After living most of my life in the shadow of pretty much everyone around me, whether by choice or fate, I've recently discovered that there is a world out there that I'm enjoying being a part of, so I live in the shadow no more (unless I choose to on certain occasions).
Seriously though, for the most part, I've not been one to socialize, hang-out with "the girls" (whoever they might've been), or even guys. Not one to contribute much to any conversation (as nobody every listened anyway... refer back a few blogs). But all of that is okay.
In the past 15 months or thereabouts, I've joined a bunco group, and am having the time of my life at least one Tuesday evening a month. I've started walking with a group of the neighborhood girls every chance we get (weather & health permitting), and again, am having the time of my life. I'm also part of a communal blog (obviously not this site) made up of frustrated women,... frustrated either by their weight, jobs, family, or just life in general, and am enjoying their cyber-company as I know I'm not alone in the world. Also, we've just started getting together once a month for dinner, and this too is a nice break from the norm'.
Yes, I'm becoming somewhat of a social butterfly and am having the time of my life!!!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
A tale of two sh!tt!es.
It was the pi$$ed of times, it was the crappiest of times...
There have been a couple of plain ol' sh!tty moments for me within a 72 hour span, and yes, this blog does deal with bodily functions, just not mine.
Whenever it rains and the backyard gets all mucky, we stop letting the big kids out back to run, play and do their biz, but instead take them out on a leash, one by one, to the front/side yard to relieve themselves. This way, they aren't tracking in mud.
In hindsight, I should've let them track the mud in.
Saturday, late afternoon, it had been raining for quite a while and whatever piles of doggy-doo were outside had been reduced to lumps of mush. We were getting ready to go to the bowling alley and I was taking the kids out for one last potty-break before we left. I had Bootsy out in the side yard, on the far side of the sidewalk. She was searching around for just the perfect spot to "go" (I don't know why they have to find these perfect spots! Why can't they just stop, squat, and go???), and when she finally found it, it was right next to an existing, mushy pile of doo. She got into position, but before she could do anything, the wind sent a leaf tumbling past her and it startled her. Bootsy gave up trying to poo, and lost her balance, and stumbled into the pile of mushy poo. Great.
I walked her up and down in the grass, #1) to give her an opportunity to do the business she'd started, but never would finish now, and #2) to walk off as much of the crap from her foot as possible. It was a waste of time. The poo was so caked in between her toes and nails that it wasn't going to come off that easily. We headed back to the house, her leaving one pooey paw print every few feet on the sidewalk.
I opened the front door and struggled to keep her from running in and the other two from coming out. I yelled at the husband to bring me a wet, soapy rag. In the meantime, Bootsy danced around on the porch, stepping all over her own feet, and thereby getting the poo on her other hind foot. Nice.
Once I had the wet towel in hand, I did my best to clean her up. It was a gross mess, that's all I can say.
Fast-forward to Tuesday morning. It was about 5am, the husband had the day off, so there had been no reason for me to get up earlier and let the dogs out. But now they'd been holding it for quite some time and needed to go out, and thus their pacing up and down the hall woke me up. I got out of bed and headed into the bathroom, only to discover that one of the cats had decided to take a piss all over the bathroom floor, instead of using one of the litter boxes that sat less than a foot away. Grrr! Well, at least they had the courtesy to go on the vinyl floor instead of the carpet or bed.
Fast-forward to Tuesday evening. I'd had a hectic day at work, and only wanted to go home and relax before going out with the girls that evening. I had on a brand new outfit... new pants, new sweater, new shoes. When it comes to my work-clothes, unless I've spilled something on myself or sat here and sweated in the office, then as a general rule, I try to get two wearings out of some items in between cleanings, especially if they're dry-clean only. I walked into the house (husband of course was at the fire house... how convenient), and discovered two piles of dog vomit on the livingroom floor. Olivia was eliminated as a suspect as she was in her crate. I suspected Eliott, simply because he has more of a tendancy to do such things than Bootsy does, but it really doesn't matter, as I'll never know, and what difference would it make anyway?? I let him outside, making Bootsy wait her turn. I took Olivia out front. Back inside, I let Eliott back in and Bootsy out. I then grabbed a plastic grocery bag to scoop up the worst of the vomit piles. Then I grabbed some paper towels and placed them over the spots, just to keep the dogs from stepping in them until I could get my clothes changed and get down on the floor to scrub the area. Vomit now hidden by papertowel, I went to the backdoor and called for Bootsy to come in. She came running around the pool, in an odd sort of way, ran past me and jumped onto the recliner, quickly tucking her tail-nub and butt down. Something wasn't right here. I saw what looked like a piece of muddy grass sticking to the recliner where her butt had brushed it as she sat down. Thinking she had mud on her, I grabbed her collar and pulled her towards me to see how much if any mud she had.
Oh, how I wish it had been mud.
She had what appeared to be an entire straw-whisk broom sticking out of her butt-hole. **Blech!!** that wasn't a piece of muddy grass on the chair, it was poopy grass. I grabbed one of the pieces of papertowel that had been covering the nearest pile of vomit and used it to pull the "broom" form her butt, but it seemed to be never ending. I had used up the piece of papertowel and there was still stuff hanging from her hind-end. This wasn't going well.
Bootsy was struggling to tuck her butt in and sit down, and I was struggling to keep her standing. I needed to dispose of the dirty papertowel, but knew I couldn't drag her into the kitchen one-handed. In a monumental effort, I got the backdoor unlocked, opened, straw-filled towel tossed onto the deck, and the door re-closed, all with the use of only my pinky finger, as I was using my other fingers to keep the papertowel and it's contents from falling onto the floor.
Once the door was closed, I used both hands to drag Bootsy to the kitchen, and started grabbing papertowels to finish what we'd started. It took another three towels to get the last of the straw pulled from her rearend. Honestly!, I don't know how or why she ate so much! You'd think she'd learn not to do such things, but I'm sure she'll be right back at it tomorrow. Talk about ruffage in your diet. Of course the whole time I'm trying to de-straw Bootsy, Olivia is curious to know what's going on and had her nose poked into Bootsy's business. As my hands were full, I was yelling at deaf ears to get back. Why do I waste me breath??
Now that Bootsy was cleaned up, I had to clean the recliner. By now, I felt dirty, even if I hadn't actually gotten anything on me, I wasn't chancing it. New outfit into the dirty laundry. Clean flopping clothes on. Vomit mess cleaned up. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was go out with the girls... I was exhausted!
But I did go, and I had a good time, I was glad I went.
Hopefully that's the end of my crappy days for a while... a long while.
There have been a couple of plain ol' sh!tty moments for me within a 72 hour span, and yes, this blog does deal with bodily functions, just not mine.
Whenever it rains and the backyard gets all mucky, we stop letting the big kids out back to run, play and do their biz, but instead take them out on a leash, one by one, to the front/side yard to relieve themselves. This way, they aren't tracking in mud.
In hindsight, I should've let them track the mud in.
Saturday, late afternoon, it had been raining for quite a while and whatever piles of doggy-doo were outside had been reduced to lumps of mush. We were getting ready to go to the bowling alley and I was taking the kids out for one last potty-break before we left. I had Bootsy out in the side yard, on the far side of the sidewalk. She was searching around for just the perfect spot to "go" (I don't know why they have to find these perfect spots! Why can't they just stop, squat, and go???), and when she finally found it, it was right next to an existing, mushy pile of doo. She got into position, but before she could do anything, the wind sent a leaf tumbling past her and it startled her. Bootsy gave up trying to poo, and lost her balance, and stumbled into the pile of mushy poo. Great.
I walked her up and down in the grass, #1) to give her an opportunity to do the business she'd started, but never would finish now, and #2) to walk off as much of the crap from her foot as possible. It was a waste of time. The poo was so caked in between her toes and nails that it wasn't going to come off that easily. We headed back to the house, her leaving one pooey paw print every few feet on the sidewalk.
I opened the front door and struggled to keep her from running in and the other two from coming out. I yelled at the husband to bring me a wet, soapy rag. In the meantime, Bootsy danced around on the porch, stepping all over her own feet, and thereby getting the poo on her other hind foot. Nice.
Once I had the wet towel in hand, I did my best to clean her up. It was a gross mess, that's all I can say.
Fast-forward to Tuesday morning. It was about 5am, the husband had the day off, so there had been no reason for me to get up earlier and let the dogs out. But now they'd been holding it for quite some time and needed to go out, and thus their pacing up and down the hall woke me up. I got out of bed and headed into the bathroom, only to discover that one of the cats had decided to take a piss all over the bathroom floor, instead of using one of the litter boxes that sat less than a foot away. Grrr! Well, at least they had the courtesy to go on the vinyl floor instead of the carpet or bed.
