Hmmm, I probably should have thought out the whole "Ask Me a Question" thing, cause well, there's really nothing left to the imagination with me. As I said, my life is an open book, so everybody pretty much knows everything. Plus, there are very FEW people who know about my blog, (at least, that I know of...) because I was to afraid to whore it out to everybody, like SOME people I know. *Cough* *Hily* * Cough* Why? Because I write about my family a lot. And my in-laws. And my boss, sometimes. So, I'm just going to skipover that little segment, but still feel free if there is a burning question on your mind.
Instead, I am going to post some Tales From the Married Side. (You know, like Tales From the Dark Side? Only with less, umm, dark.)
A few nights ago, while Andy and I were driving down the road, discussing my efforts at giving up fast food and limiting my coke intake (Notice, that could mean ANY soft drink. That's what Southerners call all of them cause that's how we roll.), he said something that will make me love him forever. "I wouldn't want you to lose too much weight, because then we couldn't share socks." Yes, that is word for word.
Yesterday evening, we were at the grocery store, you know buying food, so I wouldn't be so tempted to just go out and grab a burger for lunch, when we reached the Mac and Cheese Department. "My, God, we are going to go into the poor house, buying YOUR brand of macaroni!" He still freaks out that I'm willing to pay over $2 a box, so that I don't have to eat the kind with the powdered cheese. This came up one other time that will live in my memory forever. See, we have this conversation Each. And. Every. Time. we grocery shop. So, after one particularly fiesty round of My Kind Is Better Than Your Kind, we get to the register and the check out guy says, "This is the good stuff. I can handle a lot of generic foods, but I can't stand powdered cheese macaroni!" Thank you.
Before the shopping, we had dinner at Huey's. Hey, you can't shop on an empty stomach! It makes you buy crap and that's just no good for anybody. While waiting for the check, I asked Andy if he thought it would be dorky for me to ask the waitress what kind of pickle spears they served, because sweet aunt maple, they were wonderful! He said, "Yeah, but only cause it's going to have a follow up question about the ranch dressing." (The pickles? They are Schwartz's brand, but apparently, they can't be found in the store. I looked. Repeatedly.)
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Everybody's Doing It...
Yup, I give in. I will be happy to answer any questions you can put to me. My life is already pretty much an open book, so it shouldn't be too hard.
In the meantime, let me know what you think of this new outfit. I think I like it better, it's easier on the eyes without the bright orange.
Until I get some questions, how about another 'Fun With Your In-Laws' story? Yes, you say? Alright, here goes.
My sister in law and mother in law both work VERY close to my work (like within blocks), so for the last several weeks, I've been meeting with my SIL for lunch. Mrs. B works for a hospital and hasn't been able to get away to join us. Until last week.
SIL and I went to a nearby deli and MIL called to say that she was free to have lunch with us. So, she arrives, we get our food and are getting settled at the table, when SIL's phone rings. She takes the call outside, leaving me and Mrs. B alone, who lets me know she's going to fix her drink before walking off.
About 3.5 seconds later, MIL returns and says, " I've never been here before, where do I go to get my drink?"
I reply, "Oh, over there on the other side of the salad bar, under the sign."
"You mean under the neon DRINKS sign?"
Hmm, who'd have thought to look there??
In the meantime, let me know what you think of this new outfit. I think I like it better, it's easier on the eyes without the bright orange.
Until I get some questions, how about another 'Fun With Your In-Laws' story? Yes, you say? Alright, here goes.
My sister in law and mother in law both work VERY close to my work (like within blocks), so for the last several weeks, I've been meeting with my SIL for lunch. Mrs. B works for a hospital and hasn't been able to get away to join us. Until last week.
SIL and I went to a nearby deli and MIL called to say that she was free to have lunch with us. So, she arrives, we get our food and are getting settled at the table, when SIL's phone rings. She takes the call outside, leaving me and Mrs. B alone, who lets me know she's going to fix her drink before walking off.
About 3.5 seconds later, MIL returns and says, " I've never been here before, where do I go to get my drink?"
I reply, "Oh, over there on the other side of the salad bar, under the sign."
"You mean under the neon DRINKS sign?"
Hmm, who'd have thought to look there??
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Donkeys and Stuff (aka I Put The Word Donkeys In The Title To Catch Your Eye)
Okay, let's see, where were we? Oh, right. Donkeys for cheap. Well, upon reflection, this isn't really that great of a story, except to me. And maybe Andy, cause he was there to see me laugh like a hyena at it. However, to let you know what I was referring to (because I know it's been boggling your mind for weeks now), I noticed an ad in the classifieds for a pair of donkeys for $325. $325 for a PAIR! For some reason, that really cracked me up. I mean, what a deal! The ad mentioned that they were young, fat and great predator control. How can you NOT buy them? AND they deliver (the seller, not the donkeys)! My hands literally shook with the need to pick up the phone.
In other, more interesting news... DAMN! I forgot. I have no interesting news. Jeez, how embarrassing.
Um, well, there was the Breakfast Club meeting that took place a few weeks ago. Lots of alcohol and Mexican food was consumed. The word "ejaculation" may have been shrieked loudly. And, the someone (not naming names here) that said it might also have shaken her well shaped hinny across the smoking section. Thank you girls, I needed that, by the way. And, OMG, Look out, Sept. 9th.
Moving on...
I have recently lost a reader due to her company blocking the blog world. Ugh. That sucks, but I hope she can catch up with me sometime from home, though with a young son reeking constant havoc, I understand it's hard to find the time. Then again, she pretty much knows everything that is ever going on anyway. And Kat, if (yeah, right, WHEN) you do read this, your comment about Andy's and my love (is that proper grammer? I have no idea.), totally made me tear up. So sweet of you.
I also want to give some major props to my homegirl, Stef. She generously donated her vacation time, sweat and tears to help with the NOLA victims of Hurricane Katrina. You can read about her experiences here. Stef, I admire you and can only hope to be as kind hearted as you have shown yourself to be. Seriously, there will be some extra jewels in your crown in heaven for what you have done.
As for this blog. No, I am not done with it. I'm enjoying the new scenery, but it just doesn't seem to fit. So, don't be surprised to see more changes coming this way. It may take time, as I only have a computer at work, but be patient with me. This goes for actual blogging as well. I am very aware that I don't update as often as my bodacious buddies, but really, do you want to be bored with the mundane details of my mundane life? Didn't think so. That said, the coming month is going to be a very full one, so perhaps it will be busier around here. But, I'm not making any promises. Again, I can only play when the cat's away; if you catch my drift and I think you do.
Anyway, I just really wanted to get something new up on the screen, so forgive the randomness of this post. Until next time, my lovelies.
In other, more interesting news... DAMN! I forgot. I have no interesting news. Jeez, how embarrassing.
Um, well, there was the Breakfast Club meeting that took place a few weeks ago. Lots of alcohol and Mexican food was consumed. The word "ejaculation" may have been shrieked loudly. And, the someone (not naming names here) that said it might also have shaken her well shaped hinny across the smoking section. Thank you girls, I needed that, by the way. And, OMG, Look out, Sept. 9th.
Moving on...
I have recently lost a reader due to her company blocking the blog world. Ugh. That sucks, but I hope she can catch up with me sometime from home, though with a young son reeking constant havoc, I understand it's hard to find the time. Then again, she pretty much knows everything that is ever going on anyway. And Kat, if (yeah, right, WHEN) you do read this, your comment about Andy's and my love (is that proper grammer? I have no idea.), totally made me tear up. So sweet of you.
I also want to give some major props to my homegirl, Stef. She generously donated her vacation time, sweat and tears to help with the NOLA victims of Hurricane Katrina. You can read about her experiences here. Stef, I admire you and can only hope to be as kind hearted as you have shown yourself to be. Seriously, there will be some extra jewels in your crown in heaven for what you have done.
