Tonight I am fighting the urge to fling myself into the kitchen to attempt to find something non-caloric yet satisfying. And before you start thinking that it doesn't exist...know that it indeed does...it's called WATER. I have been reacquainting myself with this beverage at what can only be described as...a mass delivery level. See, I've been told that one needs 1/2 oz of water for every pound you weigh. If this is true, I need an IV...or another gallon.
And you thought that this was going to be about happy thoughts? Really? With me on a diet? Fat chance (pun intended.)
Let's see if I can do better.
Tonight I requested some ideas for something to discuss here. The first entry was "poodles" followed by "den rearranging," "adult children at home" and "why is life so hard?" I think I have my work cut out for me.
I have to admit...the "poodle" entry made me laugh. There's just something about a dog that hardly sheds, is annoying to a legendary degree, looks like it has a home perm from 1983, and is in total denial about its size relative to its attitude that just cracks me up. Truthfully, it is the 1983 look...because I thought it was hysterical THEN...and I KNOW it is now...on either people OR poodles.
But in case you are not aware, there are yippy little poodles and there are standard poodles. The standard poodle is about the size of a collie and looks like it lapped up whatever substance made Lou Ferrigno turn into the Hulk - minus the green tint, of course. I encountered one at my uncle's chiropractor years ago in California, and photographed it because I was so enamored with it. I have only seen one other standard poodle...probably because it looks like a regular one on steroids and people are partial to the little yippers.
My only real experience with poodles has been with Grandma Emma Pearl's dog Bonnie Blue Butler Morris. (I kid you not.) She came from an entire family of dogs named after characters in "Gone With the Wind." And, unfortunately, where Bonnie Blue fell off of a horse in the movie, Bonnie Blue Butler Morris ran out into the street under the tires of a car.
However, prior to her demise, this little dog could yap with the best of them, and was the typical small poodle with which most of us in the South are familiar. She was apricot in color...not typical white...and she was off the furniture on the furniture off the lap on the bed off the bed on the sofa, all while yipping incessantly. I miss that little dog (not).
At least she kept it interesting.
And that is difficult to do these days, isn't it? We like variety...change...excitement. So, how do we girls of a certain age fill this void in our lives now that we aren't needed to be "Mom" as much anymore? Well, since we aren't trying to figure out how to fix/improve/change/involve/butt-in to our kids' lives, we have to take that energy and apply it somewhere, don't we?
So, we organize things, plant things, give away things, or just shuffle them around. This is a short term solution for the energy that used to be employed in being team mothers, cookie chairmen, sponsors, bench brigades, and helpers. We don't want to lose it...so we use it...by rearranging our lives constantly to suit what is coming down the pike.
For some of us (apparently) this manifests itself in rearranging furniture, redecorating, learning a new skill, or just going what our family deems "nuts." For others of us, it is new hobbies, crafting, or spending hours in front of the computer. Maybe we volunteer...or go back to work...or start focusing on the next generation. But for most of us...something is changing all of the time...and we are going to be in the middle of some project of some kind. It's just the way we are wired.
Truthfully, for me, it has been remarkably difficult to transition from being "Mom" to being "friend Mom" or the person who is supposed to be simultaneously cool, wise, and possessor of an unlimited Visa card. This transition occurs with our children somewhere around the age of 20...when they have been away for a couple of years and now believe that they have the ability to figure out their own schedule, curfew, dating, and major. This is where I go...REALLY? Is that why I'm still paying tuition bills? Car payment?
Hmmm...yeah, I THOUGHT that being in by midnight was what you meant to say, too...
I'm really in the midst of enjoying this metamorphosis with Jill right now. She is capable of dealing with her personal needs, can hold a job, keep up with her money, and even make and go to her own appointments. This is all very good. However, I'm somewhat looking forward to the day when she calls to whine about how little time she has to work out with her new job and all, and how Christmas won't be very big...so she hopes we won't be disappointed. OH, and the kids are driving her crazy...I hope that I live to see it.
Because she will soon find out that life is complicated...and that the little barriers that pop up on us are sometimes annoying...sometimes serious...and sometimes just learning experiences. She will have to learn for herself the lessons of sacrifice, determination, and grace. I have pointed out examples as often as I can...but some things you just don't learn without walking that road or that valley...whatever the case may be.
I don't know why life has to be so hard. I suspect it is because without the difficulties, there would be no appreciation in life. We have the dark times to bring us closer to God and closer to becoming the people we are intended to be. I don't think that He wanted an entire planet filled with self-centered, gratification addicted people to deal with (in spite of the fact that it looks like that is exactly where many people are headed). He wants maturity...love...sacrifice. So, sometimes we have to endure the bitter to get to the sweet. Our hardships also give others an opportunity to get to be His hands and feet...an experience that He uses to teach both the caregiver and the one needing care.
So, it is my fervent belief that it is a good thing that some things just make us smile...like poodles (or losing weight). Other things keep us occupied and productive...like changing our living room around a gazillion times and watching our kids morph into rational and surprisingly wonderful adults. And in spite of our busyness, good times, and seasons of change...we always recognize...that life can also be fragile and not easy...but it is a gift...from Him to us.
Later!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Back to Rehab...AGAIN
Tonight I went into my Rehab meeting which is commonly referred to as Weight Watchers. I truly hate the name of the organization because it implies that I must actually watch all of this weight that I have put on...and that depresses me. The only watching I want to be doing...is watching it come off. Which, naturally, is far easier said than done.
After missing the better part of May and taking what amounted to a six week hiatus...I managed to put back on everything that I gained. At least I'm pretty sure of it. I didn't look at the book to see the + sign...but I know it was there. I'm pretty sure that she wrote down two digits...which as you can well imagine...totally sucks.
But what did I really expect? I mean, you can't eat a good portion of a Dairy Queen ice cream cake, three doughnuts, portion sizes fit for Shaq, and unmeasured butter indefinitely. Well, I suppose you can...but leaving your house will require a crane, eight people, and a television crew. I think not.
And just as I was getting ready to just lie to myself that I could do the program on my own...I got the little yellow card in the mail that is Weight Watchers' version of a "get out of jail free" card. You don't have to pay for the missed meetings...just bring in the card...pay one week...and move on. So, I figured that it (along with the fact that my fat clothes are now fitting) was a sign.