Fast-forward to Tuesday evening. I'd had a hectic day at work, and only wanted to go home and relax before going out with the girls that evening. I had on a brand new outfit... new pants, new sweater, new shoes. When it comes to my work-clothes, unless I've spilled something on myself or sat here and sweated in the office, then as a general rule, I try to get two wearings out of some items in between cleanings, especially if they're dry-clean only. I walked into the house (husband of course was at the fire house... how convenient), and discovered two piles of dog vomit on the livingroom floor. Olivia was eliminated as a suspect as she was in her crate. I suspected Eliott, simply because he has more of a tendancy to do such things than Bootsy does, but it really doesn't matter, as I'll never know, and what difference would it make anyway?? I let him outside, making Bootsy wait her turn. I took Olivia out front. Back inside, I let Eliott back in and Bootsy out. I then grabbed a plastic grocery bag to scoop up the worst of the vomit piles. Then I grabbed some paper towels and placed them over the spots, just to keep the dogs from stepping in them until I could get my clothes changed and get down on the floor to scrub the area. Vomit now hidden by papertowel, I went to the backdoor and called for Bootsy to come in. She came running around the pool, in an odd sort of way, ran past me and jumped onto the recliner, quickly tucking her tail-nub and butt down. Something wasn't right here. I saw what looked like a piece of muddy grass sticking to the recliner where her butt had brushed it as she sat down. Thinking she had mud on her, I grabbed her collar and pulled her towards me to see how much if any mud she had.
Oh, how I wish it had been mud.
She had what appeared to be an entire straw-whisk broom sticking out of her butt-hole. **Blech!!** that wasn't a piece of muddy grass on the chair, it was poopy grass. I grabbed one of the pieces of papertowel that had been covering the nearest pile of vomit and used it to pull the "broom" form her butt, but it seemed to be never ending. I had used up the piece of papertowel and there was still stuff hanging from her hind-end. This wasn't going well.
Bootsy was struggling to tuck her butt in and sit down, and I was struggling to keep her standing. I needed to dispose of the dirty papertowel, but knew I couldn't drag her into the kitchen one-handed. In a monumental effort, I got the backdoor unlocked, opened, straw-filled towel tossed onto the deck, and the door re-closed, all with the use of only my pinky finger, as I was using my other fingers to keep the papertowel and it's contents from falling onto the floor.
Once the door was closed, I used both hands to drag Bootsy to the kitchen, and started grabbing papertowels to finish what we'd started. It took another three towels to get the last of the straw pulled from her rearend. Honestly!, I don't know how or why she ate so much! You'd think she'd learn not to do such things, but I'm sure she'll be right back at it tomorrow. Talk about ruffage in your diet. Of course the whole time I'm trying to de-straw Bootsy, Olivia is curious to know what's going on and had her nose poked into Bootsy's business. As my hands were full, I was yelling at deaf ears to get back. Why do I waste me breath??
Now that Bootsy was cleaned up, I had to clean the recliner. By now, I felt dirty, even if I hadn't actually gotten anything on me, I wasn't chancing it. New outfit into the dirty laundry. Clean flopping clothes on. Vomit mess cleaned up. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was go out with the girls... I was exhausted!
But I did go, and I had a good time, I was glad I went.
Hopefully that's the end of my crappy days for a while... a long while.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
The reality of it is...
I'm totally out of touch with (reality?) todays world of music, popular t.v. genre, and a few (thousand) other things.
My cousin "Nestle" mentioned in her blog some musician she was going to see perform. I asked "who?", thinking it was some obscure, local artist trying to make a name for himself. Hmm, I guess I was wrong in my thinking. She set me straight.
I admit it, for the most part (that being 99.99% of the time) I only listen to my cds or radio stations that play for the most part, pre-1990's music. Oh sure, there is a song every now and then that's been released in the past 10-15 years that I know, and even like, and what's more, can even tell you the artist's name, but those songs are few and far between. Sound like an old fart, don't I? I've officially become my parents/grandparents. If I had children (of the human variety), I can just imagine myself yelling at them to "turn down that noise!"
Moving on to t.v. shows... I just don't get these reality shows that seem to be all the rage. They're obviously staged to create emotion and drama, but I seriously doubt most of what we see is "what we are really seeing". I say, if you want true reality for a show, just try following around woman with PMS, that has a husband that's the emotional equivalant of a 12 year old, a couple of screaming pre-schoolers, that has a job she loathes to go to each day, and a checking account with little or no money in it. Now that's reality!!
Sound like a million sit-coms we've seen over the years? Of course it does! But that's a lot closer to reality for me than these other so-called reality shows.
Wife Swap? In the real world it may be done, but it's not talked about unless it's whispered behind your back and basically it's frowned upon.
Fear Factor? In the real world that's wondering if this weeks paycheck is going to cover this weeks bills. Or, it's wondering if you can drive the car for one more day without stopping for fuel or will you run out on the way to work tomorrow?
Survivor? In the real world, that's when your company is facing financial losses and is going to start out-sourcing some of it's work, and you wonder if you'll get to keep your job or end up on the bread-line. This could also be classified as Fear Factor.
So at the end of todays "reality" shows, it comes down to one person winning the competition and taking home the prize, such as it is. Once upon a time, we called these "game shows".
My cousin "Nestle" mentioned in her blog some musician she was going to see perform. I asked "who?", thinking it was some obscure, local artist trying to make a name for himself. Hmm, I guess I was wrong in my thinking. She set me straight.
I admit it, for the most part (that being 99.99% of the time) I only listen to my cds or radio stations that play for the most part, pre-1990's music. Oh sure, there is a song every now and then that's been released in the past 10-15 years that I know, and even like, and what's more, can even tell you the artist's name, but those songs are few and far between. Sound like an old fart, don't I? I've officially become my parents/grandparents. If I had children (of the human variety), I can just imagine myself yelling at them to "turn down that noise!"
Moving on to t.v. shows... I just don't get these reality shows that seem to be all the rage. They're obviously staged to create emotion and drama, but I seriously doubt most of what we see is "what we are really seeing". I say, if you want true reality for a show, just try following around woman with PMS, that has a husband that's the emotional equivalant of a 12 year old, a couple of screaming pre-schoolers, that has a job she loathes to go to each day, and a checking account with little or no money in it. Now that's reality!!
Sound like a million sit-coms we've seen over the years? Of course it does! But that's a lot closer to reality for me than these other so-called reality shows.
Wife Swap? In the real world it may be done, but it's not talked about unless it's whispered behind your back and basically it's frowned upon.
Fear Factor? In the real world that's wondering if this weeks paycheck is going to cover this weeks bills. Or, it's wondering if you can drive the car for one more day without stopping for fuel or will you run out on the way to work tomorrow?
Survivor? In the real world, that's when your company is facing financial losses and is going to start out-sourcing some of it's work, and you wonder if you'll get to keep your job or end up on the bread-line. This could also be classified as Fear Factor.
So at the end of todays "reality" shows, it comes down to one person winning the competition and taking home the prize, such as it is. Once upon a time, we called these "game shows".
Monday, February 26, 2007
Death scare
If anyone had ever told me I would one day become emotionally attached to an insect, a spider no less, I'd have thought they were on an LSD trip.
I've blogged before and posted pictures of my "pet", Mrs. Peter Wolfspider.
Honestly, I don't like spiders. When I see them, much like most other insects, I squash them if I have a shoe, flyswatter, or large piece of paper handy, and if not, I either run the other way or call for the husband to take care of the situation... but that's only as a last resort.
When I first saw the object that was to become my "pet", I did most definitely scream and jump about 3' in the air, as at first glance, she looked as big as a dinner plate. A slight exaggeration, but first glances can be deceiving.
For four months now, I've kept her, fed her and nurtured her. I check on her each and every day, even if I've nothing to feed her. I was delighted that we had a couple of warm evenings last week, as the warmer temperatures brought some of the moths out to gather around the porch light, and thus provide my girl with a long overdue meal.
This morning though, I thought our relationship had come to an end. I went into the kitchen and as I was raising the window blinds, I gazed into her jar, only to let out a startled scream. There now appeared to be two spiders in the jar. Either that, or Mrs. Peter had suddenly doubled in size and grown about 8 more legs. Regardless of which scenario was correct, I couldn't help but wonder, "how'd this happen???". I certainly hadn't added another spider to her jar, and there was no way for one to wonder in on it's own. I don't know what the gestation period is for spiders, so even if she'd been preggers when I caught her, I seriously doubt she'd have given birth to a single spider that was her equal in size.
I peered closer and saw that one of the spiders appeared to be hanging limply from the legs of the other. Oh no!, please don't let Mrs. Peter be dead!!!!!! I was very nearly ready to cry.
