Yard Sale!

This morning when we got up, MM and I were surprised to see a TON of cars littering the street I live on. It's a semi busy street, but this is crazy.
Reason?
Yard Sale. Apparently this is THE weekend for yard sales. I can see two of them from my apartment, alone.
I wonder, who invented this concept of selling your crap to someone else who must collect crap. Who wants other people's crap? I have visions of cave men, and women, sitting in front of their caves charging a few shiny rocks for a "barely used" pelt, or a dinosaur tooth, or something. Did Noah have a yard sale before he took off on his wonderful voyage in the ark? Maybe someone bought the Unicorns, cheap.
I have heard fable of people finding wonderful finds at yard sales. Books signed by famous authors, paintings by "real" artists ect. ect. And people buy these things, supposedly unaware that what they are buying for 25c. is worth millions of dollars. Somehow, I don't think I am going to be finding any rare antiques here on my street in Podunk. (I know I'm not, because I don't plan on going 'yardsailing' today.).
So all these cars are clogging up my street, just to go peruse other people's junk.

memories

Its funny how some things just kind of float into your mind at odd times.
Its like this for me tonight. I am here, at work, and, as you've probably figured from my posting times of the two nights past, this is the "slow" part of the night.
So I'm here, and thinking, watching my patients, doing boring stuff, and a memory springs to mind, un bidden, all on its own.
I remember, during the holidays, especially the spring and summer ones, playing Croquet in Grandma and Grandpa's back yard.
It was always competative, but fun. My Dad (the newly christened Uncle Heinz, who is married to Aunt Tuna) always had the black ball. Lots of trash talk would go on, people would take GREAT pleasure into "sending" someone else's ball out into the far reaches of what felt like a big back yard, to me. Now that I'm grown, that backyard is a postage stamp, and I wonder how we even managed to set the whole game up back there.
I remember winning once. Was I "given" the win? Maybe. I was a child. My prize for winning was that Dad took me to the store, and bought me a plastic container of bubbles. How I loved blowing bubbles.
But more fun, was the family, in the back yard, smacking the hell out of croquet balls and trash talkin'.
If I remember right, around Christmas we also played baseball with empty wrapping paper sticks, and wrapping paper balls.
As I got older, the family past time evolved into playing cards. Many a night was spent around the card table, playing "blitz" for dimes, and being allowed to play one hand "on your honor" after your dimes were gone. Grandpa, when he "knocked" to indicate he either had 31, or was close to it, would practically bang a hole in the table as he laughed gleefully, knowing he'd probably win. He was quite a card shark. My Mom had a glass dining room table for a long time, and I always worried he'd knock right through it. He used to also love to torment us by gently tapping the table, as if in thought, like he was GOING to knock, maybe, but was he? Or wasn't he.
And Grandma. She's just as skillful with the cards, in a quieter, more devious way.
We still play cards at times. 'Skip-bo' is a favorite. But, its just not the same. And I haven't played croquet in years.
My oldest sister though, (can we call her sister crazy? um, well, maybe not but I am tempted)
she has a croquet set, just like the one we used to play with. She found it at an antique store one year when she was visiting me.
Maybe, someday, we'll break that sucker out, and make sure we have plenty of bubbles to go around!

literature

Another friend of mine, located conveniantly in my side bar, (Mimi from bigger than a breadbox) brought up books in her blog earlier this week. (This post is a shameless copy of hers, but I chose a different book altogether to focus my attention on.)
I've always loved to read, I was reading at an early age, before kindergarten, and my parents used to joke that they'd have to win the lottery to keep me in books. I was lucky, they'd frequently get me new things to read. We lived nowhere NEAR a library, so, I got to keep most of the books I read.
I read the "traditional" books people give to children, like Heidi, and Little Women ect, ect.
But I also read everything else. Anything left laying around.
One book, that I got at perhaps, an age too young to understand it, though, was "The Grapes of Wrath", by John Steinbeck. Uncle B got it for me for Christmas one year.
I understood it, though. I was maybe 12 when I read it, but I got it.
To this day, it is one of my favorite books. The imagery that Steinbeck evokes in that book for me. I can imagine the arid dryness of the Oklahoma dust bowl. I can see Tom Joad's prison set of clothing, as he makes his way home to his clan. I can see the old clunker of a car they bought with their last money to get out to the "promised land". I can feel their anxiety, and desperation, and, eventually, defeat and misery as they realize that all that glitters is not gold. The hostility, the pain. That book is truly amazing. I still have the copy Uncle B got me that Christmas. I get it out, and read it again, periodically. I have never seen the movie, and I don't really have a desire to do so. It might ruin my own images.
Surprisingly, though I've liked them, none of the other Steinbeck works have thrilled me like the Grapes of Wrath did.
I've read other great books since that one. But the Grapes of Wrath always stands out in my mind.
So I am going to echo Mimi's question. What book does it for you? Is there one book that should be required reading for everyone? Tell me what it is. Maybe I have not read it, yet.

Song lyric Wednesday

Thought I'd try a different tack this Wed. I am going to just put up the lyric, and see if any of you know the song. I will post the answer later. (after I wake up)

Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall
You've seen it all, you've seen it all

Watched the men who rode you switch from sails to steam
In your belly you hild the treasures few have ever seen
Most of 'em dreams, most of 'em dreams

yes I am a pirate, two-hundred years too late
The cannons don't thunder, there's nothin' to plunder
I'm an over-forty victim of fate
Arrivin' too late, arrivin' too late

I've done a bit of smugglin', I've run my share of grass
I made enough money to buy Miami, but I pissed it away so fast
Never meant to last, never meant to last

And I have been drunk now for over two weeks
I passed out and I rallied and I sprung a few leaks
But I gotta stop wishin', I've got to go fishin'
Down to rock bottom again
Just a few friends, just a few friends
Just a few friends, just a few friends

Ever do one of those things. . .

