Bambi 2000

Well, it's happened again. The deer are attacking. Sunny is in full-on panic mode. And this time, the situation is even more dire.

Two baby deer.

They were so cute! Frolicking and whatnot. I can only hope that if there were ever situation in which there was an ACTUAL threat (not the kind that has four spindly little legs and that you could knock over with a flick of the finger) that Sunny would be even more protective. Bear...cause for barking and growling. Prowler...snarl away. Baby deer...chill out.

I was a little upset that the deer's mommy (I can only assume they were twins) seemed to be nowhere to be found, but she was down the hill a little bit. Still giving them their space but at least letting them think that they were tough and independent.

movie help

Bill and I went to go see 2 movies this week. As we normally go several months without seeing one, this was a pretty big deal. Plus, Superman is coming out this week, and we'll go see that as well, so 3 movies in 2 weeks is just huge.

Both of the movies that we saw featured an architect as one of the main characters: The Lake House and Click. We started to watch Cars, but it was much more "Nascar-y" than I was prepared for, so we switched over to Click. Fluffy but sweet with a good message. But Adam Sandler was at his Sandleriest. I don't think I could have taken one more fart joke.

Even though it got horrible reviews, I really liked the Lake House. Granted, I had been forewarned to go in expecting it to make absolutely no sense on the whole space-time continuum thing. But it was romantic. As we were leaving, Bill said, "Boy, I really took one for the team there." And it's true. Normally, I would never drag him to a movie like that, but I needed some TLC this week.


Then, going to bed last night, Bill asks, "How many T.V. shows or movies can you name with an architect as one of the main characters?"

My list thus far:
1. Lake House
2. Click
3. Brady Bunch
4. 3 Men & a Baby
5. Poseidon
6. the Towering Inferno
7. Return to Me
8. Sleepless in Seattle
9. Singles
10. Star Wars (sigh...I guess technically that got me to 10)

Any more?

You be the Judge

Funny or not Funny?

Bill wanted me to post this joke that he told in Canada (more than once) because he is still laughing about it. I'm still like, "ehhh."

Bill: "Boy, we haven't seen too many policemen here on PEI."

Me: "No, I don't think I've seen one."

Bill: "Well, I wouldn't be worried about getting pulled over even if there were tons of them."

Karen: "????"

Bill: "Those Canadian Mounties couldn't catch me on their horses anyway!"

I vote not funny.


Bill is again looking at PEI real estate. In Summerside. One can dream.



On a completely unrelated note:
I saw a preview for a T.V. show that made me want to upgrade to extended cable to get Animal Planet. Meerkat Manor--I hope that it comes out on DVD soon. First of all, I've been in love with meerkats ever since visiting the Minnesota State Zoo. Second, just in the 5 minute preview, I found myself getting all worked up over the meerkat pups whose evil and stupid uncle pulled them out of their safe hole while their grandmother was gone, and when the grandmother got back, she was SO MAD. It was just like Peyton's Place. But with meerkats.

O, Canada!

Well, I just got back from Canada. Here are some of the pictures.

Prince Edward Island was just BEAUTIFUL! It was calm and quiet and GREEN (oh, the green). All the island is covered in this thick perfectly green grass and red dirt. Not like ugly construction clay that we have here. It's a deep red. The pictures don't do it justice. Although, I do like the one with me starting down the path into the scary Haunted Wood behind Green Gables....oooh!

Here is a list of differences in Canada (or at least PEI) that I noticed during our short stay:

In Canada, they don't give you much ice in your drink, unless you ask for "extra ice" and even then, it's about half of what I'd normally get in a restaurant here.

In Canada, the movies are really expensive ($10, but Canadian, so about $9 American).

In Canada, there are coins for $1 and $2. I understand the $1 "loony" (as they call it), but why $2?

In Canada, the speed limit is posted in kilometers. My husband had some occasional problems with obeying said speed limits, but as we'd often go 10 miles without seeing another car, it wasn't that big of a deal, ehh?

In Canada (or perhaps just PEI) , almost every restaurant serves Pepsi. Blehh. But all the soft drinks came in glass bottles in the store.

In Canada, most of the sinks were stainless steel.

In Canada, "Smarties" (the candy) are chocolate (kind of like M & M's), and there are no M & M's to be found. Also, the Kit-Kat's are different. Don't ask me how. They're just different.

In Canada, on some of the local TV stations, people will just switch back and forth between English and French (and ALL the signs were in both English and French). Very fun.



And funny moment of the trip: Pulling into a gas station to fill up the rental car, I saw the sign that said $1.10, and I said, "DANG, gas is cheap here!" Then, after filling up the car and realizing it was $1.10/liter and not $1.10/gallon, I had to change my comment to, "DANG gas is expensive here."



Interesting things that happened/that I learned on my visit to PEI:
-My husband is able to fly a kite higher than anyone I've ever met before. He must have had that kite up almost 1,000 feet over the ocean.

-The Japanese LOVE Anne of Green Gables. Prince Edward Island is a bit of a pilgrimage to "Anne's home" for many Japanese people. Anne of Green Gables became required reading in their schools after WWII to improve Canadian/Japanese relations.

-That beautiful purple wildflower in the picture at the top is called lupin, and they grow everywhere.

-People on PEI used to use ground up lobster as fertilizer. Not anymore, but Bill and I still ate it every night we were there. Most restaurants have their own lobster traps and harvest their own blue mussels (80% of which worldwide come from little PEI--the mussels, not the lobster).

farewell, sweet goats

Well, apparently, the owner of the fields behind my office got rid of the goats. Every last one of them. They are going to be improving the fence then getting buffalos. That's right. Buffalos.

The conversation went a little like this:

Setting (my office, Karen looking perplexedly out her window looking for goats)

Co-worker: Hey, did you know that they got rid of the goats?

Karen: Really?

Co-worker: Yep.

Karen: All of them?

Co-worker: Yeah.

Karen: Even Kicky?

Co-worker: You NAMED them?

Karen: (little nod)

Co-worker: Well, they're getting buffalos instead. Those should be cool to look at.

Karen: Not the same.

My Husband the Squirrel

Just when I thought that I was getting a lot better with the hypnogogic hallucinations, I had a doozy. Last night, I very vividly felt a squirrel run onto my pillow, and I (rather ferociously) pushed it away from me. I then turned on the light, realized I was not even on the side of the bed that I thought I was on, had a rare moment of lucidity where I told myself it was a HH, and rolled right over and went to sleep.

I called my husband at work this morning to apologize for the squirrel bludgeoning. Thankfully, he rarely remembers anything the first few minutes after waking, especially in the middle of the night.

my favorite way to wake up in the morning...

...is with a little kiss from my husband.

kicky 'n' the gang

I just moved office spaces a few weeks ago, and now, my office has a huge window in the back (as huge as the window can be in a teeny little office) that overlooks a sheep & goat pasture. The sheep are all right, kind of ratty and stick to themselves, but I love the goats--especially the babies. I have named them (the above picture is not one of the actual goats, but is a good likeness):

Kicky--the ringleader; the others tend to mimic and follow him; seems to be a bit on the serious side for a goat.

Mr. Adventure--favorite activity is climbing to the top of the little barn and jumping off, usually followed closely by...

Runty--tiny brown goat that likes to run. and run. and run. He seems to be the most random in his likes and dislikes. Likes: little runty-sized oak tree to eat and running. Dislikes: being alone.

Little Jack Black--very laidback; spends much of day gazing off into distance wistfully (much like me).

Hornsby--so-named because he already has little nubs of horns sticking out; he is the outsider...I think the others are jealous and/or scared of him.


Runty is my favorite.

high on LIFE!

So I never thought about the implications that the name of my blog could have regarding meth until my sister pointed it out on in her blog a few weeks ago. Sudafed is indeed a way of life for me, but it's because of allergies, not a sordid drug addiction. Just to clear that up.

So I'm going to Prince Edward Island. Yahoo!!!! I've always dreamed of going there since I was a little girl reading "Anne of Green Gables", but in doing research, the whole island should prove to be just beautiful! We'll be staying in an Inn on the ocean and I am just counting down the seconds! And yes, I realize that it's probably cheesy, but I DON'T CARE!! I'm going to say things like, "I don't want diamond sunbursts or marble halls...I just want you!" And people will stare at me as if I'm crazy, and again, I DON'T CARE! It's too bad the bridge isn't actually there on PEI, or I'd make Bill re-enact the whole scene with me.

Hello, goodbye.

Well, I left for a few days for a conference and came back to a Joaquin firestorm...instigated entirely by my sister and one of my partners in crime...but a firestorm nonetheless.

Joaquin is a good actor, an attractive man, possibly a decrepit person (who knows?), and we're all in desperate need of God's grace. There.

I'm happy to be home, but I've been in a grand funk (as my best friend's mom always used to say) lately...if you couldn't already tell. And dang it if this grand funk isn't keeping me from enjoying friends, normal activities, etc. Now, I'm not oblivious, and I know what my readership (all 5 of you) is probably thinking right now. Hmmm, could that grand funk's name be "depression"?? And yes, that's part of it, but it all seems to be tied to one small part of my life that has turned HUGE, so I've decided that that one small/HUGE part must be removed, and right now, that removal makes me sad, thus feeding that greedy little funk for the present. But it must be done to bring the parts that have a rightful spot in the "enormous" category back to their rightful spots.

In so doing, I bid the following adieu:
-waking & worrying
-crying over things that are not sad, just overwhelming
-saying "no" to activities that I want to say "yes" to because I can't be counted on

And welcome the following:
-waking up and cuddling with my husband
-laughing with my friends over a good dinner
-saying "no" to activities that I do want to say "no" to

It Ain't Me, Babe

I was going to write all about stress and boundaries, but I think Johnny Cash summed it up a bit better:

Go away from my window.
Leave at your own chosen speed.
I'm not the one you want, babe.
I'm not the one you need.