All this over a spider, puh-leeze!!!
I finally composed myself and looked even closer, and finally saw, much to my relief, that what I truly had was Mrs. Peter and the skin she had shed. She had come out of her old skin and left a perfect "spider" hanging on the wall of the jar. She was hanging from the skin, apparently having just crawled out before I found her this morning. I was much relieved, except... she seemed a bit sluggish. Actually, she was curled up like a spider that had been sprayed with bug spray, and had shriveled up and died. I started to panic once again, thinking the effort of shedding her skin had done her in.
I shook the jar and she finally moved her legs a little. Concern for my little brown friend prompted me to bring her to work with me today so I could keep an eye on her. I'm delighted to report that she has finally spread her legs to their full length and is now sitting next to her "old self".
I guess you learn something new everyday, for I certainly never knew that spiders shed their skins. I'm going to take a wild guess that this is a sign she's healthy and doing well.
I've blogged before and posted pictures of my "pet", Mrs. Peter Wolfspider.
Honestly, I don't like spiders. When I see them, much like most other insects, I squash them if I have a shoe, flyswatter, or large piece of paper handy, and if not, I either run the other way or call for the husband to take care of the situation... but that's only as a last resort.
When I first saw the object that was to become my "pet", I did most definitely scream and jump about 3' in the air, as at first glance, she looked as big as a dinner plate. A slight exaggeration, but first glances can be deceiving.
For four months now, I've kept her, fed her and nurtured her. I check on her each and every day, even if I've nothing to feed her. I was delighted that we had a couple of warm evenings last week, as the warmer temperatures brought some of the moths out to gather around the porch light, and thus provide my girl with a long overdue meal.
This morning though, I thought our relationship had come to an end. I went into the kitchen and as I was raising the window blinds, I gazed into her jar, only to let out a startled scream. There now appeared to be two spiders in the jar. Either that, or Mrs. Peter had suddenly doubled in size and grown about 8 more legs. Regardless of which scenario was correct, I couldn't help but wonder, "how'd this happen???". I certainly hadn't added another spider to her jar, and there was no way for one to wonder in on it's own. I don't know what the gestation period is for spiders, so even if she'd been preggers when I caught her, I seriously doubt she'd have given birth to a single spider that was her equal in size.
I peered closer and saw that one of the spiders appeared to be hanging limply from the legs of the other. Oh no!, please don't let Mrs. Peter be dead!!!!!! I was very nearly ready to cry.
All this over a spider, puh-leeze!!!
I finally composed myself and looked even closer, and finally saw, much to my relief, that what I truly had was Mrs. Peter and the skin she had shed. She had come out of her old skin and left a perfect "spider" hanging on the wall of the jar. She was hanging from the skin, apparently having just crawled out before I found her this morning. I was much relieved, except... she seemed a bit sluggish. Actually, she was curled up like a spider that had been sprayed with bug spray, and had shriveled up and died. I started to panic once again, thinking the effort of shedding her skin had done her in.
I shook the jar and she finally moved her legs a little. Concern for my little brown friend prompted me to bring her to work with me today so I could keep an eye on her. I'm delighted to report that she has finally spread her legs to their full length and is now sitting next to her "old self".
I guess you learn something new everyday, for I certainly never knew that spiders shed their skins. I'm going to take a wild guess that this is a sign she's healthy and doing well.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Love this time of year!!!
I have to admit something here... I simply LOVE this time of year!!!!!!
And not for the reasons you may suspect, like weather or birthdays/anniversaries, or "March madness".
No, I love it for all of the fish-fries that are going on at most Catholic churches. It's no secret, I love a good fish sandwich, and some of the best to be had come from these fund-raisers. My only complaint is that I wish they went on year round.
I know, I know, for those of you familiar with the LaGrange area, you're probably thinking to yourselves or about to suggest I visit the Fish Bus that's parked opposite the court house on Fridays, but that's not quite the same thing. The guy that takes the order is usually one of the crankiest people I've ever come across, and I'm not that impressed with their food. It's okay, but nothing great.
But what makes the fish fries even better is the fact that this is the time of year that we meet some of our old friends/neighbors and get to catch up on each others lives.
Yes, Lent is definitely one of my favorite times of year (and I'm not even Catholic!!)
And not for the reasons you may suspect, like weather or birthdays/anniversaries, or "March madness".
No, I love it for all of the fish-fries that are going on at most Catholic churches. It's no secret, I love a good fish sandwich, and some of the best to be had come from these fund-raisers. My only complaint is that I wish they went on year round.
I know, I know, for those of you familiar with the LaGrange area, you're probably thinking to yourselves or about to suggest I visit the Fish Bus that's parked opposite the court house on Fridays, but that's not quite the same thing. The guy that takes the order is usually one of the crankiest people I've ever come across, and I'm not that impressed with their food. It's okay, but nothing great.
But what makes the fish fries even better is the fact that this is the time of year that we meet some of our old friends/neighbors and get to catch up on each others lives.
Yes, Lent is definitely one of my favorite times of year (and I'm not even Catholic!!)
Who do I complain too????
**Grrr!!!**
I was browsing on-line at different department stores, just to see what this spring's fashions were. I don't usually follow trends, but tend to buy what I like, even if it does look like something from the 80's.
A friend and I were planning on doing a little shopping this weekend, and I was trying to get a heads-up on what was in the stores. So I start off by clicking "womens", then I click "plus sizes", and what do I see? Models whose waist-lines are smaller than my leg-calves. Gimme a break!!!
If I wanted to see dresses for tiny people, I'd have clicked on the "juniors" tab. Sure, that dress might be cute, on someone built like Twiggy, but it may be hideous on someone that looks like LuLu Hogg.
Yes, these women (the skinny ones I mean) do exist, and there is an endless supply of clothing stores, departments, and categories that they can find clothes to fit them in. But there are also large and larger women that need representation in the catalogs, advertisements, and even in the mannequins found in the stores.
I want to see clothes modeled by real women with real figures dammit!!
I was browsing on-line at different department stores, just to see what this spring's fashions were. I don't usually follow trends, but tend to buy what I like, even if it does look like something from the 80's.
A friend and I were planning on doing a little shopping this weekend, and I was trying to get a heads-up on what was in the stores. So I start off by clicking "womens", then I click "plus sizes", and what do I see? Models whose waist-lines are smaller than my leg-calves. Gimme a break!!!
If I wanted to see dresses for tiny people, I'd have clicked on the "juniors" tab. Sure, that dress might be cute, on someone built like Twiggy, but it may be hideous on someone that looks like LuLu Hogg.
Yes, these women (the skinny ones I mean) do exist, and there is an endless supply of clothing stores, departments, and categories that they can find clothes to fit them in. But there are also large and larger women that need representation in the catalogs, advertisements, and even in the mannequins found in the stores.
I want to see clothes modeled by real women with real figures dammit!!
Thursday, February 22, 2007
One up on the Royals
I know my grammar isn't perfect, either my verbal speech, or my written words, but trust me, I do have a pretty good grasp on grammar and punctuation. At least, I should. It was one of the few things I truly excelled at when in school.
I bring this up because while watching G.M.A. earlier this week, I saw an interview that was done with one of the British Royals, Prince Harry, and I was somewhat appalled at his use of the the English language.
Let's face it, we (or at least, I do) tend to think of the British as proper-speaking people, and to boot, Harry has had quite the proper education... all the best schools that money could buy.
So when the phrase "... me and William..." slipped into his verbiage, I nearly fell over. Even I know better than that!! Oh, I'm not saying I'm perfect (far from it!!!), but I do try to make a conscious effort to say "... 'John' and I..." (or whoever).
Also, after reading my friend "junosmom" 's blog the other day, she made reference to how her speech pattern has declined since moving to Kentucky 20+/- years ago. This will only reinforce what she had to say...
Again, while watching G.M.A. a couple of days ago, I heard Diane Sawyer (born and raised in Kentucky) say, "... you all..."
I know what you're probably thinking, 'but you do it all the time in your blogs'. True, I do. I tend to write just as if I were speaking it to you face to face. But I guess what I'm getting at is this, here again we have someone that's had a good education (unlike my high school only ed.), and is a well thought of anchor-woman, so I guess I would expect her to have better grammar. Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking Diane's grammar, I actually found it endearing, but it did just prove that she was from Kentucky.
I bring this up because while watching G.M.A. earlier this week, I saw an interview that was done with one of the British Royals, Prince Harry, and I was somewhat appalled at his use of the the English language.
Let's face it, we (or at least, I do) tend to think of the British as proper-speaking people, and to boot, Harry has had quite the proper education... all the best schools that money could buy.