As for this blog. No, I am not done with it. I'm enjoying the new scenery, but it just doesn't seem to fit. So, don't be surprised to see more changes coming this way. It may take time, as I only have a computer at work, but be patient with me. This goes for actual blogging as well. I am very aware that I don't update as often as my bodacious buddies, but really, do you want to be bored with the mundane details of my mundane life? Didn't think so. That said, the coming month is going to be a very full one, so perhaps it will be busier around here. But, I'm not making any promises. Again, I can only play when the cat's away; if you catch my drift and I think you do.
Anyway, I just really wanted to get something new up on the screen, so forgive the randomness of this post. Until next time, my lovelies.
Friday, August 11, 2006
The Anniversary Post
Real posts? Did I say something about real posts coming up soon? Alright, if you insist...
My husband and I recently celebrated our 5 year anniversary. Dear Lord. 5 years. Typing that out is so much different than just thinking it. Where the hell did the time go? We've actually been together for a total of 9 years. Sometimes, it feels like I have known him forever. Other times, I look at him and think WHO IS THIS GUY IN MY HOUSE?
Still, I can't imagine a day in my life without him. He is my rock and my strength, though I probably don't tell him that often enough. (I'm not going to start now, either. Don't want him thinking I've gone soft on him.) He still surprises me, even after all this time. Occasionally, he'll crank up the radio, turn off the tv and pull me into the living room floor for dancing. Or, he'll simply put my feet on his lap and start massaging them, without being asked. It reminds me again how very lucky I am.
It's funny how relationships change over time. I thought when we married that we couldn't be happier. Little did I know that Andy was having doubts about marriage and our future together. I've never talked about this before, except with him, but not because it bothers me. It simply never was a big enough deal to me. I know that sounds crazy to most of you, especially the newlyweds. How can she say he loves her if he doubted their SOULMATEY-NESS? To be honest, I completely understood his fear and hesitancy. I had some of my own after the wedding. I think every married or committed person does, even if they can only admit it to themselves. I mean, it's our life that we are promising away, how could we not question something that big, at least a teensy tiny bit? But, I also know that having these thoughts does not mean we love each other any less, only that we don't want to hurt each other later on.
Despite all, we've stood the test of time. So far, anyway. And in these years, our love has matured, grown and developed. It finally occurred to both of us that no matter our doubts, we were meant to be together. Andy has said he knows exactly when his epiphany came. 2 years after being married, we were vacationing in FL, when he realized this feeling he had wasn't going away. I don't think I really had a sudden dawning realization, so much as the truth has crept up on me over time. It was love at first sight, but it took time to understand how deep it went.
I love the feeling of us against the world that I have with him. I know I can tell him anything and it will not change his feelings for me. He knows the same about me. I remember reading in a Paul Reiser book how unfair it really is to be a spouse. He talked about how most people try their hardest to keep up a perfect front for everybody else, but the one person that they should be worried about looking good for, got the privilege of checking your nose for hanging boogs. Why do we worry about impressing people that mean next to nothing to us, like a coworker or a checker at WalMart, but think nothing of asking someone who is supposed to find us sexy for the rest of our lives, if they can smell our sweaty pits? It's simple. It feels good to have that little bit of ugliness just between you two. Those are the little things that you share only with each other. You can hide your bad habits from the world but when you live with someone, it all comes out. It's almost like having a secret, just not as interesting. (Only, no one knows it's uninteresting, because it's just between you and your other half. See how that works?)
This year was a bittersweet anniversary for us. I say that because it has been a terrible year for me, but each year spent with him is also the best year of my life. Without the hardships we have faced, we wouldn't have the closeness that we do. Without our arguments and fights, we couldn't appreciate the times of tenderness and laughter. We are known for playfully bickering, but I think the undercurrent of love is pretty obvious to most. I may call him an ass, but it's said with the utmost adoration.
Originally, I intended this post to be a *gasp* brag session of what a wonderful and expensive night we had, but it doesn't seem that important now. Sure, the dinner WAS fabulous and the atmosphere romantic, but the company was what made it special.
I wonder if anyone noticed that I am wearing his pants today?
My husband and I recently celebrated our 5 year anniversary. Dear Lord. 5 years. Typing that out is so much different than just thinking it. Where the hell did the time go? We've actually been together for a total of 9 years. Sometimes, it feels like I have known him forever. Other times, I look at him and think WHO IS THIS GUY IN MY HOUSE?
Still, I can't imagine a day in my life without him. He is my rock and my strength, though I probably don't tell him that often enough. (I'm not going to start now, either. Don't want him thinking I've gone soft on him.) He still surprises me, even after all this time. Occasionally, he'll crank up the radio, turn off the tv and pull me into the living room floor for dancing. Or, he'll simply put my feet on his lap and start massaging them, without being asked. It reminds me again how very lucky I am.
It's funny how relationships change over time. I thought when we married that we couldn't be happier. Little did I know that Andy was having doubts about marriage and our future together. I've never talked about this before, except with him, but not because it bothers me. It simply never was a big enough deal to me. I know that sounds crazy to most of you, especially the newlyweds. How can she say he loves her if he doubted their SOULMATEY-NESS? To be honest, I completely understood his fear and hesitancy. I had some of my own after the wedding. I think every married or committed person does, even if they can only admit it to themselves. I mean, it's our life that we are promising away, how could we not question something that big, at least a teensy tiny bit? But, I also know that having these thoughts does not mean we love each other any less, only that we don't want to hurt each other later on.
Despite all, we've stood the test of time. So far, anyway. And in these years, our love has matured, grown and developed. It finally occurred to both of us that no matter our doubts, we were meant to be together. Andy has said he knows exactly when his epiphany came. 2 years after being married, we were vacationing in FL, when he realized this feeling he had wasn't going away. I don't think I really had a sudden dawning realization, so much as the truth has crept up on me over time. It was love at first sight, but it took time to understand how deep it went.
I love the feeling of us against the world that I have with him. I know I can tell him anything and it will not change his feelings for me. He knows the same about me. I remember reading in a Paul Reiser book how unfair it really is to be a spouse. He talked about how most people try their hardest to keep up a perfect front for everybody else, but the one person that they should be worried about looking good for, got the privilege of checking your nose for hanging boogs. Why do we worry about impressing people that mean next to nothing to us, like a coworker or a checker at WalMart, but think nothing of asking someone who is supposed to find us sexy for the rest of our lives, if they can smell our sweaty pits? It's simple. It feels good to have that little bit of ugliness just between you two. Those are the little things that you share only with each other. You can hide your bad habits from the world but when you live with someone, it all comes out. It's almost like having a secret, just not as interesting. (Only, no one knows it's uninteresting, because it's just between you and your other half. See how that works?)
This year was a bittersweet anniversary for us. I say that because it has been a terrible year for me, but each year spent with him is also the best year of my life. Without the hardships we have faced, we wouldn't have the closeness that we do. Without our arguments and fights, we couldn't appreciate the times of tenderness and laughter. We are known for playfully bickering, but I think the undercurrent of love is pretty obvious to most. I may call him an ass, but it's said with the utmost adoration.
Originally, I intended this post to be a *gasp* brag session of what a wonderful and expensive night we had, but it doesn't seem that important now. Sure, the dinner WAS fabulous and the atmosphere romantic, but the company was what made it special.
I wonder if anyone noticed that I am wearing his pants today?
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Not really an update...
I know I haven't updated in a bit. But, it's been cah- raazy, around here, y'all. I have a lot of stuff that I want to post about, but I haven't had time to sit down and put my thoughts into a coherent passage. But to dangle some carrots, here are some of the things I will be writing about very soon (perhaps, hopefully, tomorrow, but probably Friday):
The anniversary
The drinking
The Breakfast Club
Donkeys for cheap
Thanks for all the great feedback on my new look. I can't take credit where it isn't due though, so thank you to blogskins.com. Check it out if your blog is in need of refreshment.
The anniversary
The drinking
The Breakfast Club
Donkeys for cheap
Thanks for all the great feedback on my new look. I can't take credit where it isn't due though, so thank you to blogskins.com. Check it out if your blog is in need of refreshment.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Hrmf
RECIPE FOR A BITCH
INGREDIENTS:
1 ADULT WOMAN
DIRECTIONS:
Put woman outside in sun to fry until crispy.