You say you're looking for someone
Who's never weak, but always strong
To protect you and defend you
Whether you are right or wrong.
Someone to open each and every door...

But it ain't me, babe, no, no, no
It ain't me, babe, it ain't me you're looking for
Babe.

Go lightly from the ledge, babe,
Go lightly on the ground.
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I'll only let you down.

You say you're looking for someone
Who'll promise never to part.
Someone who'll close his eyes to you
Someone who'll close his heart.
Someone to die for you and more...

But it ain't me, babe, no, no, no
It ain't me, babe, it ain't me you're looking for
Babe.

You say you're looking for someone
To pick you up each time you fall
To gather flowers constantly
And to come each time you call.
And to love you for your life and nothin' more...

But it ain't me, babe, no, no, no
It ain't me, babe, it ain't me you're looking for

Babe.

World's Worst Wife

I forgot my husband's birthday.

I remembered it up to the day, but the day of his actual birthday, we were both working 16 hours and focused on a huge event the next day, and then, at 11:30 that night, I was lying in bed, waiting for him to get ready, and he said something about it being a sucky birthday.

I sat bolt upright, started bawling, and said, "Happy Birthday" between sobs (As I'd been crying all day getting things together for the event, it wasn't actually that dramatic...it was more like I just resumed crying.)

To my defense, he had forgotten it was his own birthday until mid-afternoon but still...

I also came to the difficult decision that something's gotta give. I enjoy being a part of helping other people build their families through adoption, but the job's not worth it if it's going to have this negative impact on me and my own family.

So here I sit, looking at the birthday card that his nephew sent him. It has a frog on the front and a crayon picture of some random lines inside with the caption, "Happy Birthday Uncle Billy Marching Happy Dance" written out by Bill's sister. And I'm just thankful for something that will get me to smile.

Library

Well, it may mean that I am immature or infantile, but my favorite section of the library is the children's section. I always feel so judged and looked-down-upon in the adult section. I only check out fluffy chick-lit, and the reference desk staff always looks down their nose at me when I do.

But, oh, the children's section! I was going specifically to check out Anne of Avonlea and Anne of the Island (my life has been pretty cheerless as of late, and sometimes, when I'm in the "depths of despair", only Anne will help).

It was so nice to not feel judged. Granted, I was 3 times the size of any other person in that section, but they didn't care. They all just looked up from their books and smiled and went straight back to reading. They didn't try to peer at the title or the thickness of the book. No! They were just glad that they got their hands on "Olivia" before I did.

Fat Dog in a Little Boat

Well, Sunny has gone on his first official kayak ride. It was quite the sight to behold. He did fairly well...much better than I was expecting and braced for. Bill paddled him around the cove. And you will note as our realtor did upon first meeting him, "Well, there's a dog that hasn't missed a meal." Unfortunately, I am a bad doggy-mother, and he has missed many a walk. You will also note that he doesn't make eye contact with the camera. The vast majority of pictures that I have of him are either of him looking away from the camera or of his heiny.

Riverboat Queen

Bill and I both took yesterday off and took advantage of the beautiful weather to take our two-person kayak for her maiden river voyage. It was beautiful scenery, and there was not another soul on the river, so that was nice. But it wasn't how I envisioned it would be.

When Bill first proposed the "playing hooky" plan (don't get too jealous--we're both working this afternoon), I saw it all in my mind...I would be basking in the warm sun, wearing my little bikini working on my tan. We'd stop every hour or so and eat yummy yet healthy snacks that I'd prepared beforehand and brought along. We'd both take right to paddling and be expert river navigators right off the bat.

The reality:
-The night before, I remembered that I'd left my favorite bathing suit in Florida, and my mother-in-law hasn't sent it back to me yet. So I ended up having to wear my other suit that leaves me a bit nippy unless it's like tropical warm out (which it ended up not being because...)

-Bill decided we needed to leave early to beat the work traffic--big broo-ha-ha in which we were both trying in vain to get the other person to see our side of when we should wake up and leave the house (me--"whenever we wake up", him--"earlier than is natural or normal"). We ended up getting up at 5:00 A!M! and leaving the house at 6:45. (yes, Bill won that one) We did indeed beat the work traffic, but it ended up being a bit chillier than I was planning on. It did finally warm up, though.

-Also due to the aforementioned departure time, those healthy yet yummy snacks ended up being soggy sandwiches and some stale chex mix.

-Steering was pretty much the opposite of intuitive, and we kept flipping the kayak around, and of course, every time we did, in my mind I was thinking, "This is all Bill's fault." And I know that he was thinking the same thing. We finally got more of the hang of it and decided by the end that he would do the paddling in the front and I would just stick to steering in the back so that we didn't end up overcompensating for the current.

It ended up being a fun day, all in all. Bill and I both agree that every couple that is considering marriage should be sent down a river in a tandem kayak and debriefed afterwards. The guy who shuttled our car said that the worst he's seen is a couple that they had to call separate cabs for afterwards. He said that for a first river tandem kayak experience, if the couple is still talking to each other when they reach the pick-up point, they can consider the day a success.

Oh, and I saw a wild turkey for the first time, AND I saw a dog standing on the cab of a truck that was driving down the road. He looked like he was king of the mountain (the dog, not the turkey).

Then, Bill took me out to eat sushi.

All in all, a good day.

World's Least Effective Guard Dog

It's official. My dog serves no useful purpose whatsoever other than looking cute and playing well with small children. He has spent the entire morning barking incessantly at ??? (a bird? the trees? grass? absolutely nothing?). He is convinced that he's a watch dog but the only complication is that we live in one of the world's safest neighborhoods so there's nothing to watch. It's mostly retired people, and they'll shake their fist at you if you go so much as a mile over the 15 mph speed limit. So Sunny is doomed to spend his days barking at the air and getting upset when he can't find his binky toy (usually because he's dragged his upstairs binky downstairs or vice versa).

There was some excitement for a few weeks when he would go to the back window and growl his head off (he doesn't usually growl), but just until I finally spotted the family of deer he was seeing (and that was eating patches of our grass). So now, it's a big joke whenever he sees them: "Hurry Sunny! The deer are attacking! They're going to get into the house! They're going to kill us all!" And then he'll lose interest after about 3 minutes.

I swear, he is such a three year-old.

desk explosion

There's something about cleaning up your own mess that's just extremely difficult. I can remember growing up, I would enjoy going into my sisters' rooms and helping them clean up their stuff, rummage through their junk and be painfully, brutally honest about it being crap. But somehow, that micro-chip is missing in my brain for my own stuff. If I were at someone else's house today, and they said, "Hey, let's go through this pile of stuff and you can help me organize", I would think, "Ohhhh, fun, fun!" But looking at the several piles on my desk and hearing the voice in my head say, "Hey, you should go through this pile of stuff and get it organized", all I can think back is "shut up! shut up!"

And the ironic thing is that I feel sooooo much better after getting organized and throwing stuff away. I feel like my life is just a little more under control and I can breathe easier. But does that mean that I'm tackling one little pile rather than blogging about how much I hate doing it? Nope.

back to the 7th grade

Where are all these pimples coming from???? I thought I'd finally outgrown it. I'd get a few little pimples on my chin right before my period (which I had grown to accept), and that was it. And I was at a good point of acceptance...okay, i'll have a few little pimples once a month for the rest of my days. I can handle that.

Then this month, out of nowhere, blemishes blemishes everywhere! I feel like I'm stuck in a Judy Blume book.

Sweet Angel of Heaven and Light

Such is my new volunteer at work. I literally had reached the end of my rope trying to serve birthparents and prospective adoptive parents, provide outreach, plan a tennis tournament, and coordinate a booth and sports team for an upcoming event that we have.

Oh, yeah, and somewhere in there, I was supposed to be a wife, sister, daughter, friend, and Sunday School teacher. In short, on Monday, after a poor showing at an event for my organization (feeling like a complete loser), I was in hysterical tears and getting ready to just call it quits the next day.

Then, out of the blessed blue, a woman from a local corporation called and said that she had been researching area organizations to volunteer with, and she wanted to volunteer for ours. Her skills are organization and planning, how can she help? I almost broke out into (happy) tears. She has taken all the players' prizes and goody bags for the tennis tournament off my plate. Hooray, hoorah for my new volunteer, purveyor of many things good and pure!

bad dog part infinity

And he did it again today. 20 minutes by himself. There he was, perfectly non-plussed on the pillows. Sigh...if he weren't so cute...

Random thing that happened the other day. Have you ever wondered why more people don't get hit with dead birds falling out of the sky? Well, I have. And I needn't wonder any longer. I was driving along the highway at 70 mph, and THUNK, a bird falls out of the air (not flew into my car, mind you, it came straight down) and onto my (newly washed) car.

Needless to say, it was not a pretty picture. There were fluids. Oh, yes, there were fluids. Sweet, sweet husband was following me in his car, and when I called him in a slight panic over said bird, he offered to switch cars with me and get it washed. I took him up on it, and I am so glad I did because...well...I actually don't want to talk further about the fluids. Let's just say that this must have been a massive bird from (a) the THUNK and (b) I'm not even going to say it.

Bad Dog part...what is this part 5?

So I was working away in my ol' home office this morning, and I realized that things were a little too quiet upstairs, so I headed up to see what Santino Bambino was up to. I was expecting him to be curled up on his doggy bed or sprawled out on a sunspot on the tile, but no. No, my 85 pound lab "mix" (light on the lab, heavy on the mix) was just happy as a clam sitting on the sofa. He is SO not allowed on the furniture.