So when the phrase "... me and William..." slipped into his verbiage, I nearly fell over. Even I know better than that!! Oh, I'm not saying I'm perfect (far from it!!!), but I do try to make a conscious effort to say "... 'John' and I..." (or whoever).
Also, after reading my friend "junosmom" 's blog the other day, she made reference to how her speech pattern has declined since moving to Kentucky 20+/- years ago. This will only reinforce what she had to say...
Again, while watching G.M.A. a couple of days ago, I heard Diane Sawyer (born and raised in Kentucky) say, "... you all..."
I know what you're probably thinking, 'but you do it all the time in your blogs'. True, I do. I tend to write just as if I were speaking it to you face to face. But I guess what I'm getting at is this, here again we have someone that's had a good education (unlike my high school only ed.), and is a well thought of anchor-woman, so I guess I would expect her to have better grammar. Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking Diane's grammar, I actually found it endearing, but it did just prove that she was from Kentucky.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Blepharospasm & peanut butter
I think I have "Blepharospasm".
Every once in a great while, one of my upper eyelids will start twitching and this will go on for a couple of hours, then go away. This time though, it's been going on for over 24 hours, and it's now moved into both eyelids.
This "twitch" isn't a rapid blinking, as some of the websites I visited suggested, but more of a spasm or jumping of the muscle that controls the eyelid and sometimes even higher into the eyebrow.
Does it hurt? No. It's just really annoying, especially since it's into it's second day. Some of the sites I visited said that these blepharospasms can last for days... **great**... so I'll give it a few days and see what happens. If it continues for very long, then I guess I'll be adding a trip to the eye doctor (or maybe back to the neurosurgeon) to my calendar.
On a different note...
I'm sure by now most, if not everyone, has heard about the Peter Pan & Great Value peanut butter recall. I paid very little attention to it, but you can be certain my husband stood up and took note, as on occasion, I'll fix him pb&j's for his lunch if we're out of lunch meat.
So one night last week, I was curled up in the recliner when he came home, all frantic, and started rooting through the cabinets, pulling out all the jars of Peter Pan and started throwing them away.
"Whoa!" I yelled, "what do you think you're doing?" He pointed out the manufacturers code on the lid that started with the "2111..." that was being recalled. I then pointed out to him that over 3/4 of the jar had been consumed already and we'd had no ill-effects, so I felt we had a safe jar. He wasn't chancing it and refused to have it in the house.
While at the store monday night, I wanted to buy some new jars, but the peanut butter shelves were bare, with the exception of Jif. There wasn't a jar of Peater Pan, Great Value or even Skippy to be found anywhere. I guess they weren't taking any chances.
**pout**
Wonder how long it's going to take them to put it back on the shelves??
Jif is alright, but it isn't my favorite, and I'd just as soon do without and wait 'til the good stuff comes back.
Every once in a great while, one of my upper eyelids will start twitching and this will go on for a couple of hours, then go away. This time though, it's been going on for over 24 hours, and it's now moved into both eyelids.
This "twitch" isn't a rapid blinking, as some of the websites I visited suggested, but more of a spasm or jumping of the muscle that controls the eyelid and sometimes even higher into the eyebrow.
Does it hurt? No. It's just really annoying, especially since it's into it's second day. Some of the sites I visited said that these blepharospasms can last for days... **great**... so I'll give it a few days and see what happens. If it continues for very long, then I guess I'll be adding a trip to the eye doctor (or maybe back to the neurosurgeon) to my calendar.
On a different note...
I'm sure by now most, if not everyone, has heard about the Peter Pan & Great Value peanut butter recall. I paid very little attention to it, but you can be certain my husband stood up and took note, as on occasion, I'll fix him pb&j's for his lunch if we're out of lunch meat.
So one night last week, I was curled up in the recliner when he came home, all frantic, and started rooting through the cabinets, pulling out all the jars of Peter Pan and started throwing them away.
"Whoa!" I yelled, "what do you think you're doing?" He pointed out the manufacturers code on the lid that started with the "2111..." that was being recalled. I then pointed out to him that over 3/4 of the jar had been consumed already and we'd had no ill-effects, so I felt we had a safe jar. He wasn't chancing it and refused to have it in the house.
While at the store monday night, I wanted to buy some new jars, but the peanut butter shelves were bare, with the exception of Jif. There wasn't a jar of Peater Pan, Great Value or even Skippy to be found anywhere. I guess they weren't taking any chances.
**pout**
Wonder how long it's going to take them to put it back on the shelves??
Jif is alright, but it isn't my favorite, and I'd just as soon do without and wait 'til the good stuff comes back.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Did you know...?
I heard on the news this morning about the death of former congressman Gene Snyder. Honestly, I was surprised, as I figured he'd passed a long time ago. I then felt almost responsible for his death, in an odd sort of way. I mentioned in my former blogging life how on more than one occasion, someone's name would pop into my head for some unknown reason, and then BAM!, within a week or so, the person was dead. Certainly this isn't intentional, and most assurredly a great coincidence, even though it has happened many, many times to me.
So why do I feel guilty over his death? A couple of weeks ago, for reasons I can't even imagine, the Gene Snyder re-election campaign jingle popped into my head. I couldn't even tell you what year this particular jingle was used, the 70's or early 80's... but it has stuck in my head even 20 years later.
Now after humming his jingle out of the blue, the man suddenly died. Wouldn't you feel a tadbit guilty??
Okay, onto some trivia...
I was looking up info on the 'net today as to the Gene Snyder Freeway, which runs past our house neighborhood, and learned some interesting facts. Did you know that the Gene Snyder Freeway/KY Hwy 841 runs from Dixie Hwy to US 42?... of course you did (most likely). However, did you know that only the stretch of Gene Snyder that runs from I-65 to I-71 is called I-265??
This was a shock to me!!!
Here are some more interesting tidbits...
The Gene Snyder Freeway was originally constructed as the Jefferson Freeway, but was eventually named in honor of former U.S. Congressman Gene Snyder. Snyder represented Louisville in congress from the mid-60’s to 1987 when he retired.
Construction on some segments of what is now known was the Gene Snyder Freeway began in the 1950s. That route was completed through the 1980s.
I-265 in Kentucky is completely separate from I-265 in Indiana; however, it is expected the I-265 route number will be used to designate the proposed northeastern Jefferson County Ohio River bridge. If that is the case, then I-265 in Kentucky and I-265 in Indiana will finally be connected.
Trivia :
I-264/Watterson Exp. is 24.477 miles long.
The entire length of the Gene Snyder Freeway including portions not designated I-265 is 37.006 miles.
Louisville is the only city to have consecutively numbered three digit interstates: I-264 and I-265.
So why do I feel guilty over his death? A couple of weeks ago, for reasons I can't even imagine, the Gene Snyder re-election campaign jingle popped into my head. I couldn't even tell you what year this particular jingle was used, the 70's or early 80's... but it has stuck in my head even 20 years later.
Now after humming his jingle out of the blue, the man suddenly died. Wouldn't you feel a tadbit guilty??
Okay, onto some trivia...
I was looking up info on the 'net today as to the Gene Snyder Freeway, which runs past our house neighborhood, and learned some interesting facts. Did you know that the Gene Snyder Freeway/KY Hwy 841 runs from Dixie Hwy to US 42?... of course you did (most likely). However, did you know that only the stretch of Gene Snyder that runs from I-65 to I-71 is called I-265??
This was a shock to me!!!
Here are some more interesting tidbits...
The Gene Snyder Freeway was originally constructed as the Jefferson Freeway, but was eventually named in honor of former U.S. Congressman Gene Snyder. Snyder represented Louisville in congress from the mid-60’s to 1987 when he retired.
Construction on some segments of what is now known was the Gene Snyder Freeway began in the 1950s. That route was completed through the 1980s.
I-265 in Kentucky is completely separate from I-265 in Indiana; however, it is expected the I-265 route number will be used to designate the proposed northeastern Jefferson County Ohio River bridge. If that is the case, then I-265 in Kentucky and I-265 in Indiana will finally be connected.
Trivia :
I-264/Watterson Exp. is 24.477 miles long.
The entire length of the Gene Snyder Freeway including portions not designated I-265 is 37.006 miles.
Louisville is the only city to have consecutively numbered three digit interstates: I-264 and I-265.
Vanished
As some of you may or may not have noticed, I recently "redecorated" my blogsite, changing the background color, adding a photo of my babies, etc.
Before making this change, I had a stat-counter that I had recently installed. Once I made the decor changes, the counter disappeared, and I can't find it. I even tried re-installing it (which I had zero problems the first time around), but I just can't get it to reappear. : (
Boo-hoo!