I waited until 5:45 today to walk in...which was a serious mistake. All of the perky ladies who have lost a gazillion pounds are already there encouraging everybody and coming up to the line to speak to people. I don't want to speak to anybody. I'm mortified that I have failed and have had to come back again. If Weight Watchers' national had actually kept a file of my membership data (dating back to 1977)...it would very likely weigh more than I do.
Miss Dot is taking her time with a very confused lady who has apparently never been through the drill. Puhleeze. She's probably had a metabolism until recently, and is now joining our group to lose her 13.2 pounds. The heifer. After her, there is a mother and daughter pair who talk incessantly and apparently think that coming to the meeting is "fun." Really?
Then there was the lady on crutches who broke in front of me...but I didn't have the heart to tell her that she had. She kept asking me questions about how long the meetings were and asking if the leader was good. All of the while...she is inching up just a hair with each inquiry.
So, I ended up in line for 17 minutes as I waited for the four people in front of me to get their stuff done. I just stood there staring at the floor and wishing like anything that I could just fling her a $13 check and get the weighing over with...but alas, NO.
Finally, I did get to weigh, and as usual...I have no idea how much that might be. I refuse to let them tell me how much I weighed on Day 1, and here three months later, I choose to remain in the dark. I just don't have time for a mental breakdown right now...and having this information would either drive me to overeat from the stress of knowing how much I weigh (and I would gain weight in the process) or I would just throw in the towel and eat (and I would gain weight in the process). The only third option I could think of was total ignorance. Now, I just assume that I weigh more than most defensive lineman...but since I don't really know...I still have hope that perhaps I don't.
One must have some hope in order to lose weight. Either that, illness, or a divorce. I'm thinking that hope is the best alternative in this particular threesome as well.
I sat in the back (as I always do) and there was a new big couple who was in my spot. This annoyed me at first...but I just found another quiet spot to plop down even farther away from everybody. The only person who was not annoying was the guy who has lost 155 lbs - Ricky - who had gastric bypass because he could not move. Now, he walks with a cane and is making definite progress. He was also the only person other than the leader who noticed A) I was gone and B) I was back.
It's always nice to be missed. But then again...since I have absolutely nothing in common with these people other than we are all well...fat...I don't mind just blending in...as hard as that might seem to believe.
So, for the next week I will be struggling. I'm not looking beyond one week. It is not easy to break the bonds of addiction...even if that addiction is to chocolate. I mean, you don't HAVE to do crack...but you DO have to eat.
To keep myself motivated...I've decided that there are a few things that I want to be able to do...and in spite of how much I weigh...I will know I am progressing when any of these occur:
I can cross my legs at the knee.
I don't have a bruise on my right hip where it hits the seat belt thingy in the car every time I get in.
I don't panic when I go to the theater, ballgame, airplane, or anything with assigned seats for fear that I will be sitting beside another big person. (Or require a seat extender.)
I can actually wear shorts. (Without fear.)
I wear black by choice and not because it is the only color offered. (Check out the Junior Zeppelin Department - otherwise known as "Women's Fashions" and see if it isn't just a sea of black...accented with gargantuan floral pieces appropriate for an AARP trip to Hawaii.)
Someone will tell me that I look "cute" in something I'm wearing and ask me where I got it. (And the hummingbird pin that everyone loves...doesn't count.)
I can go to the gym. (Yes, you can actually be too big to go to the gym...if you can't fit into your gym clothes.)
I am able to sit in a chair without first checking its ability to withstand me. (Nothing is scarier to one's self esteem than breaking a chair.)
I can "scootch by" someone instead of taking the long way around. (Or lodging myself between the cart and the candy rack in the grocery store.)
So, I have a lot to look forward to.
Fortunately, I have a good attitude, support, and it IS summer...where good, nutritious food abounds...but unfortunately has to be counted. Oh well! Later!
After missing the better part of May and taking what amounted to a six week hiatus...I managed to put back on everything that I gained. At least I'm pretty sure of it. I didn't look at the book to see the + sign...but I know it was there. I'm pretty sure that she wrote down two digits...which as you can well imagine...totally sucks.
But what did I really expect? I mean, you can't eat a good portion of a Dairy Queen ice cream cake, three doughnuts, portion sizes fit for Shaq, and unmeasured butter indefinitely. Well, I suppose you can...but leaving your house will require a crane, eight people, and a television crew. I think not.
And just as I was getting ready to just lie to myself that I could do the program on my own...I got the little yellow card in the mail that is Weight Watchers' version of a "get out of jail free" card. You don't have to pay for the missed meetings...just bring in the card...pay one week...and move on. So, I figured that it (along with the fact that my fat clothes are now fitting) was a sign.
I waited until 5:45 today to walk in...which was a serious mistake. All of the perky ladies who have lost a gazillion pounds are already there encouraging everybody and coming up to the line to speak to people. I don't want to speak to anybody. I'm mortified that I have failed and have had to come back again. If Weight Watchers' national had actually kept a file of my membership data (dating back to 1977)...it would very likely weigh more than I do.
Miss Dot is taking her time with a very confused lady who has apparently never been through the drill. Puhleeze. She's probably had a metabolism until recently, and is now joining our group to lose her 13.2 pounds. The heifer. After her, there is a mother and daughter pair who talk incessantly and apparently think that coming to the meeting is "fun." Really?
Then there was the lady on crutches who broke in front of me...but I didn't have the heart to tell her that she had. She kept asking me questions about how long the meetings were and asking if the leader was good. All of the while...she is inching up just a hair with each inquiry.
So, I ended up in line for 17 minutes as I waited for the four people in front of me to get their stuff done. I just stood there staring at the floor and wishing like anything that I could just fling her a $13 check and get the weighing over with...but alas, NO.
Finally, I did get to weigh, and as usual...I have no idea how much that might be. I refuse to let them tell me how much I weighed on Day 1, and here three months later, I choose to remain in the dark. I just don't have time for a mental breakdown right now...and having this information would either drive me to overeat from the stress of knowing how much I weigh (and I would gain weight in the process) or I would just throw in the towel and eat (and I would gain weight in the process). The only third option I could think of was total ignorance. Now, I just assume that I weigh more than most defensive lineman...but since I don't really know...I still have hope that perhaps I don't.
One must have some hope in order to lose weight. Either that, illness, or a divorce. I'm thinking that hope is the best alternative in this particular threesome as well.