So I stared at him with a look of shock thinking, "surely he'll jump down now that he sees me." No. He CLOSES HIS EYES to continue his nap. So I walk over to the sofa and say, "Sunny, down." No response. He finally got down with a "Down!" and a finger pointing.

At that point, he knew he was in trouble, and his tail was tucked down so far it looked like a soup ladle, so I gave him a little pat on the head and explained in the sweetest terms possible that he is an extremely untrustworthy dog and this is why he isn't allowed free reign of the house while no one's here.

I'm not sure but I think he was whispering doggy expletives under his breath at me.

Not so eagle eyes

Well, I've always prided myself on my excellent long-range vision, but i sincerely missed the mark on this one. Bill and I drove to Dallas for the weekend (it was really just one day, but we both desperately needed to get away from the area and recharge the ol' batteries).

So anyway, as we're driving through the deeps of South Oklahoma, I got all excited because I realized we were going to pass the "Penn & Teller" casino. The last time I was driving through Oklahoma (with Shelli, Justin, and my little sis Sara), I saw this sign from a distance, and thought it was Penn & Teller. They all thought I was crazy, but Bill saw the resemblence from a distance. Of course, he is also in need of LASIK. So let's take a vote. Am I crazy/blind OR do the Chief and Vice Chief of the Choctaw tribe look a smidge like Penn & Teller? (Actually, upon closer inspection, I think that the Vice Chief looks like John Candy.

Imagine it from a distance...maybe squint your eyes a little.

Presumptive Conversation Starter

Which Rod Stewart song do you least loathe?

bad me

I got off the phone with Bill about 20 minutes ago. He has to go to happy hour with his work associates. I said I would stay home and clean the house and pack for a little weekend getaway we're going on.

Then Shelli called to see if I wanted to go out for Mexican food and margaritas.

Yes, please.

clean, shmean. pack, shmack.

letdown

I always have a big letdown the weekend before the Olympics end because I realize that it's half over. I'm excited to have two of my girlfriends over on Saturday for a fun girls' night, so I think that will take some of the sting off. :)

I'm fairly pleased at how these Olympics are shaping up. Underdog Ligety (just fun to say!) getting the gold. That punk Johnny Weir getting the boot from the medal stand (if I had to see his smug little look of disdain one more time, I was going to hurl a shoe at the T.V.). Cutie Emily Hughes getting to compete, and all the Kwan drama (or "Kwama" as I like to call it) finally being over. And yummy "Cucina" vignettes every morning on the Today show. Today, it was about cheese.

The one problem that I've had with these Olympics is a horrible inability to stay awake. I missed Plushenko's "Godfather" free program last night because I couldn't keep my eyes open past 8:30. Very disappointed! The two nights before, I kept dozing off as well. It's like I just completely lose the ability to will my body to stay in an upright position starting at 8:15, and from there, it's over. Plus, Bill keeps bringing me my green snuggly blanket, and how am I supposed to stay awake wrapped in the green snuggly blanket???

Ahh, sweet Olympics

That's right. I'm officially addicted to the Olympics. And so I give you: my favorite Olympic athletes (most are from the Winter games because I don't get into the Summer ones as much, and you'll probably notice something of a skating motif):

1.) Paul Wylie (Albertville, 1992)--I sigh just thinking about him. His JFK routine and Miss Saigon routines still set my heart a twitter. Silver medalist, but always gold in my heart.

2.) Ekaterina Gordeyeva and Sergei Grinkov (Calgary-Lillehammer)--Followed them from her being a flirtatious little teen through their marriage and his death. I have no other words for their final Olympic performance other than "breathtaking."

3.) Dan Jansen (Calgary, 1988; Albertville, 1992; Lillehammer, 1994)--From underdog to triumph, I followed him the whole way. I remember hearing his story: his sister died the day he was to compete in Calgary and he was obviously overcome with grief when he was skating, then he had a slight bobble in Albertville costing him the podium, in Lillehammer, he had a small mistake in his best event and thought that he was out. But he went on to win in his next event where he was a long shot, setting a new world record at the same time! Wow. And apparently, he's a nice guy to boot.

4.) Midori Ito (Calgary, 1988; Albertville, 1992)--Who? Ah, my sweet little Midori. I actually don't remember her from Calgary, but what drama in Albertville! Here are the juicy details:
At the Olympics, during final practice at the Olympic rink, Surya Bonaly peformed an illegal back-flip right beside a startled Midori, disrupting her practice and possibly causing her to miss her next jump. This drew the wrath of Katarina Witt who accused Bonaly of "almost cheating." ISU officials forbade Bonaly from doing anymore back-flips during practice. Midori and her coach decided to replace the triple Axel combination with an easier triple Lutz combination. Her coach said she had never seen Midori fall on this jump. However, during the short program, she did fall on the Lutz, placing her in fourth. In the long program she fell on her first triple Axel, landed her second (the first landed by a woman at an Olympics). She ended up winning the Silver Medal. Even though she won the Silver and the team coach, Noriko Shirota, told her she didn't have to be sorry, she publicly apologized to her country for not winning the Gold.

And she's just the sweetest little thing you ever saw. I remember in her exhibitions, she put together this montage of "rain" songs (singin' in the rain, somewhere over the rainbow, etc.) and was just so...SWEET about it. Contrast that with Michelle Kwan's tearful little fit in '98 and skating to Fields of Gold (stealing Sarah Hughes limelight) at the '02 exhibitions. Oh, and Surya Bonaly is mean and her back-flips were ugly anyway.

5.) Torville & Dean (Sarajevo, 1984; Lillehammer, 1994)--I love their Bolero routine, and that is some kind of moxie returning to the Olympics after 10 years. Plus, let's face it, Great Britain isn't exactly swimming in skating glory through anybody else. Hip Hip Huzzah for them.

Biger

Creepiness, thou hast a name, and they name is "Biger".

For those of you who I do not frequently chat with in the "real world", Biger is the newest addition to our family. And apparently, he is not actually Biger, but rather Biger II. Biger I was accidentally dropped out of a moving vehicle in Atlanta traffic circa 1980.

No, Biger II is my husband's much-loved (replacement) stuffed tiger from when he was a child. Biger is much like the Velveteen Rabbit only uglier. He has a crooked nose, and one set of his whiskers goes up and the other goes down. Biger came home with us after Christmas along with Bill's other childhood memoribilia (comic books, drum major hat & trumpet, a few books). Bill's mom was loathe to part with Biger as (a) he reminds her of Bill's childhood (back when Bill was "Billy") and (b) I think she wanted to use him to decorate Bill's nephew's room (she calls it the "grandchildren's room" to seem equitable, but there is only one grandchild).

Biger creeps me out. It is partly my own fault. On the drive home from Atlanta after Christmas, to keep myself entertained I gave him a creepy voice and would perch him on Bill's shoulder and say, "Billy, if you love me you'll kill your family and I'll have you all to myself...Billy!" Bill did not especially appreciate me giving his favorite childhood toy a creepy stalker personality.

Then when we got home, Sunny thought Biger was a new toy and I found him happily chewing on one of Biger's legs. Biger now leaves little pellets wherever he goes. And since I turned Biger into a creepy stalker, Bill now has him follow me around the house--sitting on my pillow when I come to bed, hiding in my underwear drawer when I'm getting ready in the morning.

Creepy.

the big rebuke

it's official...i've gotten the big rebuke from my friend melissa for not writing in my blog.

in my defense, work has reached new heights of crazy busy-ness. i've been working a bunch of 10-12 hour days and i've worked the past 3 saturdays, so, quite frankly, the last thing i want to do when i get home is turn the computer back on.

which is unfortunate as i've had many interesting and fun observations with such hecticity going on around me, but now they're all forgotten.

oh, this is fun...bill and i got a kayak. it's actually more a cross between a canoe and a kayak, so it's kind of a canayak. or a kayoe. bill insisted on taking it out on our lake last weekend in the chilly cold, and he intends to take it out again this weekend in the frigid cold. i am looking forward to the boating...IN THE SUMMER. where it belongs. but i respect and support his boating. when i didn't know how steady the boat was and was worrying about him falling in all weekend, my little sister sara tried to comfort me by saying that studies have shown that people who participate in icy polar-bear swims have no ill effects, and if anything, there is a positive effect on the heart as it gets the blood pumping. unfortunately, it didn't make me feel much better as i envisioned my husband plummeting to the depths of the murky cold water. but it IS a very steady boat, and it's brought him a lot of joy, so que sera sera.

bizarro day

Yesterday was so odd...in a good way. Somedays, I just need to take a little step out of the ordinary.

Bill and I decided to go watch Walk the Line at the local (small, old, decrepit, but cheap! movie theater). Bill got in line, bought tickets to the "Walk the Line 4:00 showing". I put that in quotes as that is exactly what he said. Then, bought an overpriced Coke, took ticket to the stub guy who proceeded to say, "That movie's to your left, and oh, yeah, they changed the 4:00 show to Rumor Has It." Thought I misheard him and said, "No, we just bought this ticket, and it is to the 4:00 showing of Walk the Line." He looks through some papers, and indeed they have just arbitrarily changed one showing to Rumor Has It. Well, rumor has it that I have no desire to watch that movie, so we asked for our money back and left. To top the bizarreness of it, absolutely NO ONE was apologetic. They kept looking at us as if we were crazy/demented/picky because we didn't want to sit through a romantic comedy that has gotten consistently awful reviews rather than the movie we had JUST PURCHASED TICKETS to watch, a delightful biopic of the life of Johnny Cash. Bizarre, bizarre!

So left said movie theater and entered into a rousing round of "Waddya wanna do? I don't know. Wadda YOU wanna do?"

