go back to the way I like to scream it.



To All those Anonymous People Other than the Rest of the World

I gotta tell ya, you people kinda make my day and make me actually go and check my Gmail.  Little nuggets of interest get the bellows going...the smithy...started... and its getting hot in here.

Where to start, where to start?  I was asked to explain more here.  Humm.  I did promise more to come, didn't I?  I was definitely in the middle (at least in my mind) of a frothy yell-fest about yet another of my adventures involving technology.  Just imagine me with a Viking Helmet and the nicest, non-relenting customer service voice {complete with perky personality} and there I am.

Seething on the inside.  Holding for days and weeks on the outside... I know.  You're cryin' your bloomin' eyes out at me aren't you?  Well I'm beating my chest and yanking my hair out for you too... *giggle*

Ever Heard that song by Kenny Rogers, the Gambler?  Yeah.  That Table.  I don't play cards unless GO Fish and Skip-bo count... but...

You gotta know when to hold em [DELL]
Know when to fold em [FISH TANK GUY]
Know when to walk away [ANY PERSON USING MY FIRST NAME MORE THAN TWICE]
Know when to run [Except when backing up a car &testosterone dares me the bird.. *EVIL SMILE]
You never count your money when you're sittin at the table [PISSED BECAUSE THE WAITRESS THOUGHT YOU WERE TOO CHEAP TO GET THE HINT AND LEAVE MORE THAN TWO CENTS..i never cheap a waitress, its robbery]

Oh I could probably fill that whole song with little witticisms... but, I'll just tell you that I have a poster from the Album The Gambler within eyesight of the my screen.  The real thing to grasp from that is how my tables change.

There's that Holy Grail... the Kitchen Table... Dinner.  One of my personal goals of happiness.
Then move over to realizing I have to fill out PowerPoint presentations for a first grader.. and yes.. it had a table.. HA.. Ha..

Then let's go pay some bills...curled up on my bed, looking at the tables comparing prices of future purchases against past ones.. and sighing.

Then there's that hallway Table that I have evicted those Yeti from, and I think they partied with the playboy mansion bunnies last night.

OK - I have to say - Nickelback, just give me the key to the Playboy Mansion and I'll be happy.  You can have 15 cars and Pez Dispensers...the tub sounds cool, but I would have to clean it, so .. I'll stick to Betty as being that bit of luxury for the moment.



Here's My Betty!  Yes, this is my car.  Yes, I took the picture.  NO, you can't drive her. [Being grown up enough for Leather has been a life dream conquered]

Moving on.

Explain more:  I'm gonna just run with a list, because I have so many things going on that aren't even touched upon on this list and I guess we'll get there when we do..
1.  I am IT for my home because I have allowed two people into my home and into my computers to help me and the first guy looked for jobs while on the clock and the second guy decided that he should mail me the correct battery for my laptop.
2.  I have all Dell Computers.  I love them.  I HATE the people who supposedly care about my problems.  I held two laptops for hostage that my husband picked out (NO longer allowed)... and then fixed them myself.  I got so mad that I googled who owned the company and wrote him a letter.  I got a call the next day.
3.  I also realize that XM radio struggles to pay Howard Stern.  To keep him busy, they allow him to train customer service people.  I called them to renew.  I got a Sirius Bitch.  I sucked it in to fate until I got a collection notice from the car I replaced with Betty.  I was so angry I cried because I had the sense to call and suspend the subscription because well, I totalled my Impala in my first accident .. ever..
4.  Yeah, I cried.  On-Star was there people.  XM never sent me anything, but I was assured they would take care of cancelling the old and registering the new... At 3 AM on a Sunday.. what I thought to be junk mail turned into Hells Bells if they are putting this bullshit on my credit.  I got six months free service and didn't care at that point.  They made me cry.
5. Afro Circus comes from Madagascar 3, which is like one of my favorite movies.. and we just went to the circus the other night...and that is me and mine in the picture.
6. The remark about the batcave.  Well, I had foot surgery.  I am about two months into wearing shoes and feet still hurt.  My cool room in the basement has been where everyone has dumped things that need to be put away somewhere and they have trouble with the whole follow through on cleaning.. its an occupational hazard.
7.  I have asthma.  I have allergies.  I carry an epipen.  I ate a benadryl just a hour ago.
8.  I need to superclean my man cave but the rest of the world cries out.
9.  I had a weekend of infamy. and the sheets are still warm.  Holy Mother of Pearl he brought home window blinds.
10.  Bam Bam Bam on the basement door is because well, I have a lock on my side (*GRIN*)
11.  He also knows I have Dr. Dre on my head and can't hear him
12.  It's our joke on the Dr. Seuss because a man on the way to the coffee pot at my house is a Beft that turns left...and left...and left...and the pot is on the left too.
13.  Terrible meant that I can't believe I decided to leave that picture sloppy, but I did.
14.  I had my cell phone in my pocket and it has an alarm.  It gave me reason to realize I must consider what to pull out of the closet and kitchen and make sure all homework was in order and out the door.
15.  Judy was very glad I opened the door so she could pee.
16.  About Apple.  How would you like if your optical drive disappeared?  Go back up to the part where I had to pay someone to come into my home and job search...
17.  Then the whole tip of the IT iceberg is the part where my husband thought he missed something in life.  ITs terrible to say, that if you missed it, obviously... you were meant to.

So This must end...


 

When Two Tables Cubes: Mathematical Chaos

OH Do tell right?  Have I come unhinged as of late?  Nope, not really.. in my estimation. [Then again I suck with numbers]  Good thing its not about numbers really.  Two tables refers to my turntables.  In thinking though, I am party to many tables in this house and I'm beginning to go bananas over the time spent in parley with each one.

Oh to just not have time to spin would be a luxury I would gladly brag about.  Right now though, I sit on one of my laptops.. carried down to the batcave... waiting for a *$#)(**Y) load of files to move over onto my external drive so I can wipe ANOTHER network drive and reformat #$*)%()#YT#) and $)(U)(%Y)(#*$ and then $()$%(*)#Q$ the damned thing.

Being IT really stinks the deeper I delve into it for personal pursuit of digital organization of old versions of everything under the sun.

Why did I begin to do this?  Five pound ten pound problem brought on by the steady progress of the Intergalactic media giants that lurk within the blessed Trinity of prongs I attach to my dwindling supply of outlets.  I know, I know, not all calamities have three prongs...and no one can theorize unforeseen customer service calls based on the plug.....since the advent of PORTs.  I wish I had not become a harbor for such nonsensical thinking.  I should chastise myself and think of the whole phone call crisis over my headphones and the three months and how it was a Jack.