I sat in the back (as I always do) and there was a new big couple who was in my spot. This annoyed me at first...but I just found another quiet spot to plop down even farther away from everybody. The only person who was not annoying was the guy who has lost 155 lbs - Ricky - who had gastric bypass because he could not move. Now, he walks with a cane and is making definite progress. He was also the only person other than the leader who noticed A) I was gone and B) I was back.
It's always nice to be missed. But then again...since I have absolutely nothing in common with these people other than we are all well...fat...I don't mind just blending in...as hard as that might seem to believe.
So, for the next week I will be struggling. I'm not looking beyond one week. It is not easy to break the bonds of addiction...even if that addiction is to chocolate. I mean, you don't HAVE to do crack...but you DO have to eat.
To keep myself motivated...I've decided that there are a few things that I want to be able to do...and in spite of how much I weigh...I will know I am progressing when any of these occur:
I can cross my legs at the knee.
I don't have a bruise on my right hip where it hits the seat belt thingy in the car every time I get in.
I don't panic when I go to the theater, ballgame, airplane, or anything with assigned seats for fear that I will be sitting beside another big person. (Or require a seat extender.)
I can actually wear shorts. (Without fear.)
I wear black by choice and not because it is the only color offered. (Check out the Junior Zeppelin Department - otherwise known as "Women's Fashions" and see if it isn't just a sea of black...accented with gargantuan floral pieces appropriate for an AARP trip to Hawaii.)
Someone will tell me that I look "cute" in something I'm wearing and ask me where I got it. (And the hummingbird pin that everyone loves...doesn't count.)
I can go to the gym. (Yes, you can actually be too big to go to the gym...if you can't fit into your gym clothes.)
I am able to sit in a chair without first checking its ability to withstand me. (Nothing is scarier to one's self esteem than breaking a chair.)
I can "scootch by" someone instead of taking the long way around. (Or lodging myself between the cart and the candy rack in the grocery store.)
So, I have a lot to look forward to.
Fortunately, I have a good attitude, support, and it IS summer...where good, nutritious food abounds...but unfortunately has to be counted. Oh well! Later!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Falling Short Part II
Last night I wrote about how I was behind on some things people were counting on me to do, and how much that is upsetting me. I will be making time tomorrow to manage some of this, and I feel at peace about that part of it. However, looking at the title that I chose last night, I can also see that there is something else that is going on with me in the realm of falling short.
I used to be an ultra competitive person. I couldn't play "Dirty Santa" at Christmas because I would get angry when someone would take my beautiful fluffy blanket or silver reindeer and leave me with a skating pig or WalMart clearance section ornament. I once stormed out of a Sunday School party in protest (quietly...but I still left to calm myself down)..so it proves that I have come a long way in at least now being able to speak of it without using language that would make Seth Rogen blush. In fact, I don't even wince at the memories of this...too much.
Playing any kind of game used to be a minefield for me. Watching college football games on TV became mood changers...something that is seriously just wrong. If whatever team I was pulling for lost...my weekend was ruined.
At work, if someone got a promotion, I was happy for them, but I secretly seethed as I watched them get something I felt that I was denied. Eventually, I made it to the point professionally that I wanted to be...and that competitive feeling has been non-existent for the past ten years. This is a good thing. In fact, I'm quite grateful that I no longer have to wear pantyhose, suits, or need to look professional. As long as my work is professional...that's enough.
With my friends, there have been times in the past that I felt that if I was excluded from something...that it was personal. Never mind that there were limited tickets, people who I didn't know involved, or a long history of certain people being invited to certain events or if I really wanted to go or not. I just felt left out if I was not included. Now, I'm actually relieved if I don't get asked...so I can pretty much do what I want when I want to. It is freeing.
Bigger house? Nope...happy with mine. Different car? Not really...mine runs. Better wardrobe? Yeah, if I lose a bunch of weight...sure.
I think what I've realized is that I'm fairly content with my life, who is in it, and what is in it. I like where I live, who I am, and what I do. That's all taken me 46 years to be able to say...and I'm very proud that I can...considering my history.
BUT...and there always is a but...I realized yesterday that I have a mini green eyed monster trying to make a comeback in my life. A tiny but powerful little creature called ENVY.
See, on Twitter, my favorite band of all time - Collective Soul - is having a contest for the 20 biggest fans. And because I'm not on there all of the time, I have no chance of winning a spot. I am going to do one more post about why I love the music and then I'll consider that horse duly beaten.
I realized, though, that some of the people I follow ARE on that list. And while I'm really happy for THEM...I'm feeling a little sad that I am not on there. Why would I be? Do I tweet incessantly about the band? No. Do I know them personally? No. Do I have a gazillion followers on Twitter? Negative. Do I have anything to offer whatsoever besides my respect and occasionally a sale from iTunes? Hardly.
So, I'm going to try to not think of this "envy issue" that I have going on right now...and will try to focus on articulating exactly why I am a fan on the blog one last time...and then I will let this go as well.
I suppose that part of the problem is that I have felt like I used to when other people got promoted. I know that sounds very shallow and stupid, but at the same time...it has alerted me to the fact that although I've exorcised a lot of demons...there are still a few lurking around me just waiting for an opportunity to slip in. And, if nothing else...it is always good to be reminded to be on guard for THAT. Later!
I used to be an ultra competitive person. I couldn't play "Dirty Santa" at Christmas because I would get angry when someone would take my beautiful fluffy blanket or silver reindeer and leave me with a skating pig or WalMart clearance section ornament. I once stormed out of a Sunday School party in protest (quietly...but I still left to calm myself down)..so it proves that I have come a long way in at least now being able to speak of it without using language that would make Seth Rogen blush. In fact, I don't even wince at the memories of this...too much.
Playing any kind of game used to be a minefield for me. Watching college football games on TV became mood changers...something that is seriously just wrong. If whatever team I was pulling for lost...my weekend was ruined.
At work, if someone got a promotion, I was happy for them, but I secretly seethed as I watched them get something I felt that I was denied. Eventually, I made it to the point professionally that I wanted to be...and that competitive feeling has been non-existent for the past ten years. This is a good thing. In fact, I'm quite grateful that I no longer have to wear pantyhose, suits, or need to look professional. As long as my work is professional...that's enough.
With my friends, there have been times in the past that I felt that if I was excluded from something...that it was personal. Never mind that there were limited tickets, people who I didn't know involved, or a long history of certain people being invited to certain events or if I really wanted to go or not. I just felt left out if I was not included. Now, I'm actually relieved if I don't get asked...so I can pretty much do what I want when I want to. It is freeing.