Ah, sometimes I just want to crawl under a rock.

Work has been interesting lately. There have been some irritating nurses (see a few posts down, my angry post), and there have been some family members that did their VERY BEST to drive me crazy (ok, well crazy-er than I already am.)
So over on the medical blog, I did a post about taking care of patients with crazy families that won't leave. I referred to them as limpets. (I still hold to that comparison.).
When I went over to that blog today, there was a comment. From the wife of a very sick man who'd been in the ICU. And my post, my sarcastic, kind of funny in an irritable way post, made her feel a little guilty that she'd stayed by his side.
I am humbled today. I immediately wrote another post, just for her, to talk about the GOOD families, the non limpet families. Then I went and visited her blog, read how sick her husband is, and felt worse. So I left a comment over there, too. But my soul, it feels a little scarred today.
I want to remember the lesson I think that she just taught me, though. There is always, ALWAYS, the other side of the coin. And I should stop, even in my irritation, and think about that other side, and adjust myself accordingly.
That's the reason I made this post today, in my "real" blog. Because Jamie's comment made me think, and I want to always remember what it taught me.

Best Friends

This post was stimulated in my brain by Cami who was answering the weekend question of David McMahon. (just go follow her link I'm tired today).

I had quite a collection of friends when I was little. We moved only a couple times, so there were friends I lost with that method, like Cami. One was a little girl named Amy, who lived in Hanford. I remember her house, but I don't have a clear memory of her. I was less than five, though, because I wasn't in Kindergarten yet. We moved, and I started Kindergarten in a town called Turlock. We were there till I was in 3rd grade. My main friend was a little blond girl named Tammy, but we played in a group with Lynn, and Tracey, and we always played House at recess. Lynn and Tracey liked to be animals, like horses, or kittens and such. It was fun. Tammy actually moved away, and my friend at school after that was a very fun little girl named Roxanne. She had one of the best birthday parties ever when we were kids.
Oddly, I had a different set of friends in my neighborhood. None of my school friends lived near me. Across the street, was Chrissie. Now, Chrissie was a Brat, but I really didn't have a whole lot of choice when we'd moved there. Her, and Jenny, the next door girl, already ran the street. Chrissie's mom was from New York, and made sure we all knew it. Chrissie had the same kind of personality. We had a real love-hate relationship, Chrissie and I did. When we moved away, I saw her once, as a teenager. She had a foul mouth and was still a brat. But got good grades in Catholic School so it supposedly didn't matter. Whatever.
Jenny moved away though, and that helped. A family moved in with their son, who was my age, named Casey. Casey was my sweetheart. He was also my best friend. We got along famously, and I much prefered going to play with Casey. We were inseperable for a long time. He moved away, and I was devastated. But I did get to see him, as they were local. They bought a farm, and I used to go there and play with him. It was my first time around livestock, and animals, and I really loved their little farm.
When we moved, I got another new friend, Jimmy. He lived "down the hill" from us, not too far. We stuck together for years, he was like my parents fourth child. He asked me to "go" with him a few times. I'd say yes, then leave break up letters in his mailbox. (What can I say, I was fickle). We knew each other all through highschool, but getting older, we'd grown apart. We both changed, and he not for the better, for awhile. He had a tough house to grow up in, with not much nurturing, and it left its mark. Around 6 years ago, I actually found Jimmy on "classmates". He is living somewhere in the northwest (I forget where). He told me he was gay, and happy. That is all good with me. But I never heard from him, again. It's kind of sad, he was the brother I never had.
A happy story, though, is my friend, Nancy. We met in softball, in 5th grade for me, 4th, for her. We were friends, quietly, and solidly, throughout our school lives. She is still my friend to this day. We share a Christmas together, we vacation together, she comes here, I go there. She has my back, I have hers. She knows me, as well as anyone can. Because she's known me for so long. Even if we have not talked for a few weeks, we can call each other and pick it right back up where it was. I am lucky to have a friend like her.
You will have to excuse me now, while I go call her, though, because now I want to talk to her!

Oh and if your reading this, Celtic Rose,no, your not chopped liver. The question was about childhood best friends. You, I chose when I was an adult!

Sunday rolls around again!

Okay
Its Sunday. Sunday morning to be exact. I am really not going to blog on Sunday's anymore, but it disturbs me that I have such an angry post sitting there.
Yes those men still irritate me.
No they didn't have the day from hell I wished onto them. (But they didn't have the best day ever, either.).
All of them will get their just reward. I am a firm believer in Karma.
Syb wants to know what happened. Well. I can't really say without breaking some serious patient privacy laws. They were just talking "at" me in the way I described, and it pissed me off.

Okay. It's Sunday. It's raining here, (I love that) football will be on soon, and MM is coming over to watch football. It's going to be a good day.
I find myself picking the Bengals again this week. They'd better win, because MM took the Seahawks, and well. They'd just better win.

Alright. I am off to put together the guacamole and Enchilada's, so at dinner all I have to do is slide the pan in the oven. (I hate being in the kitchen while everyone else is watching football. It's just not right.)
Happy Sunday everyone.

F*%$ Them!

