*1. Mini-bottles of bourbon. (Well, there's not always much proof it came from mini-bottles. There is proof someone has been drinking.)
*2. Fresh cut grass.
*3. Sweat actually smells good.
4. Hot dogs. (Okay, overpriced hot dogs that aren't worth their price. Last year, I discovered the burgers. They're actually pretty good. And more worth the $4 than the hot dogs.)
5. Popcorn. (The buckets are great for craft supplies! And, well, I have a special place in my heart for popcorn. Nom nom nom.)
6. Family. (Seriously! You can't stand half of them, but you know it's only for a season, then you don't have to see them for nine more months. You can stand it for just one game a week.)
7. Blisters on your toes the next morning are SO worth it.
8. Not feeling too guilty for saying hell and damn. And not feeling too guilty for yelling, "Bullshit," for every bad call while there is a sweet little old couple next to you. And sometimes a toddler on the other side.
9. Replenishing the old stadium cup collection.
10. Being able to drink all day without people thinking you have a problem.
* To all perfume developers: could you possibly create a scent based on bourbon breath, sweat, and fresh cut grass? Maybe throw a little hamburgers-cooking-on-a-charcoal-grill for good measure? You could make a killing come February when we're starting to miss waking up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday to look "purty" in time for the tailgates.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Happy Monday: Furgalicious Edition
This evening or tomorrow morning I will be snuggling away with "z bebes." I only have Feffer with me in Auburn because I'm not so sure about the cats. Tux and Boston, no doubts. But Pru, well, she's special. She doesn't do cars. She likes to dart. She fills with terror when others have to get in the carrier. So, I'm debating whether or not to bring her. I don't want her to dart into the parking lot. I don't want her to vomit her intestines. I love my Pru-baby. I also don't want to separate her from Tux and Boston. The three of them are a good team.
Feffer will be reunited with his feline siblings.
Tux will have some Vera to snuggle in.
Prudence will have someone to sleep with.
And Mommy will have her Boston Go-Go again.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Dating Deja Vu
Have I mentioned how much I hate dating?
I don't do dating.
I do, however, go for randomly meeting, talking all night, only leaving each others side to go to work, school, and the bathroom, falling in love within a couple of weeks, and living happily ever after.
That works for me.
Okay, I guess it's not fair to say I hate dating when I've never really dated.
I hate the process of looking for dates. Ugh!
As I was showing a curious friend my online dating account, showing her the guys on there (i.e. how about only half of them can spell ... not that I'm perfect, but my errors are typos, not blatant, incessant, misspellings), I happened upon this profile that keeps popping up. The website really wants us to get together.
Do y'all know where this is going?
I look at it. I think, "Well, he's kind of cute. He can spell. He seems pretty cool. Oh, and he rescues cats! And loves God. Alright, we'll see what happens." So, I start emailing him. I hate this part, where I have to be the one to initiate whatever. Guys out there: please don't be shy. You're supposed to do the pursuing. I'm just Southern like that.
I get towards the end of my email. Then ... do you know where this is going?
You do if you guess I start having dating flashbacks from a little over nine years ago. I had just turned eighteen. Some guy started chatting with me on AOL. He seemed pretty cool, so I went along with it. He wasn't a perv or anything, and we chatted for a while before he asked for my number. He even knew a classmate of mine, so it wasn't totally creepy. We eventually talked on the phone and he asked me out. This would have been my first date date.
Would have being the operative words.
He canceled on me. I don't know if it was my suggesting if there were still tornadoes in the area by the time for our date, I would rather cancel. I don't know if it was the age difference then (there's a big difference between 18 and 23 or whatever age he was then, not so much between 27 and 30-something). I don't know if he just decided he didn't like me. I never heard from him again.
No big deal. I don't care what his reasons were then. I don't really care if he emails me back, but I would like him to so I can confirm if I have actually experienced dating deja vu. So, yes, I do care if he emails me back. I HAVE to know if it's the same person. (Even though I am 90% convinced it is.)
I took a really close look at his profile. He was about the right age. Some of the things on his profile matched what I knew about him back then. (Gotta love my inner-Bones!) And as I looked through the pictures, in which there were LOTS, I became fairly certain he was the same person.
And, yes, in the email I brought up the possibility he was the same guy from years ago. It was kind of hard not giving away too much information in case he wasn't and still giving enough information to jog his memory if he was.
I'm a very forgiving person. It was also a long time ago. I'm all grown up now. Same nice person, but much more mature. (Not that I wasn't mature then, I just understand the world a little better now. That's the nice way of saying I'm cynical and jaded.) Let me be honest: I was a MESS back then. As in Cold Mountain when Ruby Thewes tells Aida Monroe of her being a catastrophe back in her school days. Yes, I was a near catastrophe. And I didn't get to be near normal until I got this thing called a boyfriend. I don't know how much, or little, it had to do with having a boyfriend, but I recall things settling down a good bit when The ex-Boyfriend came around.