Bigger house? Nope...happy with mine. Different car? Not really...mine runs. Better wardrobe? Yeah, if I lose a bunch of weight...sure.
I think what I've realized is that I'm fairly content with my life, who is in it, and what is in it. I like where I live, who I am, and what I do. That's all taken me 46 years to be able to say...and I'm very proud that I can...considering my history.
BUT...and there always is a but...I realized yesterday that I have a mini green eyed monster trying to make a comeback in my life. A tiny but powerful little creature called ENVY.
See, on Twitter, my favorite band of all time - Collective Soul - is having a contest for the 20 biggest fans. And because I'm not on there all of the time, I have no chance of winning a spot. I am going to do one more post about why I love the music and then I'll consider that horse duly beaten.
I realized, though, that some of the people I follow ARE on that list. And while I'm really happy for THEM...I'm feeling a little sad that I am not on there. Why would I be? Do I tweet incessantly about the band? No. Do I know them personally? No. Do I have a gazillion followers on Twitter? Negative. Do I have anything to offer whatsoever besides my respect and occasionally a sale from iTunes? Hardly.
So, I'm going to try to not think of this "envy issue" that I have going on right now...and will try to focus on articulating exactly why I am a fan on the blog one last time...and then I will let this go as well.
I suppose that part of the problem is that I have felt like I used to when other people got promoted. I know that sounds very shallow and stupid, but at the same time...it has alerted me to the fact that although I've exorcised a lot of demons...there are still a few lurking around me just waiting for an opportunity to slip in. And, if nothing else...it is always good to be reminded to be on guard for THAT. Later!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Falling Short
Tonight I am experiencing a little bit of anxiety. Now, I know that from a biblical perspective, when we arrive at this point we are supposed to - as Christians - turn anxiety over to God. And I will. But before I do, I wanted to just discuss it a bit here.
I think that in everyday life, we all have expectations of what we want our days and activities to be to a certain extent. Other parts are just beyond our control...and we accept that. Some of the choices we make include our marital status, who we love and support, whether we will be parents through the usual way, adoption, or not at all, what we do for a living, where we live, and how we choose to spend our time. The choices for all of us are as unique as we are!
Lately, I have been worried about work a bit (the economy), money (I have kids), and my schedule. It seems that I have committed to do things that I intend to do, but the timing just has not been right. I have NOT had the time to pull it all together. And thus, the anxiety.
I can normally trust God's timing without questioning...but when I run into those times when I try to work things out and they just won't fall into place I begin to wonder...is it truly a timing issue, or is it me falling short?
I think one common human experience is that we all want to give our best except in those rare cases where we actually choose not to for whatever reason. I know that I love the feeling when I have done something well and I am content with the effort whether I am the only person who knows or notices the results or not.
Sometimes, though, we can't find our rhythm. We are like the person who claps on the off beat while everyone else is clapping at the proper time. I am in one of those phases right now.
And yet, I think that this week will be the week. I go on vacation in three weeks. A lot of what I had stressed over is behind me or can be postponed. My husband and children are busy and happy. It's summer. My mother's knee is healing. I'm catching up with old friends and writing...I'm even scrapbooking again.
Some of what I am worried about is beyond my control. I can control my side of the job equation, but cannot control whether the company decides to retain me. I can try to spend wisely, but I cannot control unexpected expenses. Those are just...well...LIFE.
So, why is it that I have any anxiety at all? I think it is because I am afraid that if I don't get with it on the few remaining undone items on my "to do" list...then I will not be able to fully appreciate all that is going right.
And there are too many wonderful moments in life waiting to be enjoyed. I need to address those undone items, quit worrying, and punt this fear of falling short. I think I'll start...tomorrow. Later!
I think that in everyday life, we all have expectations of what we want our days and activities to be to a certain extent. Other parts are just beyond our control...and we accept that. Some of the choices we make include our marital status, who we love and support, whether we will be parents through the usual way, adoption, or not at all, what we do for a living, where we live, and how we choose to spend our time. The choices for all of us are as unique as we are!
Lately, I have been worried about work a bit (the economy), money (I have kids), and my schedule. It seems that I have committed to do things that I intend to do, but the timing just has not been right. I have NOT had the time to pull it all together. And thus, the anxiety.
I can normally trust God's timing without questioning...but when I run into those times when I try to work things out and they just won't fall into place I begin to wonder...is it truly a timing issue, or is it me falling short?
I think one common human experience is that we all want to give our best except in those rare cases where we actually choose not to for whatever reason. I know that I love the feeling when I have done something well and I am content with the effort whether I am the only person who knows or notices the results or not.
Sometimes, though, we can't find our rhythm. We are like the person who claps on the off beat while everyone else is clapping at the proper time. I am in one of those phases right now.
And yet, I think that this week will be the week. I go on vacation in three weeks. A lot of what I had stressed over is behind me or can be postponed. My husband and children are busy and happy. It's summer. My mother's knee is healing. I'm catching up with old friends and writing...I'm even scrapbooking again.
Some of what I am worried about is beyond my control. I can control my side of the job equation, but cannot control whether the company decides to retain me. I can try to spend wisely, but I cannot control unexpected expenses. Those are just...well...LIFE.
So, why is it that I have any anxiety at all? I think it is because I am afraid that if I don't get with it on the few remaining undone items on my "to do" list...then I will not be able to fully appreciate all that is going right.
And there are too many wonderful moments in life waiting to be enjoyed. I need to address those undone items, quit worrying, and punt this fear of falling short. I think I'll start...tomorrow. Later!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Reality Doesn't Always Bite
After anticipating our house guest's arrival, I am pleased to say that everything has gone along really well. I mean...he DID arrive to find a piece of furniture that was moved from the study/spare bedroom in the foyer...but HEY, it was out of there by mid-afternoon. So the pine straw didn't get spread? Well, that's not the end of the world. Those two bales have been sitting behind the boxwood for the past three months...and I suppose they'll sit there for a few days (weeks or months) more. And although I was worried about the heinous neon orange comforter that is on the guest bed that was once in Jill's room...the house guest showed up today wearing - of all colors - orange. How awesome is that?
After experiencing a day this week that was so annoying that I've already "shared" it...I have found that some things this week have actually gone as planned or even better than expected. Shocking! For instance...I ordered cups for graduation gifts from Tervis Tumblers (they are personalized as well as have a little symbol on them (ie. Auburn University, University of Alabama, etc.)on Tuesday. They actually arrived in three days.