Ya, da, da, Afro Circus.....

Terrible but that's us..the centering that is... but I'm being paged. Stay tuned for better quality...



Twotables, John & Nattie with Clown at Universoul Circus.

Furthermore, since I'm on an electronic rant, let's discuss Apple and Jacks... not the freaking cereal.  I wish I had my old iPod Classic, I had that thing for over five years, and had to tell it goodbye.  My wonderful husband bought me the exact same iPod.  That part is awesome.  The sucky part:  Its made out of cheap bullcrap.  I should scratch the back and see if I can read Budweiser on it or something.  Anyway, the plug in for the headphones only played one side.  I was going to take it to Best Buy or something, but location stopped that from occurring plus me remembering... so on to check out the price with Apple.  WHAT!?  I don't think so, you punks that want to tell me my music is only movable so many times....TO THE INTERNET...and what do you know... I have a screwed up plug-in for my headphones...the solution:  Kinda what my inner MacGyver wanted to do to begin with... stuff some aluminum foil in it.  After about ten different sites stating to do this...WHA>>LA>>  Fixed Ipod.  Dammit Apple, like I'd buy anything from you after this one.  I forgave you for having an update almost decide to eat the optical drive on my desktop.  I sentenced you to an external storage drive as well as a portable optical.... (long story filled with stupid people I actually paid)

I cringe.  Please Karma, still be good to me..

So ten minutes passed and I'm still moving crap with thirty minutes on that timer.  Ten minutes on the BAM BAM BAM of the basement door and Dr. Seuss questioning my presence down here.  Side note on down here.  This is supposed to be my cool room with my turntables and records and all that is awesome.  Its not batting 100 at the moment, since the coolest thing in here seems to be me at the moment and I think my bunny slippers just laughed at me (I'm sure I'll find a spider or something soon)... Plus I can't breathe down here... since the dust makes the Yeti upstairs seem pretty Kosher.

Kosher just knocked.  I will add to this in a bit.. the dog and I have to pee, and well Dr. Dre can't block that out..

 

Yuletide Boneparte: Forget the Hat and Big Maps, Plans Such as These Require Larger Screen

I'm sure if I hunted long enough, I'd be related to the crazy man who tried to take over the world and almost succeeded.

I've decided laptop searching in the comforts of my bedroom are too fluffy for this year.  I am in the cave.  Cracking my neck... getting out all the *($%&)_# crap magazines..plumbing the depths of my points, vouchers and values bucks.  Coinstar, I'm comin'... to pillage that extra ten dollars.  Bed and Bath beware my tirade of return angst of lost coupons... oh be kind.

Macy's my love, stay with me. It's going to bed rough seas.

Family realizes leave the beast be... especially after the eye twitch over the word FURBY.

ARE YOU MY GET??

Child that likes records?

FURBY?

Dust Yeti Eviction

I have a love hate relationship with my floors.  I have had hardwoods for less than a year, and pulling up the carpet was crucial to my existence...as I am allergic to just about everything but drugs.  Who knew?  $*()(# irony is not lost on me.  Anyway, I never knew just how much dust and hair accumulated on my floors until the invasion of the Yeti.  The Yeti date Dust Bunnies here and procreate to the point I second-guess whether or not I've been on my hands and knees that day in a sector of my home... for all the wrong reasons. (laugh)

Branching Out

I ran across a forum for depression and late night meandering found me reading through posts of people telling life stories that simply squeezed my insides.  The ones that simply plumbed my soul were posts by kids.  Teens talking about being kicked out of their homes.  Thoughts of suicide and worthlessness.  Worries of where they were going to live and not many choices.  Replies from people asking if they talked to the school and the school brushing them off.  Families torn apart and a parent's new boyfriend taking precedence.  In my mind I'm sure there's more to be said from the parent's point of view, because a troubled teen is not a picnic, but these are their kids!  It bothers me to my very core to see everywhere a society that boasts of excess and advancement of the self... and then reading that means at the expense of one's own child.  Where is the dedication to parenting plastered on magazine covers, seasonal marketing signage and Mission statements of Nonprofits?  We hear so much about how important toddlers are and the problems of bullies.  You know, when it comes to teens and the media, all that comes to mind is bad press.  Teen pregnancies.  Gangs and the decline of values.  The press I hear drops the burdens of what society deems teen problems to be just that:  them.  What?  It translates to me that a bunch of parents just drop the ball and blame someone else.  Blame the schools.  Blame the media.  How about dropping that smart phone and realizing that the ball of hormones that happens to be your child isn't a problem unless you tell them they are.  Surround a kid with negativity and what are they supposed to believe.  My friend and I were talking on the phone and she said she could not believe all the mothers in prison for harming their kids... it takes my breath away.  These are people that got caught.  Then I read this forum and hear these kids with no answers and no parents, and to them, its normal.  They think they are the problem.  How ludicrous.

Elementary School and the Flip Side

In today's world we are so interconnected with the Internet and I lament about the cyber world taking the place of actual human contact.  I should rethink this you know.  My daughter is in Elementary School and its such a wondrous time of learning and growing.  Then again, I feel the romance is over.  All the touch and feel of being a kid allows for parents to freak out when the horrible happens.  Oh yes, so many things network.  Playdates have become the medium for which more than kids playing occurs.  This is where Lice have an opportunity to network.

*SOB*

I came upon this happy discovery and had my first brush with the horrors of washing everything I own inside my washer on Sanitary cycle and using the Allergen superheat of the Dryer.  It makes me feel itchy just typing about it.

Now I go to 'Nit'pick yet again, as I have been the responsible parent that sends a note to my daughter's teacher to tell her about my discoveries.  It happens all the time.. this is the comfort I get from people I've had to notify.

*SOB*

It doesn't make it any easier, or less itchy, less embarrassing.. or the feeling of wanting to take vengeance out on something..

*SIGH* SOB*

*SCRATCH*

TV Show Reality Check Done by Husband

I was flipping through Netflix and came upon the old TV series Beauty and the Beast.  I soon found myself sighing like millions of women since the 80s.. watching Vincent and Catherine.. the romance.  Oh the things we wish men really would say.  Read us Shakespeare... whisper in some deep voice that comes from behind a curtain of luxurious locks of feline hair.. *sigh*  Tell me how you can't live without my very presence... how you can feel my every feeling of sadness or joy... ohh...ohhhh .. I just .. *my imagination backfires here*

What a load of garbage.  My husband came in with the reality airbag and ruined the whole chick flick scene.  I had to dry my eyes and get my head out of the clouds and remember where I was.  The only thing in my life resembling that show is the dark hole my house can become.. and when the dishwasher and the washing machine are going.. a mind stretch makes my house sound like those pipes always clanging in the show..