I really don't want to change back to my old "wallpaper", but I do miss the stat counter.
**sniff**
Before making this change, I had a stat-counter that I had recently installed. Once I made the decor changes, the counter disappeared, and I can't find it. I even tried re-installing it (which I had zero problems the first time around), but I just can't get it to reappear. : (
Boo-hoo!
I really don't want to change back to my old "wallpaper", but I do miss the stat counter.
**sniff**
An analogy
Husbands are like butt-holes...
If you've got one (husband that is), you pamper it and put it to good use when needed.
But by that same token, much like a butt-hole, husbands can be a real pain in the ass at times!
If you've got one (husband that is), you pamper it and put it to good use when needed.
But by that same token, much like a butt-hole, husbands can be a real pain in the ass at times!
Yea for Britney!
It's no secret, I'm not a Britney Spears fan (not even sure I'm spelling her name correctly). Oh, I don't exactly go around bashing the girl, but I just don't understand what all the fuss is about. Everytime her name is mentioned on the news, I either mentally "tune-out" or physically change the channel. There's only so much I can stomach of any given news story, and only then, if it's really "news worthy".
So you could've knocked me over with a feather when I actually found myself paying attention when they were talking about her this morning. When I heard her name being mentioned, I walked towards the t.v. (to tune-out), but then I saw her bald head, and I found myself mesmerized.
Britney shaved her head and got two new tattoos. Okay, the tattoos repulse me, so I'm not even going there... but the shaved head, I have to say, GOOD FOR HER!!!!
Hey, it's only hair, and it will grow back. The only thing I can think negatively about her new do is: what a shame she didn't donate her hair to Locks-of-Love... but that's not why I'm writing this.
I think it's great, even if it was done in a moment of haste or insanity or even to spite her mother, that she had the nerve to shave it so short. As most of you know, I wear my hair purdy-durned short. Right now it's grown out to a couple of inches, but when I "shave" my head, I usually cut it at 7/8 of an inch. For several years now, I've been wearing it really short. First time I did it, I used a #8 (1 inch) attachment. It took me a couple of years to finally get up the nerve to start using the #7 (7/8"). I figure eventually I'll work my way to a #6 and so on (each attachment being an eighth of an inch shorter than the last).
Is the buzz cut a flattering hair style for Britney, me, or most women? No, not really. I can't speak for her, or others, but speaking for myself, it is soooo much easier to take care of. As I wrote in a previous blog, I've had a bad-hair-life, and I don't like spending time styling it, especially in the summer, when it's pool-season. Wet it, gel it and you're done. Voila!
So maybe Britney has inspired me, and it's time to change the attachment on my clippers to something more drastic. Maybe...
So you could've knocked me over with a feather when I actually found myself paying attention when they were talking about her this morning. When I heard her name being mentioned, I walked towards the t.v. (to tune-out), but then I saw her bald head, and I found myself mesmerized.
Britney shaved her head and got two new tattoos. Okay, the tattoos repulse me, so I'm not even going there... but the shaved head, I have to say, GOOD FOR HER!!!!
Hey, it's only hair, and it will grow back. The only thing I can think negatively about her new do is: what a shame she didn't donate her hair to Locks-of-Love... but that's not why I'm writing this.
I think it's great, even if it was done in a moment of haste or insanity or even to spite her mother, that she had the nerve to shave it so short. As most of you know, I wear my hair purdy-durned short. Right now it's grown out to a couple of inches, but when I "shave" my head, I usually cut it at 7/8 of an inch. For several years now, I've been wearing it really short. First time I did it, I used a #8 (1 inch) attachment. It took me a couple of years to finally get up the nerve to start using the #7 (7/8"). I figure eventually I'll work my way to a #6 and so on (each attachment being an eighth of an inch shorter than the last).
Is the buzz cut a flattering hair style for Britney, me, or most women? No, not really. I can't speak for her, or others, but speaking for myself, it is soooo much easier to take care of. As I wrote in a previous blog, I've had a bad-hair-life, and I don't like spending time styling it, especially in the summer, when it's pool-season. Wet it, gel it and you're done. Voila!
So maybe Britney has inspired me, and it's time to change the attachment on my clippers to something more drastic. Maybe...
Friday, February 16, 2007
Bad Hair Day
Some people have bad-hair-days, but not me, I'm one of those people that have pretty much had a bad-hair-LIFE! That's one of the two biggest reasons I keep my hair so freaking short.
I refuse to color my hair. Gray doesn't bother me. Yeah, sure, I've been known to occasionally pluck a stray gray, but for the most part, I let it alone. Let Mother Nature do what she will to my hair.
What has concerned me more are the little black hairs elsewhere on my being. First time I ever found one, I was rubbing or scratching my chin and I felt the little protrusion. Hmm, wonder what that could be? I got out a small mirror, looked and saw IT! Horror of horrors, I had a WHISKER!!!! What the hell is that all about????????????
On the rare occasions I do find these "whiskers" on my chinney-chin-chin, I grab the tweezers and quicly yank those little boogers out of there. This just isn't right! **sigh** Okay, this has been going on for the past year and a half or two, and it's now become part of my morning grooming ritual to look for these things and dispose of them. I also find myself rubbing my chin frequently throughout the day, just to make sure a five o'clock shadow isn't appearing.
I can't believe I'm even talking about this!!
Well, I've seen some women (usually older) over the years, that have had mustaches (if not beards) that could put some mens' to shame. I never understood why they didn't seem to notice their facial hair, and if they knew it was there, why the heck didn't they do anything about it? I mean seriously, pluck, trim, bleach, lazer hair removal, Nair, do something! How could they stand it??
Then the truly unthinkable happened to me. My world fell apart over the weekend. Not only did I turn 39 on Saturday, but my world fell apart when I discoved those little black hairs had started migrating north on my face, and were now appearing on my upper lip.
Alright!, this is just too much!! Now what do I do? I'm becoming one of "those women" that always perplexed me. Maybe they were at a total loss as well. Certainly don't want to shave, that'd just make it all come in faster, thicker and darker. Eek! Can't afford lazer removal, and not sure about the bleaching. Life has just dealt me a cruel blow. So what did I do, grabbed the scissors and trimmed them back, then plucked the stubs that were left. It only hurt for the first few plucks, after that my face went numb and I no longer felt anything.
If this is to become a part of my daily grooming habits, I'm going to have to start getting up a couple of hours earlier, just to de-hair myself, then to allow time for the swelling to go down on my face and the redness to subside.
This isn't one of those things teach you about in school.
So for you women that are worried about the gray coming in on your scalp, I say, BRING IT ON!! Gray hair is the least of my worries, and I'm willing to bet that someday, it will be the least of your worries too.
I refuse to color my hair. Gray doesn't bother me. Yeah, sure, I've been known to occasionally pluck a stray gray, but for the most part, I let it alone. Let Mother Nature do what she will to my hair.
What has concerned me more are the little black hairs elsewhere on my being. First time I ever found one, I was rubbing or scratching my chin and I felt the little protrusion. Hmm, wonder what that could be? I got out a small mirror, looked and saw IT! Horror of horrors, I had a WHISKER!!!! What the hell is that all about????????????
On the rare occasions I do find these "whiskers" on my chinney-chin-chin, I grab the tweezers and quicly yank those little boogers out of there. This just isn't right! **sigh** Okay, this has been going on for the past year and a half or two, and it's now become part of my morning grooming ritual to look for these things and dispose of them. I also find myself rubbing my chin frequently throughout the day, just to make sure a five o'clock shadow isn't appearing.
I can't believe I'm even talking about this!!
Well, I've seen some women (usually older) over the years, that have had mustaches (if not beards) that could put some mens' to shame. I never understood why they didn't seem to notice their facial hair, and if they knew it was there, why the heck didn't they do anything about it? I mean seriously, pluck, trim, bleach, lazer hair removal, Nair, do something! How could they stand it??
Then the truly unthinkable happened to me. My world fell apart over the weekend. Not only did I turn 39 on Saturday, but my world fell apart when I discoved those little black hairs had started migrating north on my face, and were now appearing on my upper lip.
Alright!, this is just too much!! Now what do I do? I'm becoming one of "those women" that always perplexed me. Maybe they were at a total loss as well. Certainly don't want to shave, that'd just make it all come in faster, thicker and darker. Eek! Can't afford lazer removal, and not sure about the bleaching. Life has just dealt me a cruel blow. So what did I do, grabbed the scissors and trimmed them back, then plucked the stubs that were left. It only hurt for the first few plucks, after that my face went numb and I no longer felt anything.
If this is to become a part of my daily grooming habits, I'm going to have to start getting up a couple of hours earlier, just to de-hair myself, then to allow time for the swelling to go down on my face and the redness to subside.