Nothing, NOTHING NOTHING
pisses me off more than smug, jackass patronizing men. And I just left three of the fuckers at work. Pardon my french!
I hope their assignments come back to bite them in the ass.
I hope that its not QUIET
thats right. I said the word.
QUIET.
All together now. I want to hear my tiny blogsphere wish the podunk ICU a QUIET day. Let me hear it, loud.
Condescending pricks.

Sorry Celtic Rose. I hope your night goes well. But I hope to hear that those condescending smug assholes got their butts handed back to them today.
Arrrrrrrrrgh.

* For the record, I also hate condescending, smug, patronizing, jackass bitches, too. Each gender is equal here. It just so happens that the jackasses I ran across today were all of the male species. God Help their wives.

Unexpected gift

I was all set to go to work last night. Still feeling lazy, but knowing, just knowing, that I'd have to finally slough off that feeling for good when I got there. I was running a tad behind (because I'd been lazy most of the day) and was just about to walk out my door when my phone rang.
I have caller ID. When the phone rings, I look at it, and decide if I want to to talk to that person. Yes, I screen. So sue me. Most of the time I answer. The number for this particular ring was a cell phone number.
Hmm. Who is that? I wondered. It was a local cell number, which threw me. MM was out of town, with his daughter for her birthday. Thinking it could possibly be my friend "Shrek" I answered. (Yes he calls me Fiona).
It was G, from work.
Hey, do you want to stay home, and be on call? he asks me. (Stupid question, I know).
Of course I do is my immediate response.
Seems there was a scheduling snafu. Too many nurses, not enough patients. And voila. I got to continue my lazy day. I was given a reprieve, in the last, very last second. I was literally, going to be walking out the door.
So, I climbed back into my sweats, and back onto the couch, and didn't move from there until I climbed into bed.
And I got the gift of staying home, all night long, without interruption.
It would have been perfect
If I hadn't dreamt about
WORK.
Dammit!

Case of the lazies

My stomach is growling, I'm a little bit cold, and I don't wanna go to work tonight! But, I don't think I really have much of a choice. I've got a good case of lazy going right now, and I really should get up, eat something, and then do something about it. Like go for a walk and put my mind in a happy place. (That could actually happen.)
So, since I skipped wordless Wednesday, and put a poem up last Wednesday, I will put some random picture up today. Lets seee, what will I pick (brb)
There. How about that one? She looks like she is in a lazy mood, too.
That's Madame Recamier. She lives in the Louvre. She was painted by David. That's it, just David. He was a 'rock star' of that era. Had to be, since he was known by his first name only. "Dah-vid". I wonder if Madame here was one of his groupies?

Just a quick note

I gotta tell you all. I went out to dinner with MM tonight, to a place nearby that he wanted to try. Its a nice-ish restaurant, and the weather was gorgeous. (It rained while we were eating and both of LOVED it. It smells so fresh and pure outside. We stood in the rain, noses up in the air, just BREATHING)
okay. off subject. sorry.
Anyhoo-
We got to the restaurant and ALL the staff was dressed as PIRATES!
They were celebrating 'Talk Like A Pirate Day'.
I was absolutly thrilled. It was great.
(But I wish I'd have known, because I would have dressed like a pirate, too. Bummer.)
We had a really nice dinner, the place wasn't crowded at all, and our waitress was really cool. We ate, and chatted, and held hands at the candle lit table. Then we shared ice cream for dessert. When the last bit had melted, we kept swirling it in the bowl and describing for each other what we "saw" in the melted ice cream. (You had to be there, I think, but it was really funny and entertaining. One of my favorite moments with him, really.). Its such a good thing that we both have an extremely warped sense of humor. It really is.
Arrrrgh, I am off to me bunk, matey's. It's been a fyne talk like a Pirate day, but this wench is a tad worn out.

blog like a pirate

alrighty. Apparently I didn't read the fyne print on BW's rules. But for what its worth, here's my post for blog like a Pirate day. Talk like a pirate day is tomorrow, though. Which is why I got confused. Too much rum, I guess. Anyhow. Enjoy the story. . .



Avast! Me hearties-


Pull up a plank and pour a tankard of grog, for I am goin’ to tell ya the story o’ Dirty Grace Kidd, the most keelhaulen, rum lovin’, booty chasin’ plank walkin’ pirate wench that e’er sailed the high seas! (Arrr!) For she be me, and none can tell a pirate tale better than Dirty Grace!