Add a dash of PMS and shake well.
Now let it sit until it's running late for everything.
Serve Pissed Off
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
What you talkin' bout, Willis?
Have y’all ever had a Freudian slip? No? Nah, me either.
Well, except this one time.
See, a very good friend of mine was about to get married. So, one sunny afternoon, Kat, her mother and I went shopping for wedding gowns. As we were browsing the endless aisles of white froth and lace, my eyes fastened on a miraculous creation of a gown. Soft, white, and delicately embroidered with purple flowers, the gown called to me, like a mother to a kid when it gets dark outside. “Kim! Kim! Look at meeeeeeee!!!!” And oh, how I looked.
Then, I turned directly towards Kat and her mother and said, “Next time I get married, I’m wearing this dress.”
“The NEXT time you get married?” K’s mom laughed.
Umm, yeah. I’d only been married for 2 years at the time.
I thought about that little conversation last night as hubby and I were watching “How I Met Your Mother”. The couple in the show was being forced to split and had decided to opt for a long distance relationship. So, of course, being a woman, I had to ask.
Me: “What would WE do if one of us had to move out of the country, if we weren’t married?”
Hubby: ”Well, I guess we’d either rush and get married and move together or split up.”
Me: “Do you think we could have a long distance relationship?”
Hubby: “I guess we could give it a go. If you moved, you’d have to stay single over there and I’d try to stay single back here.”
(Notice the try part of that statement.)
Guess we’re even now.
Well, except this one time.
See, a very good friend of mine was about to get married. So, one sunny afternoon, Kat, her mother and I went shopping for wedding gowns. As we were browsing the endless aisles of white froth and lace, my eyes fastened on a miraculous creation of a gown. Soft, white, and delicately embroidered with purple flowers, the gown called to me, like a mother to a kid when it gets dark outside. “Kim! Kim! Look at meeeeeeee!!!!” And oh, how I looked.
Then, I turned directly towards Kat and her mother and said, “Next time I get married, I’m wearing this dress.”
“The NEXT time you get married?” K’s mom laughed.
Umm, yeah. I’d only been married for 2 years at the time.
I thought about that little conversation last night as hubby and I were watching “How I Met Your Mother”. The couple in the show was being forced to split and had decided to opt for a long distance relationship. So, of course, being a woman, I had to ask.
Me: “What would WE do if one of us had to move out of the country, if we weren’t married?”
Hubby: ”Well, I guess we’d either rush and get married and move together or split up.”
Me: “Do you think we could have a long distance relationship?”
Hubby: “I guess we could give it a go. If you moved, you’d have to stay single over there and I’d try to stay single back here.”
(Notice the try part of that statement.)
Guess we’re even now.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
The Leg Bone's Connected to the Hip Bone...
It was the summer of 87 and I was all of 8 years old. I remember that I had just learned how to ride a bike (yeah, a little late in life- what can I say), but didn't have one of my own. Instead, I depended on my good old buddy, Jason, to allow me to mooch bike privileges from him. It was so freeing to ride around with my hair blowing in the breeze. Until the damn thing turned on me.
We were taking turns zooming down Jason's driveway, which was at least a 45 degree angle and I was up. I jumped on the banana seat and was off. Problem was, I didn't make that turn that should have put me into the street and on a straight path of smoothness. Instead, I slammed into the curb of the driveway across the street and flew over the handle bars, landing on the concrete curb. Immediately, my friends ran for my parents, who then came rushing out, picked me up, got us in the car and took off for the hospital. My leg had swollen up to the size of a small Chilean boy and HURT. I mean, HURT, y’all.
Like most hospitals, they gave me a toy when I was admitted to the ER to help take my mind of the swollen-ness and hurt-y-ness of my leg. It was a ragdoll with a green dress and apron that I instantly fell in love with. She’s still tucked away in the attic, safe in my trunk of memories to be shown to the future generations. Like they’ll care, but whatever.
Now, to explain a little more clearly, this wasn’t just any bone that I had broken. Oh, no. It was the femur. Which, for those of you who don’t know, that’s the thigh bone. And it also happens to be the largest one in your body.
I was laid up in traction for the next 6 weeks. A pin was pushed through my left calf, just below the knee and was attached to a pulley with 10lbs of sand suspended from it. This was supposed to straighten the leg and ensure proper healing. I don’t know who came up with the idea of correcting a bone this way, but I hope they didn’t quit their day job. It sucked. Then came the body cast. You know that trend from a few years ago, where people shoved one pant leg way up and let the other hang normally? Picture that. Only 50lbs heavier and itchier. Very much itchier.
Going home was probably the worst part. As much as I missed it, I knew it was going to be down hill from there. My sisters teased me unmercifully, tickling the toes that I couldn’t even reach, moreless protect. Sometimes, I was toted outside to watch the others go swimming in the backyard (Did I mention it was July? H.O.T.). It was torture. But, the most embarassing things were not of any of my sisters’ doings. School registration came up while I was still mending and my mom had to pull me around with her in my little red wagon. On top of that, or maybe I should say under that, I was forced to wear adult diapers. They were the only things that fit over my cast and covered up my nevermind. Wait. What? I didn’t tell you that the cast had a big hole cut in the crotch for bathroom purposes? Well, in that case, I won’t mention how my poor mother had to lay me across the commode in order to take care of business and that by the end of summer, all the toilets in our house were roughed up and the paint was gone from the harsh plaster scraping it. No, I don’t think I want to talk about that.
7 weeks later, it was time to get the thing cut off. Now, if you’ve had a cast removed, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. The nurse comes at you with a circular saw buzzing at about 200 miles and hour and tells you to lay still. Riiiight. They cut and I freaked, but soon it was done and the cast was off. Which exposed the flesh underneath. Which was not pretty. Sometime during the healing process, hairs had sprouted and grown, skin had dried and flaked. Course, I didn’t care at the time. Pronouncing myself well enough to go home, I jumped from the table and immediately dropped to the floor, like an anvil on Wile E. Coyote. Kerthump! The muscles had atrophied and it took months of physical therapy to get it all back in working order. Therapy that could be painful at times and was totally not fun.
But! Every cloud has a silver lining. I got to miss the first month and a half of 3rd grade.
It was sooo worth it.
We were taking turns zooming down Jason's driveway, which was at least a 45 degree angle and I was up. I jumped on the banana seat and was off. Problem was, I didn't make that turn that should have put me into the street and on a straight path of smoothness. Instead, I slammed into the curb of the driveway across the street and flew over the handle bars, landing on the concrete curb. Immediately, my friends ran for my parents, who then came rushing out, picked me up, got us in the car and took off for the hospital. My leg had swollen up to the size of a small Chilean boy and HURT. I mean, HURT, y’all.
Like most hospitals, they gave me a toy when I was admitted to the ER to help take my mind of the swollen-ness and hurt-y-ness of my leg. It was a ragdoll with a green dress and apron that I instantly fell in love with. She’s still tucked away in the attic, safe in my trunk of memories to be shown to the future generations. Like they’ll care, but whatever.
Now, to explain a little more clearly, this wasn’t just any bone that I had broken. Oh, no. It was the femur. Which, for those of you who don’t know, that’s the thigh bone. And it also happens to be the largest one in your body.
I was laid up in traction for the next 6 weeks. A pin was pushed through my left calf, just below the knee and was attached to a pulley with 10lbs of sand suspended from it. This was supposed to straighten the leg and ensure proper healing. I don’t know who came up with the idea of correcting a bone this way, but I hope they didn’t quit their day job. It sucked. Then came the body cast. You know that trend from a few years ago, where people shoved one pant leg way up and let the other hang normally? Picture that. Only 50lbs heavier and itchier. Very much itchier.