Other things have been as simple as actually having a piece of trash that I throw toward the trash can actually fall in there instead of on the floor beside it, a chain of green lights, sheets on sale that weren't marked, and just having the right songs show up on my iPod on "shuffle songs." For little pleasures...I am quite grateful.
So, after being at a hassle factor of 10, I've had some equally neat things that have totally offset them. All in the same week.
So, I suppose...reality doesn't ALWAYS bite. I mean...reality TV does (in my opinion)...but most everything else has a silver lining if we are just able to take the time to look.
Here's hoping that your weekend is one of the best ever. Hope that you have time to breathe, love and savor. As for me...I'm just pleased that the week has not been what I have traditionally characterized as a "bad week". Next week has potential to be, though...back to Rehab (Weight Watchers) on Monday. Later!
After experiencing a day this week that was so annoying that I've already "shared" it...I have found that some things this week have actually gone as planned or even better than expected. Shocking! For instance...I ordered cups for graduation gifts from Tervis Tumblers (they are personalized as well as have a little symbol on them (ie. Auburn University, University of Alabama, etc.)on Tuesday. They actually arrived in three days.
Other things have been as simple as actually having a piece of trash that I throw toward the trash can actually fall in there instead of on the floor beside it, a chain of green lights, sheets on sale that weren't marked, and just having the right songs show up on my iPod on "shuffle songs." For little pleasures...I am quite grateful.
So, after being at a hassle factor of 10, I've had some equally neat things that have totally offset them. All in the same week.
So, I suppose...reality doesn't ALWAYS bite. I mean...reality TV does (in my opinion)...but most everything else has a silver lining if we are just able to take the time to look.
Here's hoping that your weekend is one of the best ever. Hope that you have time to breathe, love and savor. As for me...I'm just pleased that the week has not been what I have traditionally characterized as a "bad week". Next week has potential to be, though...back to Rehab (Weight Watchers) on Monday. Later!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Anticipation
The word "anticipation" will forever conjure up visions of a ketchup bottle in midair over something remarkably delicious. I think that Heinz was quite smart to use that particular song during the old days that we had to manage ketchup out of a glass bottle. You know...the pre-squeeze bottle era. Between us, I am glad that we are doing plastic bottles now...except for the fact that the bottles at restaurants are red and look full...but are almost always anything but. However, this is not exactly what is on my mind tonight.
I was thinking of all of the preparations that we have made this week for a house guest. A young man who attends Alabama with Jill and lives in Atlanta. Because of the three hour drive, he gets to come here and stay for a couple of days. Oh, assuming that she feels better, they'll likely drive down to Gulf Shores for the day on Saturday...so my hostess duties will primarily be tomorrow night.
We've been cleaning out and cleaning up.
Just some backstory on our house. We built it in 2001 on a five acre lot in the anti-metropolis of Pike Road, AL. Pike Road is located just out of Montgomery, and finds itself in constant lawsuits with the city of Montgomery for just who owns the rights to the Home Depot and Wal-Mart sales tax revenues. It's a long story...but Pike Road has residents that are determined to not live all over each other and just want to have the decent lives that people in small town America take for granted. This is certainly not what those who live in Montgomery have at this point in time and thus the split. Not that Montgomery is a bad place...it isn't. Not really. But anyway...
We have a three bedroom house with a study, and an open floor plan...which means that the kitchen, family room and dining room are all pretty much the same room. It's not a huge house, but we have 10 foot ceilings and wood floors and I like it very much. We have a pool and a pond out back that has real live fish in it. I just love to see it from my house since I don't fish. It's icky.
The house is filled with pieces from my grandmother's house and David's parents' house and sometimes the combination seems eclectic and wonderful and sometimes...not so much. But it's home.
Our style is pretty laid back. We are an eat outside, grill-loving, barefoot kind of house where it is not a huge deal if someone spills something or tracks in soaking wet from the pool. The neighborhood dog wanders in...and we don't really see this as a problem. We just love having people here, and we hope that they feel comfortable when they are our guests.
The problem is...every time we have overnight guests, we have to vacate our bedroom so that someone can stay in it since we do not have a formal guest room. Jill's room is currently housing last year's dorm room in addition to the normal items in there. Brian's room is...well...let's just say untidy. Actually, it borders on what we in the South call "nasty" in that he refuses to keep it neat...so clean is a distant dream. I don't mind being displaced, but it does tend to make people feel bad, and it is a hassle. Because my room currently looks like eBay threw up in it, I just cannot face the prospect of getting my act together on a timetable...and so I started thinking of alternatives.
So, because Jill needs a double bedfor her apartment next year (size constraints) and we're going to eventually get a headboard from storage, we went ahead and purchased her mattress. So, as we anticipate our house guest tomorrow, he will have a brand new bed in the study (with a newly cleaned bathroom)of his very own. Hassle factor? Low to moderate. We are also anticipating my sister's visit at the end of June...and now she will have use of the bed and bath so that if I don't get this room cleaned up...I won't feel like a total loser.
We've tried to anticipate what the weather will do, what they will do, what we will eat, and even what she will wear during this visit. We don't know if this young man will meet us and go, "um...waiter, check please" or not. We don't know if they will even be speaking to each other two weeks from now. We don't know if the visit will be very fun or a dud. None of that really matters, though. Right now, we're just anticipating his arrival.
The fun is the anticipation. Meeting someone new...welcoming loved ones home...preparing to move into the first apartment. All of these are ahead of us (or so we hope). As long as we have something to look forward to...most of us can deal with the little annoyances of life. Vacations, weddings, new babies, graduations, reunions, or visits are what keep us going sometimes. They are markers in our lives.
So, here's to anticipation. The positive kind. Like something absolutely delicious is about to happen. And even if it doesn't...that really doesn't spoil the fun of what I'm feeling right now...anticipating the unknown. Oh well...here's hoping it does turn out wonderful just the same...Later!
I was thinking of all of the preparations that we have made this week for a house guest. A young man who attends Alabama with Jill and lives in Atlanta. Because of the three hour drive, he gets to come here and stay for a couple of days. Oh, assuming that she feels better, they'll likely drive down to Gulf Shores for the day on Saturday...so my hostess duties will primarily be tomorrow night.
We've been cleaning out and cleaning up.