From a young age I knew ‘twas the sea life for me. I was raised on a farm, ye see, but always heard the call o’ the merpeople. Nigh on my 16th birthday, the eve afore I was supposed ta be marryin’ Smelly Alastair O’ Banion, I pillaged a pair o’ me brothers trews and another brother’s best sark, and off I ran into the night, in the direction o’ the sea. Left me mammy cryin’ over her cackle-fruit I did, but ne’er have I been sorry.
Makin’ my way toward’s the Barbary Coast was not easy, but I met some friends along the way, the same matey’s that sail with me today. Celtic Rose, who was awanderin’, and pickin’ flowers, singing a happy sea-chantey was the first I came across. I knew a red-head would come in handy, so I invited her along.
Then came the Temptress Cami. She’s family, and if ye can’t trust family, then who can ye trust!
Bubblewench floated on by as well, and she had the added attraction of having a hook where her hand used to be, and is a formidable weapon all by herself!
And Naughty Sybil Law, ye ask? She was a runnin’ from the law (Mr. Law, that is).
Together, we decided we were unbeatable, and resolved to be gettin’ ships of our own, usin’ any method of acquisition availiable to us.
Happens one fair e’en we found ourselves at a tavern, The Horned Sheep. We were gettin’ loaded to the gunwhales when I overheard Captain Jock McMurphy (the blasted hornswaggling scoundrel) bragging about all the booty he had sitting on his ship, right in the harbor. Well, and I ask ye? What’s a wench and her wench friends to do? McMurphy’s ship was a beauty, a brigantine, and I had dreams to capture her, paint her black, and name her “The Black Belle”. Making sure our blackjack’s were full of rum, the lasses and I concocted our plan. . .
The Temptress Cami did a fine job seducing the pegleg set ta watch the ship, happens he had the name o’ Kaos. Before I could say “yo ho ho!” Bubblewench was in the crow’s nest, hangin’ by her hook, singin’ some song about Scarlet Begonia’s. (Begonia’s on a ship, I say? N’er!) Naughty Sybil was trimmin’ the sails, Celtic Rose took o;er the galley, and I was commanding “Weigh Anchor!” Crafty Cami scurried up the mooring lines as we were casting off, blowin’ kisses in the direction of Kaos as she went. Huzzah! The Black Belle was ours!
Once in possession of one ship, we were the scourge of the seven seas. No ship was safe from our pillagin’, and we quickly amassed a fleet of our own. The Temptress Cami sailed back and married Peg-leg Kaos, and made him Captain of their ship, “The Black Thyme”. (She declared herself Admiral, she did). Celtic Rose met up with a lisping Spaniard tamed Martin somewhere off the coast of Trinidad, and together, they rode on “The Black Rose”.
(What was a lisping Spaniard doing in Trinidad, you ask? Celtic Rose will be havin’ to tell THAT story). The feared and hooked Bubblewench and her cabin boy HM (his majesty, ahem) rode her own barque, “The Black Bubble”. And Naughty Sybil Law? The long arm of the Law (her man) finally caught up with her, and found he liked her Naughty. Together, they rode on the ship “The Black Powder”. And me? I was still on the Black Belle, with a crew of my own, including my very capable and trusted ally, the feared Pirate who’s name is known only to me. (They call him ‘mystery man’)
After a brutal storm in the tropic’s, we were layin’ low in Tortuga, burying treasure, sinking bilge rats, swabbing our decks, and buying new Cat o’ nine tails when the Dread Pirate Roberts sailed in with his band of foul smelling, toothless, scurvy ridden excuses for a crew.
“Run a shot across the bow!” hollers I to Celtic Rose, who obliges from the deck of the Black Rose. But the Dread Pirate Roberts had not come to parley. It seems he wanted the head of Mystery Man on a jeweled plate. O’ course I took exception to this, as I had grown rather partial to mystery man o’er the past days gone by, and so a battle to the death ensued.
Naughty Sybil Law acquitted herself well with her sharp, deadly Cutlass, and the Temptress Cami Kaos was firin’ bombs off right and left from the Black Thyme. Bubblewench and HM, crying their battle cry of “Dead Men Tell No Tales” swung from the masts, and dropped onto the bow of the corsair sailed by the Dread Pirate Roberts, and cut down his Jolly Roger for him. About that time, I fired a Chain shot and took out both mast’s and the riggings, crippling the corsair, and half her crew! The blood ran freely that day, me hearties, it did.
Mr. Law, bein’ now the law o’ the land on Tortuga, captured the Dread Pirate Roberts, and made sure he danced the hempen jig at sunset. We fed the rest o’ his crew to the sharks, and Davy Jones, and burned the crippled corsair whilst it still rode in the water. As we watched the old corsair burn, and observed the Dread Pirate Roberts body swayin’ in the wind, we raised our tankards of lovely, rum concoctions in tribute to our Pirate Ways, and proceeded to get, once again, loaded to the gunwhales.

what do a flamingo, a mongoose and a leopard have in common?

They should never travel with Jack Hanna again.

Most of us know who Jack Hanna is. For as long as I can remember, this man has been traveling around, with animals, and going on every talk show, late night show, or celebrity function there is, with animals.
He always tends to bring the animals he knows will scare the hell out of which ever celebrity he is visiting.
And he seems to know EVERYTHING about the animals.
Well, it seems he was bringing a mongoose, a small leopard, and the flamingo home to Ohio, and managed to get the flamingo (in a crate) stuck in an airport turnstile. And for a while, he was stuck in there, right along with it. The turnstile is round. And the crate? It's square. Um. Seriously. He's smart and all, but you cannot put a square peg in a round hole!
It took some firemen a few hours to free the flamingo crate. He actually managed to squeeze himself out, so he could go get help.
Could you just imagine that call? "Hi, can you come help me? My flamingo is stuck in a turnstile". I wonder how many times they hung up on him. (Actually, if I am remembering the article correctly, he went to a nearby firestation for help.)
What really makes me laugh? Everyone else on the plane, was stuck on the tarmac, on the other side of the turnstile. Apparently, Mr. Hanna had to go through first, with his flamingo.

my favorite time of year.

Autumn is here.
This week, after work, I've been coming out to find my car windshield frosted over, and it's been lovely!
The mornings are cool, and crisp and wonderful, the leaves are starting to turn glorious color's. The sun goes down sooner, and things just seem to be evolving into the time of year I love best.
I've always been a lover of fall, and all it brings. When school used to start this time of year, fall meant new school clothes (and the never ending battle with my mother over them) new shoes, seeing all my distant friends again.
And rain. I love a good fall rain. The earth smells so good. I actually like the smell of decomposing leaves. Raking up big piles of leaves, and jumping in them. MM shared a sweet memory of his daughter last night, doing just that, with the family dog. (It seems he loves fall, too!).
Fall evolves into harvest moons, and Halloween, crisp apples and fat pumpkins. I can't wait to get my first one, and make pumpkin seeds. I can taste them now. There is this GREAT area by middle sisters house called "apple hill" where many orchards and farms put out their harvests every year. Apples (duh) pumpkins, fresh pressed cider, and home made goodies. The best apple dumplings I've ever had come from over at apple hill.
Autumn now, also brings for me and Celtic Rose the Renaissance Faire, and all it's fun. Another thing I really look forward to every year.
Then, slowly, fall fades into winter. And I usually don't mind that either. But right now, it's all fall for me. Leaves are turning, and things are just so good. . .