Then, Bill remembered interesting news story I had seen about local turn of the century town, Monte Ne, that was submerged under water in the 1940's when man-made lake was created, and due to the very low water levels because of recent drought, the ruins of this city are now visible and you can go look at them. But will only be visible for short amount of time as water levels will inevitably rise and cover these ruins.

They made it sound like Atlantis!!

So we hop into the car and drive in general direction of where ruins would probably be. After much wandering around, finally find it (actually in most obvious place, just past current sad, sad town of Monte Ne). Bizarre, bizarre!!!

Floods of people were there. There must have been at least 100 cars. I expected to see a couple people, mostly elderly (who could remember initial existence of town) but instead it was mostly teenagers, young hip college students, and families. Half the people were pointing excitedly to a truck submerged in mud (couldn't have been more than 20 year-old model and not rusty at all, so perhaps just recently swallowed up by mud??) Rest of people were walking around and looking and pointing to old stone hotel. In news story, they had filmed it from quite a distance so it looked like a stately old Victorian hotel. The structure in front of my eyes, though, was covered in years upon years worth of vulgar graffiti, and teenage boys were guffawing and taking their picture next to the building, pointing at different savory phrases and making vulgar remarks.

From a distance, I saw some sort of interesting stone monument that had presumably actually been underwater, but at that point, Bill was too weirded out by whole situation and asked to leave.

On the way home, he said, "Walked the Golden Gate Bridge, Stood at the feet of the Statue of Liberty, Touched the Ruins of Monte Ne", and I got very sad and said, "All I've ever done is touch the ruins of Monte Ne." To which he replied, "We'll go to New York sometime...although I don't think you can actually go right up to the Statue of Liberty anymore, and I don't think you'd want to walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. It sways a lot and it would probably be scary for you."

So poop on that. Maybe my husband will take me to Atlantis in the Bahamas for our 10 year anniversary.

hot diggity dog

I had one of those nights last night in which I had very vivid dreams (not unusual) and remembered almost all of them upon waking (rather unusual) because I had been kicked awake so frequently during the night by my dog who was allowed to sleep on top of our bed as a treat (highly unusual). The reason he was allowed to sleep on top of the bed was because he got scared by the thunderstorm and consequently peed behind the couch. Bill and I then yelled at him very loudly and put him in his cage, and when I let him out of said cage to go to the bathroom one more time before bed, he was very sulky and sullen, so Bill decided to let him sleep on top of our bed to reassure him of our love. Of course, Bill wasn't the one that he was intermittently nuzzling up against and kicking the entire night, was he?

But to be honest, I wasn't feeling very loving towards that dog, having just spent half an hour soaking up Lake Urine.

I have also resolved to not read In Touch Weekly before bed. One of my dreams was that I was at the doctor's office and received terrible news, and I wanted Bill to comfort me, but he was on the other side of a big glass window so I could see him but not the other way around. Finally, he saw me and motioned that he was going to come in to the room, but then he turned into Nick Lachey and left to go watch a sports game. Very upsetting.


Interesting fact about me: I was the 9th grade typing champion of our school and in 10th grade, I placed 2nd in the state competition. I peaked in ninth grade typing 120 words per minute. Sometimes, when I get bored in a movie, I mentally type out the script in my mind as they're talking. But I've never learned 10 key.

mea culpa

Okay, first off, I am ever so sorry for staying away for so long. First Christmas. Then New Year's. And sick with yucky upper-respiratory junk the whole time.

Still have the upper-respiratory junk. I keep wondering, "HOW can this still be coming out of me?? How? How?"

Bill and I have recently put together an official household budget (something that was done informally since we got married but needed to be solidified so I didn't feel like I was nailing jell-o to the wall everytime I went to Wal-Mart). The thing that has been so shocking is how many "mandatory" expenses we have. When did everything that is closely remoted to our lives start having to be insured? Why is basic cable so expensive? How can we eat out THAT much in a month?

I know that in a few months, it will feel old-hat and normal, but right now, I am secretly trying to cut back in small ways hoping that they'll add up to an extra mortgage payment between now and the end of the year...turn off all the lights behind me when I leave a room (even if Bill's still in it), feed Sunny a half-packet less a day (he is extremely portly and it probably should be done anyway), and freezing chicken in 3 separate freezer baggies so we won't be tempted to use the whole package in one sitting for just the two of us.

ho ho ho

Christmas cannot come quickly enough this year. I don't know why, but I am just counting down the seconds! Really, I am probably counting down the seconds every year, but I just forget year to year what the wait is like.

I have discovered that you can make just about any adjective into a humorous nickname by following this formula:

_________y Mc________ster.

Example from last night:
I don't want to be a Judgey McJudgester, but keep your teenage kids quiet in the movie theater while I'm trying to enjoy the Chronicles of Narnia.

Example from right now:
Ughh, Sunny! You smell awful, Stinky McStinkster! (He just hasn't been smelling frishy-fresh lately at all.)

Especially funny if you add "Mr. or Miss" to the beginning. (i.e. Sunny's official title is Mr. Stinky McStinkster)


Go ahead, give it a try! It's fun!

need help

I work for a non-profit adoption agency. In an ongoing effort to keep fees down, serve more kids, etc., I am in the process of organizing a tennis tournament.

But here's the thing. Not that many people play tennis. The tournament's been around for 10 years, so it practically runs itself, but I want to add a non-tennis component this year. Here is what I have so far:

1. a catchy name: "Raise a Racquet! (even if you never have)"

2. it needs to be a side event specifically for NON-tennis players (i.e. me and most of the people I know who are like me--want to help birthparents but can't swing a racquet to save their life)

3. a general set-up idea, somewhat like a race sponsorship (different people pledge to sponsor you, and when you raise $x, you get a free shirt or whatever). If you are familiar with the Komen Race for the Cure, it will be like that, only like their "Sleep in for the Cure" for non-runner/walkers.

Here is what I lack:
1. what activity should it be? or perhaps not an activity, but a commitment that on the day of the tournament, you will NOT pick up a tennis racquet, but will instead spend the day with your family...something like that.

2. time to organize it.

3. a bank or large corporation that would like to sponsor said event.


Help!!! I need ideas! You're a creative lot, I know you are.

bad sushi

In case the title is not "enough said."

Mistake #1: I bought it at the mall

Mistake #2: My first thought was "a California roll's not supposed to be sweet."

Mistake #3: After third piece, I thought, "This does not taste good to me. I should stop eating it." But I didn't.

Mistake #4: The third to last piece, I realized that there was mayonaise in it, yet I kept eating. (Please, Lord, let it have been mayo and not something worse.)

Mistake #5: A half hour later, I still have the yucky taste in my mouth, yet I haven't run upstairs to wash my mouth out with something trustworthy, say, a vanilla coke (soon to be discontinued, by the way).


I had nothing else to eat for lunch and I was very hungry. Now, I'm just experiencing some gastro-intestinal distress and regret. To quote Earl's ex-mother-in-law from last night's, "My Name is Earl": Don't you judge me!!

not so bad a doggy mother

Well, Sunny seems to be fine now. On Saturday, Bill got up early to take him to the vet just in case, but he was jumping around so much in the car that Bill realized that (a) if he was only minorly injured, the car ride would probably just make it worse, (b) if he was only minorly injured, the $120 vet and x-ray bill would make BILL feel worse, and (c) Sunny truly wasn't limping as bad.

And now the limp is gone. The only thing I did to help it heal was attempt to keep Sunny from running around on it. Maybe that's all he needed.

I was beginning to fear that I would be a horrible mother after our recent visit to our friends in CO. It was one of those "3 strikes, you're out" weekends.

Strike 1: Bill and I were watching the youngest and middle child, and in a moment of kid chaos (there were 8 or so other kids there as well) their 18 month-old started climbing up the (rather tall) slide on his own...and might I say he was doing a fabulous job of it.

Strike 2: Bill and I were watching the oldest and middle child during dinner at a Mongolian grill, and we miscommunicated about who was picking up the middle child's plate. She just sat right on down without it and went half of dinner before anyone realized she didn't have food.

Strike 3: (at this point, it was a joke) Sitting in back of car with youngest child, he strips off his shoes and socks and we all had to wait for me to put them back on when we got to destination. V. minor.

Oh, yeah, and Strike 4: Bill almost left youngest child in his car seat at one point.


Good lessons learned, though. Communication is KEY in taking care of children.

Who is watching youngest child like a hawk?
Who is making sure middle child gets fed?
Who is triple tying children's shoes so they can't be removed?
Who is making sure all children are accounted for?


And I felt a bit better after eating dinner with two seemingly great parents last night when I realized (after it had just happened) that the little 11 month old ingested one of her mom's earring backs while the mother was holding her. It can happen to the best of us.

bad doggy mother

Well, it's official...I am a bad doggy mother.

Bill and I got back from CO on late Monday night, and I went to go pick up Sunny at the dog farm on Tuesday after work. He was exceedingly happy to see me even though it's a fabulous place with radiant floor heating, large indoor/outdoor runs, and daily playtime. But he just seemed out of sorts when he got home. Not unusual. He gets in a huff when he he has to be away from home.

Wednesday...still out of sorts, but I was working from home, so he pretty much just laid around. I thought, "oh, how sweet. He's just exhausted from his stay at the dog farm."

Thursday...still out of sorts. "Is he sick? Is it just the colder weather??"

Thursday night, right before bedtime...I realize he's limping. That's right! It took me 2 days to realize that my dog is strongly favoring one of his back legs.

And that's where I am right now--I'm just observing him (not much to observe as he's just laid around most of the day today). If he isn't doing better by Monday, he'll take a trip to the vet.