Going home was probably the worst part. As much as I missed it, I knew it was going to be down hill from there. My sisters teased me unmercifully, tickling the toes that I couldn’t even reach, moreless protect. Sometimes, I was toted outside to watch the others go swimming in the backyard (Did I mention it was July? H.O.T.). It was torture. But, the most embarassing things were not of any of my sisters’ doings. School registration came up while I was still mending and my mom had to pull me around with her in my little red wagon. On top of that, or maybe I should say under that, I was forced to wear adult diapers. They were the only things that fit over my cast and covered up my nevermind. Wait. What? I didn’t tell you that the cast had a big hole cut in the crotch for bathroom purposes? Well, in that case, I won’t mention how my poor mother had to lay me across the commode in order to take care of business and that by the end of summer, all the toilets in our house were roughed up and the paint was gone from the harsh plaster scraping it. No, I don’t think I want to talk about that.
7 weeks later, it was time to get the thing cut off. Now, if you’ve had a cast removed, you’ll understand what I’m talking about. The nurse comes at you with a circular saw buzzing at about 200 miles and hour and tells you to lay still. Riiiight. They cut and I freaked, but soon it was done and the cast was off. Which exposed the flesh underneath. Which was not pretty. Sometime during the healing process, hairs had sprouted and grown, skin had dried and flaked. Course, I didn’t care at the time. Pronouncing myself well enough to go home, I jumped from the table and immediately dropped to the floor, like an anvil on Wile E. Coyote. Kerthump! The muscles had atrophied and it took months of physical therapy to get it all back in working order. Therapy that could be painful at times and was totally not fun.
But! Every cloud has a silver lining. I got to miss the first month and a half of 3rd grade.
It was sooo worth it.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Fun With Song Lyrics #148275
(Unknown Reggae song playing on radio)
Andy (singing) : " If you need help, I'll throw you a goat..."
Kim: "A rope, honey. I'll throw you a rope."
Andy: "Oh, right. That makes more sense."
Andy (singing) : " If you need help, I'll throw you a goat..."
Kim: "A rope, honey. I'll throw you a rope."
Andy: "Oh, right. That makes more sense."
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Reunited and It Feels So Good...
Recently, I was surfing the net when I came across the website of an old friend from my middle and high school years. We didn’t go to school together, instead meeting in the church I attended with a neighboring family. We were pretty close back in the day, but I stopped attending services and shortly after, she got married. It had been 6 years since I saw or spoke to her last and, obviously, many things had changed, but talking to her sorta felt like coming home. I had missed her very much, but time had faded that feeling and talking to her brought it all rushing back.
Lucky for me, this isn’t the first time that I’ve been able to reconnect with a loved one that I believed was lost to me. Many moons ago, one of my bestest and oldest friends and I weren’t very close. We had been the greatest of buddies for so many years and then things changed. Growing up, outside relationships and immature emotions tore a hole in our friendship that I was afraid would never mend. However, God does smile on us humans, because a couple of years after our parting, we met again and the old spark of familiarity and bonding flared brighter than ever. After a few months and more than a few deep conversations, our relationship flourished. Now, it’s a rare day that I don’t count on this girlfriend to help me cope with life, love and family. My friendship with this particular woman is something that I am extremely proud of and have no intention of letting wane again. Kat, you are the voice of reason in this otherwise chaotic world and I don’t know what I’d do without you. I will make sure that nothing ever comes between us again. Love ya, girl.
It was just a year ago that another group of girls also came into my life after playing a smaller role many eons earlier. We attended high school together, but that was the extent of our knowledge of each other. Then, fates intervened and brought us all together again on an alumni website and we forged a friendship that I pray will last the rest of my natural life. This bunch of wild women is my support, encouragement and inspiration. In high school, we could not have been more different and most likely would not have hung out, even if given a chance. As adults, we’ve learned to appreciate the unique qualities in each other and it has brought us closer than we ever would have been if we’d met back then. It seems as though God knew we weren’t ready and He held us apart until the time was right. Liz, Casey, Hilary, and Stef, y’all are some of my closest friends that I know I can share anything with. Thank you for never judging and standing by me during the times that I’ve needed you most. I heart you.
Naturally, I don’t have the corner market on reunions. There have been some that, while I was not directly involved, have affected my life in a tremendous way. My parents had one such reunion. After 23 year of togetherness, my parents adruptly separated and divorced in 1999. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me, but the truth was it rocked my very world. I was one of the few whose parents had stayed married even AFTER the last kid made it through schooling. Up to the day they parted ways, they had been a hand holding, booty grabbing affectionate couple that this was NOT supposed to happen to. Fast forward 5 years. My mother and father are standing in a gazebo in a park, and a preacher is in front of them. They were remarried almost a year before Daddy’s passing. I could never believe how fortunate I was to be one of those kids whose parents really did reconcile. So many dream about it, but so few are that lucky. I have never been as grateful for anything as I am that my last memory of my Daddy was with my Momma.
You would think that with the inventions of the telephone and computer, remaining in touch with others wouldn’t be difficult. Yet everyday, people allow good relationships to grow stale until they eventually fade away into nothing. Work, hobbies, and daily routines become more important than connecting with those you love. It’s such a waste when we all could use a friend. Keeping the communication lines open is something I strive for and that will not change, no matter how much time has gone by.
There’s a Girl Scout camp song that goes, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.” It’s never been summed up better, so I won’t try.
Lucky for me, this isn’t the first time that I’ve been able to reconnect with a loved one that I believed was lost to me. Many moons ago, one of my bestest and oldest friends and I weren’t very close. We had been the greatest of buddies for so many years and then things changed. Growing up, outside relationships and immature emotions tore a hole in our friendship that I was afraid would never mend. However, God does smile on us humans, because a couple of years after our parting, we met again and the old spark of familiarity and bonding flared brighter than ever. After a few months and more than a few deep conversations, our relationship flourished. Now, it’s a rare day that I don’t count on this girlfriend to help me cope with life, love and family. My friendship with this particular woman is something that I am extremely proud of and have no intention of letting wane again. Kat, you are the voice of reason in this otherwise chaotic world and I don’t know what I’d do without you. I will make sure that nothing ever comes between us again. Love ya, girl.
It was just a year ago that another group of girls also came into my life after playing a smaller role many eons earlier. We attended high school together, but that was the extent of our knowledge of each other. Then, fates intervened and brought us all together again on an alumni website and we forged a friendship that I pray will last the rest of my natural life. This bunch of wild women is my support, encouragement and inspiration. In high school, we could not have been more different and most likely would not have hung out, even if given a chance. As adults, we’ve learned to appreciate the unique qualities in each other and it has brought us closer than we ever would have been if we’d met back then. It seems as though God knew we weren’t ready and He held us apart until the time was right. Liz, Casey, Hilary, and Stef, y’all are some of my closest friends that I know I can share anything with. Thank you for never judging and standing by me during the times that I’ve needed you most. I heart you.
Naturally, I don’t have the corner market on reunions. There have been some that, while I was not directly involved, have affected my life in a tremendous way. My parents had one such reunion. After 23 year of togetherness, my parents adruptly separated and divorced in 1999. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me, but the truth was it rocked my very world. I was one of the few whose parents had stayed married even AFTER the last kid made it through schooling. Up to the day they parted ways, they had been a hand holding, booty grabbing affectionate couple that this was NOT supposed to happen to. Fast forward 5 years. My mother and father are standing in a gazebo in a park, and a preacher is in front of them. They were remarried almost a year before Daddy’s passing. I could never believe how fortunate I was to be one of those kids whose parents really did reconcile. So many dream about it, but so few are that lucky. I have never been as grateful for anything as I am that my last memory of my Daddy was with my Momma.
You would think that with the inventions of the telephone and computer, remaining in touch with others wouldn’t be difficult. Yet everyday, people allow good relationships to grow stale until they eventually fade away into nothing. Work, hobbies, and daily routines become more important than connecting with those you love. It’s such a waste when we all could use a friend. Keeping the communication lines open is something I strive for and that will not change, no matter how much time has gone by.
There’s a Girl Scout camp song that goes, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold.” It’s never been summed up better, so I won’t try.
Monday, June 26, 2006
A MeMe from SillyHily
A real post? Nope, I'm still stalling...