Just some backstory on our house. We built it in 2001 on a five acre lot in the anti-metropolis of Pike Road, AL. Pike Road is located just out of Montgomery, and finds itself in constant lawsuits with the city of Montgomery for just who owns the rights to the Home Depot and Wal-Mart sales tax revenues. It's a long story...but Pike Road has residents that are determined to not live all over each other and just want to have the decent lives that people in small town America take for granted. This is certainly not what those who live in Montgomery have at this point in time and thus the split. Not that Montgomery is a bad place...it isn't. Not really. But anyway...
We have a three bedroom house with a study, and an open floor plan...which means that the kitchen, family room and dining room are all pretty much the same room. It's not a huge house, but we have 10 foot ceilings and wood floors and I like it very much. We have a pool and a pond out back that has real live fish in it. I just love to see it from my house since I don't fish. It's icky.
The house is filled with pieces from my grandmother's house and David's parents' house and sometimes the combination seems eclectic and wonderful and sometimes...not so much. But it's home.
Our style is pretty laid back. We are an eat outside, grill-loving, barefoot kind of house where it is not a huge deal if someone spills something or tracks in soaking wet from the pool. The neighborhood dog wanders in...and we don't really see this as a problem. We just love having people here, and we hope that they feel comfortable when they are our guests.
The problem is...every time we have overnight guests, we have to vacate our bedroom so that someone can stay in it since we do not have a formal guest room. Jill's room is currently housing last year's dorm room in addition to the normal items in there. Brian's room is...well...let's just say untidy. Actually, it borders on what we in the South call "nasty" in that he refuses to keep it neat...so clean is a distant dream. I don't mind being displaced, but it does tend to make people feel bad, and it is a hassle. Because my room currently looks like eBay threw up in it, I just cannot face the prospect of getting my act together on a timetable...and so I started thinking of alternatives.
So, because Jill needs a double bedfor her apartment next year (size constraints) and we're going to eventually get a headboard from storage, we went ahead and purchased her mattress. So, as we anticipate our house guest tomorrow, he will have a brand new bed in the study (with a newly cleaned bathroom)of his very own. Hassle factor? Low to moderate. We are also anticipating my sister's visit at the end of June...and now she will have use of the bed and bath so that if I don't get this room cleaned up...I won't feel like a total loser.
We've tried to anticipate what the weather will do, what they will do, what we will eat, and even what she will wear during this visit. We don't know if this young man will meet us and go, "um...waiter, check please" or not. We don't know if they will even be speaking to each other two weeks from now. We don't know if the visit will be very fun or a dud. None of that really matters, though. Right now, we're just anticipating his arrival.
The fun is the anticipation. Meeting someone new...welcoming loved ones home...preparing to move into the first apartment. All of these are ahead of us (or so we hope). As long as we have something to look forward to...most of us can deal with the little annoyances of life. Vacations, weddings, new babies, graduations, reunions, or visits are what keep us going sometimes. They are markers in our lives.
So, here's to anticipation. The positive kind. Like something absolutely delicious is about to happen. And even if it doesn't...that really doesn't spoil the fun of what I'm feeling right now...anticipating the unknown. Oh well...here's hoping it does turn out wonderful just the same...Later!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Today Totally Did NOT Rock
Today was one of those days where I wanted to channel my inner two year old and just throw a big fit in the parking lot of Chic-fil-A. I'm 46, and most people would find this somewhat unattractive. But some days are just impossible to keep from whining. Today is such a day.
I arose at 5:45 this morning to the sound of my daughter's voice. She spent the night with a girlfriend last night, and somewhere in my Tylenol PM induced coma I thought I remembered this accurately. So, either she stayed out all night (bad) or something was wrong (equally bad) since it is my experience that 19 year old college students DO NOT get up until at least 9:00 unless they have to go to work or want to go shopping.
She awoke at 4:00 am at her friend's house with a ripping sore throat and a headache. And so she came home because she wanted to be babied by the one person who does it better than anyone...her Dad. Yeah. But today was an early day for Big Dave, and so he left her with me.
Enter Dixie - our shih tzu - at about the time Big Dave was leaving looking remarkably pathetic. Tail between her legs and just looking like she didn't feel well. There was also the added bonus of a "gift" in Jill's room...something that she rarely does anymore. I use the word "anymore" because if there is one breed of dog that is next to impossible to housebreak...it's the shih tzu. Or mine, anyway. Fine...whatever.
So, I called the vet and made Dixie an appointment at 11:00. That meant that I had to ask Brian to bring her to town so that I don't have to drive alllll the way out here and alllll the way back to the vet and then allllll the way back home and alllll the way back to work. I mean...I DO currently have something known as...a JOB. Oh, he was fine with it as he was ignoring me and playing XBox at 8:00am. Never mind that HE was up, too. Weird.
So at 10:40, I phoned the house to see who was going to bring me the dog. Jill was whining, and Brian was trying to convince me that I didn't need to spend the money on the dog...that she was fine.
No, big boy,- you are L-A-Z-Y. But not today. So, after threatening to remove every privilege he has, I finally convinced him that it is in his best interest to bring me the dog...pronto.
I walked in the vet's office and a little receptionist didn't even acknowledge my presence. She was too busy flirting with the boy doing the filing. He graduated from the school my children attended, but did he speak, smile, or in any way acknowledge my presence either? UM...NO. The little flirt girl didn't even glance my way. One minute passes. Two. Three. Finally, I huffed and sat down. Eight minutes later, another lady came out and asked "Are you being helped?" Um, that would be NO. Do I look helped? Was it the scowl? Me talking to the dog and telling her that eventually we'll get in to see the vet loud enough for the little hussy at the front counter to overhear?
Eventually we got back there, and Dixie does have a throat infection and got a shot. She weighs fifteen pounds now - within the normal range for a shih tzu according to the chart on the wall. I read EVERY chart on the wall. Three times. Then backwards. By the way, there are 56 tile squares on the floor, they have a water spot in the ceiling, and they seriously need to clean the baseboards.
What seems like an hour later, the VERY loud new vet came in to check our girl. He's really super nice. So is his assistant. I then let him know about his front counter girl and how this was my first time here since the other vet died, and how it might be a good idea to let her know that greeting people at the front desk is generally expected. He was visibly mortified. Good. I'm just saying...it is common sense...spend less time ogling the boy...and more time serving the customer. Not a difficult concept, is it? For $107.45 (including antibiotics), I would appreciate at least being acknowledged. The worst part is that I have to take them back in a week for their annual checkup. I expect that this will cost a ridiculous amount of money as Dixie also needs her teeth cleaned.