I don't do dating.
I do, however, go for randomly meeting, talking all night, only leaving each others side to go to work, school, and the bathroom, falling in love within a couple of weeks, and living happily ever after.
That works for me.
Okay, I guess it's not fair to say I hate dating when I've never really dated.
I hate the process of looking for dates. Ugh!
As I was showing a curious friend my online dating account, showing her the guys on there (i.e. how about only half of them can spell ... not that I'm perfect, but my errors are typos, not blatant, incessant, misspellings), I happened upon this profile that keeps popping up. The website really wants us to get together.
Do y'all know where this is going?
I look at it. I think, "Well, he's kind of cute. He can spell. He seems pretty cool. Oh, and he rescues cats! And loves God. Alright, we'll see what happens." So, I start emailing him. I hate this part, where I have to be the one to initiate whatever. Guys out there: please don't be shy. You're supposed to do the pursuing. I'm just Southern like that.
I get towards the end of my email. Then ... do you know where this is going?
You do if you guess I start having dating flashbacks from a little over nine years ago. I had just turned eighteen. Some guy started chatting with me on AOL. He seemed pretty cool, so I went along with it. He wasn't a perv or anything, and we chatted for a while before he asked for my number. He even knew a classmate of mine, so it wasn't totally creepy. We eventually talked on the phone and he asked me out. This would have been my first date date.
Would have being the operative words.
He canceled on me. I don't know if it was my suggesting if there were still tornadoes in the area by the time for our date, I would rather cancel. I don't know if it was the age difference then (there's a big difference between 18 and 23 or whatever age he was then, not so much between 27 and 30-something). I don't know if he just decided he didn't like me. I never heard from him again.
No big deal. I don't care what his reasons were then. I don't really care if he emails me back, but I would like him to so I can confirm if I have actually experienced dating deja vu. So, yes, I do care if he emails me back. I HAVE to know if it's the same person. (Even though I am 90% convinced it is.)
I took a really close look at his profile. He was about the right age. Some of the things on his profile matched what I knew about him back then. (Gotta love my inner-Bones!) And as I looked through the pictures, in which there were LOTS, I became fairly certain he was the same person.
And, yes, in the email I brought up the possibility he was the same guy from years ago. It was kind of hard not giving away too much information in case he wasn't and still giving enough information to jog his memory if he was.
I'm a very forgiving person. It was also a long time ago. I'm all grown up now. Same nice person, but much more mature. (Not that I wasn't mature then, I just understand the world a little better now. That's the nice way of saying I'm cynical and jaded.) Let me be honest: I was a MESS back then. As in Cold Mountain when Ruby Thewes tells Aida Monroe of her being a catastrophe back in her school days. Yes, I was a near catastrophe. And I didn't get to be near normal until I got this thing called a boyfriend. I don't know how much, or little, it had to do with having a boyfriend, but I recall things settling down a good bit when The ex-Boyfriend came around.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Another day in the saga of the un-housewife
Can I be done with dating? Please?
I'm not sure how this breakup thing is supposed to work, but I find it odd I was totally okay with it (I mean, I initiated the breakup, after all) until I jumped back in the dating pool.
I am reminded daily of how good the Space-man and I fit together. And we skipped all that dating business. It was meet, talk all night, go our separate ways, meet again, talk all night, and, oops!, I'm somebody's girlfriend. It was a very magical time in my life, let me say.
And then today I just happened upon Amy Grant's "I Will Remember You." Cue the tears. (Bythe way, the lines that really got me were "One word we never could learn/Goodbye." Y'all, it wasn't just tears. It was a full-blown meltdown.
I've been pondering what will happen to us. It's gonna get awkward at some point if we stay this involved with each other, and I get into another serious relationship. I'm ready to get married. To be a wife. And to be a mother. Before him, even though I knew I wanted that stuff, I sometimes wondered if it was really for me. I was so good at being single. One of my Facebook friends (i.e. not super close friends, but more friends than acquaintances) even put something to the effect of "What do you mean your're 'in a relationship?' People like you and me are supposed to be single." I was single like that.
I did a near 180 when we got together. And, more importantly, I didn't look back long enough to want my old life back. I realized how good I was at being ... a housewife.
I always thought I would be one of those wives/mothers who worked. Outside of the home. Because she just needed some time where she could be herself, not someone's wife or mother. To the point of taking offense when a guy said he wanted his wife to stay home and for him to totally provide. Honestly, I still take offense to that notion since I view marriage as a partnership.