No one is leaving me pressed roses inside a Shakespeare book of sonnets.  John might have the hair... but that's about it.  I hate the reality air bag.  I love John.  He has his moments.  Moments.  I want an event.  A spectacle even.  I wish my imagination worked better, but it doesn't... most of the time I don't mind.  You know, that show is one of the good memories I have about my mom.  We used to watch it together.  *sigh*  Double airbag hit. 

I guess since the analogy is TV....

There is an episode of Roseanne that kind of sums these feelings up.  Roseanne fantasizes that Dan looks like Fabio... and Fabio is lying in her bed with Dan's voice saying not so sexy things... and Roseanne says: Don't talk Dan.

Don't talk John.

Representing from My Side

I have so much to be thankful for in this world.  Watching my child get a late card from her Uncle meant so much to me.  I sent him a picture of Nattie a week ago, and you know, I think he's so happy to just be someone's favorite Uncle.  I blink back tears in wistfulness though.  I wish so terribly that my side of the family thought to send her a card.  Any kind of acknowledgement they were happy to know her.  But they didn't.. they wouldn't ... and they never will.

It hurts so much that they can't see her.  It hurts they don't want to make an effort to bridge a gap to know someone so wonderful.  She could change their lives.  They are missing the magic of loving her.  I would feel sorry for them if I could.. but I can't.  I've had too many dreams shattered in wishing for events that just won't happen.

I guess its selfish of me to be so melancholy about it all.  I know how happy it would make me if they took that chance, and I want that feeling.  I want her eyes to light up for my family, I wish they would.  So mine could light up too.

My one comfort was my niece that came to her party, but it was so chaotic we couldn't spend time visiting with her.  At least one person from my side of the family represented.  There is so much more though.. a history I wish I could make a difference in.  If they only could see, but they can't because the walls of the past don't allow little girls purchase in their hearts.  What a shame for them.

World Peace Treaty in Saltwater Tank Violated

I have been on cloud nine about my fish tank.  In the excitement of my child's birthday, I forgot to mention that Mr. Secret Reef came to do a water change and remarked heavily on how great everything is doing.  He was so impressed he brought me a Hi Fin Red Banded Goby, one small enough to match the size of Thing One and Thing Two... my barnacle blennies that are supposed to be scared.

Anyway, he dropped that little guy in, I saw him once that night, and he's been missing ever since.  I think the cannibals in the tank ate the new guy.  Secret Reef swears he's a master of hiding, but my trusty mag lite has not located said fish we were jokingly calling 'Hidey'...(Heidi).

I then realized that a certain zebra striped damsel acts like a baboon... he spends 80 percent of his day making the rest of the tank denizens' life hell.  He's gotta go.  I signed his eviction notice on Secret Reef's next visit.

He hopes he'll find Hidey then.  I doubt it.  I would love to be wrong.

Why The Obsession?

I told you guys I had a lot to say.  I must confess I felt like a rabid animal a few times this past weekend.  I have to add why I sound so belligerent in the OPP post.  There was a kid at my child's party that I could not pin to a parent.

I so wanted to dart this child and hold him up by his ears and scream:  WHO OWNS THIS?  The kids at my daughter's party were supposed to be from ages six to nine.  This kid was ten or eleven and loud.  He had no idea when to shut up in this little party room.  I could not tell him.  Oh how I wanted to, and if I had known his parents, I would have given them the look of: Do Something.

What made me have to leave the room was when he looked down my shirt and loudly commented and asked if I knew I had a scratch on my chest.  After he asked me twice, my husband stepped in the way and I retreated wishing I could catapult him from the room.  I was so embarrassed because I could see other parents looking at each other and shaking their heads as if to say: WHY?

No one made him shut up.  Everyone heard him.  Repeatedly commenting on everything.  I wanted to scream out:  CONTAIN YOUR YOUNG!

Especially this little pervert that wont stop staring down my shirt as I am serving cake.  A shirt with a very conservative neckline that you really had to dive into to see where a puppy had scratched me.   AHHH!

Gamestop Said Call Nintendo and I Said Are You Serious

This is part two of upgrading to the new 3DS XL Nintendo from a DS XL and first version 3DS.  I decided to open the gaming systems and set up my daughter's so she could just unwrap and go.  I figured having the old SD cards would be enough.  Oh no it is not.

The system requires the OLD nintendo to move your information and purchases to the new system.  Do you think Gamestop told me this?  NO!  Did they know I was upgrading?  YES!  I spent an hour and half in this store trading in the old systems.  Right here I must insert this is not a potshot at Nintendo, because Gamestop sold them to me as authorized dealers for Nintendo.  I will get to the shortcomings of Nintendo and postulations of how such incredibly smart people can neglect everyday thoughts in product design in a moment.

I call the store and get a manager on the phone.  I am expecting the normal coolness that Gamestop people exude in talking with someone as inexperienced as myself in the gaming realm.  Oh man, the romance is over.  I get handed good luck with this problem, as its not ours, and we have reformatted your old systems, but we'll hold them for you to come pick up.  You will have to call Nintendo and work this out with them and you will also have to repurchase these old systems in order to get online with Nintendo as we have no WiFi.  WHAT??  I am fortunate enough to have credit to do this operation, but what about other people that simply saved enough for the new system?  They are screwed.  Nice job of telling people the ins and outs of updating.  This guy wanted me off the phone, and when he told me he was over the store I interpreted that to:  I am the biggest jerk in the store and could care less that you spent over four hundred dollars yesterday.  I about blew a gasket.

I called Nintendo.  That part was painless, and with the old serial numbers the nice lady on the end of the phone said my data was intact, but yes, I had to get the old systems.  So off to the store to pray that manager had went home.  My old systems cost me two hundered and thirty dollars.  I am so glad I had presence of mind to not try going over to Panera bread and using their WiFi.  I just went home and went to bed.

The next day, I plugged in old SD cards and found all my software.  Another call to Nintendo about how to move software between two systems.  This is where Nintendo falls short.  First thing, I can't just move things if I had points on the DS XL, I had to spend them before transfer.  So I lost money on that little venture.  Then I could only transfer all this software to one system.  I could not move the Suduku to my system and let my daughter have Sparkle Snap Shots.  All this took over six hours to do.  Downloading two systems, updating and combining them onto one 3DS. 