I don't think that it's broken because he's still able to run on it, jump up and stand on just his back legs, and get up and down the stairs and bend it somewhat. But maybe it's a stress fracture? Or just a sprain or strain? Should I put ice on it or try to keep him from running around and going up and down the stairs? I don't know anything about dog physiology...can anyone help??

ouch.

Bill and I went to Colorado to celebrate Thanksgiving with some close family friends and their 3 kiddos. (By the very grace of God we managed to get back with all those blizzard conditions surrounding the state, but that is a completely different tale).

A fun time was had by all, and we spent a good amount of time with various families and individuals from their church. It's a very young church, composed almost exclusively of college students, young single adults, young married couples, and young married couples with children. Lots and lots of children. One night, there was a big get-together, and it was all families with young children, ranging from a couple with 1 baby to a family with 5 kids. They were all very friendly and nice, but the dad of 5 made a comment that really got to me. He said, "Boy, spending the evening here with 12 children running around must be great birth control for you."

Now, I know he meant it as a joke, but here is the information that he had about my husband and I:

We're a young couple in our late 20's/early 30's.
We're friends with young couples who have children (i.e. the friends we were with).

He didn't know if we were trying to get pregnant or for how long we may have been trying to get pregnant or if we already knew of an inability to get pregnant or, well, anything past us being a young couple who does not currently have children but likes them well enough to travel halfway across the country to see our friends and their kids.

And the fact is that, no, we are not struggling with infertility. But I just get sick of the, "you want kids? here take mine!" comments that I hear. People assume fertility--their own and others. I guess that in the field of adoption in which I work, I usually just assume infertility.

Anyway, the family of 7 was a very nice family, and I know that he just made automatic assumptions, but it was a good reminder to me to mind my tongue.

Much like when I accidentally yelled "CRAP!" while playing a game with all their kids in the next room. I felt horrible, but at least Bill lightened the mood by fake-gasping and saying, "That's not a word we say in this house!"

I probably do need to work a little on getting rid of my vulgar exclamations before we do start thinking about having kids. But again, that's neither here nor there.

Saga of the XBox

Okay, so let me start by saying that, contrary to Ellen's blog entry from two days ago, neither I nor my husband are crazy or obsessed with video games. I like to play tetris, and he plays the occasional round of Tiger Woods golf or snowboarding race. BUT we are going to see his best friend from college and his family over Thanksgiving (whom I haven't seen in over a year), and Bill wanted to be able to play the XBox with him. So Bill sold back his PS2 and all the games and accessories to buy the XBox, believing Microsoft that it would be the best system ever...more on that later.

He drove to the nearest Wal-Mart, and the line was already 3 rows long, so he said, "forget that" and drove up to the next nearest Wal-Mart about half an hour away. The line there was much shorter, and the person standing in front of him said, "Hey! If they have the number of XBoxes available that they said they would, you'll get the last one!" Neat.

What was NOT neat was the horrible, horrible woman at the front of the line who brought along all her (many) children and her sister and her (many) children to each "buy" their own XBox. The manager informed the woman that Wal-Mart was allowing one XBox per household, and she started yelling at him and throwing a fit about how she would sue them for "age discrimination". (She's lucky I wasn't there because I would have called Child Protective Services about her having her 6 & 7 year-olds in Wal-Mart until 1:00 a.m. on a school night and using them as slave labor to buy XBoxes that she was almost certainly going to scalp on E-Bay.)

Long story short, Bill did indeed get his XBox. The people in front of him were counting the horrible, horrible woman and her 9 children/nieces/nephews. Brought it home, excited as can be. Woo-hoo! Opens it up last night, gets everything plugged in and put together...

And it sucks.

No way around it. It's jerky and slow and, yes, the graphics are good, but the only games that it ran well were the "tetris" like games (that I thoroughly enjoyed).

So to make a long story longer, Bill packed it up, took it back to Wal-Mart, and we'll buy a new stereo receiver with that $$$ because ours is shot. I'm sad that he sold back his PS2, but he said that he'll just wait for the PS3 to come out and get that. Probably won't be waiting in any lines, though. And some kid will get an XBox for Christmas that wouldn't have otherwise.

Bill Gates releasing an inferior product to get quick, easy sales over Christmas? NO! Surely not!!

Wal-Mart Trivia Answer

The answer is: PLUNGERS!

Isn't that gross?

Wal-Mart Trivia

What is the #1 selling item in Wal-Mart's Hardware dept. the day after Thanksgiving? (Answer tomorrow)

Shelli's question revisited

So Shelli asked this question on her blog a couple days ago, and I asked it on my blog a few months ago (fyi: I received more comments on this post than any other post, EVER--albeit most of the comments were between my sister Ellen and our friend Melissa about the ABBA CD that Ellen had stolen). So I pose this question yet again (the only thing changed is that now we've been married over a year):

So here’s the question of the day (and maybe this will inspire some comments): how do you know it’s the right time to start trying to have children? Notice I do not say “the right time to get pregnant”. I work in the adoption field. I know that when you start trying and when a baby shows up are often two VERY different times. It boggles my mind when women think they can choose the month they want their baby born in…of course, some fertile myrtles can.

My husband and I have been married for almost a year, and I’m constantly haunted (as most women in America are) by the TIME article a few years ago with the depressing nose-dive fertility/age chart. We’re financially stable, healthy, love kids, blah, blah, blah. And then there’s the cons—only time in our life to be carefree, big chunk of disposable income, time away from each other, blah, blah, blah. So I guess my question is, “how do you know when the scales have tipped?” Is it an earth-shattering moment? A quiet peace? Of course, there’s the couples that have oopsies and God answers the question for them. And then, there are the delusional/stupid on pregnancy boards: “my fiancé and I have started trying…does anyone know of a good empire waist wedding dress company?”

And granted, I am surrounded ALL THE TIME by babies and baby-related topics. Tends to color my thinking light pink and baby blue, but I don't consider myself to be baby crazy. So just curious…how did you know?

man in black, part II

I'm not normally a midnight blogger (heck, i'm not normally an anytime blogger), but I feel compelled to write about the movie I've just seen...Walk the Line.

Without going too much into the performances, can I just say, if Joaquin Phoenix does not bring home an Oscar, he was robbed. No ifs, ands, or buts. Okay, enough about my boyfriend (as Bill likes to refer to him).

Johnny Cash did some horrible things, horrible. But I love that through his entire life, God had a hold of him, whether he knew it or not. And then, God used him to do some great things, with a great woman by his side.

Plus, I never thought that a drug de-tox scene could make me laugh, but this one did.

Okay, enough "reviews by Karen". Tomorrow...Harry Potter!

OOOOOOOOOO-Klahoma...Wal-mart version

sung to the tune of "the farmer and the cowman can be friends" from OKLAHOMA:

Oh, the buyer & the vendor can be friends
Oh, the buyer & the vendor can be friends
Buyer gets the low, low price!
Vendor gets it in the arse!
The buyer & the vendor can be friends...

I'd like to say a word for the buyer...
He works for Wal-Mart, they're a hard employer
Whenever someone sneezes on their property...
They have to call out all their corporate lawyers!

(chorus)

I'd like to say a word for the vendor...
He had to move to Arkansas from Jersey
But that doesn't excuse this horrible action:
In his Hum-vee, he's a complete turdy!

(rousing round of the chorus)

The Princess & The Pea

Well, Ellen's post started me thinking about sleep habits: the good, the bad, and the weird.

I would fall under the weird category. As my husband, family, and past roommates can attest, I have some very odd sleep habits. Namely, hypnagogic hallucinations. For a long time, I thought that I was just crazy, and then I had a professor in college who specialized in sleep-related disorders. After taking half the semester to work up the nerve to go into her office and ask about it, I found out that I wasn't crazy, probably just chronically sleep-deprived. Basically, if I go a certain amount of time without enough REM (dream) sleep, my body goes, "WHOAAA! Just who do you think you are, Karen? I will tell YOU when REM sleep is needed." And then my brain triggers the rapid eye movements before my body is in a deep sleep state. So what happens? I open up my eyes and see a gigantic spider on my hand and act accordingly: jumping up, turning on the light, and yelling at my (very bewildered) husband. (This exact thing happened two nights ago).

It was scary hearing that prof describe my symptoms perfectly. I actually have it easy--a lot of people see mostly human intruders in their HHs. I've only had that happen once or twice.

I've seen it all...some of my favorites: a spinning coke bottle cap (not so much scary as fascinating for a full 2 minutes), my sister's cat perched on the top of the door, more rodents and snakes than I care to remember (and one occurence resulting in my knee split open and a resolution to never again sleep on a bunk bed). The first one I remember was a wrought iron chair dangling precariously above my bed. My parents must have thought I was insane when I ran into their room to describe said wrought iron chair in the middle of the night. I went through a short time when most of my hallucinations were auditory, sounded like a train going through my room, but I thankfully have not had one of those in a few years.

And Bill found out the hard way that arguing with me about the HHs was the WRONG method of dealing with me in that particular state. He has also learned to trust me when I say that I am not to sleep with any scissors or other sharp instruments next to the bed.

To my defense, I once woke up with a cricket in my mouth. That one wasn't a hallucination. An actual cricket. In my mouth.

So...what are your sleep quirks?

Tightwad

I'm the saver. Bill's the spender. Neither of us is over-the-top extreme in these areas, save in one.

Soap.

Bill does not like to use soap slivers. Not even just when it gets down to tiny, tiny soap slivers. He doesn't like using the soap once it's not a hearty bar. I, on the other hand, was raised on the slivers. I learned the art of pressing slivers together with my fist to make a new "bar" (sort of). So, lo and behold, it became a sliver of an issue when we first got married.