And I thought a water filter was enough

According to a lovely little old lady I met last night, there is a 'doctor' in Japan who has been experimenting with water.

It seems, that if you take your garden variety water, and subject it to positive things, it 'changes' the constitution of the water.
She puts hers in jugs, and then puts pictures of things on it, like a heart. And words, like love, and peace. She calls it 'blessed water'.
And it's all she wanted me to let her husband drink.
Blessed water from home.
From his orange cup.
ok.

I'm going to bed now.
But when I get up, I'm going to make a jug of water, and I'm going to put dollar signs all over it. And see what that brings.
I'm going to call it
fortune water.
really I am.

On the joke wall at work today

New words we should all try to use, these are from the Washington Post

1. Bozone (n) the substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

2. Foreplay (v) any misrepresentation about yourself for the express purpose of getting laid.

3. Cashtration (n) the act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

4. Giraffiti (n) Vandalism spray painted very, very high.

And now for some real workds with alternate meanings

1. Coffee. The person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted. Appaled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade. To attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly. impotent
6. Negligent. describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph. To walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle. Olive flavored mouth wash.
9. Flatulence. Emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash. A rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle. A humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude. The formal, dignified bearing adoped by proctologists.
13. Pokemon. A rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster. A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms
15.Frisbeetarianism. The belief that, when you die, your soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent. an opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.

Though, truthfully, aren't most men 'circumvented' by now?

Have a good day all of you, I am going to be sleeping today so that I can work tonight!

Comfort

Is there something you wear when you are really just not feeling well, and all you want to do is lay on your couch and be pitiful because you don't feel well?
I have something. And how I have it? I don't even know.

When I moved to Podunk, this grey, softer than soft men's T-shirt showed up in my laundry basket my first load here. Now, both my brothers in law helped me move, so I made the assumption it was one of theirs, and I washed it, and tried to return it. It was too small for local BIL, and, my eldest sister SWEARS it does not belong to her husband, cool BIL.
I did not have a b/f at the time, hadn't in a while. ( I am very picky. But it's worth it.). So, who's is it?
I still do not know the answer to that question. But it's mine now. It is kind of beat up, and nothing I could wear in public, even to run to the grocery store. But when I am home, and I want something soft and comfortable, I put it on, usually with a pair of sweats, and stay in it. I won't go anywhere, just putter around the house. So very comfortable. In my grey shirt. Who loves me.
I really do wonder, though, how I got it. Who is mourning the loss of that softer than soft grey t shirt they used to have. It left them. I think the dryer gremlins that steal socks and mangle bra's (not my bra's, but I've heard tales of people who wash their bra's stupid like) gifted me with this t shirt, in reward for all the ink pens they have thrown into my uniforms and such. The shirt is so damn comfortable, it almost makes up for that. ( They have not pen bombed me in years, thankfully).

Oh, and CK? Your ankle troll? It attacked MM this week, too. He was telling me about it last night. Except he was awake for the mystery attack.

Syb and BW: I have picked the Bengals and the Eagles, respectively. Hmmm. We shall see.

On a fun note, MM took up my "pick sheet" and made his choices this week, too. Sunday ought to be fun! AND, when he came to dinner last night, one of the first things he told me was that the 19th was "Talk Like A Pirate Day". So I told him I'd be blogging like a Pirate. He thinks it's great. I will have to start sharing my blog page with him. . . (he's seen it a few times, actually)

And most importantly, if any of you see my Dad out in the world today? Wish him a Happy Birthday! I gotta go call him, now.

*edit 10 minutes later.
so I call Dad, and he tells me he's been out in his shop, cleaning it out and taking down all the spider webs. I make a lame joke about the poor spiders losing their homes before winter, and his reply?
Well, the Spiders are bored, and they need something to keep them occupied. So I'm helping them, yeah, that's it!
Ahh, ha ha . Love to my Dad, helping the spiders. (In truth though, he's probably also helping them die and go to spider heaven. A place I NEVER want to go.)

Wordfull Wednesday

Since I put up pictures yesterday, but, yet, today is Wednesday and my brain is saying "just say no to any purposeful thought",
I am going to put up some poetry today. Surprise. It's not Shel Silverstein!

"Choose Something Like A Star"
Robert Frost

O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud-
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light,
Some mystery becomes the proud.
But to be wholly taciturn
In your reserve is not allowed.
Say something to us we can learn
By heart and when alone repeat
Say something! And it says 'I burn'.
But say with what degree of heat.
Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.
Use language we can comprehend.
Tell us what elements you blend.
It gives us strangely little aid,
But does tell something in the end.
And steadfast as Keats' Eremite,
Not even stooping from its sphere,
It asks a little of us here.
It asks of us a certain height,
So when at times the mob is swayed
To carry praise or blame too far,
We may choose something like a star
To stay our minds on and be staid.

NEVER AGAIN (please?)