Sprint loads my phone into a handy plug and transfers the data every couple of years.  Card or no card.  I had thought it would be so simple.  I need to quit assuming and realize anything with an electrical outlet has the potential to be a customer service nightmare because I refuse to let go of anything I paid for as:  Oh well.  Whatever, I paid for it, I want it, and by God no one is going to make me pay for it a second time.

And people do this every day.  Just chalk it up to whatever the salesperson says as being true.  I really wish I were paid to do this kind of thing, but the only good thing is the fact my little voice saved me the agony of all this drama with a seven year old chomping at the bit to have her new toy.

So buyer beware.  Know your product and do the research, because no one else cares until you make them.  I will say Nintendo has the absolute nicest customer service people and you don't hold for long.  That alone makes the idea of calling them in the future more palatable than switching over to a playstation.  Woe is Me.

Never Assume Upgrading Nintendo Should be Like Getting A New Phone

The title to this post has been in the draft folder since Wednesday of last week.  I have passionately wished for the time to voice (quite loudly) a few shortcomings in the digital world.  I consider myself to quite conservative when it comes to purchasing new technology.  I tend to say oooh and ahh like the rest of the world when some new tech-toy greets the world market.  I do not camp outside of stores to be the first person to own something white with an '' i' in the front of it.  I am also not chomping at the bit to go and purchase a new television so I can don dorky glasses and have things jump out at me.  Nevertheless, I do know way too much about the plugs on the back of my televisions.  I also realize that not being able to navigate some of these toys will be detrimental to my child.  We live in an age where everything is on the Internet, and to NOT be savvy, leads our peers to rating our intelligence on our pocketbooks, not on actual brains.  Where this philosophy of one must own or one is ignorant mystifies me, and I can only fight the machine so much.  So, here I am, mother of one.  Owner of Nintendo, two short years ago.  Yes, I grew up without any video game in my life.  Did I want one?  Of course.  When opportunity arose, eating was more important.  I digress.

My daughter has faced the computer age stoically, and only school has made her branch out to want to play with anything other than the TV itself.  That said, this year, she went from zero to wanting the whole enchilada.  I've had to take my phone away and remind her we have a land line.  She went from hitting buttons on the Nintendo DS XL to really playing with it, and using some of the features I had no use for like the recorder.  I feel I have to put in this background before I launch my reasoning that lies behind the title of this entry.

I was at a loss to find my child another gift for her birthday other than the record player, and the answer came to me via email from Gamestop.  Oh happy day!  Finally Nintendo decided to make the screen on the 3DS the size of the DS XL!  What this means:  A handheld game larger than my Smart phone, and easy to see.  I knew I just had to wait.  I liked Nintendo for this simple fact:  There are not a bunch of buttons.  I know there are lots of systems out there, but when you have a kid playing with it, the more buttons there are, the harder it is to explain.  You also have to factor in parents that did not grow up with video games.  I will also insert here that we own a Nintendo wii and to my frustration and disappointment, my child has not been enthralled.  Moving on.

Gamestop is nifty in that one can buy and trade their games.  So being a member, I boxed up both my own 3DS and the DSXL, a bunch of accessories and games my daughter has outgrown.  I managed to use member benefits and current sales to purchase two new 3DS XL systems.  I was so excited to have two handheld systems that she could play with me and her friends.  I assumed when I reminded the Gamestop employee that I needed the SD cards from the old systems that putting my DSiware purchased from the eShop in gaming system I would be able to redownload my software.  I assumed it would be like buying a new phone and moving my information from one to the other would be no problem.  I was so wrong.

A little voice inside me said, open the new system and set it up, so my daughter could just hug me and go in her room and play.  I am so glad I listen to the little voice.  Here is where the drama begins. I will continue this in another post.

Birthday Week Excuse

I have been in Mom mode full tilt.  Please excuse the blatant lack of posts.  I have tons to report and pick apart, and cannot wait for free time to do so.  I promise I'm here, its  this having a life thing I have to keep balanced with having a blog.

Exactly WHY do cupcakes come with an inch of Frosting? The Sugared Answer

I am certain many of you out there have pondered the frosting of bakery items.  No, this little question does not keep you awake at night, but I am positive it comes up more than once a year for those of us with children.  I find myself questioning the great mystery every time I force myself to take a bite of a grocery store cupcake with frosting I am sure has a Geiger counter reading.  Usually there is more frosting than actual cake.  Furthermore, most kids eat about half the icing then peel it off to find the pitiful cupcake underneath.  Ring any bells?  Why do people buy these things?  Why do they frost them so much?  I have the answer!!

My husband and I had lunch with our daughter at school and provided cupcakes for the children to celebrate her birthday.  Since I have a deep seated disgust for grocery store cupcakes, I set out to find a bakery.  I had to find one that would provide a ingredient and nutrition label for the school.  Wow, this was difficult, but I did it.

Anyway, we handed out the mini cupcakes.  They had an inch of frosting and an inch of cake.  Every single cupcake disappeared entirely.  These cupcakes TASTED GOOD from from top to bottom.

The kids held the cakes like a huge lollipop and licked the frosting off.  How ingenious.  The frosting tasted like fudge and was downright delicious.

So the theory is that grocery stores think we like the taste of radioactive sugar.  NO way.  You're supposed to slowly savor the frosting like an ice cream.  My husband and I were dumbfounded.  This was an expensive cupcake bakery, but it was principle for me, and learning this truth has been a bonus.

Why won't anyone tell them the frosting in grocery stores tastes horrible?  Because they still sell.  Anyway, mystery solved.

I have so much more to blog about, but I'm still in birthday weekend and will get to it soon.

Use of the word Status feels Applicable

My perception of the word STATUS and how I absorb the cultural delivery occasionally takes my breath away *when I'm paying attention* The brick wall built by our own hands .. that we the people allow social websites to control the few doors windows, vents and fresh air...How?  With a single question to satisfy.  You know it, we all know the MAGIC of:  "What's your Status?"  People subconsciously fall for the misuse of the word Status employed by overpaid marketing weasels.  How you might ask?  The corporate weasels whet America's Ego Obsession by loosening our subconscious to the point of obscenity utilizing ONE WORD... and magically this one word implies how terribly intelligent, important and essential to world function we ALL are.  Status?  Oh Yes, and since we are all egotists, we fall for it and do what they want, talk about ourselves.  What an ingenious way to stroke an ego into an almost Pavlovian response.  Because everyone must know everyone else's status and coveting begins.  From kids to stories to dogs to causes... Duped.

I ask people to ponder this perverse perspective.  I need to desist at the moment, as I'm tired but the implications of marketing and unconscious suggestion is staggering.