This isn't one of those things teach you about in school.
So for you women that are worried about the gray coming in on your scalp, I say, BRING IT ON!! Gray hair is the least of my worries, and I'm willing to bet that someday, it will be the least of your worries too.
Why am I here?
Why am I here?
I don't mean "here" on the blogger site... I mean, why am I here on this earth?? What is my purpose in life?... not to be confused with "what is the meaning of life?"
Ever ask that question of yourself? Ever wonder, "Would anyone notice if I just dropped out of sight? Who, if anyone, would care?"
The world isn't going to come to a halt if I'm not around. Am I just marking time here on this earth, until the day I cease to exist? What have I accomplished thus far?
Okay, okay, I know that my husband would be upset at first, because he'd suddenly have nobody doing his laundry or fixing his meals or paying the bills. And the animals might be a bit upset at first, that is, until they got used to the new routine of John caring for them. And the boss would probably be upset, 'cause he'd suddenly have to do a lot more work around the office until somebody else was hired and trained. But who else, if anyone, would be affected by my absence?
Granted, Wal-mart, Fozolis and El Terasco would probably notice a decline in their yearly sales without me around to patronize these establishments, but that's not what I mean... I seriously doubt these places would notice me being gone.
I've given thought to deleting my blogsite (again) and giving up my email. I got along fine for 30+ years before they came along, I could learn to live without them again. Would anyone care? There are so many things I want to write about, but can't or won't, either because somebody might take offense or it just simply wouldn't be proper to do so. So maybe I should start writing in a journal, for just my eyes to see. That way, I could write whatever I want, about any topic. I could certainly get a lot of things off my chest that way... and I wouldn't have anyone suggesting I need anger-management or psycho-therapy. Which in reality, I probably need both, desparately!!
I often feel nobody is listening or paying a darned bit of attention when I speak (verbally)... which is a big part of why I blog. I can "talk", and if people chose to listen (read), then they can do so at their leisure, or they can ignore me and I'm none the wiser.
Occasionally I come across people, or stories of people, that are basically hermits, and I think, "how can they live like that, with little or no human contact?", but then at other times I'm thinking that they have the right idea. That way, nobody's making them mad, hurting their feelings, or just plain annoying them, and vice versa.
I've not invented anything that's going to change peoples lives for the better. I've not saved anyones life (that I'm aware of). The volunteer work I've done is hardly even worth mentioning, and as far as I know, I've done nothing to enrich others lives.
So again I ask, "why am I here?"
Okay, don't fret anyone, I'm not suicidal nor am I planning on running away. I'd miss my k-9-kids too much. I'm just having some deep and intense thoughts today.
I don't mean "here" on the blogger site... I mean, why am I here on this earth?? What is my purpose in life?... not to be confused with "what is the meaning of life?"
Ever ask that question of yourself? Ever wonder, "Would anyone notice if I just dropped out of sight? Who, if anyone, would care?"
The world isn't going to come to a halt if I'm not around. Am I just marking time here on this earth, until the day I cease to exist? What have I accomplished thus far?
Okay, okay, I know that my husband would be upset at first, because he'd suddenly have nobody doing his laundry or fixing his meals or paying the bills. And the animals might be a bit upset at first, that is, until they got used to the new routine of John caring for them. And the boss would probably be upset, 'cause he'd suddenly have to do a lot more work around the office until somebody else was hired and trained. But who else, if anyone, would be affected by my absence?
Granted, Wal-mart, Fozolis and El Terasco would probably notice a decline in their yearly sales without me around to patronize these establishments, but that's not what I mean... I seriously doubt these places would notice me being gone.
I've given thought to deleting my blogsite (again) and giving up my email. I got along fine for 30+ years before they came along, I could learn to live without them again. Would anyone care? There are so many things I want to write about, but can't or won't, either because somebody might take offense or it just simply wouldn't be proper to do so. So maybe I should start writing in a journal, for just my eyes to see. That way, I could write whatever I want, about any topic. I could certainly get a lot of things off my chest that way... and I wouldn't have anyone suggesting I need anger-management or psycho-therapy. Which in reality, I probably need both, desparately!!
I often feel nobody is listening or paying a darned bit of attention when I speak (verbally)... which is a big part of why I blog. I can "talk", and if people chose to listen (read), then they can do so at their leisure, or they can ignore me and I'm none the wiser.
Occasionally I come across people, or stories of people, that are basically hermits, and I think, "how can they live like that, with little or no human contact?", but then at other times I'm thinking that they have the right idea. That way, nobody's making them mad, hurting their feelings, or just plain annoying them, and vice versa.
I've not invented anything that's going to change peoples lives for the better. I've not saved anyones life (that I'm aware of). The volunteer work I've done is hardly even worth mentioning, and as far as I know, I've done nothing to enrich others lives.
So again I ask, "why am I here?"
Okay, don't fret anyone, I'm not suicidal nor am I planning on running away. I'd miss my k-9-kids too much. I'm just having some deep and intense thoughts today.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Hooked
I may have to kick my sister's arse.
She gave me (actually, both John & I) some puzzle books over the weekend, most of which were that new game (okay, actually it's been around for a long time, but it's recently become all the rage) Sudoku.
I attempted to play the game once before, with absolutely ZERO success. Of course, I was also trying to learn it using one of those little hand-held video games. I understood the concept of how the game was played, but couldn't figure out how to come up with the numbers. Actually, I think it was more the frustration of trying to move the little cursor around the micro-mini screen that was really getting me down. I gave up real quick with the thought, "Stupid game!"
So now I had the game, on paper, before me. I groaned at the thought of attempting this again, and considered just not even trying. But no, I'm not usually one to give up so easily, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.
Well, needless to say, not only have I figured it out, I'm now hopelessly addicted to it. When I'm not busy at work, I'm jotting down numbers in little boxes. When I'm settled in for the evening, instead of working on my sewing as I should be, I'm furiously filling numbers into empty boxes.
Somebody stop the insanity!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks "Gertrude" for getting me hooked!
She gave me (actually, both John & I) some puzzle books over the weekend, most of which were that new game (okay, actually it's been around for a long time, but it's recently become all the rage) Sudoku.
I attempted to play the game once before, with absolutely ZERO success. Of course, I was also trying to learn it using one of those little hand-held video games. I understood the concept of how the game was played, but couldn't figure out how to come up with the numbers. Actually, I think it was more the frustration of trying to move the little cursor around the micro-mini screen that was really getting me down. I gave up real quick with the thought, "Stupid game!"
So now I had the game, on paper, before me. I groaned at the thought of attempting this again, and considered just not even trying. But no, I'm not usually one to give up so easily, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.
Well, needless to say, not only have I figured it out, I'm now hopelessly addicted to it. When I'm not busy at work, I'm jotting down numbers in little boxes. When I'm settled in for the evening, instead of working on my sewing as I should be, I'm furiously filling numbers into empty boxes.
Somebody stop the insanity!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks "Gertrude" for getting me hooked!
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
KimKim
Many of you have probably heard of the new-fangled navigational systems available these days for your automobiles. Heck, some of you probably even have one.
There are all sorts of them out there: On-Star (available in GM vehicles) and TomTom, just to name a couple of these Global Position Systems or navigation systems.
But there's a new one out there now, it just became available this past weekend... it's called KimKim.
Yep, if you ever get lost in the Louisville area, just feel free to call KimKim, 200 or 300 hundred times an hour if need be, and KimKim will get you where you need to go.
Can't follow simple instructions or don't know how to read a road sign? Not a problem! Through lots of persistence and perseverance, KimKim will get you there. One way or another, KimKim will get you there... as long as your destination is KimKim's house.
KimKim, when you need to get there!
; )
There are all sorts of them out there: On-Star (available in GM vehicles) and TomTom, just to name a couple of these Global Position Systems or navigation systems.
But there's a new one out there now, it just became available this past weekend... it's called KimKim.
Yep, if you ever get lost in the Louisville area, just feel free to call KimKim, 200 or 300 hundred times an hour if need be, and KimKim will get you where you need to go.
Can't follow simple instructions or don't know how to read a road sign? Not a problem! Through lots of persistence and perseverance, KimKim will get you there. One way or another, KimKim will get you there... as long as your destination is KimKim's house.
KimKim, when you need to get there!
; )
Friday, February 09, 2007
Germaphobic??
Am I germaphobic?? Yes... No... Maybe...
With germs and diseases being one of the hot topics in the news these days, one can't help but become somewhat frantic over the fear of contracting some deadly disease from doing something as simple as paying cash for a fast food meal, then eating that meal with the same hands that handed over the money and received the change with, all most likely without having washed those hands in between handling the money and eating. Whew!!