Drunken Portland Postcards

Okay-
yes I got a postcard from MY OWN trip to Portland. It was great. It came today, and all I really have to say is
Those Apple Bombs were really really good, biotch!
lol.

surrogate partner therapy vs. prostitution

Yes, seriously.
Damn I should really never turn on the TV unless Football or something equally as fun for me is on.
I was all prepared to blog something, and left the TV on as background noise. I am now listening to these people talking about "surrogate partner therapy".
This is a new form of sex therapy. And what it does, is has a "professional" who spends time with the "patient", and their significant other if they have one. It helps them figure out what their "psychological problem" is related to sex, using any means necissary. Including sex, whether it be oral or, anything else. Apparently, they have just the one meeting with the significant other, but regular "therapy" with the troubled soul, until they manage to solve the problem. To the tune of 130.00 a session if they are required to have sex with you. The "surrogate parter" that is on there is admitting that there is plenty of intimate touch involved in this therapy, but then she says not everyone gets to have sex with the surrogate. And there is one brave man on there who was "cured" with this therapy. He says he had "performance anxiety" and that, thanks to the surrogate, he can get an erection again. He says the surrogate "terminated the relationship" when he acheieved an erection. (How nice of her.)
So, is this prostitution? Or is it therapy?
I think, possibly, its both. (Way to sit on the fence, huh?). I know there are people out there who do, truly, have problems with the intimacy of sex. Male, and female. (It's so sad). If these people are clean, and know what they are doing, and can offer some sort of therapeutic value, then, I think it is probably good for those who need it.
Where my problem lies, is what happens if their client/patient becomes too emotionally dependant on the surrogate? I am sure that happens! And then the surrogate declares them "cured" of their intimacy problem, and they go try to date in the real world, only to discover that their "cure" only works when they are with the surrogate they have grown attatched to. And, truthfully. They charge more for the sessions that involve sex, which is, well, prostitution.
The hosts of this "morning show" are having a field day.
The woman is so angry she is practically foaming at the mouth at these therapists. And the "cured" man is very angry over the whole situation. He just declared that men "shouldn't think with their penis". What a lovely sentiment.
So, what do you all think? Is it prostitution, or therapy? Does it really matter?
(And yes my TV is OFF now!)

Hmm?

What, who me? Blog?
I'm watching football.
And I don't know what to blog about today. Beside's maybe football. And, I don't want to bore all the non sports watching people who may or may not stumble upon this blog. And it's Sunday.
I don't think I'll be blogging Sunday's, anymore, during the season. Unless something really cool happens.
I'll see you all tomorrow.

mmmmm

Realized while I was looking at CR's blog the other day that naming Mustang Man, and calling him MM? Could also be Mielikki's man. . . and together? We are MMM.
Okay yes that is sick and lovey dovey ect,
give me a break. We had a really nice weekend togther. I was really sad to see him drive away tonight. And so was he. He has to go to work tomorrow to complete a special project. It sucks. But I have the NFL to console me. He has to get up super early, so he reluctantly went home to catch some sleep. (Because, yes "slumber party" is misleading. We did sleep, some, really)
We went to a car show at the fairgrounds today, and he met Celtic Rose and her handsome husband. We actually had breakfast together, first. It was fun, and nice. Everyone liked everyone else, and I felt really comfortable.MM seemed relaxed and comfortable the whole time as well. You'll have to read CR's blog or ask her what she thought of him. I am sure she will offer her opinion.
The car show was excellent! I was so happy to see my favorite car EVER represented twice. I love the "California Special" model of Mustang. I have always wanted one. My ex husband used to get really pissed at me when I said that, because he was a MOPAR man. So, at least now, I have Mustang Man who totally supports my idealization of the California Special. There was a BEAUTIFUL one there that I stood and gazed at with love and adoration, and, eventually, I had to walk away from it (to go look at a hot Camero if I remember correctly) and I sighed, and remarked "fine, I'll go, but just know I am leaving part of my soul back there". He just laughed and said "I know."
We saw lots of great cars, then went to dinner and a movie. All in all, a great Saturday.

fare thee well, Mrs. Which

Madeline L' Engle, who wrote one of my favorite books ever, "A Wrinkle In Time" died today.
Meg, Calvin, Charles Wallace et. al will live on forever.
Thank you for the book(s), they are glorious. . .

follow up, and TGIF!

Wow all the Neil Diamond fans out there! Way to stick up for him! Seriously. You can all have him, it just makes me laugh anymore. I talked to my Mom about this subject last night, and she just laughed, too, then started naming off songs SHE hated. Most of them, were surprisingly on my list. When I reminded her how often "Knock Three Times" was heard in our house she cracked up again! It was kind of a cool conversation to have with her. She started naming off some songs, too, like "Happiest Girl In the Whole USA, and things of that nature. It was funny. She still thinks that I am doing this all in facebook, somehow, though. (Shh don't tell! Hee hee)
MM is coming for dinner and a slumber party tonight, and tomorrow we are going to a local car show at the fair grounds. Yes, Celtic Rose and her husband will be in attendance at the car show as well, and the important step of MM meeting them will be taken. Her handsome husband and my MM actually share the same first name, so that should be really interesting. We are already confusing people at work when we talk about them. It's just funny. I'm tired as heck from work last night, and plan on taking a solid nap this morning.
The sucky thing about the last few days are all the wildfires burning in California. The Plumas fire has been blowing lots of smoke and crap into Podunk's usually clean air, and my eyes have been burning for 2 days, now. I hope that the wind shifts tomorrow and some of the haze goes away. I really hope they get the fires out. Lot's of forest land is being burnt to the ground, and its sad. The fire in Plumas county is about to broach into Lassen National Park land, a place near and dear to my heart. If ever a nice end of summer rain should fall, it should be now. . .
Okay I am going to run away to happy happy Nap land.
If any of you take the ball, and make a list of sucky songs of your own, let me know in a comment, I'd like to read about them! It was a fun topic.