Here goes. Six weird things about me:
1. I am terrified of several silly things, like monsters under the bed and clowns. After watching Poltergeist with that CLOWN DOLL UNDER THE BED, can you blame me? Ever since then, I have jumped onto my bed from about 2 feet away. (And I made Andrew put the clown doll that his grandmother gave him in the attic. But, not just in the attic- it had to be tied into a garbage bag first.) Not to mention all those stories of rapists that hide under your bed and cut your achilles tendon (or whatever that muscle is), so you can’t stand up or walk. Some of that finally stopped after I got married, but even now, if I’m at home alone, NO WAY am I just walking right up to that bed. Huh uh. Who knows what may be under there?
2. I sucked my thumb until I was 12. I can’t remember if I revealed that little tidbit before, but there you have it. I had buck teeth and was almost put into braces. Kids made fun of me. Do the math- 12 years old is 7th grade. 7TH GRADE, people. Thank goodness for the Nintendo bribe from my parents or I might still be doing it. And thanks to my teeth for moving back to their rightful place before any brace/ retainer-esque intervention. This habit is still with me to a degree. When I’m in deep thought, I have a tendency to rub the bridge of my nose with my index finger. Course, key term here is "deep in thought", so don' t bother watching for it.
3. I HATE confrontations. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind speaking my mind and defending my opinions. BUT, those shows like 60 Minutes and 20/20? When they confront the child molesters and crooked store owners? It makes me cringe. I have had to leave the room, because my chest hurt so much just watching it. For some reason, I get all embarrassed and nervous for the person caught in the act, even if they are really bad people. I KNOW they DESERVE to be publicly humiliated and punished, but all I can think about is how scared and exposed they must be feeling at THAT moment. No hate mail, please. I am NOT DEFENDING anyone, especially not those internet predators.
4. I MUST FOLD every piece of laundry possible. The only thing I do not fold is my own underwear. Yup, that means that I DO fold Andy’s. In our house, even bras and socks get folded. Somehow it makes me feel better, knowing the dresser drawers are neat and tidy inside. However, I hate actually folding clothes. That’s why they just never get put away. It doesn’t seem to bother me that the ones still in the baskets are not folded. It’s just something about them in the drawers all strewn about and haphazard I can’t stand.
5. I refuse to eat beans. Andy makes fun of me because I can eat a whole bowl of chili and not one bean. When all else is gone, the beans will remain, like roaches after a nuclear bomb explosion. Unless, I manage to secretly scrape and mix them into Andy’s bowl when he’s not looking. (Oh, yes, I have.) Recently, I have been trying to slowly introduce beans into my diet, but it’s not working so well. The habit to avoid them is still there and so is the ambivalence. Unfortunately, Andy’s dad, Mr. B, is VERY BIG on the bean eating issue. More than once, we’ve argued over dinner, when he tried to spoon some on my plate.
6. I fantasize about.... swimming. A lot. I used to swim everyday growing up, when we had a huge in-ground pool. I learned quickly and was a pretty good swimmer by age 4. But, that house was sold about 11 years ago and now I don’t know anyone with a pool. Except my sister in law, and y’all already know how I feel about that. Having said this, I do not want a backyard with a pool, when it’s time to move from our current tent of a house. They are a ton of work, money, time and effort. I’d much rather have FRIENDS that have pools. (*hint*hint*)
Hmmm. You know, you never realize how bat-shit-crazy you sound until it’s actually written out in front of you. Gee.
Here goes. Six weird things about me:
1. I am terrified of several silly things, like monsters under the bed and clowns. After watching Poltergeist with that CLOWN DOLL UNDER THE BED, can you blame me? Ever since then, I have jumped onto my bed from about 2 feet away. (And I made Andrew put the clown doll that his grandmother gave him in the attic. But, not just in the attic- it had to be tied into a garbage bag first.) Not to mention all those stories of rapists that hide under your bed and cut your achilles tendon (or whatever that muscle is), so you can’t stand up or walk. Some of that finally stopped after I got married, but even now, if I’m at home alone, NO WAY am I just walking right up to that bed. Huh uh. Who knows what may be under there?
2. I sucked my thumb until I was 12. I can’t remember if I revealed that little tidbit before, but there you have it. I had buck teeth and was almost put into braces. Kids made fun of me. Do the math- 12 years old is 7th grade. 7TH GRADE, people. Thank goodness for the Nintendo bribe from my parents or I might still be doing it. And thanks to my teeth for moving back to their rightful place before any brace/ retainer-esque intervention. This habit is still with me to a degree. When I’m in deep thought, I have a tendency to rub the bridge of my nose with my index finger. Course, key term here is "deep in thought", so don' t bother watching for it.
3. I HATE confrontations. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind speaking my mind and defending my opinions. BUT, those shows like 60 Minutes and 20/20? When they confront the child molesters and crooked store owners? It makes me cringe. I have had to leave the room, because my chest hurt so much just watching it. For some reason, I get all embarrassed and nervous for the person caught in the act, even if they are really bad people. I KNOW they DESERVE to be publicly humiliated and punished, but all I can think about is how scared and exposed they must be feeling at THAT moment. No hate mail, please. I am NOT DEFENDING anyone, especially not those internet predators.
4. I MUST FOLD every piece of laundry possible. The only thing I do not fold is my own underwear. Yup, that means that I DO fold Andy’s. In our house, even bras and socks get folded. Somehow it makes me feel better, knowing the dresser drawers are neat and tidy inside. However, I hate actually folding clothes. That’s why they just never get put away. It doesn’t seem to bother me that the ones still in the baskets are not folded. It’s just something about them in the drawers all strewn about and haphazard I can’t stand.
5. I refuse to eat beans. Andy makes fun of me because I can eat a whole bowl of chili and not one bean. When all else is gone, the beans will remain, like roaches after a nuclear bomb explosion. Unless, I manage to secretly scrape and mix them into Andy’s bowl when he’s not looking. (Oh, yes, I have.) Recently, I have been trying to slowly introduce beans into my diet, but it’s not working so well. The habit to avoid them is still there and so is the ambivalence. Unfortunately, Andy’s dad, Mr. B, is VERY BIG on the bean eating issue. More than once, we’ve argued over dinner, when he tried to spoon some on my plate.
6. I fantasize about.... swimming. A lot. I used to swim everyday growing up, when we had a huge in-ground pool. I learned quickly and was a pretty good swimmer by age 4. But, that house was sold about 11 years ago and now I don’t know anyone with a pool. Except my sister in law, and y’all already know how I feel about that. Having said this, I do not want a backyard with a pool, when it’s time to move from our current tent of a house. They are a ton of work, money, time and effort. I’d much rather have FRIENDS that have pools. (*hint*hint*)
Hmmm. You know, you never realize how bat-shit-crazy you sound until it’s actually written out in front of you. Gee.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Lovin' the Memes.
HOW WELL DO YOU KNOW ME..
Here’s another quiz that WTHIT sent me a long time ago. I will try to post something a bit more substantial later today. If not then, maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Eventually, I'm sure. Whatever.
Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. hostess at Pig-N-Whistle
2. receptionist at Airport Toyota
3. preschool teacher
4. insurance agent
Movies I would watch over & over:
1. Grease
2. Napoleon Dynamite
3. Joe Dirt
4. Little Women
Four tv shows I love to watch:
1. American Idol
2. The Office
3. CSI: Miami
4. That 70’s Show
Four places I have been on vacation:
1. New Smyrna Beach, FL
2. Gatlinburg, TN
3. New Orleans, LA
4. Hilton Head, SC
Four websites I visit daily:
1. All Blogs of Friends (see side bar)
2. Amalah
3. Go Fug Yourself
4. Celebrity Smack
Four of my favorite foods:
1. steak & potatoes
2. chicken enchiladas
3. those fried onion things at steakhouses
4. Uncle Bens' chicken flavored rice
Four places I would Rather be right now:
1. snuggled in bed with hubbie
2. spending time with my mom
3. shopping with friends
4. park with my doggie
Four songs that make me cry:
1. “Stand By Me" by Ben E. King
2. “Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton
3. "Prop Me Up Beside the Jukebox" by Joe Diffie (played at Daddy’s funeral)
4. “Porcelain" by Red Hot Chili
Here’s another quiz that WTHIT sent me a long time ago. I will try to post something a bit more substantial later today. If not then, maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Eventually, I'm sure. Whatever.