So am I a germaphobe? Well, somewhat, definately!!
I've now gotten to the point that I can not use a public toilet without either wiping down the seat with a Lysol sanitizing wipe, or at the very least, putting a paper barrier between me and the seat. It's true! I'm considering buying stock in the Lysol company. I go through several of these things every day at work.
Also, my hands stay perpetually chapped, all year long, because I'm a compulsive handwasher. It does little good for me to put lotion on (although I do so frequently), because I'll most likely wash it off again in a short while. And if I'm not washing them, then I'm using the hand-sanitizer stuff. I keep bottles of this stuff on my desk, in my car, in my purse, by the kitchen sink, in my lunch bag.
Now they're talking about the germiest thing out there being the handle of the carts at the grocery store. I guess now I'm going to have to start wiping those down too... but why stop there? Why not wipe down the seat where I sit my purse and coupons? After all, that's where those diapered butts are actually sitting that may have brown-stuff leaking out of them. **blech**
And frequently, I spray the keyboard and mouse to the work computer down with disinfectant spray after others have used them. I'm sure I've hurt others feelings, but I can't help it!
But by that same token, if I were a true germaphobe, I'd have a clean, if not sterile home. My home is anything but that!!!
Okay, so I don't mind my own germs, or my husbands germs (most of the time), or even my dogs germs. Heck, I frequently kiss my pooches right on their snouts, even though I know they've been out in the back yard eating their own turds. It's just other peoples germs that freak me out. What is wrong with me??????
With germs and diseases being one of the hot topics in the news these days, one can't help but become somewhat frantic over the fear of contracting some deadly disease from doing something as simple as paying cash for a fast food meal, then eating that meal with the same hands that handed over the money and received the change with, all most likely without having washed those hands in between handling the money and eating. Whew!!
So am I a germaphobe? Well, somewhat, definately!!
I've now gotten to the point that I can not use a public toilet without either wiping down the seat with a Lysol sanitizing wipe, or at the very least, putting a paper barrier between me and the seat. It's true! I'm considering buying stock in the Lysol company. I go through several of these things every day at work.
Also, my hands stay perpetually chapped, all year long, because I'm a compulsive handwasher. It does little good for me to put lotion on (although I do so frequently), because I'll most likely wash it off again in a short while. And if I'm not washing them, then I'm using the hand-sanitizer stuff. I keep bottles of this stuff on my desk, in my car, in my purse, by the kitchen sink, in my lunch bag.
Now they're talking about the germiest thing out there being the handle of the carts at the grocery store. I guess now I'm going to have to start wiping those down too... but why stop there? Why not wipe down the seat where I sit my purse and coupons? After all, that's where those diapered butts are actually sitting that may have brown-stuff leaking out of them. **blech**
And frequently, I spray the keyboard and mouse to the work computer down with disinfectant spray after others have used them. I'm sure I've hurt others feelings, but I can't help it!
But by that same token, if I were a true germaphobe, I'd have a clean, if not sterile home. My home is anything but that!!!
Okay, so I don't mind my own germs, or my husbands germs (most of the time), or even my dogs germs. Heck, I frequently kiss my pooches right on their snouts, even though I know they've been out in the back yard eating their own turds. It's just other peoples germs that freak me out. What is wrong with me??????
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Duh!
The other day, I was wearing one of my t-shirts that depicts a Great Dane (as I very often do). A young man that I've gotten to know over the past few months looked at the shirt and commented to me, "you're really ate-up with the whole Great Dane thing, aren't you?".
I just looked at him and said, "well, yeah!"... I mean, like, DUH!!!!!!!, what would be your first clue?... the email address?, the many shirts with danes?, the bumper sticker (that was) on my car?, the "Great Dane crossing" sign by my front step?, the two galloping "horses" in my backyard?, the laminated newspaper clipping of "My Pet Rocks" that I use as a bookmark that is sticking out of my book?, or would it be that they are simply my favorite subject to talk and write about?????????
I just looked at him and said, "well, yeah!"... I mean, like, DUH!!!!!!!, what would be your first clue?... the email address?, the many shirts with danes?, the bumper sticker (that was) on my car?, the "Great Dane crossing" sign by my front step?, the two galloping "horses" in my backyard?, the laminated newspaper clipping of "My Pet Rocks" that I use as a bookmark that is sticking out of my book?, or would it be that they are simply my favorite subject to talk and write about?????????
Ahhhh
I'm delighted to report that the shower faucet has thawed and we are once again able to bathe... such a delightful feeling to stand and let the hot water rain down on you.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Stand-off
While eating dinner last night, we watched a re-run of "Everybody Loves Raymond". This particular episode revolved around a stand-off that Raymond & Debra were having over who was going to move a piece of luggage off the staircase, which had been sitting there for some 3 weeks.
I laughed myself silly.
We've had quite a few of those stand-offs in our home as well. Three weeks is nothing compared to what we've stubbornly gone through. One such stand-off in our house is my husband's "remodeling" efforts. The master-bathroom, the kitchen soffet, the fence/gate, just to mention a few.
Granted, I could call a repairman in to fix these things, but I don't. The husband insists he can "fix" these things, so I've been waiting him out, to see if/when these things ever get fixed. I truly expect we'll eventually move out of the house, and there those things will still be, half-done, and then I will be forced to hire someone before we can ever sell the house.
I bring all this up because we've been using our spare bathroom's shower for the past, oh, I don't know, 7 or 8 years now because we don't have hot water in the master bathroom's shower. This stand-off we've been having has now come along and bitten us both in the ass, because this morning, we awoke to frozen pipes in our spare bathroom. That's right, no water what-so-ever in the bathtub!!! French bathes all around for us.
I cranked the furnace up from 62 to 72 degrees, plugged the space heater in the bathroom, propped the door open to the spare bed/bathroom so the rest of the houses warmth could circulate through there. I closed most of the other vents in the house to help direct as much of the air as possible to the spare bath.
I then proceeded to swelter as the furnace ran almost non-stop in an effort to keep the house at 72 degrees. That's like a freaking oven!!!! I was ready to break out the summer shorts to wear. Can't wait to see this next LG&E bill. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that the pipe might be thawed by this evening.
I'm also thinking it's time to end this ludicrous stand-off and call a plumber to fix the master bathroom.
I laughed myself silly.
We've had quite a few of those stand-offs in our home as well. Three weeks is nothing compared to what we've stubbornly gone through. One such stand-off in our house is my husband's "remodeling" efforts. The master-bathroom, the kitchen soffet, the fence/gate, just to mention a few.
Granted, I could call a repairman in to fix these things, but I don't. The husband insists he can "fix" these things, so I've been waiting him out, to see if/when these things ever get fixed. I truly expect we'll eventually move out of the house, and there those things will still be, half-done, and then I will be forced to hire someone before we can ever sell the house.
I bring all this up because we've been using our spare bathroom's shower for the past, oh, I don't know, 7 or 8 years now because we don't have hot water in the master bathroom's shower. This stand-off we've been having has now come along and bitten us both in the ass, because this morning, we awoke to frozen pipes in our spare bathroom. That's right, no water what-so-ever in the bathtub!!! French bathes all around for us.
I cranked the furnace up from 62 to 72 degrees, plugged the space heater in the bathroom, propped the door open to the spare bed/bathroom so the rest of the houses warmth could circulate through there. I closed most of the other vents in the house to help direct as much of the air as possible to the spare bath.
I then proceeded to swelter as the furnace ran almost non-stop in an effort to keep the house at 72 degrees. That's like a freaking oven!!!! I was ready to break out the summer shorts to wear. Can't wait to see this next LG&E bill. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that the pipe might be thawed by this evening.
I'm also thinking it's time to end this ludicrous stand-off and call a plumber to fix the master bathroom.
Monday, February 05, 2007
An experiment
I've been conducting a bit of an experiment for the past week or so and I thought I'd share my results.
As many of you may recall, Olivia was very prone to bladder or urinary infections when she was a young pup. She'd start having accident after accident, blood in her urine, blah, blah, blah, we'd take her to the vet, put her on meds, get it cleared up, then a couple of weeks later, the infection would return.
This vicious cycle kept repeating itself for months! Then the cleaning ladies at work suggested giving Livvie cranberry tablets. I'd heard of people eating/drinking cranberries for their urinary problems, but never would've considered it for animals. But, why not?? So I started giving Livvie 2 tablets every morning with her breakfast, and hallelujah!, the problem didn't return.
She'd been taking the cranberries for probably about a year I'd say, with no problems what so ever.