While I'm in the vet's office, Jill called to let me know that she was feeling terribly miserable and would I PLEASE take her to the doctor. Drop off dog...pick up girl...check.
In the interim, Jill called in sick to Ulta and apparently nobody explained to her that she was to find her own replacement. Really? She's been there three weeks and she is unaware of this? Well, YEAH. She's temporary help. If it is that dang important, put it in the manual. She's responsible. If she calls in sick...she's sick. She got a crash course in Bosses 101 that she desperately needed...they ALL do...but today was probably not the best time for Jill to get her rear end chewed out.
But I digress...as I normally do...
I'm starving as it is noon and I've had no breakfast or lunch, my car is on fumes with the "hey, girl, get gas in me now" light on, it is hot, Jill is whining every three seconds about how bad she feels, and by gosh, forget it all...I'm going to Chic-fil-A.
Cars are wrapped around the building like the always are, but today was just not the day for what I can normally tolerate as part of the "Chic-fil-A Experience." All I wanted was a stupid sandwich.
So, I parked the car to go inside after dodging somebody's Mee-Maw on a walker, sixteen preschoolers, moms on cell phones, teenagers who walk incredibly slow, and enough cars to look like the exit at an Alabama home game so that I can park my vehicle. I went to retrieve my purse out of the backseat, and it turned over. Naturally spilling the contents all over the back seat. Beautiful.
It is at this point that I wanted to just throw the purse around in the car and scream. I didn't though...I just slammed the door. Oh, and you know that the seat belt thing was in it, so I didn't even have the satisfaction of a good slam. MAN, I hate that.
On the bright side, I walked right up to the counter and ordered. And because it was Chic-fil-A, they actually got my order right...TOO right, though. I ordered extra pickles on my sandwich. Today, somebody with an attitude put at least 40 of them on there...which made my bread soggy. I ate half of it and just gave up.
So, after dodging the crazies flying around the parking lot, we got back on the road. And we stopped at EVERY SINGLE RED LIGHT between us and the gas station. Really? I mean, do I REALLY have to stop every 30 seconds and wait for 3 minutes when I have a thimble of gas in my tank?
Fortunately, I made it to the gas station. Naturally, because I actually wanted to sit in the car and eat while the gas was pumping, I chose a station that you have to press the nozzle or it won't go. By this time, I'm beginning to think that nothing can get any worse.
But we know better, don't we?
So, we go to Pri-Med and join the legions of other people who are too busy, lazy or disorganized to find a real doctor. Jill is too old for the pediatrician...but we won't drop out of there because we are not going through the ADD thing again with anyone else. So, when she is sick, we go to Pri-Med.
Just so you know, there is definitely a Pri-Med in hell.
We check in and the girl wants to see my insurance card. Great. I just got new cards. Wonder where I put them in my wallet... I found 73 different cards...credit...store loyalty...etc. and the OLD cards. Wait! No, that's the new DENTAL card. Finally, I just sat down and just emptied the entire contents of my wallet into a pile. Hidden in some crease of one of the wallets in my purse (don't ask) is the stupid imbecilic health insurance card.
So I present it to her. Her response? Yep...it's the same one we have on file. And then I turn around. She says, "oh, well, let me copy that anyway, and may I also have your ID?" Really? I had it before I ripped THE CONTENTS OF MY STUPID WALLET OUT. But, I calm down enough to hand it to her. I sit down, and then she calls me to come and retrieve it.
There are no magazines in this office except National Geographic, Sports Illustrated and Parents' and Obama is on CNN telling us that all is well (don't get me started on this...) so there is NO way in my current mood that I'm going to listen to that dribble. So I sit. An hour passes. Finally, I see that we are going to have her in next. It's 1:30. The door opens and a lady walks in and announces that she has a 1:30 appointment.
You guessed it. She went ahead of us.
We then ended up in the room and all was fine except that when they tested her for strep, the swab looked like it had dried blood on it. Ewww. Everyone who looks down her throat does "wow, that's bad." These are not words one wants to hear...
Finally, the doctor quits talking to whatever rep kept him from coming in there and dealing with us, and we get her prescriptions. Diagnosis? Serious strep throat. Bad. Icky.
I went back to work and found that everyone who was on hold with their deals is no longer on hold. I hate my life.
So, now it is 7:00 pm and I'm afraid to move. The hassle factor of this day has been so phenomenal that I cannot even fully express my frustration.
I am currently listening to a lively discussion between my son and husband about peeling shrimp. Words like "lazy" and "Mama is on the computer" and "what have you done all day?" are flying fast and furious.
But, I have hope. I guess you always have to have hope. I hope that tomorrow...this is hysterical. Sometimes when things are THIS bad, you start looking around for Candid Camera crews. I didn't spot any, but you never know.
Later!
I arose at 5:45 this morning to the sound of my daughter's voice. She spent the night with a girlfriend last night, and somewhere in my Tylenol PM induced coma I thought I remembered this accurately. So, either she stayed out all night (bad) or something was wrong (equally bad) since it is my experience that 19 year old college students DO NOT get up until at least 9:00 unless they have to go to work or want to go shopping.
She awoke at 4:00 am at her friend's house with a ripping sore throat and a headache. And so she came home because she wanted to be babied by the one person who does it better than anyone...her Dad. Yeah. But today was an early day for Big Dave, and so he left her with me.
Enter Dixie - our shih tzu - at about the time Big Dave was leaving looking remarkably pathetic. Tail between her legs and just looking like she didn't feel well. There was also the added bonus of a "gift" in Jill's room...something that she rarely does anymore. I use the word "anymore" because if there is one breed of dog that is next to impossible to housebreak...it's the shih tzu. Or mine, anyway. Fine...whatever.
So, I called the vet and made Dixie an appointment at 11:00. That meant that I had to ask Brian to bring her to town so that I don't have to drive alllll the way out here and alllll the way back to the vet and then allllll the way back home and alllll the way back to work. I mean...I DO currently have something known as...a JOB. Oh, he was fine with it as he was ignoring me and playing XBox at 8:00am. Never mind that HE was up, too. Weird.
So at 10:40, I phoned the house to see who was going to bring me the dog. Jill was whining, and Brian was trying to convince me that I didn't need to spend the money on the dog...that she was fine.