Four jobs I have had in my life:
1. hostess at Pig-N-Whistle
2. receptionist at Airport Toyota
3. preschool teacher
4. insurance agent
Movies I would watch over & over:
1. Grease
2. Napoleon Dynamite
3. Joe Dirt
4. Little Women
Four tv shows I love to watch:
1. American Idol
2. The Office
3. CSI: Miami
4. That 70’s Show
Four places I have been on vacation:
1. New Smyrna Beach, FL
2. Gatlinburg, TN
3. New Orleans, LA
4. Hilton Head, SC
Four websites I visit daily:
1. All Blogs of Friends (see side bar)
2. Amalah
3. Go Fug Yourself
4. Celebrity Smack
Four of my favorite foods:
1. steak & potatoes
2. chicken enchiladas
3. those fried onion things at steakhouses
4. Uncle Bens' chicken flavored rice
Four places I would Rather be right now:
1. snuggled in bed with hubbie
2. spending time with my mom
3. shopping with friends
4. park with my doggie
Four songs that make me cry:
1. “Stand By Me" by Ben E. King
2. “Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton
3. "Prop Me Up Beside the Jukebox" by Joe Diffie (played at Daddy’s funeral)
4. “Porcelain" by Red Hot Chili
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Father's Day Special
This Sunday is Father’s Day. For me, this is the first Father’s Day without my Father. It’s only been 9 months since that day, but our family has already had to go through all the “first year days”, except Father’s Day (most of those firsts were within 4 months). Thanksgiving, Christmas, Daddy’s birthday, my parent’s anniversary, my birthday, all of the major holidays have come and gone. Heck, my sister’s birthday fell on the one full day that separated my Father’s and Grandmother’s passing. So, yeah, we’ve been through this before.
But for some reason, Father’s Day, I have a feeling, is going to be different. Not because of its importance, though it surely is that. Before Daddy died, we never really celebrated Father’s Day. It was always the same old ‘get them a card and call to say you love them’ routine. The problem is this is FATHER’S DAY. Everything is geared towards Dads. Every which way you look, there they are. Dads. Only, none of them are mine.
I have nowhere to mail a card this year. I have no one to call and tell that I love him. There is not going to be a Father’s Day dinner in my family’s house. It hurts my heart to know that I have to talk to a wooden box with only his name engraved upon the lid.
Therefore, I am dedicating this post to my wonderful Father, though he’ll never be able to read or see it. This is part of my way of honoring and remembering him.
You loved me with your whole heart.
You watched me learn and grow.
You taught me to be independent.
You laughed at my antics and jokes.
You disciplined my rebellious side.
You boosted my confidence and self esteem.
You pushed me to be the best person possible.
You showed me how to be strong.
You gave me courage to face all odds.
You supported me in my decisions.
You encouraged me when I was down.
You gave when I had nothing to give back.
You shared everything you had with me.
You walked me down the aisle at my wedding.
You guided me when I lost my way.
You picked me up after a stumble.
You spoiled me endlessly.
You made me who I am today.
You were everything a Father should be.
Happy Father’s Day.
But for some reason, Father’s Day, I have a feeling, is going to be different. Not because of its importance, though it surely is that. Before Daddy died, we never really celebrated Father’s Day. It was always the same old ‘get them a card and call to say you love them’ routine. The problem is this is FATHER’S DAY. Everything is geared towards Dads. Every which way you look, there they are. Dads. Only, none of them are mine.
I have nowhere to mail a card this year. I have no one to call and tell that I love him. There is not going to be a Father’s Day dinner in my family’s house. It hurts my heart to know that I have to talk to a wooden box with only his name engraved upon the lid.
Therefore, I am dedicating this post to my wonderful Father, though he’ll never be able to read or see it. This is part of my way of honoring and remembering him.
You loved me with your whole heart.
You watched me learn and grow.
You taught me to be independent.
You laughed at my antics and jokes.
You disciplined my rebellious side.
You boosted my confidence and self esteem.
You pushed me to be the best person possible.
You showed me how to be strong.
You gave me courage to face all odds.
You supported me in my decisions.
You encouraged me when I was down.
You gave when I had nothing to give back.
You shared everything you had with me.
You walked me down the aisle at my wedding.
You guided me when I lost my way.
You picked me up after a stumble.
You spoiled me endlessly.
You made me who I am today.
You were everything a Father should be.
Happy Father’s Day.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
What's for Dessert?
Okay, maybe some of you already know this, but I am head over freakin' heels in love with my husband. I met him at Wal-Mart many years ago and never looked back. He's been my rock and my strength, never moreso than the last few months. He's my soulmate without a doubt in my mind.
However, my love for him reached new heights this weekend. (WAIT! Before you report me for inappropriate content, that's not what I meant.) He said something to me that no man has ever said, which touched my heart deeply. No, it wasn't "I love you," "You're beautiful" or anything like that, which he does say regularly. (hmm, brag much, Kimpossible?) It was even BETTER.
As we were ordering our dinner, I was a bit tempted to include some sort of cookie/candy coated ice cream for dessert. Since, like most average people, I don't really NEED that extra sugar, my willpower kicked in and I decided to forgo it. Now, my husband had been waiting for me to finalize my order, so he wondered why I had chosen to give up my favorite treat. When I mentioned my reasoning, do you know what he said?
This man is awesome. Andy looked me straight in the eye and said, "I wouldn't mind if you gained a little weight."
WUHHHH???!!??
How in the world did I manage to get so lucky?
However, my love for him reached new heights this weekend. (WAIT! Before you report me for inappropriate content, that's not what I meant.) He said something to me that no man has ever said, which touched my heart deeply. No, it wasn't "I love you," "You're beautiful" or anything like that, which he does say regularly. (hmm, brag much, Kimpossible?) It was even BETTER.
As we were ordering our dinner, I was a bit tempted to include some sort of cookie/candy coated ice cream for dessert. Since, like most average people, I don't really NEED that extra sugar, my willpower kicked in and I decided to forgo it. Now, my husband had been waiting for me to finalize my order, so he wondered why I had chosen to give up my favorite treat. When I mentioned my reasoning, do you know what he said?
This man is awesome. Andy looked me straight in the eye and said, "I wouldn't mind if you gained a little weight."
WUHHHH???!!??
How in the world did I manage to get so lucky?
Friday, June 09, 2006
Sis
They have found suspicious lumps on my sister's cervix. She will go in for testing and perhaps biopsy next Wednesday, then we have to wait 2 weeks before the results are in. She is scared. My mom is scared. I am scared.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
School of Etiquette
One day last week, I held the door open for a man as we were leaving work. He commented to me that he thought everyone with manners was gone. I replied that, "No, we're here, you just have to find us."
This quick exchange got me thinking. I am always confused about some "mannerly" things, like the door holding. How close behind you does the person need to be before you'll hold the door? If they are further behind, do you let the door swing shut after you? Or, do you hold it anyway and force them into that akward run/ jog to catch up? If you decide to stand and hold the door, what do you say to them when they approach? This line of questioning can also be applied to the elevator. When to hold and when to fold? (and if you don't hold the door, do you talk to the others that made it in about those left behind?)
Another conundrum (great word, huh?) is how do you help someone that doesn't want assistance, but you know you should? We have this elderly man that lives next door to us, who is very independent. He is alone, except his daughter and son that come by to visit every couple of weeks. On several occasions, my husband has spotted this man attempting to carry his groceries from the car into the house. Obviously, Andy jumps right in to help, but is usually rewarded with the man telling him, loudly and firmly, that he can handle it and DOES NOT NEED HELP. But Andy knows that Mr. H can't do it all by himself, after all he's well into his 80's, is on oxygen and has serious problems walking, moreless navigating the stairs to the back door. Because he is a good southern boy, Andy convinces Mr. H to let him help, but you can see the begruding loss of independence on Mr. H's face. It makes you wonder if you are doing him a favor after all.