Getting back to me (Where did I say I escaped by chewing off a leg?)

I feel the word status fits in the summary of today.  It's about time I admit all the 'gripes and moans' I point out are band-aid descriptions for Depression.  I am writing enough to be the armchair anthropologist again.  I hope to make thing click with this admission, as this is where I choose to express / interpret / digest how to manage my life with another clunky word that is too vague to describe me.

However, the past weeks have been very motivating and positive, and events in the past year threaten the fabric of motivation and positivist potential from becoming kinetic.  I want to NOT use words like COPE, DEAL, GET OVER because I refuse to allow those words to dictate how I should feel. No STATUS. No service. No Ego. BAH!

Anyway, my STATUS:  I am so tired (but I still fell for it).  Physically and emotionally.. These feelings of tired are so welcome because they feel healthy... and I have struggled to find peace of mind to feel tired.

How did I do this today?  I entered my daughter's wormhole ... where time stops as I hung a mountain of clothes ... I emerged triumphantly hours later dazed that her room was clean...

I also visited a friend and we talked about things to make the eyebrows wriggle. I came home and the idea of "*knitting a sweater" lost some of its pissed off luster.

So my STATUS:  I think I am putting me first, which amazingly leads to smiling and happiness. I'm case in point.  Me first.  Ego stroked.

I also believe this blog and research is filling a draft I forgot my psyche had.

Sweet Dreams Everyone.  May they be squishy ones. *giggle*

STATUS:  Let go my Ego...

*Knit a Sweater Phase:  Urban Dictionary

I Fell Asleep with Beats and Dr. Dre

How many lucky people get to say that?  Yeah, I fell asleep with my headphones on.. and it was a good night.  I should have them locked in my basement .. ahhhh... so the truth is out Eminem had first dibs ...

I digress.  So far, nothing disturbs the harmonious groove I have laid out for today.  I intend to keep the headphones on until housework magically disappears.  Then I plan on staking out the local Gamestop because I opened my email ... oh darn.  Birthdays and Christmas are my favorite holidays.

I am about to bust because I just want to play with everything with my child.

The PowerPoint presentation keeps me in check.

Starting Back at Grade One

This is not the normal gripe and grit, however, it reeks of sweat and elbow grease used so profusely I may just have tennis elbow...  My daughter is turning seven this weekend.  I am delighted!  Party planning and finding that perfect gift ... in process.

My daughter's teacher, and I love her so, made it more interesting by making this also the week my child is Star Student.  OOOOOOhh.  It is very cool and fun, and helps your child to talk about themselves in an encouraging way and to share themselves with their fellow classmates.

A whole week of wonderful creative ways for my daughter to express herself.  Since we had a holiday today, tomorrow will be a full day for my girl.  A bag was sent home with instructions for her to place three items that are important to her, a show and tell of sorts.  So, insert canoe paddle, china doll and ballet trophy.  Yes, a canoe paddle, her very own child sized one.

Then, choose a book to share with the class.  She chose Magic Thinks Big.  A family standard.  (wow)

Fill out a sheet of her favorite things:  movie Red Dog (oh I love my kid), a picture of her, and of her family, favorite food, favorite treat and her birthday.

Then:  send in pictures to share OR make a PowerPoint presentation, send a video or poster board with photo highlights...

Let's just say that PowerPoint presentation saved me precious printer ink and album spaces... but kept me up very late.

OKKKK.

All that is packaged up for school.

But wait there's more.  On Thursday, we get to have lunch with our daughter and are bringing mini-cupcakes for the class.  School rules insist upon items purchased with ingredients:  thus most parents include radioactive treats from the local supermarket.  Last time, my daughter got sick from the icing.  So, I spent more time finding a bakery that would make a cupcake palatable.  I found one, and it was expensive.. I about gagged... but I was committed.  Thirty six mini-cupcakes packaged with ingredients that read:  sugar, flour, eggs..

Last job for star student will be to write a letter to the class telling them why my daughter is so special to me. I tear up at this point wondering how to fit such a powerful emotion into a Kid Sized vocabulary.  How can I express to twenty four seven year olds the simple fact that my daughter is my greatest treasure?  I'll be sure to blog excerpts from tomorrow's late night session.

Meanwhile, I am planning a party painting pottery and try to hide my excitement over two presents.  One:  I bought a portable record player and she can have her own little goldfish...  She is getting my 45 collection, the whole batch... because she went nuts over them when we last hung out in my DJ room.  She asked for a record player.  Dreams do come true.

My dreams didn't include going through first grade again in the age of PowerPoint, but when her eyes lit up over my creation, I guess that's all that matters.

My Greatest Treasure

Stomping Foot over Understatement

Upon sharing goals and hopes with the real world, I want to burn the house down and run away screaming.. I know.. I know... dramatic.

However, its not every day morality patrol sits beside me and introduces the following reasons to lose a night of sleep:

1.  Yes, you've written so many things for me that I don't appreciate like you do.
2.  We just are not intellectually matched, but we are meant for one another
3.  Your extremes are just not ordinary, but they are you
4.  I can't tell you I mean, I don't know what to say
5.  No I'm not judging you, I'm just not like you

What the heck did that mean?

I am feel sensory deprived at the moment as I believe I have been told in summary:  No I don't listen to a damned thing you say, as it doesn't apply to me.

OK.

You stay here and I'll run and get help.

When crawling became more dubious in Nature

I just figured out how to get to webmaster tools for this blog and my favorite music video by Maroon Five, which dutifully, is labelled as being located on YouTube, and IS NOT MINE, would not play... It did for a long time, and then I guess denial has so many forms in which to confuse the new and overwhelmed ... why? The deeper I dig to make sure I am editing things correctly... It gets more depressing.

I don't have the time to nitpick, but I realize that immortal soul and status as a good girl are in mortal danger of immense ignorance.  Of which, there is no excuse, reprieve or allowance.

So, hopefully, I will learn more in less hours with less cursing.

Then again, if I dig for worms again, those plus ones I asked God about would keep me from sweating..

And I'm not even in Hell.

Or so I thought.

Lard Factor

I had a teacher in high school that graded with a firm hand and a deft knife with a concept she liked to call The Lard Factor.  Oh what a precision slasher.  Grammatical perfection without a single tear shed on pretext.  I think my writing would keep her awake with her red ink pen annotations rabid to the point the pages would never dry.

I think of her now, late at night, as I trudge through some more idea places and wish I could find myself an agent more precise than the Demigod Google.