Then, back towards the end of December, we ran out of the pills. For the first few days, I kept forgetting to buy them at the store. Then when I did remember, I couldn't find just plain ol' cranberries... everything I found had some other supplement in it also, but I wasn't interested in other things. So I thought to myslef, she's probably outgrown whatever the problem was, it's already been a week or so since she last took any, and she's not had any problems, I can probably stop giving them to her. So I did.
Then, after about another week went by, my darling Livvie started having pee-pee accidents in her crate on almost a daily basis, sometimes twice a day. Very stinky urine at that! She even had one peeing accident in the hallway, and that was just totally unlike her to do that!!! Granted, I hadn't seen any blood in the urine, but she was definately having some kind of issue.
At the store the other day, while picking up one of my prescriptions, John was getting some more of his vitamins, and remembered Olivia's cranberries. He picked up a bottle, asked me if I still needed them, and as they were the right kind, I thought: I'm going to try them again, see what happens.
I'm happy to report, that since she's been back on the 'berries, she's not had one accident at all.
I am now a very firm believer in the power of cranberries.
As many of you may recall, Olivia was very prone to bladder or urinary infections when she was a young pup. She'd start having accident after accident, blood in her urine, blah, blah, blah, we'd take her to the vet, put her on meds, get it cleared up, then a couple of weeks later, the infection would return.
This vicious cycle kept repeating itself for months! Then the cleaning ladies at work suggested giving Livvie cranberry tablets. I'd heard of people eating/drinking cranberries for their urinary problems, but never would've considered it for animals. But, why not?? So I started giving Livvie 2 tablets every morning with her breakfast, and hallelujah!, the problem didn't return.
She'd been taking the cranberries for probably about a year I'd say, with no problems what so ever.
Then, back towards the end of December, we ran out of the pills. For the first few days, I kept forgetting to buy them at the store. Then when I did remember, I couldn't find just plain ol' cranberries... everything I found had some other supplement in it also, but I wasn't interested in other things. So I thought to myslef, she's probably outgrown whatever the problem was, it's already been a week or so since she last took any, and she's not had any problems, I can probably stop giving them to her. So I did.
Then, after about another week went by, my darling Livvie started having pee-pee accidents in her crate on almost a daily basis, sometimes twice a day. Very stinky urine at that! She even had one peeing accident in the hallway, and that was just totally unlike her to do that!!! Granted, I hadn't seen any blood in the urine, but she was definately having some kind of issue.
At the store the other day, while picking up one of my prescriptions, John was getting some more of his vitamins, and remembered Olivia's cranberries. He picked up a bottle, asked me if I still needed them, and as they were the right kind, I thought: I'm going to try them again, see what happens.
I'm happy to report, that since she's been back on the 'berries, she's not had one accident at all.
I am now a very firm believer in the power of cranberries.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Not hip on HIPPA
I've said it before, and I'm saying it again... I really don't like H.I.P.P.A. The very "law" designed to protect us only serves to create more havoc and frustration than can be imagined.I had to sign a release for one of my (many) doctors offices to release my own test results, on me, to me. How stupid is that??????
Thursday, February 01, 2007
I wanna learn...
There are a lot of things I want to learn before I die, though preferrably sooner than that. Some things I just want to learn to do better. Given time and practice, I hope to succeed at those things... or maybe if I'd just take the time to actually put some effort into those things, they will get done... like cleaning the house, keeping the weeds pulled in the flower beds, etc. Yeah, those just take some motivation to actually get out there and do.
But seriously, there are things I want to learn.
I've always wanted to learn to crochet &/or knit. However, after many failed attempts, I've come to the conclusion that I just don't have the dexterity in my fingers that is required to maneuver the hook(s) and yarn together without creating a knotted mess. And I can forget trying to comprehend even the most basic of patterns for things like afghans or scarves... I may as well be trying to decipher calculus equations (which is one math course I never took in school).
In all seriousness though, I truly, TRULY would love to learn to sew... #1) just the basics on my sewing machine, nothing fancy. Maybe learn to hem some pants, make some curtains, sew binding onto a quilt or cross-stitched project, and #2) learn to make hand-sewn quilts.
My great-grandmother, Julia Pease, made some fabulous quilts in her time. I'm delighted to be in possession of a couple of them, although in all honesty, because of the dogs and cats, they stay folded up and stored away so they don't get damaged. But that's not the point... I would love to learn the craft. I don't even want to get especially creative and make artistic designs that takes a persons breath away or make them stand back in awe... I just want to make a simple quilt. One that can be functional. Not even a large quilt... I'd be happy making something as small as a baby-blanket.
Okay, I know, so many of you are thinking to yourselves, or getting ready to leave me a comment of: so sign-up for a course offered through a local craft store.
Easier said than done.
First of all, I'd like to do this with someone, so we can share what we learn, work on something together, and help each other out if necessary.
Second of all, many of the classes offered through craft stores are for quilting w/a sewing machine. Not quite what I want to learn. I want to learn the old fashioned way. And I want to be taught by someone that has patience to deal with a novice like myself.
Any of you know how to create a handmade quilt that would like to undergo the challenge of teaching a complete novice?
Or are there any of you out there that would consider taking the classes with me, if I can find them being offered in the proper venue???
Okay, any takers out there??? Anybody?
But seriously, there are things I want to learn.
I've always wanted to learn to crochet &/or knit. However, after many failed attempts, I've come to the conclusion that I just don't have the dexterity in my fingers that is required to maneuver the hook(s) and yarn together without creating a knotted mess. And I can forget trying to comprehend even the most basic of patterns for things like afghans or scarves... I may as well be trying to decipher calculus equations (which is one math course I never took in school).
In all seriousness though, I truly, TRULY would love to learn to sew... #1) just the basics on my sewing machine, nothing fancy. Maybe learn to hem some pants, make some curtains, sew binding onto a quilt or cross-stitched project, and #2) learn to make hand-sewn quilts.
My great-grandmother, Julia Pease, made some fabulous quilts in her time. I'm delighted to be in possession of a couple of them, although in all honesty, because of the dogs and cats, they stay folded up and stored away so they don't get damaged. But that's not the point... I would love to learn the craft. I don't even want to get especially creative and make artistic designs that takes a persons breath away or make them stand back in awe... I just want to make a simple quilt. One that can be functional. Not even a large quilt... I'd be happy making something as small as a baby-blanket.
Okay, I know, so many of you are thinking to yourselves, or getting ready to leave me a comment of: so sign-up for a course offered through a local craft store.
Easier said than done.
First of all, I'd like to do this with someone, so we can share what we learn, work on something together, and help each other out if necessary.
Second of all, many of the classes offered through craft stores are for quilting w/a sewing machine. Not quite what I want to learn. I want to learn the old fashioned way. And I want to be taught by someone that has patience to deal with a novice like myself.
Any of you know how to create a handmade quilt that would like to undergo the challenge of teaching a complete novice?
Or are there any of you out there that would consider taking the classes with me, if I can find them being offered in the proper venue???
Okay, any takers out there??? Anybody?
Health Insurance
We all seem to complain about health insurance, regardless of which company we use. And the biggest complaint seems to be the cost of the insurance. Second biggest complaint is having to deal with these companies on the phone.
I'm no different, I'm complaining right there with ya!, especially on the 2nd issue.
But in all honesty, I kindly feel like I should be very thankful for the insurance we have, and all it has covered over the years.
When John had that staph infection that kept him hospitalized for 4 days (3 years ago), we racked up about 10grand in bills (+/-), and ended up only paying a few hundred out of pocket. A bargain if you ask me.
Now, with all my back pain issues, seeing doctor after doctor and whatnot, I'm racking up the bills. Just the MRI alone that I had done was $1500.00! Yikes!!!
But considering I'm having to pay less than $50 out of pocket, I'm not complaining. No sirree!! When I opened that bill yesterday and saw what insurance covered (and what was written off), I nearly went down on my knees to give thanks! I'll pay our part and do so with a smile (somewhat) on my face as I write out the check.
I'm no different, I'm complaining right there with ya!, especially on the 2nd issue.
But in all honesty, I kindly feel like I should be very thankful for the insurance we have, and all it has covered over the years.
When John had that staph infection that kept him hospitalized for 4 days (3 years ago), we racked up about 10grand in bills (+/-), and ended up only paying a few hundred out of pocket. A bargain if you ask me.
Now, with all my back pain issues, seeing doctor after doctor and whatnot, I'm racking up the bills. Just the MRI alone that I had done was $1500.00! Yikes!!!
But considering I'm having to pay less than $50 out of pocket, I'm not complaining. No sirree!! When I opened that bill yesterday and saw what insurance covered (and what was written off), I nearly went down on my knees to give thanks! I'll pay our part and do so with a smile (somewhat) on my face as I write out the check.
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