This segues to another topic: face issues. I don't know how to word it any better than that. What I mean is- what about people with stuff on their face? Do you tell them or just let it be and hope someone else lets the person know? Do you risk your own embarassment over having noticed the offense or try to not stare when they have a big boog a'hangin'? How about breath? Surely, everyone has had a conversation with someone that was a little too, ummm, close. Should you warn the masses of impending hallitosis doom? Or offer the mouth breather a mint?
Here's another one and this is for those of you in committed relationships- do these same rules apply to your partner? Is there door holding, even if your other half is lagging behind? Do you point out things to your significant other that you normally would not with a stranger? In our household, what needs to be said, gets said. So, if you've got dragon breath, I'm letting you know. I expect it to be reciprocal, after all, you don't want to run off the one person that wants to kiss and cuddle even after seeing you lick mayo off your own eyebrow.
This quick exchange got me thinking. I am always confused about some "mannerly" things, like the door holding. How close behind you does the person need to be before you'll hold the door? If they are further behind, do you let the door swing shut after you? Or, do you hold it anyway and force them into that akward run/ jog to catch up? If you decide to stand and hold the door, what do you say to them when they approach? This line of questioning can also be applied to the elevator. When to hold and when to fold? (and if you don't hold the door, do you talk to the others that made it in about those left behind?)
Another conundrum (great word, huh?) is how do you help someone that doesn't want assistance, but you know you should? We have this elderly man that lives next door to us, who is very independent. He is alone, except his daughter and son that come by to visit every couple of weeks. On several occasions, my husband has spotted this man attempting to carry his groceries from the car into the house. Obviously, Andy jumps right in to help, but is usually rewarded with the man telling him, loudly and firmly, that he can handle it and DOES NOT NEED HELP. But Andy knows that Mr. H can't do it all by himself, after all he's well into his 80's, is on oxygen and has serious problems walking, moreless navigating the stairs to the back door. Because he is a good southern boy, Andy convinces Mr. H to let him help, but you can see the begruding loss of independence on Mr. H's face. It makes you wonder if you are doing him a favor after all.
This segues to another topic: face issues. I don't know how to word it any better than that. What I mean is- what about people with stuff on their face? Do you tell them or just let it be and hope someone else lets the person know? Do you risk your own embarassment over having noticed the offense or try to not stare when they have a big boog a'hangin'? How about breath? Surely, everyone has had a conversation with someone that was a little too, ummm, close. Should you warn the masses of impending hallitosis doom? Or offer the mouth breather a mint?
Here's another one and this is for those of you in committed relationships- do these same rules apply to your partner? Is there door holding, even if your other half is lagging behind? Do you point out things to your significant other that you normally would not with a stranger? In our household, what needs to be said, gets said. So, if you've got dragon breath, I'm letting you know. I expect it to be reciprocal, after all, you don't want to run off the one person that wants to kiss and cuddle even after seeing you lick mayo off your own eyebrow.
MeMe
I am – creative.
I want – world dominance.
I wish - I could see the future.
I miss – my Dad.
I fear - death and whatever lies on the other side.
I hear – horrible elevator muzak. I can even hear it in my dreams.
I wonder - when it'll be my turn.
I regret – giving up on school, but not enough to go back.
I am not – emotional.
I dance – when I clean my house (in my underwear).
I sing – when I drive.
I cry – by myself.
I am not always – ambitious.
I make with my hands – I plead the fifth. (we'll go with peanut butter sandwiches)
I write – letters when I am angry at someone. Then I rip them up.
I confuse – the expressways through town.
I need – time alone.
I should – exercise.
I start – big projects that I HATE finishing.
I finish – big projects that I SHOULD NEVER HAVE STARTED.
I want – world dominance.
I wish - I could see the future.
I miss – my Dad.
I fear - death and whatever lies on the other side.
I hear – horrible elevator muzak. I can even hear it in my dreams.
I wonder - when it'll be my turn.
I regret – giving up on school, but not enough to go back.
I am not – emotional.
I dance – when I clean my house (in my underwear).
I sing – when I drive.
I cry – by myself.
I am not always – ambitious.
I make with my hands – I plead the fifth. (we'll go with peanut butter sandwiches)
I write – letters when I am angry at someone. Then I rip them up.
I confuse – the expressways through town.
I need – time alone.
I should – exercise.
I start – big projects that I HATE finishing.
I finish – big projects that I SHOULD NEVER HAVE STARTED.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Hilarity WiIl Ensue
After the dismal news that I posted last week, I thought it might be time for a little bit of lighthearted humor. Disclaimer: The following video may, perhaps, possibly, contain the word penis.
Friday, May 26, 2006
No words
I’ll never understand how life can be so unfair sometimes. This morning, I was flagged down by S, the lady that lives diagonally across and to the left of my house. She and another, elderly woman were working in the yard of my next door neighbor, R. I was on my way to work when she stopped me to drop the news. R’s daughter, A, has cancer of the kidney. A is 5 years old, y’all. The family was just informed on Wed. and things are a little rocky now. From my understanding, the docs found a tumor and when they were operating to remove it, they discovered that another tumor had already exploded inside of A. Now, they don’t know how far it has spread. A is at St. Jude for testing and treatment.
When we moved into our home almost 6 years ago, A hadn’t even been born. These days, we usually hear her laughter and sounds of her childish play in the backyard next to us every afternoon, while we watch tv. It breaks my heart to think this vivacious little girl has been struck down with such a horrific disease. Her parents must be dealing with unimaginable feelings of helplessness and fear. I can and will help out with anything that will unburden them in any way possible, but there’s nothing I can say or do that will take that pain away. No Hallmark card or homemade casserole can offer comfort or reassurance that everything will be okay.
It’s always difficult to find the right thing to say to someone that is dealing with tragedy. But, when it comes to talking about a parent of a cancer kid, absolutely nothing is adequate to express how sorry you are. How do you show them that you care and have confidence that God will take care of everything? What do you say to let them know that you are there for them and want to contribute, without reminding them of their pain? I haven’t figured it out yet, but I’m trying.
Please, if you are reading this, keep A and her family in your thoughts and prayers. Also, remember the doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff that have to face these families and fight childhood diseases everyday. The struggle and frustration they must go through has to weigh heavily on their minds. I will update on her situation as soon as I find out what’s next.
If you are interested in cancer research and treatment here's a couple of links to check out:
http://www.wingscancerfoundation.org
http://www.stjude.org
http://cancerres.aacrjournals.org
When we moved into our home almost 6 years ago, A hadn’t even been born. These days, we usually hear her laughter and sounds of her childish play in the backyard next to us every afternoon, while we watch tv. It breaks my heart to think this vivacious little girl has been struck down with such a horrific disease. Her parents must be dealing with unimaginable feelings of helplessness and fear. I can and will help out with anything that will unburden them in any way possible, but there’s nothing I can say or do that will take that pain away. No Hallmark card or homemade casserole can offer comfort or reassurance that everything will be okay.
It’s always difficult to find the right thing to say to someone that is dealing with tragedy. But, when it comes to talking about a parent of a cancer kid, absolutely nothing is adequate to express how sorry you are. How do you show them that you care and have confidence that God will take care of everything? What do you say to let them know that you are there for them and want to contribute, without reminding them of their pain? I haven’t figured it out yet, but I’m trying.
Please, if you are reading this, keep A and her family in your thoughts and prayers. Also, remember the doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff that have to face these families and fight childhood diseases everyday. The struggle and frustration they must go through has to weigh heavily on their minds. I will update on her situation as soon as I find out what’s next.
If you are interested in cancer research and treatment here's a couple of links to check out:
http://www.wingscancerfoundation.org
http://www.stjude.org
http://cancerres.aacrjournals.org
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Wilderness Girl, the Sequel.