The compromise?

Bill replaces the soap bar whenever he dang well pleases, but he puts the sliver in a little tupperware dish for me. I save up the slivers and melt them to make a new bar. I do not, under any circumstances, force him to use the reconstituted soap (or watch Jane Austen movies, but that is neither here nor there...that's just a vow I made for myself before I ever met him...learned from my father--never make a man watch Jane Austen movies, too cruel.)

Dog Mommy

It's official...I have a "dog-child". So I give you...

Top 10 Things I Never Thought I'd be saying about my Dog:
1. His favorite snacks are cheese and vanilla wafers...to the point that we have to spell "c-h-e-e-s-e" rather than say it because he gets so excited.

2. I have to clean out his eye gunk every few days.

3. He has learned to go get his favorite toy out of the basket and one time, he even put it back (accidentally, I think).

4. He snores when he's very, very tired and I think it's one of the cutest sounds in the world.

5. When he wants to play, he goes to Bill. When he wants to be petted, he comes to me (I just never thought he'd be coming to me for anything--he was very attached to Bill when we got married, and I always thought he was secretly thinking, "So that was fun. When is she going home, dad?")

6. He believes the garbage men are his mortal enemies.

7. The last three walks I have taken him on, I have received compliments on his looks. (He was the saddest, skinniest, mangiest little thing when he came home from the shelter, so I take extra joy in hearing this.)

8. I'm happy when he pees in his bed out in his "doggy corral" in the garage because it means I've beat the system. I put puppy pads beneath the top sheet, so he just pees on the sheet, I take out the pad, and wash the sheet.

9. I have become an expert on getting pee out of just about every material known to man.

10. I worry that he doesn't have a friend to play with.


And there you have it.

christmas comes but twice a year...

well, the juicer is here ( my christmas present), and it's not quite what i was expecting.

IT'S BETTER!!

so i wanted a glass of fresh orange juice this morning...what to do? what to do? oh, i don't know, maybe toss three whole oranges in and have a glass of fresh, fresh o.j. 2 minutes later!

the one thing about juicing is if it's been a while since you've put anything healthy into your body (and i mean anything...i ate a hostess cupcake for breakfast the other morning), it's a bit of shell shock to your body.

i just ingested more nutrients with that one glass of orange juice than i've probably had all month, not counting vitamins.

tonight...pear & sweet potato juice. scoff if you will! it's actually very good. and you don't get much healthier than raw sweet potatoes.

los pantalones cranky

Again with the crankiness. I can't really say that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed because I couldn't sleep all night. There was no waking up for there was no sleep to wake from. Bad sinus night, so I took a Rx strength Sudafed. I was wired...and still in pain. Those 40% surgery chances are starting to look better and better.

So what was running through my mind while I was hepped up on the Sudie, you ask?

1) thoughts about my new juicer that is coming for Christmas...a complete splurge. A Breville 850XL Elite model. It's like I've been driving a Pinto with my old Juiceman Jr. and I'm upgrading to a Porsche. My little J. Jr. works, but it would take me a whole night sometimes just to make 4 or 5 glasses of juice. The Breville's supposed to pump out 16 oz. in one minute. Juices 3 carrots at a time...or a whole apple. Those of you who don't juice are just shaking your heads right now. Different juice combination possibilities...do grapes juice well?

2)Where am I going to find a permanent baby gate for the top of our stairs? Important for small visiting children and quickly approaching need to winterize dog.

3) What businesses should I approach about sponsoring upcoming tennis tournament, bane of my existence?

4) am I starting to feel sleepy yet? No. Now? No. Maybe now? No.

5) Should I take an Excedrin? Will kill the pain but then there's no way I'll fall asleep. Perhaps tomorrow I should go buy Mucinex before going to office before leaving for H.S. talk with students who will surely be surly and snotty to me (FYI, they were actually fairly nice but I just get very, very, very nervous talking in front of large groups of teenagers).

6) then I thought about the juicer some more.

One of Those Mornings

At around 2:00 this afternoon, I realized that my underwear was on inside-out. Yep. One of those mornings.

as my husband would say...

Bill has such a good way with words. I was thinking about that this morning, for some reason. Example: if an actor/actress is in a movie that they don't seem to be trying too hard at or is a typical role for them, he says, "Well, _________ called that one in." (i.e. Nicolas Cage playing a dodgy yet affable reformed/ready to be reformed everyman in a big budget action/thriller or Drew Barrymore portraying a likeable, slightly brainy yet able to let down her hair gal who needs to be won over by her love interest in a romantic comedy)

It does not necessarily mean that the movie is bad, but usually, it's only so-so or "ehh" (or, again, as my husband would say, "I wouldn't kick that movie out of bed" or "Not exactly one to write home to mom about.") He's quick on his feet and does great presentations.

I, on the other hand, am horrible with words (verbally--I prefer to type out everything if at all possible). I have a horrible habit in conversations of simply stopping my sentence in the middle if I become bored with the thought or frustrated with my inability to get the thought out there. And sometimes, it's because I accidentally end the word with "but" or "and" when I mean to just stop talking. I try to cover for myself by waving my hand in a nonchalant manner as if the end of the sentence is too obvious to actually say, but in reality, I'm thinking four-letter words as I kick myself internally waiting for the inevitable response of "Oh, go ahead, finish your thought." I then have to either (a) admit "No, that was it. I accidentally ended the sentence with 'but'" or (b) come up with something out of my heiny. I usually opt for (b) and regret it.

Why can't my mouth have a backspace button?

Karen and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (but getting better)

Sunny woke me up at 3:45 followed by my hubby's alarm at 4:15. I had to get up at 5:15 myself, so I wasn't able to get back to sleep at any point.

I woke up with a stomachache. Not an "oh, my tummy hurts", it was an "I'm keeled over and my body has decided to (as my friend Rachel would say) release its contents". (Rachel feels this is a nice way to leave the subject of how the contents left ones body alone.)

When I finally stuffed my body with enough tummy medicine to make it through the day, I started driving (hit traffic, of course), and burst into tears when a song that I liked from the 90's came on the CD player. Still crying...still crying. Why so emotional? Why, why, why? Then I remembered...I've been dreading this day since the month began...the 10 year anniversary of the day one of my dear friends died. Then the date was seemingly plastered all over everything I encountered, e-mails, newspapers, etc. OCTOBER 12TH.

Just when I thought about hopping right back into my car and going back home to burrow in my bed, I got a welcome surprise. Bill came to visit me at my office. He just held me for a few minutes and let me cry and say that it sucks that no one in my life now knew my friend and cry a little more.

Then my day got better. I ate graham crackers all day and sipped coke. Bill sent me an article about LOST theories. I marveled at how much my life has changed in 10 years as I picked up the dry cleaning and flipped through files that need to be worked on.

And on the drive home, I listened to the same song and laughed because (a) my friend would, in fact, have hated the song and made fun of it in a most sarcastic manner and (b) that's what he would have wanted me to do today...not cry.

Assignment

Well, courtesy of Ellen's blog, I have been tagged, Here goes:

10 Years ago:
Yucky painful. One of my closest friends (and huge crush) was about to die in a car crash. The crash happened 10 years ago tomorrow. The death 10 years ago Wednesday, and yes, I still think about him. And it.

5 years ago:
I had just started grad school and was stewing in one of the two worst jobs I've ever had...at the Stein.

1 year ago:
It was the week before I got married. I was fretting because my deadbeat sister put off her dress fitting until the last minutes. :)

Yesterday:
skipped church because the whole "searching for a home church" is exhausting, went to the mall with my hubby, sisters, bro-in-law, and niece, spilled coke on niece, bought her a spanky new outfit (secret ploy to get her in the trends), ran into friends jaime & jason, came home, did yardwork, fed the ducks in our lake, sat out on patio and watched the sunset. and then, erm, went to bed.

5 snacks I enjoy:
-calamata olive and cheese on crackers
-reeses peanut butter cups
-graham crackers
-cheese popcorn
-ice cream milk

5 songs I know every word to:
-"Phantom of the Opera"
-"Sometimes by Step"
-"Message in a Bottle"-by the Police--we used to sing it in music class
-theme song from Greatest American Hero
-"Dust in the Wind"

5 things I'd do with 1 million dollars:
-Invest
-Give a matching gift to the organization I work for because people like to give when it's match...like you're giving twice as much
-Save a bunch
-Start a Disney fund to go to D-world every year
-Pay off the morgage

5 places I'd run to:
-the top of Pike's Peak
-around and around the backyard with Sunny
-Bill's side of the bed to snuggle...then return to my side to sleep
-under my fuzzy green blanket
-a little birdhouse in my soul

5 things I'd never wear:
-a jean jacket with jeans
-spandex
-high top sneakers
-a thong
-socks with sticky-outy seams

5 favorite TV shows:
-Lost
-Friends
-Sex and the City (TBS version)
-Celebrity Poker
-SNL

5 Biggest Joys:
-the 3 minutes before I fall asleep when I twitch involuntarily and Bill knows it's time to push me over to my side of the bed so I can fall asleep
-singing loudly in the car when I'm alone
-coffee with friends
-my box'o'fun
-the "whoosh" in my soul that God puts there for seemingly inexplicable reasons sometimes.

5 favorite toys:
-front-loading washer & dryer
-pogo ball
-DDR dance mats
-new laptop
-olive-pitter

The Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.


my sentence..."i have reached new levels of anxiety at work."

My, my. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Hrmmm, I tag Jaime, Sarah, Shelli (if she hasn't already done so), Rockstar, & dear hubby if he still remembers the password to access his blog.

Renegade Toad

Well, this tale is not nearly as exciting or terrifying as Ellen's snake ordeal. But it's rather humorous.