Don't get me wrong, I have every intention of having "me" time when my day comes. Bible studies, lunch groups, girls' nights, mani-pedis (by. my. self.), massages (maybe I'll share with the hubs) - the possibilities are endless. I just see myself as having a more meaningful role in the home than I thought five years ago.
I think it's important to throw in here what didn't work in our relationship. I wanted to get married and he didn't. I also was stricken with baby fever after the initial shock of my grandfather's sudden illness and passing away. He didn't want any more babies. We both felt strongly about adoption, and I think he was a bit open to older child adoption, but he was too old to adopt a baby (not that he wanted to be a 40+ year old father to an infant) and I am too young to adopt a teenager.
Yes, I used Facebook status updates as a tool to complain about him doing "Space" things.
But that stuff isn't what life is all about.
He was my partner. He had my back the best he thought. He cooked really really really good meals for me. I had someone to cook for. We watched TV together. We read together. We played with the cats together. We even raised two cats together. (We barely made it through that one!) I had someone to shop for. I also had a stepson to shop for :) We put away laundry together. He did the hangers and other putting away, I did the folding. He played plumber when I would let him. He changed the air filters. He let me cry when I needed to. He got me into The Beatles. I introduced him to Son in Law. We watched nerdy JFK movies together. For our one year anniversary. We watched all kinds of good movies together.
I just can't say goodbye right now. He's more than just my ex-boyfriend. He is my best friend. When I got sick, and began to realize I wasn't getting better (thankfully, not worse), he took care of me. He has "been there" for me more than anyone else has during my illness (sorry, Mom, but it's only because he knew the feeling too). And I took care of him when he was sick. Yes, he drank nearly a pint of Early Times whiskey when I was five days post-op and picked a fight with me. I will not excuse that one. But given the length of our relationship and that was the only thing really bad-wrong with the relationship, that was pretty good, right?
I just know that stringing me along, just enough to stay on my radar, isn't how you get me for a girlfriend. And just having to deal with ignorant, close-minded, assholes is not helping me along in the dating world. (No one person in particular, there. Just a general assessment.) It's actually setting me back.
I know how I deserve to be treated and I know where I can go to get that. (Except for the whole marriage and babies thing.)
I'm not sure how this breakup thing is supposed to work, but I find it odd I was totally okay with it (I mean, I initiated the breakup, after all) until I jumped back in the dating pool.
I am reminded daily of how good the Space-man and I fit together. And we skipped all that dating business. It was meet, talk all night, go our separate ways, meet again, talk all night, and, oops!, I'm somebody's girlfriend. It was a very magical time in my life, let me say.
And then today I just happened upon Amy Grant's "I Will Remember You." Cue the tears. (Bythe way, the lines that really got me were "One word we never could learn/Goodbye." Y'all, it wasn't just tears. It was a full-blown meltdown.
I've been pondering what will happen to us. It's gonna get awkward at some point if we stay this involved with each other, and I get into another serious relationship. I'm ready to get married. To be a wife. And to be a mother. Before him, even though I knew I wanted that stuff, I sometimes wondered if it was really for me. I was so good at being single. One of my Facebook friends (i.e. not super close friends, but more friends than acquaintances) even put something to the effect of "What do you mean your're 'in a relationship?' People like you and me are supposed to be single." I was single like that.
I did a near 180 when we got together. And, more importantly, I didn't look back long enough to want my old life back. I realized how good I was at being ... a housewife.
I always thought I would be one of those wives/mothers who worked. Outside of the home. Because she just needed some time where she could be herself, not someone's wife or mother. To the point of taking offense when a guy said he wanted his wife to stay home and for him to totally provide. Honestly, I still take offense to that notion since I view marriage as a partnership.
Don't get me wrong, I have every intention of having "me" time when my day comes. Bible studies, lunch groups, girls' nights, mani-pedis (by. my. self.), massages (maybe I'll share with the hubs) - the possibilities are endless. I just see myself as having a more meaningful role in the home than I thought five years ago.
I think it's important to throw in here what didn't work in our relationship. I wanted to get married and he didn't. I also was stricken with baby fever after the initial shock of my grandfather's sudden illness and passing away. He didn't want any more babies. We both felt strongly about adoption, and I think he was a bit open to older child adoption, but he was too old to adopt a baby (not that he wanted to be a 40+ year old father to an infant) and I am too young to adopt a teenager.
Yes, I used Facebook status updates as a tool to complain about him doing "Space" things.
But that stuff isn't what life is all about.
He was my partner. He had my back the best he thought. He cooked really really really good meals for me. I had someone to cook for. We watched TV together. We read together. We played with the cats together. We even raised two cats together. (We barely made it through that one!) I had someone to shop for. I also had a stepson to shop for :) We put away laundry together. He did the hangers and other putting away, I did the folding. He played plumber when I would let him. He changed the air filters. He let me cry when I needed to. He got me into The Beatles. I introduced him to Son in Law. We watched nerdy JFK movies together. For our one year anniversary. We watched all kinds of good movies together.