No, big boy,- you are L-A-Z-Y. But not today. So, after threatening to remove every privilege he has, I finally convinced him that it is in his best interest to bring me the dog...pronto.
I walked in the vet's office and a little receptionist didn't even acknowledge my presence. She was too busy flirting with the boy doing the filing. He graduated from the school my children attended, but did he speak, smile, or in any way acknowledge my presence either? UM...NO. The little flirt girl didn't even glance my way. One minute passes. Two. Three. Finally, I huffed and sat down. Eight minutes later, another lady came out and asked "Are you being helped?" Um, that would be NO. Do I look helped? Was it the scowl? Me talking to the dog and telling her that eventually we'll get in to see the vet loud enough for the little hussy at the front counter to overhear?
Eventually we got back there, and Dixie does have a throat infection and got a shot. She weighs fifteen pounds now - within the normal range for a shih tzu according to the chart on the wall. I read EVERY chart on the wall. Three times. Then backwards. By the way, there are 56 tile squares on the floor, they have a water spot in the ceiling, and they seriously need to clean the baseboards.
What seems like an hour later, the VERY loud new vet came in to check our girl. He's really super nice. So is his assistant. I then let him know about his front counter girl and how this was my first time here since the other vet died, and how it might be a good idea to let her know that greeting people at the front desk is generally expected. He was visibly mortified. Good. I'm just saying...it is common sense...spend less time ogling the boy...and more time serving the customer. Not a difficult concept, is it? For $107.45 (including antibiotics), I would appreciate at least being acknowledged. The worst part is that I have to take them back in a week for their annual checkup. I expect that this will cost a ridiculous amount of money as Dixie also needs her teeth cleaned.
While I'm in the vet's office, Jill called to let me know that she was feeling terribly miserable and would I PLEASE take her to the doctor. Drop off dog...pick up girl...check.
In the interim, Jill called in sick to Ulta and apparently nobody explained to her that she was to find her own replacement. Really? She's been there three weeks and she is unaware of this? Well, YEAH. She's temporary help. If it is that dang important, put it in the manual. She's responsible. If she calls in sick...she's sick. She got a crash course in Bosses 101 that she desperately needed...they ALL do...but today was probably not the best time for Jill to get her rear end chewed out.
But I digress...as I normally do...
I'm starving as it is noon and I've had no breakfast or lunch, my car is on fumes with the "hey, girl, get gas in me now" light on, it is hot, Jill is whining every three seconds about how bad she feels, and by gosh, forget it all...I'm going to Chic-fil-A.
Cars are wrapped around the building like the always are, but today was just not the day for what I can normally tolerate as part of the "Chic-fil-A Experience." All I wanted was a stupid sandwich.
So, I parked the car to go inside after dodging somebody's Mee-Maw on a walker, sixteen preschoolers, moms on cell phones, teenagers who walk incredibly slow, and enough cars to look like the exit at an Alabama home game so that I can park my vehicle. I went to retrieve my purse out of the backseat, and it turned over. Naturally spilling the contents all over the back seat. Beautiful.
It is at this point that I wanted to just throw the purse around in the car and scream. I didn't though...I just slammed the door. Oh, and you know that the seat belt thing was in it, so I didn't even have the satisfaction of a good slam. MAN, I hate that.
On the bright side, I walked right up to the counter and ordered. And because it was Chic-fil-A, they actually got my order right...TOO right, though. I ordered extra pickles on my sandwich. Today, somebody with an attitude put at least 40 of them on there...which made my bread soggy. I ate half of it and just gave up.
So, after dodging the crazies flying around the parking lot, we got back on the road. And we stopped at EVERY SINGLE RED LIGHT between us and the gas station. Really? I mean, do I REALLY have to stop every 30 seconds and wait for 3 minutes when I have a thimble of gas in my tank?
Fortunately, I made it to the gas station. Naturally, because I actually wanted to sit in the car and eat while the gas was pumping, I chose a station that you have to press the nozzle or it won't go. By this time, I'm beginning to think that nothing can get any worse.
But we know better, don't we?
So, we go to Pri-Med and join the legions of other people who are too busy, lazy or disorganized to find a real doctor. Jill is too old for the pediatrician...but we won't drop out of there because we are not going through the ADD thing again with anyone else. So, when she is sick, we go to Pri-Med.
Just so you know, there is definitely a Pri-Med in hell.
We check in and the girl wants to see my insurance card. Great. I just got new cards. Wonder where I put them in my wallet... I found 73 different cards...credit...store loyalty...etc. and the OLD cards. Wait! No, that's the new DENTAL card. Finally, I just sat down and just emptied the entire contents of my wallet into a pile. Hidden in some crease of one of the wallets in my purse (don't ask) is the stupid imbecilic health insurance card.
So I present it to her. Her response? Yep...it's the same one we have on file. And then I turn around. She says, "oh, well, let me copy that anyway, and may I also have your ID?" Really? I had it before I ripped THE CONTENTS OF MY STUPID WALLET OUT. But, I calm down enough to hand it to her. I sit down, and then she calls me to come and retrieve it.
There are no magazines in this office except National Geographic, Sports Illustrated and Parents' and Obama is on CNN telling us that all is well (don't get me started on this...) so there is NO way in my current mood that I'm going to listen to that dribble. So I sit. An hour passes. Finally, I see that we are going to have her in next. It's 1:30. The door opens and a lady walks in and announces that she has a 1:30 appointment.
You guessed it. She went ahead of us.
We then ended up in the room and all was fine except that when they tested her for strep, the swab looked like it had dried blood on it. Ewww. Everyone who looks down her throat does "wow, that's bad." These are not words one wants to hear...
Finally, the doctor quits talking to whatever rep kept him from coming in there and dealing with us, and we get her prescriptions. Diagnosis? Serious strep throat. Bad. Icky.
I went back to work and found that everyone who was on hold with their deals is no longer on hold. I hate my life.
So, now it is 7:00 pm and I'm afraid to move. The hassle factor of this day has been so phenomenal that I cannot even fully express my frustration.
I am currently listening to a lively discussion between my son and husband about peeling shrimp. Words like "lazy" and "Mama is on the computer" and "what have you done all day?" are flying fast and furious.
But, I have hope. I guess you always have to have hope. I hope that tomorrow...this is hysterical. Sometimes when things are THIS bad, you start looking around for Candid Camera crews. I didn't spot any, but you never know.
Later!
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