There's this toad that has been stalking us. Everytime I open my front door at night, there he is, staring at me. He's been inching his way closer and closer to the door. And my dog is petrified of him. The other night, he refused to go outside when he saw him, and when he has gone outside with psycho-toad out there, he walks as far away from him as possible.

Well, tonight, Bill opened the door to let Sunny out and in hops the toad. Brazen little amphibian! Sunny, in true hero fashion, came bolting down the stairs to the office, trembling at my feet. I heard some stomping and yelling upstairs, then Bill came down laughing to let Sunny know that he was safe and the toad was once again outside.

If I could attach a song to this here blog, I'd attach "Crazy Frog".

the man in black

Can I just say how much I like Johnny Cash? His voice is real. It's gritty, like he gargles a bit of gravel every morning. No digital mixer could make that voice up. And he sings about real stuff. Like love--it's not always all hunky-dory and daisies all the time. Sometimes, it's a ring of fire that you don't want to particularly be in, but you are, so you hunker down and work at it.

Of course, then Bill told me that Preparation-H used that for an ad jingle for hemorrhoids, and that just about ruined it for me, but nope. I still love it. Those trumpets. Love 'em!

Yep, if I were a songwriter and Johnny were still alive, I would want him to sing my songs.

The Power of Words

My friend Emily and I used to have a joke that you can say anything about anyone if you follow it up with "God love him (or her)." It's a Southern thing, I think.

"That hair looks atrocious! God love her."

"He's dumber than a fencepost--God love him."

It works for any manner of catty comments.

I've also discovered in marriage that "I love you" covers up a world of sin. For instance, my husband just walked in the room, insinuated that there were too many chores for him to do for us to go see the movie I've been wanting to catch. After my whiny little, "Eighh!", I followed it up with "I love you". And all is well. Usually, it makes him laugh more than anything.

My final word observation: nothing good can come after the phrase, "excuse me, but..." Bill and I were walking in the mall and passed a couple in front of us who was having a rather heated conversation. The wife (girlfriend? mistress?) interrupted the man and said, "ex-CUSE me, but..." I didn't catch the end of it, but we were in agreement that it couldn't be anything good.

"ex-CUSE me, but...your hair looks really nice today."

"ex-CUSE me, but...I've really enjoyed our evening."

Nope, that guy had done something heinous, and he was suffering the wrath of the double-x chromosome.

I'm Back.

Back from where? Florida for the week with my in-laws. My hubby had to leave after 2 days, so it was very interesting learning to interact with my "innies" just me & them.

A good time was had by all, if I might say so myself. Our nephew is almost 2 years old, and he really is a hoot. We went around in a circle and had him say all of our names: MaMa, DaDa, Bee (what he calls Bill's dad), Bibby (what he calls my husband). Then, when he got to Gammy, blank stare and "TiTi". He's started calling my mom-in-law "TiTi", which she hates. She wants to be "Gammy" but I told her from before he was born (when she and my father-in-law picked out their chosen names) that she would be whatever first came out of her grandson's mouth. So for now, "TiTi" it is. She keeps correcting him, but everyone was secretly reinforcing TiTi behind her back: "Where's TiTi?? Go get TiTi!" Then, on Wednesday, he even stopped calling her TiTi and started calling me TiTi. When we got around the circle on Wednesday, she just got a blank stare. Ahh, well. It's probably best to just enjoy it while you can. It won't be long before he'll be mouthing off and repeating words that we all pray he'll never hear.

The Plug has been Pulled

Well, Bill officially yanked my Katrina coverage watching. I was on CNN.com and getting worked up, and I've pretty much just been obsessed & depressed about it since Sunday night. So Bill pulled the visual plug. Too many images. He knows what that does to me.

I will take a carload of teddy bears to the shelter where some refugees are staying, though. At least I could do something, even if it's little bitty.

On a complete side note, but one that I've been thinking about since the hurricane hit, I had a good friend from college named Katrina, and she was always very proud of her name (she loved going to N'Awlins for Mardis Gras, too, but that's even further beside the point). Knowing her personality, she's probably very sad right now to have it associated with such devestation. And as this dear friend used to say, "It's true--it's not a farce." She got me saying it, too. You should start saying it, also. It would make her happy from afar. She's one of those people that I have on my "oh, crap, I wish I hadn't fallen out of contact with her" list.

Floods of Tears

Well, the damage from Katrina is just horrific. On Good Morning, America this morning, Robin (forgot her last name) was reporting from Gulfport, MS where she's from, and she started crying on air. Her family's all right, but I think that they lost everything (as most people did along the coast). I just started bawling. For her. For New Orleans, 80% under water. For friends I have in MS who I assume are all right but I'm not sure. For the millions of people whose lives are forever altered.

Ding!

Yesterday, on Good Morning, America, I saw that apparently at press conferences in Thailand, the prime minister holds a little buzzer that makes a pleasant bell-like sound, and anytime a person asks a question that he doesn't want to answer, he dings it and says, "not productive." Then all the reporters have to move on to the next question.

I would like a bell like that.

27, almost

I turn 27 in less than a month. I don’t feel almost 27. Growing up, 27 always seemed so old. The official birthday that moves me from mid-twenties to late twenties. Now, it feel surprisingly young and normal. Just another year. I still even get carded at restaurants.

This just isn’t how I planned on 27 going down. At 27, I was going to have been married at least 4 years, have one small child, know how to cook (and do so on a semi-regular basis), and have traveled to Europe.

The real 27 is being married for almost one year, no child (although a bit of a pregnancy scare over Christmas), a highly spoiled and untrustworthy dog who likes to pee in my closet, a “fend for yourself” dinner mentality which I constantly feel guilty about, and no trip to Europe in the old scrapbooks (my little sister’s been twice now, so if she schedules another trip over there, I’ve decided I’m going to book a weekend trip just to avoid a “three times a bridesmaid…” mentality)

It’s not that I would change any of my life experiences so far. It just seems a little surreal how quickly my 20’s have passed. Blip. There they go

Would you like an insult with that pedicure?

Whenever I leave my hairstylist’s salon, I always feel so inadequate. Basically like I just fell off the back of the ugly truck. I realize that it really shouldn’t be this way. Quite the opposite, I should feel my most pretty. And my feelings of repulsiveness have absolutely nothing to do with the haircut. To be honest, the only reason that I still go there is strictly because of the haircuts.

The salon is the newest, trendiest salon in my town. Complete with industrial, stained-concrete floors, flambouyantly gay men, and half the stylists wearing hats at a jaunty angle. I went to go get my first cut there because they were down the trendy street that my husband and I used to live on and one of his friends had done some design work for them. The second that I walked in I just knew that they were not my style (i.e. none). Apart from the industrial edge, they had all of 2 (uncomfortable) seats in the waiting area (not the smooshy old couches I’m used to from my old salon). The only magazine subscriptions they carry are Vogue and some bizarre architectural mag (although thank heavens someone’s been leaving their old Real Simples). So I’m already feeling like a fish out of water just stepping foot in the place.

But here’s why I leave feeling like Princess Toadstool: The place is swarming with jellyfishers. Perhaps you are not familiar with this phrase from Bridget Jones Diary, let me explain. Jellyfishers are those people (usually women, but I have discovered that gay male hairdressers are also fairly skilled at this) who will say something that at first seems like an innocuous comment (the really good ones can even make it seem like an initial compliment), but then…sting. You realize that it was a snarky jab the whole time. At the salon, it typically comes in the form of an offer for further services or misguessing what services I’m there for. (“And you’re here for highlights?” “No. A haircut.” “Ohhhh.”)

Why do I keep going back? Why? Why? Because that dang Kelli cuts my hair better than any other person I’ve ever gone to. I swear her scissors are made of magical metal. So I’ll return again and again, like a moth to an insulting flame.

What's a Celebrity to Do?

Bill always chides me when I say things like, “Oh, poor thing!” when I hear disturbing celebrity news like Katie Holmes being brainwashed, Sienna Miller getting cheated on by Jude Law, and whatever latest horrible white trash thing Britney Spears has done. I think that he views it as his mission in life to bring me back to reality and follow my sympathetic outburst up with an incredulous “Really?”

And of course, when I stop to think about it, no, they are not deserving of my sympathy. If someone was holding a gun up to each of their heads and forcing them to live a posh, pampered lifestyle and make poor relationship choices, then perhaps, they might earn a “Well, that’s disturbing.” But none of them should ever get a full-fledged “Poor thing!”

I do find one exception to this, though. I do feel bad for actors typecast as creepy, snarky people. Christopher Walken and Alan Rickman come immediately to mind. Oh, and that disturbing Steve Buscemi. Granted, they’re well-paid for it, but I would not like people to immediately think “evil” when my name came into casual conversation. And how would YOU like to know that when producers see you walk in the door, they see “evil”? But again, not a full-fledged “Poor thing!” More like… “What an unfortunate career turn.”

I Hate Cancer

One of my good friends has cancer, the bad, yucky pancreatic kind (she's a lovely person with lovely things to say, you should go visit her page and pray for her).

It was a shock for her and her family and everyone who knows them. She's very healthy and vibrant, and that still shines through the yucky cancer. Her first round of chemo went well, and the cancer is responding well to it (isn't that an odd way of saying it? It makes me picture the little cancer cells poking their heads out of their little hiding holes like evil prairie dogs listening for cars going by.) I know that her body is hurting and exhaustion is constantly lurking, but I'm constantly amazed by the hope and faith that has poured out of her since the beginning of this yucky ordeal.

And that's just the only word for it, yucky.