25. . .26. . .27- songs that make my skin crawl

I could not resist making this list. I warn you now, some really, superlatively bad songs may get stuck in your head. But, these songs make me retch, seriously. And if I have offended anyone with my selection, too bad! You have sucky taste in music if I did.

1. Muskrat Love- What in the hell possessed Captain and Tennille to do this? They suck anyhow, but this?
2. Come Sail Away- Styx. Unless this song is done by the cast of South Park, I just don't want to hear it. . .
3. Forever in Blue Jeans- Neil Diamond. I hate everything Neil, but this one, especially. My mother is his greatest fan, however.
4. My Heart Will Go On- Celine Dion. Someone tell her to go eat! I hate this song.
5. Fernando- ABBA. They were kidding, right? Did they speak English when they recorded this mess? Not that Dancing Queen has any genius to it, but come on!
6. Lay, Lady Lay- Bob Dylan. I believe I have tortured you all with this selection before.
7. You Needed Me- Anne Murray. Sorry Canadians. You can have her!
8. Man Eater- Hall and Oats Oh oh here they come. . . watch out, boy
9.Tragedy- Bee Gees. Actually anything by them is a tragedy.
10. It's a small world after all, its a small world. . .well, you get it.
11. The ENTIRE Kathy Lee Gifford Christmas Album. Yes, once again, blame my Mother.
12. Achy Breaky Heart- Billy Ray Cyrus. He should be drawn and quartered for this.
13. Havin' My Baby- Paul Anka. This makes me toss my cookies.
14. Knock Three Times- Tony Orlando and Dawn. I was tortured with this incessantly as I grew up.
15. Me and You and a Dog Named Boo- Lobo. WTF?
16. One Less Bell to Answer- and Do you Know the Way to San Jose- Dionne Warwick. Both songs, equally stupid, if you ask me
17. Paper Roses- Marie Osmond. Middle sister had this record, and I cringe whenever I hear it. Thankfully I haven't for years.
18.Sussudio- Phil Collins- I think he had a stroke when he wrote and sang this one
19. You Light Up My Life- Debby Boone. Gag.
20. MacArthur Park Donna Summer, cake, in the rain, huh, wha? WHY!
21. Yummy Yummy Yummy. . (I got love in my Tummy) You all hate me now, don't you. That's right. Sing it for the rest of the day, now. . .
22. Thong Song- Sisqo. Was this nasty thing really necessary?
23. Dancing on the Ceiling- Lionel Richie. uhm. Hello? (another bad song). Lionel you suck.
24. Song Sung Blue- Another torturous Neil song.
25. I Write The Songs- Barry Manilow- please STOP writing the songs, PLEASE!
26. Physical- Olivia Newton John. If the song wasn't bad enough, the headband added insult to injury
27. Honky Cat- Elton John. I hesitate to ask what he'd call a Black Cat. . .

I could go on and on with this list. (Hey, On and On, another shitty song) but I have to stop now before I cry, or vomit, or both.
I am totally interested to see if any of you freaks disagree with me. Come on, I dare ya!
*Shudder* I am going to go poke at my brain with Q tips now to get "Yummy Yummy Yummy" out of it. . .

Wordless Wednesday

it begins. . .

As many of you realize, an important thing is happening this week.
The start of Regular Season Football.
I have mentioned that football is the glue that holds my family together, right? (Well not really but sometimes, it feels like it.)
This is when the fun starts. This week. Dad, Mom, oldest sister and her husband, and I, along with some people I don't know but know my cool BIL have all tossed in our money yet again for the football pool.
This is more than gambling, people. As a matter of fact, the money is really the least of it. It's a very cheap pool compared to some of the others people have tried to suck me into.
This is all about the trash talk. Its about bragging rights. Its about picking better than the rest of the family, then rubbing it in. INCESSANTLY rubbing it in.
And it starts, this week. I am exited.
So, Sundays, from now on, you will probably find me parked in front of the TV, yelling at some erstwhile team who is letting me down. Blogging will probably be done at halftime, and either be full of irate-ness, or trash talking happy dancing-ness. MM likes football, too, so he will fit in nicely. Either that or I will scare him off. But I doubt it. Hopefully, he'll be right there, yelling along side of me.
Well I need to go now, I need to go read some more football websites so I can make my picks.
Yeah BW, I know "Go Eagles!". They are playing the Green Bay Packers this week. I am sorry, but being as their 2 QB's are having issues, and the whole team may not be healthy, I think I may have to go with the Pack for this one... unless you know something I don't!

25. . .26. . .27. . .

Been thinking today about music. It helps that it's playing as I straighten up the house. And my mind started going to what I would list as 25 of my favorite songs.
This is a problem for me. Because I love it all. So this is the 25 I was led to today. Some of these songs could well not have my my list if I'd have made it yesterday, or tomorrow. But, really, these are songs I never get tired of hearing. And, because another one came on, there will be 26 instead of 25. So sue me.
Or maybe there will be 27. Because another one I can't live without just popped in. Aargh.

ok. so, 27. Maybe I should make it a nice even 30? We'll see.

*these are not in any particular order, it's just how I thought of them*

1. Sugar Sugar-The Archies this is the first song I can remember really liking. Somewhere, I think, is video of me dancing to the damn thing.