I have pounds and pounds of lard to sift through and gift to someone.  In theory all my writing and work could be handed over and processed.  Then someone would talk to me about options and direction, and where to go.  Hopefully somewhere better than Hell.

*smile*
I bet hell has the best advertising agents and lawyers.

Hell certainly has a public following, as I've heard its pretty damn hot.

*smile*
[God, if you are following my blog, please +1 me and send it to all your friends]

Walking the Kinks Out Brings up Bile

Having issues standing and/or walking has fallen into the category of that was so a month ago.  No, I hate to admit, right now I hurt in places that just seem unfair and a low blow to my Karmactic belt.  My quads have neverot knotted up to the degree I agonized over last night.  I roller blade people.  What a blow to realize the effects of two months of inactivity and record asthma and the emotional roller coaster of summer tore me down to a shadow of what I was before.  As my blog indirectly talks about the surgery I underwent, I'll elaborate a little.  I had two bunions on my right foot corrected, which involved wire in one and a pin in the other.  The overhaul included relaxing the toes because hammertoe was not so evident, but the tendons in my foot stood out in neutral.  All this surgery and the decision stemmed from the pain my foot and my body compensation caused so much back pain.  I never understood how much I hurt all the time, until recently.  My foot daily amazes me in the sheer complexity of just how much algebra and physics calculations my body crams into a size six shoe.

I am at a loss of words on how I feel as I finger the proverbial slap to the face I garnered from people who do not believe my foot actually hurts to the degree it does.  All the past week of energetic enthusiasm have been marked off as a bi-product of self-medication.  I am also reeling from admonishment of how some of my activities should be considered beneath someone my age. (#%$U#$U%*  Hasn't that gotten old? With an eyebrow raised? (Oh really.. I guess sweaters are back in again too)

Ok.  I wanted to draw a circle around myself as my hackles rose to new heights.  How one can even begin to pass judgement on me was beyond comprehension as reasons why even go there loomed in my thoughts. I kept very quiet and didn't move, for fear I would resort to something simple:  violence.

Oh I am still processing the entire turn of events and I feel victimized and judged by a self appointed morality patrol.  I must suppress the vindictive sensation that comes up with my bile.

Triumph for the WHO

I managed after three months of absence, to locate Swagger in clothing for my date with older distinguished Ken... I love my people at my Macys.  Yes, that's www.macys.com to The one I frequent absolutely makes me glad I have them as friends that care about the importance of finding John a slick outfit as a surprise. I love getting giddy confiding date night to my favorite salesgirls.

Design Flawed..

OK, so  bear with me, I'm learning new things about not fixing something that isn't broke.  I like having the picture of my Dad's old Zenith in the background.  Yeah, and I love messing around with color and vogueing.  But all my backgrounds are me.  I can't decide, but this one centers better, and until I get bored enough to actually decide to add to vanity.  All weasels use Google plus to verify that those are my cool Versaces.

Any tips on design or ideas on gadgets would be appreciated.  I am wanting to do more, but need an all inclusive place for those with lives.

So please, zip me some links, or better yet, talk me up sometime.  About design.

Here's hoping.

Civic Duty Perks: Who knew?

Voting should be taken seriously.  As in, do it. Ok. That said...
I have spent the day overdosing on hanging out with my daughter, but rushed home to vote.  I drop her off at home, go to town hall.. get my sticker and stand at the WAIT HERE sign juggling foot, purse and my I Voted sticker.  The nicest little old lady grins and says dubiously: Are you ready? I grinned like I ate a canary and said: "As ready as I can be." She says: "I've heard that many times today."  We laugh and walk to booth and I said without thinking, "Well, you know after giving birth, I'm pretty sure this won't hurt a bit!  Ooops.  She dies laughing and breaks out with mock horror:  "I've not heard of that happening here before, and I can say I'm not trained to deal with that one!" We giggle some more and she asks if I'm familiar with the {SERIOUS} voting box.  Grinning, I tell her she might wanna refresh me on procedure.  We go over the choices and she says finally:  "If it shows crazy things just let us know, we're right here to run and help!"  I laugh with her again and people look and like a conspirator add... "Guess I'd better start dancing now, huh?" She twinkled at me and told me how much my humor made her long day worth it.  Then I voted.  Laughing put the needed energy back in my step. 

Upon leaving the parking lot, I realized how my parents would have reacted at my choices.  My Dad tearing his hair and sobbing: The horror....eeegadsss..
I put the car in park and laughed so hard at the absurdity of the circus going on in my head sparked by laughter.  The snowball got bigger..... hummm.....MAN!!!  They have privacy because parents would redo it if you did it, DO it if you didn't and even if they let their kids push the buttons fur would probably fly... because who am I/you/we to be grown up enough to do it right? Much less when did I decide who was boss?  ooooh Mom.  A sticker says I'm a grownup.  The visa machine just made note.

Let them Eat Cake. 

Senile...

I like to talk to myself when I am focused on a task.  I believe I need to let a notch out on the life belt.  I told myself I wanted to drink the phone and light a drink.

What the *#(Y(#

De v/s Su in terms of Pression

I think the word Depression gives people the wrong impression.  I don't think I'm very depressed at all.  Suppressed?  Now there's a humdinger.  I spend much time attempting to avoid those people that excel in sucking all the happiness right out of a perfectly good day.

And I thought I was a succubus.

This is the area I must have my head examined thoroughly.

I'm perfectly fine.  It's the rest of the crazies to medicate with self imposed doldrums.

What to do, What to do

I guess I've never talked about a wealth of other fun stuff I thought about publishing on this blog.  About a year ago, I decided to get Dragon software that turns text to speech and it came with a handy recorder.  So, I have some fun recordings that upon listening, I know would lose the flavor if I attempted turning them to text.  Again, I want to stay in one place, and the very idea of YouTube seems like an invitation for some sort of social disaster, but needless to say, I wish I knew more about web design, because I have some fun stuff.  I picked up this habit and its helped me deal with stress and get past things, but upon reflection later, its hilarious.  I would advise anyone to carry around a recorder and just turn it on when you have some dilemma.  Then cool off and listen to yourself later.. its a good way to save face... whether yours or someone else's.

Anyway, note to self:  I must find my recordings about Wal-Mart and The decline of customer service.  These two recordings alone are priceless.