Envy

There are too many kids in this tub.
There are too many elbows to scrub.
I just washed a behind
That I’m sure wasn’t mine.
There are too many kids in this tub.
-Shel Silverstein

That’s kind of how I feel right now. A little out of control. Getting things done because I know that they need to be done. Scrubbing on auto-pilot, but who knows whose tushy I’m scrubbing? And the only certainty is that I’m never going to catch up.

Every morning, I pass by this park on my way to work. Right after I graduated from college, there were a couple months when my older sister got really sick with pneumonia. As I had found out earlier that term that I had enough credits to graduate early, I had finished right before spring break, packed up all my stuff, and come home to a sister who was living by herself, and (I thought) was just a little under the weather. Turns out she was very ill with this awful pneumonia, and long story short—almost died, and I ended up spending the next few months living with her, working at a sucky job, pooling our money to eat (she had to quit working with children after she got out of the hospital).

Point of the story: It was a yucky time in my life, for obvious reasons, but I lived right by this park and went on almost daily walks. Every time I drive by that park now, I find myself getting extremely jealous of the college students and stay-at-home moms out walking and jogging. It’s not that I have any desire to go back to that time of my life in college when I could go walking in the middle of the day (well, maybe a little, but only if I could keep my husband and home ownership). Nor am I clamoring to get pregnant as soon as possible (although I am a little baby crazy after spending the weekend with my exceptionally cute niece). I certainly have no desire to go back to those post-college months working for the smarmiest doctor in this neck of the woods. I guess that the grass is always just greener on the other side. But I still think that a 40+ hour work week in a one-person office sucks.

I'm going to the nut shop! Where it's FUN!

I have been accused of being an infrequent blogger. It’s true…it’s true. I won’t try to hide from it. I guess that when I sit down to write a post, this “little sister” mentality in me comes out, and I think, “Well, Ellen has the better blog. She’s the writer in the family! Why bother?” And the truth is, that’s not the point. She and I have different strengths. Always have. Always will. She sucks at math. I’m a math whiz. I couldn’t doodle my way out of a box. She’s a cartoonist. And our little sister got all the musical talent, bar none.

And the really horrible thing about it is that I prefer her blog to my own! It’s like Steve Zahn’s character in “You’ve Got Mail” when he gets sick of all the moping around at the slow bookshop where he works (i.e. my blog) and storms out saying, “I’m going to the nut shop! Where it’s FUN!”

So, oh, so sadly enough, that is how I feel about my blog. It’s not a bad little place. It’s just funner at Ellen’s. Maybe I need to establish a niche for myself. The blog for tall girls or the blog for new wives who think of their dogs as their children or the blog for people who consistently get 2 hours less sleep than they need and it’s their own dang fault.

and a good time was had by all

so washington d.c. was fun. rode the metro. had a flashback to band trip in high school during which the chaperones had to make sure our entire band (i believe it was 130+ sr. high students, many of them surly or idiots) onto the metro and make sure they got off at the right stop. good grief, were they insane? i remember the pep talk for it: "the doors will open! you will get on and sit down in the available seats! if there are no seats, you will stand and grasp the handle immediately in front of you! do not grab the next person's handle! you will get off at arlington! not before! not after! arlington!"

contrast this with my little adventure with shelli and sarah: "were we at east paces ferry or west paces ferry? east. no. west. no. definitely east (it was east). if we go too far, we'll just go one stop up, not find our car and ride back."

and the thing i most associate with our nation's glorious capitol, shining beacon of freedom and democracy? tired feet.

and a really cute pair of pants that i bought that fit me really well.

but seriously, it was super-fun.

Free those associations!

I can’t believe that August is almost half over. This year has flown by. Part of me wants everything to slow down so I can savor every moment. The other (bigger) part is thinking, “whatever!” It’s hot as hades, and I want the fall and winter to come so I can get all those warm-fuzzy (big difference from hot-sweltering) feelings about the start of school (even though I haven’t been in school for a number of years) and next thing you know it’s Christmas…yippee! I’m not usually one of the “Pollyanna” types to see sunshine and rainbows wherever I go, but I do love the autumn weather.

In the spirit of free association, one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen is a rainbow from the top in an airplane. It really was like flying “somewhere over the rainbow”. Although, I was flying into Atlanta, so the only thing over that particular rainbow was soggy luggage and a traffic jam at spaghetti junction. Again with the not-exactly-Pollyanna.

Final thought: I am leaving this evening for Washington D.C. for some whirlwind girl-time fun in our nation’s capitol. I am looking forward to it immensely and have been humming “D.C., D.C., it’s a wonderful town, where the mall is up and the capitol’s down, the people ride in the metro in town…D.C., D.C., it’s a wonderful town” with visions of Sarah, Shelli, and I dancing around wearing smart little sailorette outfits singing. Of course, they're the singers, so they'd be Sinatra and Kelly, and I'd end up being that third guy who know one remembers the name of. I think the thing I’m most looking forward to (other than re-creating old golden era musicals) is purging out some old band trip memories, not that they were all bad, just time to wash away the images of lugging my snare until my arm was about to fall off my band director yelling at the top of his lungs at us at every national monument.

The Things We Do for Love, part 2

As I swiftly approach the end of my first year of marriage to my wonderful husband, I find myself yet again looking around me and chuckling at the things we both do for love. For any of you that have met me husband, you know that he is a bit more organized and detail-oriented than I am (no comments from the peanut gallery, Ellen and Shelli!). And for those of you that can claim an acquaintanceship with me, you know that I perhaps tend to procrastinate a bit and am a wee bit messy at times.

But, ahh, love! That is why when Bill walked in the bedroom this morning and saw the bed looking like a pack of wild badgers had made it, he just smiled and fought the urge to tuck like mad. And when I came home on Sunday to find my husband had proudly come up with a basket system from Lowe’s for me to “file” my panties in vertically to utilize the under sink storage space, I just smiled and commented on how much I like the baskets.

And of course, by next week, he will again be tucking in stray corners and I will be heaping my panties in the old Rubbermaid drawers that I’ve had since college. But I will continue to clean the bathrooms because I know that he hates it, and he will mow the lawn because he knows that I don’t know how, but leave the weeds for me to pluck because he knows that I like to pull up weeds. And I’ll take Sunny out in the morning because Bill’s always in a rush to get out the door. And he’ll take Sunny out at bedtime because he knows that I’m afraid of raccoons. Ah, compromise!

that darn dog

just when i want to be angry at my dog (this being the same dog who has twice peed all over the floor of the entryway after having a special "doggy garage corral" built for him, complete with partial carpetting and a king-sized litter box...don't get me started on the box), he does something extremely adorable like go and stand with half his body out the dog door and half of it in just to see if something cool is going on in the garage that he should know about.

and he's certainly the only dog i know who will chew on the same old dingey pipe that the house's prior owner's dog did one minute, then turn up his nose if a hair gets in his water dish the next.

Random, random things about me

-I can remember where I was sitting when I first heard of Mariah Carey and heard her song “Vision of Love”. I was not impressed and still hate that song.

-I think my dog’s “pooping stance” is so cute.

-In my 27 years, I have never mowed a lawn, but I love pulling weeds.

-I wasn’t allowed to eat Lucky Charms until age 16 because my mom said it would “stunt my growth”. When I hit 5’10”, I went out and bought my own box, and then my mom started buying it in bulk at Sam’s Club.

-I’m horrible at keeping secrets.

-Sweeping and vacuuming gives me a great sense of satisfaction.

-I once ate a carrot out of a kid’s nose to try to get him to laugh.

-I touched my snotty friend Suzanne’s “American Girl” antique, minted penny in 3rd grade, just for spite.

-My favorite place to pet my dog is on his ears. I like to pull on them—they feel like silk.

-I keep a list of things that make me happy in my desk drawer, and when I start getting down in the dumps, I pull it out and make myself do one of them.

-I love it when I misjudge a book or movie and “discover” it at a later time (i.e. Harry Potter, Shawshank Redemption, Orange County, Count of Monte Cristo).

-I have more shoes than I need.

-My all-time favorite bath product was the (now discontinued) Avon roll-on colored bath soap, and I frequently look for the equivalent at Wal-Mart, but they don’t make it.

(And a special shout-out to my brother-in-law for enabling me to have subject headings on my posts!)

Well, sometimes my symptoms just mask themselves for a few days before gelling into a discernible illness. I've pinpointed it...a sinus infection. One would think after a lifetime of sinus infections, all with the same basic symptoms, I would recognize it immediately. So I called my ENT this morning, could he call me in antibiotics? No, it's been too long since I've been in. Could he see me? No, not until Monday. What about the other doctor? Nay-no as well. So there's nothing he could do for me? Nope. Sinus infection does not agree with that answer.

Call general practitioner that I saw with the last sinus infection because family doctor wasn't in that day. She is out...until Monday. Leave desperate call for family doctor's nurse. Please, Jeanne! This is Karen...sinus infection...same symptoms as every sinus infection...even rationed one of the medicines from last time so only need antibiotic. Please!

Haven't heard back. Sneaking suspicion I will be toughing this one out in pain. Wish I could call friend in Mexico on her honeymoon to ask her to sneak back a ration of antibiotics.

I am officially one of the world’s worst hypochondriacs. I got a tick bite yesterday. When I was ten, I would get them all the time (we lived on a large, wooded lot) and I didn’t think a thing about it, but now that I know all the horrible diseases those little vermin carry, I find myself researching the symptoms of Lyme disease and Rocky Mountain spotted fever because I have a headache, my forehead’s warm, I feel sick to my stomach, and I have gas.

Unfortunately, I was also raised with this German Protestant work ethic that if my temperature is under 100 degrees and I am able to keep solid food in me, then I am "fine" and can carry on with normal daily routine. Albeit very whinily.