Soooo, I didn’t quite make my slippery escape from the trek to the woods. However, I was only sucked into being out there for the afternoon on Sunday, as opposed to actually camping overnight. Still, that was more than enough and I really don’t want to have to repeat the experience. A few of the highlights from my wild adventure:
We get to the campgrounds, find the in-laws site and pull in. When my truck pulled to a stop, we noticed that it felt like it was going to up and die. Andy popped the hood and found the problem. It was bad, y’all. Some vacuum hose had come loose and was blowing extremely hot air out. Bad news because it had been laying up against the PLASTIC sensor that it had originally been plugged into and melted it. Why are any car parts even made out of PLASTIC? If that wasn’t enough, it then burned a nice size hole in the intake manifold. Great. How the heck do you get home when your vehicle is on the verge of collapse?
It only took about 5 minutes before my morning shower had worn off. It was freakin’ hot and sticky out there. The clothes we had chosen, it became woefully obvious, weren’t the most out-doors friendly. Jeans are not a very comfortable thing to have on if you are going to puff up like a marshmallow from the heat. Deodorant? What a joke. Mother Nature bitch slapped that one all over creation. You know how in the summer, you can feel the sweat running down the backs of your legs because it had collected in your knee-pits until they could hold no more? Imagine that, but all over.
Next, in our game of survival came the nature walk. (Alright, not so much a nature walk, as a paved pathway to the kiddy playground. BUT! There were trees! And bugs! So very nature-y! And we walked! Shut up.) We met up with Mrs. B, SIL, Cousin S. and SIL’s kids on their way back from said playground. As we stood around talking on the walkway, Andy moved to the side and alllllllmost fell over trying to avoid stepping on a snake. A SNAKE, PEOPLE. It was less than 2 feet off the path that CHILDREN were running up and down without a care in the world. Andy was a fraction of a second away from getting bit. And I have it on good authority, as in my FIL, a great friend and a co-worker all said so, that this snake was indeed poisonous. You can tell by the shape of the head, apparently. After the screams died down, Mr. B. borrowed a hatchet and killed the nasty varmint. Course, I won’t mention that it took him at least 5 swings to finish the job. He missed a few times and let me tell you, not much pisses a snake off more than being hacked at by a shirtless man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
By now, it was time to fire up the grill and fix some lunch/dinner. As predicted, Andy was appointed head grill master. I was lucky enough to find a spot at the picnic table that was only slightly damp from the rain the night before and chatted with the kids around me. Naturally, it wasn’t long until the bugs smelled the good cookin’ and swarmed the camp site. Y’all should have seen it! Some flying something or other just about went down my shirt and I came up from that table like I had been crowned the new American Idol. Maybe even faster. Certainly with more profanity and yelling.
Finally, once the meal was eaten, I tried to snatch Andy away for a nice, quiet walk down to the water, but my plan was thwarted. As soon as the question, “Do you want to go walking?” came out, the kiddos started begging. “Can we go? Pleeeease?” What does wonderful SIL do? Tell them that of course, they can go. So much for that. We did manage to sneak a hug and quick peck, while the kids were throwing sand balls (picture snowballs but made of wet sand) at each other. Hey, I just said we would watch them, not prevent them from blinding themselves with sand.
When we got back to the campsite, everything was packed up and just about ready to go. THANK GOD. For the following 30 minutes, we said our good-byes and insisted that, “No, we don’t need to take your roll of aluminum foil, just in case, but thank you anyway.” Then, into the truck, buckle up and away we went. Fortunately, Andy’s rigging held the entire ride home. Seriously, it was only by the grace of God, some twist ties and a stick, that it worked. And the day wouldn’t have been complete without a The-End-is-Coming-NOW-Thunderstorm. The whole way home, all I could think about was why in the world would people go sleep in the woods, when mankind has worked for thousands of years to get OUT of the elements? Still, we made it home safely and in record time.
Alright, so you may be thinking, “That doesn’t sound so horrible. She’s being way dramatic.” and you are probably right. You know what, though? I don’t care. It was a miserable day and I hated it. Know what else? I’d do it again in a heartbeat to hear my husband say, “Thanks for going today. I appreciate you trying to have fun.” Little did he know what thoughts were running through my head all day. Then again, he has to put up with my family, so perhaps, he does know...
We get to the campgrounds, find the in-laws site and pull in. When my truck pulled to a stop, we noticed that it felt like it was going to up and die. Andy popped the hood and found the problem. It was bad, y’all. Some vacuum hose had come loose and was blowing extremely hot air out. Bad news because it had been laying up against the PLASTIC sensor that it had originally been plugged into and melted it. Why are any car parts even made out of PLASTIC? If that wasn’t enough, it then burned a nice size hole in the intake manifold. Great. How the heck do you get home when your vehicle is on the verge of collapse?
It only took about 5 minutes before my morning shower had worn off. It was freakin’ hot and sticky out there. The clothes we had chosen, it became woefully obvious, weren’t the most out-doors friendly. Jeans are not a very comfortable thing to have on if you are going to puff up like a marshmallow from the heat. Deodorant? What a joke. Mother Nature bitch slapped that one all over creation. You know how in the summer, you can feel the sweat running down the backs of your legs because it had collected in your knee-pits until they could hold no more? Imagine that, but all over.
Next, in our game of survival came the nature walk. (Alright, not so much a nature walk, as a paved pathway to the kiddy playground. BUT! There were trees! And bugs! So very nature-y! And we walked! Shut up.) We met up with Mrs. B, SIL, Cousin S. and SIL’s kids on their way back from said playground. As we stood around talking on the walkway, Andy moved to the side and alllllllmost fell over trying to avoid stepping on a snake. A SNAKE, PEOPLE. It was less than 2 feet off the path that CHILDREN were running up and down without a care in the world. Andy was a fraction of a second away from getting bit. And I have it on good authority, as in my FIL, a great friend and a co-worker all said so, that this snake was indeed poisonous. You can tell by the shape of the head, apparently. After the screams died down, Mr. B. borrowed a hatchet and killed the nasty varmint. Course, I won’t mention that it took him at least 5 swings to finish the job. He missed a few times and let me tell you, not much pisses a snake off more than being hacked at by a shirtless man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
By now, it was time to fire up the grill and fix some lunch/dinner. As predicted, Andy was appointed head grill master. I was lucky enough to find a spot at the picnic table that was only slightly damp from the rain the night before and chatted with the kids around me. Naturally, it wasn’t long until the bugs smelled the good cookin’ and swarmed the camp site. Y’all should have seen it! Some flying something or other just about went down my shirt and I came up from that table like I had been crowned the new American Idol. Maybe even faster. Certainly with more profanity and yelling.
Finally, once the meal was eaten, I tried to snatch Andy away for a nice, quiet walk down to the water, but my plan was thwarted. As soon as the question, “Do you want to go walking?” came out, the kiddos started begging. “Can we go? Pleeeease?” What does wonderful SIL do? Tell them that of course, they can go. So much for that. We did manage to sneak a hug and quick peck, while the kids were throwing sand balls (picture snowballs but made of wet sand) at each other. Hey, I just said we would watch them, not prevent them from blinding themselves with sand.
When we got back to the campsite, everything was packed up and just about ready to go. THANK GOD. For the following 30 minutes, we said our good-byes and insisted that, “No, we don’t need to take your roll of aluminum foil, just in case, but thank you anyway.” Then, into the truck, buckle up and away we went. Fortunately, Andy’s rigging held the entire ride home. Seriously, it was only by the grace of God, some twist ties and a stick, that it worked. And the day wouldn’t have been complete without a The-End-is-Coming-NOW-Thunderstorm. The whole way home, all I could think about was why in the world would people go sleep in the woods, when mankind has worked for thousands of years to get OUT of the elements? Still, we made it home safely and in record time.
Alright, so you may be thinking, “That doesn’t sound so horrible. She’s being way dramatic.” and you are probably right. You know what, though? I don’t care. It was a miserable day and I hated it. Know what else? I’d do it again in a heartbeat to hear my husband say, “Thanks for going today. I appreciate you trying to have fun.” Little did he know what thoughts were running through my head all day. Then again, he has to put up with my family, so perhaps, he does know...
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