*sigh*  I need to go to bed, but a friend told me a secret, and boy do I not know how to interpret what he told me.  Again, the statement.. what to do.. what to do.  I've heard let's do something, even if its wrong... *if only*

 

Rejection: Keep Your Sandwich

My blog has been in obscurity for some time, and until recently, I've always thought this was good.  My line of thinking this was for safety reasons, whether real or imagined, I dunno.  You see, Facebook has become a place where your life story can be researched by anyone, including people I might want employment from.  Sensibly, its not a place to discuss things like depression, sex, duct tape, spiders or use profanity to get a point across.  To me, Facebook belongs in family category, where you can read about the happy fluffy things and that's about it.  However, I like to write, but, don't have time to babysit a million comment places.. and after much thought, chose Blogger.  Google seems to have a safe haven where my writing can be in one place, and I wouldn't get emails with attachments of people's nether-regions as tokens of appreciation.  I learned this tidbit being a member of Friend finder for a little while.  I wasn't looking to ply my wares in joining there, but it was fun to hold a top position for a long time.. but .. you know.. the manamanah thing makes the idea of that website clash with who I am really.  I made one fantastic friend whom I speak with often, and whom I cite as helping save my marriage even.  Sidenote:  We became friends because of his first comment on one of my posts:  You spelled paraphernalia correctly.  We became fast friends, and well, still are.  If only I could network and have more friends like George.  I promise I'm getting to the point.  What I realized is that I missed people commenting.  I missed the ease of commenting on other people's thoughts of the day.  In going around the net, I tire of anecdotes and plagiarized kittens, misspelled euphemisms and hairball hacking crap.  I almost signed back up for Friend finder just because of the banter.  However, I happened upon Blogger and decided obscurity was better.  Then latenight, read an email about improving site traffic.  Why not?  So I signed up for Adsense.  To my dismay, I am peddling anything Google wants to grace my blog with.  Killjoys.

Upon further reading and befuddlement, I have a lot to learn about website building.  My reaction:  I want to throw a tantrum.  Who has time for this?  No, I don't want to pay for it!!  I really wanted that cookie world.  *sigh*  What to do now.  I really want to write, I have kept handwritten things for years.. but this is better.  In writing though, this is the way I do it, and I have no uber-skills except those handed to me by the 'joys' of my daily life.

I'm not mad at Google.  I'm more disappointed that because I don't follow norms, used the word Fuck and other profanity.. I'm speculating... and I don't specifically promote one thing only when I write ..

So give up writing?  Nah.. So what that a blog is about an interest or product.  I can't market life and will not stoop to marketing myself... there are streetcorners if I become that desperate.

I learned something new:  I must package my Sandwich in a more attractive package that's rated E for everyone, not G for Google.

This is as graceful as I get.
Whaaa!

How Many Lights Does it Take to Screw Up My Groove?

So far, three and counting.  Yes, this is a FISH story, or more accurately, a coronary coral event.  This is tale worth telling.  My 36 gallons of world peace proceeded to decline into turf wars since my surgery on my foot.  My protein skimmer was a joke, and in frustration over the noise I cut it off.  The new canister filter was a dream.  I just managed to get the water a bit salty and my light fixture was going out.  I had ordered a Marineland T5 and Halide fixture that had all the timers built in.  People, I took my old jewelry to my jeweler to justify this outrageous light.  Two months went by and I finally hired that PAID PROFESSIONAL.  Whew.  He's great, and I manged not to start crying in front of him when he said that the light would have melted my tank had it been hung.  Praise the PIC for procrastination inclination!!  I ordered the light from Dr. Foster's.  I was so afraid they were not going to take the light back because two months went by.  Needless to say, customer service is alive and well because the lady that helped me was so kind.  Anyway, I went ahead and ordered a new fixture that Mr. Secret Reef recommended.  Oooooh, a Marineland LED, 36 inch fixture.  I was so excited.  The box that came in the mail was about a foot shorter than me.  WHAT!  It didn't fit.  Secret Reef made certain I ordered this size, I even had to make a second call because I ordered a smaller one...Anyway.  RULE TO REMEMBER:  Men do not come preprogrammed with the ability to look at any object and accurately cite it's size.  Á proverbial light bulb went off in my head and I fetched a tape.  Sure enough, a 36 inch bow front tank is 30 inches across.  What a killjoy to know I had ordered the right one and suffered the cancellation call for nothing.  It was alright though.  I called Dr. Foster's and actually miraculously got the same customer service person and she was wonderful again, and sent me another fixture.. which arrived a day ago.  It is wonderful.  It fits.  Only the actinic blue LEDs don't work.  I'm waiting again.  What can I complain about?  Actually, nothing.  For once in my life, a company has been gracious to me, a paying customer.  The first light I paid shipping on, the last two they did.  I am just so excited watching everything thrive in the short time someone lent me their time and patience.

Future Reference Crock Pot Stock

My life seems to change gears and just when I think overdrive should be engaged, I have to slap it back into third and stretch my proverbial five foot two self out to brake.. all the while thinking in my head .. 'ramming speed'.  TOWANDA just does not work these days.  I would have a conniption fit if I rear ended someone in Betty.  I am getting off subject though.  I know my tangents reek of hypocracy at times; I will be honest.  I have a ton of faults I strive to keep in check.  (for example:  I complain, I take things too literal, I need to listen closer, I am late for everything and don't answer the phone..)

So grounded in the reality of S.O.C.K.S really happens to be: IT IS WHAT IT IS, I preservere.  In the spirt of that thought, I am sorting things out, and right now its a jumble of feelings that I have no order to find a starting point.  I catch myself accomplishing nothing because I feel so smothered.  Here goes a list that will gain a rolling momentum.. of sorts.

1.  My daughter will be seven in a couple of weeks.  Wow, I've got to get on the stick.

2.  Tomorrow is Halloween and I have the cutest Goldfish to take trick-or-treating.  What a cool costume, and I went all out this year, as I feel my grip slipping on having majority rule on clothing and 'little girl' things.

3.  Speaking of little girl things:  Vamp/Goth used to be a phenomenon of self expression ruled by anything but fashion and a mother could not just go to Wal-Mart and find a whole outfit .. for herself and her single digit aged child.  I'd like to smack the idiots that want to advertise slut suits for Halloween.

4.  Following that thought I think about the movie High School Musical having clothing out in a 3T.  When Grandma brought that shirt home, I promptly tossed it.  Seriously?

5.  OK.  Twitlet.  Twilight.  NOT A KID book.

6.  My daughter unrolled capri pants and wore them with boots today.  My husband thought they looked fine.

7.  Same daughter is against socks.

8.  OEHOIEFOIFENBEFIUEYEG*&#$Y she will wear them .

9.  I have the song Afro Circus running through my mind from Madagascar 3... and upon thinking about it... that's about the theme for some of the clothing choices my kid makes.. and I have to keep a straight face.