2. Blood On The Saddle- this was an offbeat little song from the first record I owned, it was from Disneyland-the CountryBear Jamboree record.

3. Crimson and Clover- Tommy James and the Shondells. This used to scare the hell out of me as a kid, but once I hit my teen years, I couldn't get enough of it.

4. Who's Sorry Now- Connie Francis another oldie I loved, for some reason. I played her entire album all the time when we had a record player.

5.I Don't Wanna Play House- Tammy Wynette. She is still one of my favorites to this day. Her voice is something else. And when she sings with George Jones? Forget it.

6. Don't Back Down- The Beach Boys. I love everything Beach Boys, but this song in particular always made me happy.

7. Thunder Road- Bruce Springsteen. The lyric of this song makes me want to weep every time. Love me some Bruce.

8. Heart of Glass-Blondie. Where did Deborah Harry go? She is one of the best EVER.

9. Bolero- Ravel. I never get tired of this song, it's magical to me.

10.Pennsylvania 6-5000. Glenn Miller Orchestra. I love big band music, and this is one of the best.

11. A Question of Lust Depeche Mode. I play this song all the time, still.

12. Photograph- Def Leppard. This is the first song I ever danced with a boy to. 7th grade dance, Adam. Why we had a fast song? Because my friend, Adam's cousin, Kathleen, dedicated this one to us!

13. Rock Lobster- B 52's. Because it's a silly ocean song, and just makes me laugh out loud.

14.Friday, I'm in Love- The Cure. I like anything by The Cure. Robert Smith is so wierd.

15. Sunday, Bloody Sunday- U2. This song really made sense to me, and U2 nailed it. It's too bad they are such sell outs, now.

16.Alison- Elvis Costello- I don't believe I have to explain the attraction of this song

17. Jeremy- Pearl Jam. I love Pearl Jam.

18. La Vie En Rose- Edith Piaf- because I've always had a love affair with France, and this song is the epitome.

19. No Woman, No Cry- Bob Marley. Beautiful song

20. Tom Sawyer- Rush. I have just loved this song since the first time I heard it

21. Four In The Morning- Night Ranger- this song reminds me of a really good friend I had in highschool. When I hear it, I always wonder where he went.

22. Ophelia- Natalie Merchant. She has a beautiful voice as well

23. Home, Michael Buble. His voice is so smooooooooooth

24. Blues Man- Alan Jackson. This is a great song, done as a tribute to Hank Williams, Jr. Who is ironically, not one of my favorites. . .

25. Banana Pancakes- Jack Johnson. I love the message of this song. Sleep in, pretend it's the weekend, and i'll make us pancakes. My idea of a perfect rainy day.

*Bonus tracks!*

26. Belly Dance- The Wicked Tinkers- this is a drums and bagpipe band, and, believe it or not, this song is so seductive! You'd need to hear it to understand. . .

27. Badfish- Sublime. There is something about this song, I just can't put my finger on it. .

I must stop. and post this before another song comes on that I can't leave off.

lazy

Happy Labor Day, everyone!

This weekend, I usually go and visit my parents, being as my Mom will be celebrating her birthday in a mere 2 days, and my Dad's is the 13th. But, my work schedule is a bit messy this month, so I have opted out of that. They usually go somewhere for their birthdays, as well, like Lake Tahoe, or some other, fun and relaxing place.

Instead, I am going to stay home today. MM will be back in town at some point, but I am betting he'll be exhausted from driving all over the place with his daughter this weekend, and frankly, I am still kind of wiped from my torturous work week. And I go back to work for another 3 days tomorrow night. (Yipee). So, I am going to be lazy. I have ribs and corn for the BBQ, if I feel like it, (which, I'm sure I will), and no plans. The weather here, so far, is pretty nice, and I may just go sit on the balcony with a good book and watch the world drive by. . .

bah!

Its Sunday
and I am grumpy.
Last night sucked.
My freak neighbor and her boyfriend are being loud. (Where is my iPod?)
I went to the grocery store and the bagging clerk kept asking me if the things she was putting into a bag were good. (No, I buy crappy food, so I can go home and NOT eat it, asshat.)
I'm tired.
I'm grumpy.
I'm going to bed.
With my iPod and my grumpy self.

I've got a secret

I've discovered the secret, of how to be an NFL player.
It's all in the name. Seriously.
I was perusing some of the NFL website last night, getting ready for next weekend, when the season, officially FINALLY starts. (I just can't wait).
There are some normal names rolling around, Ryan, and John, Tony, you can find those.
But you'll also find names like
Melila Purcell, Samari Rolle, (sounds like sushi, doesn't it?)or, how about D'Qwell Jackson. Sounds like his momma named him after the lice treatment. Then, there is Bobby. Whats wrong with that you ask? Nothing, unless your name is 'Bobby Blizzard'. Doesn't Dairy Queen make a drink called Bobby Blizzard?
Then, there is Herana-Daze Jones. What was his mom smoking. Herana-Daze? oooook.
And, Nayeh Davenport. It sounds like a bad couch. Cato June reminds me of that old movie, Auntie Mame. Santonio Holmes? Sounds like they really liked San Antonio.I barely scratched the surface of the NFL, and I came up with these.
But, in my mind, the all around, hands down winner:
Craphonso Thorpe.
Seriously. Craphonso.
Who in the He-double hockey sticks would think to name a kid Craphonso? Do they not SEE the implications this will carry?
And now, Craphonso plays in the NFL. Imagine the trash talk.

So, if you want an NFL player, name, (or rename) your kid something totally stupid that sounds like food, couches, medication, or literally, Crap.
It'll work. I guarantee it.