10.  My cousin left me a message that she has been clean since October 7th.

11.  So another friend gets out of jail in a couple of weeks. 

12.  Another friend got mad she had to pick up her kids early on Sunday because it ruined her only day to do something.  Something being go to the bar up the street.  I am not knocking the bar concept.  Let's get that straight.  It's just drinking costs a bunch, and Stokesdale does not buy that much liquor out of chivalry.  Oh don't go down the drain with this statement either.  A few things go through my head.. but I'm allowed... to speculate.  She's convinced I have swallowed the idea she fell off a turnip truck three days ago.  I only think when she fell.. it was under a wheel.  The thing is, I really don't give a fig about whether or not she's got a good history.. I like her for who she is and what I know ..  That said, I copiously smile and listen to the comments about this guy and that and he bought this, blah .. blah.. (I am insecure, and want to feel sexier and the way I do that is to stomp on an ego I believe you have).. whanka..  The thing is, a few years ago, this compensation technique would have gotten the desired effect of crushing my vanity and making me a hater, but these days, I am more offended that my friend can't read me well enough to see how pointless it is.  It makes me sad that life gets people down like this.

13.  OK, get off soap box because it sounds like I am on one, the real point is why go and drink when finances are so tight?  Why laughingly tell me how toasted you were and then how you fought with your husband.  Two drunks don't make a right.

14.  Then there is the bar itself.  The floor is chipboard.  I have been one time, and mopped a guy all over the floor within ten minutes.  And what?  No ice? 

15.  So we have a difference of lifestyle.  If my Sunday consisted of watching the race at the bar.. I'd rather take a pack of M&Ms and a flask into the bathroom.  Then I could drink good alcohol, throw M&Ms in the toilet and watch them go round in circles.  Then I could go out and take over some other numbing activity like scrapbooking.

16.  Customer service = Good luck with that.

17.  My sister called to wish me a Happy Halloween.  Again with the acid tongue.  I am so glad I have not spoken to her because eventually I am going to have a bad day and be emotional.  Unfortunately, when we hang up the phone because she has to 'hop off' to avoid anything personal, I will be halfway to Thomasville.  I feel so volatile.  I'm tired of being written off.

18.  So I wished I didn't find an envelope with Gma's name and body farm on it.  It gives me nightmares about my sister.  Plus I had to work with cadavers in college. 

19.  I want to redo the house, and this hesitation thing I've got going on sucks balls.

 

Well, that's it for the moment, more to come later.

Oh one final thing, I am very grateful for the person that sent me the positive email about this blog.  It made my day.  Happy fluffy cloud heart feelings for you.

 

 

Theory: The Paid Professional

I ply those in my sphere of influence with many tried and proven true lessons that others would discount as merely opinion or 'theory''.  My husband came into practice early in our relationship.  Everyone knows there exist entities known as professionals, who share highly prized knowledge for a fee.  Most people speculate about the actual knowledge of said professional and that paying them is worth the money.  My first experience came with deciding I wanted to dye my hair, but oh no, no reason to pay anyone.  I had pink hair under store track lighting.  I marched myself to a beautician and suffered the consequences of a six dollar box of hair hell.  From then on, when attempting beautification methods requiring chemicals and a license... I paid.  Great thing to know.  Use every day.  My husband came into this when we met.  I schooled him in the art of not breaking his hair off, and he didn't listen a bit.  Then again, I had to promise he was not getting a mullet for his first haircut in fifteen years (or so)... the beautician looked at his hair and verbatim told him the secret to having luxurious locks.  He believed her .. and I never cease to give him a hard time.  So anyway, I am using the same practice and WOW results.

I have a 36 gallon saltwater reef tank.  Corals are so different from fish TV of college.  After letting the tank sit for two months while my foot healed.. I began to stress losing my whole tank over my inexperience.  After much thought, I looked up a great guy at Secret Reef who offered to set up my newly purchased equipment and maintain it at a minimal cost.  I love how easy the weight of worrying I wasted close to a thousand bucks just fell away.  The bonus I was not expecting was his assessment of my purchases, set up and tank.  I AM NOT STUPID.  I HAVE GOOD CRAP.  I could have kissed the man.

He set it all up, will be back in two weeks and I am flabbergasted at the fact how quickly my tank recovered.  He wasn't lying.  I probably will not lose any coral.  I have peace of mind my fish and corals will be taken care of on vacation.. and just someone else doing the heavy stuff once a month and I just get to enjoy the hobby.

For minimum money I would have wasted on dead fish and unnecessary purchases, I have it all.  In three days my corals are thriving.  Plans are in the works for more rock, corals and fish.  I sleep three feet from tranquility that is quiet.  And I picked this setup out before him.  His stamp of approval.. PLUS telling me gently I could have burned my tank down with the light fixture I chose.  I wanted to cry.  THANK you SECRET REEF for being honest.

The light comes in two days.  I am excited.

Now testing water seems easy because I have a resource to answer all questions, find me new stuff and just be there.

PAID PROFESSIONAL is a great life tool.  Just find the right one.  Life becomes more user friendly.

Verbal Baked Alaska: The Secret Ingredient

The secret ingredient that sets any conversation on fire... is...

I hate to do this, but...

that damned butt.

Lights it every time.

A Dream is A Wish Your Heart Makes

When you're fast asleep.  In dreams, you will lose your heartache, whatever you wish for will be... have faith in your dreams and someday you rainbow will come smiling though... no matter how your heart is feeling.. if you keep believing, the dreams that you wish will come true..

Cinderella sings that wistful melody and still at 39, I fervently cling to the message.  I need to hack up my own hairball.  There is no evil stepmother.  Judy the Pom can't just up and be Bruno.  That's bad. *sic*

I wish my mind and my body could agree that the world isn't big enough anymore.  It's a catch 22 for me.  I know all the things I need to do, all the things I have done and partially know my own potential.  It's all lost to me because I have put myself through the moral ringer because its all that stands between me and mediocrity.

I'll be damned if I let my failed family ties allow me to convince myself giving in to excess is acceptable.  How dare I think sacrificing my life makes it OK to contemplate actually taking it?  The razor's edge of sanity and late night prayers to silent God are paltry to stark daytime tears.

I watched over 30 shooting stars the other night.. by myself.
I gave each one away.

Luck isn't something you have, it's a gift you give.

My clovers tell me so.

I will get to an understanding with myself.  It sounds weird, but, I have hopes of knowing me.  Everyone else is suspect and not worth it ... so it seems.

So let me go polish myself up to be my own shining knight.. in Sephora armor.