I just can't say goodbye right now. He's more than just my ex-boyfriend. He is my best friend. When I got sick, and began to realize I wasn't getting better (thankfully, not worse), he took care of me. He has "been there" for me more than anyone else has during my illness (sorry, Mom, but it's only because he knew the feeling too). And I took care of him when he was sick. Yes, he drank nearly a pint of Early Times whiskey when I was five days post-op and picked a fight with me. I will not excuse that one. But given the length of our relationship and that was the only thing really bad-wrong with the relationship, that was pretty good, right?
I just know that stringing me along, just enough to stay on my radar, isn't how you get me for a girlfriend. And just having to deal with ignorant, close-minded, assholes is not helping me along in the dating world. (No one person in particular, there. Just a general assessment.) It's actually setting me back.
I know how I deserve to be treated and I know where I can go to get that. (Except for the whole marriage and babies thing.)
Appetizers and dessert
As I mentioned in a previous post, I felt my (dinner) plate was full with work, Junior League, and my health.
That leave a little room for appetizers and desserts, but what are those, you wonder?
Television and dating.
I'm thinking dating will be appetizers and television dessert, because television tends to not disappoint so much.
I never really dated all that much before The ex-Boyfriend. I had a date here and there, maybe two. Lots of friend dates.
I didn't care too much for it then. All that work for nothing.
The ex-Boyfriend and I met, talked all night, and the next thing I knew he was my boyfriend, and just as I had a chance to adjust to Not. Being. Single. (Trust me, that was a serious identity crisis.) We were in LOVE. It was very sweet. We might have been together a month. I was babysitting, and I went to his place when I got done. When I got there, I found his best friend passed out on the sofa, him watching TV and drinking. He seemed very excited to see me. I was very excited to see him. It was Friday. I was off work. I wanted to go out and DRINK. But he had to tell me something, as his friend was waking from his beer-induced slumber.
I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.
It was beautiful. Not what my daydreams thought it would be. But for me and him, it was absolutely perfect.
And you want to know the truth? I was in love with him about two weeks into the relationship. It just seemed a little crazy to say anything.
AND I think the reason we fell in love so quickly and worked so well is we skipped the bullshit that is dating. (Of course, that does make it difficult to break up when one of you wants to get married and get lots of babies, and the other one is all, "been there, done that." Yeah. Well, I guess it was almost perfect.)
Think of a man (no boys, please!) who would be a good companion for me, and I for him. He has to be smart, classy, have lots of interests, be open-minded, want lots of children - and I mean LOTS, and tall. I love 'em tall. He has to have his own life separate from me, but he also has to want me to be a part of his life. It's kind of hard to explain. I guess what I mean is I don't want to spend every single non-working minute with him. Once or twice a week, he has to go out with his guy friends and watch sports. Or whatever guys do. Once or twice a week, I will go out with the girls, or just have some "me" time. This is SO essential. Also essential is we have a few things in common. Or at least be genuinely interested in each other's things. And he has to follow the "dishwasher rules," and not leave a few drops of vodka in the bottle, and not squirrel his laundry away somewhere, not squirrel anything away or leave piles of empty pockets and mail all over the place, and, in general, just help with the housework without being asked. And, of course, he has to want to get married and get children. I'm still not sold on pregnancy, and still very much in favor of adoption. (Please note, I believe in compromise on this issue. I'll attempt pregnancy, if we get to adopt as well. Also note, I am totally down with him having children already, but I really want to get to keep a baby I raise, and raise a baby I get to keep. I love babies and what I love even more is seeing them grown up.)
I know it sounds picky, but this really screens out those that shouldn't even know me in the first place.
We would meet, we would talk, and we would fall in love. We would be boyfriend and girlfriend. We would get married. We would become parents. We would live happily ever after.
Yes, I said we would fall in love before becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. I'm on the marriage and family track and there is no time to be messing around. I'm not rushing it, I'm just sayin'...
Help me. Please. Please. Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty please please.
That leave a little room for appetizers and desserts, but what are those, you wonder?
Television and dating.
I'm thinking dating will be appetizers and television dessert, because television tends to not disappoint so much.
I never really dated all that much before The ex-Boyfriend. I had a date here and there, maybe two. Lots of friend dates.
I didn't care too much for it then. All that work for nothing.
The ex-Boyfriend and I met, talked all night, and the next thing I knew he was my boyfriend, and just as I had a chance to adjust to Not. Being. Single. (Trust me, that was a serious identity crisis.) We were in LOVE. It was very sweet. We might have been together a month. I was babysitting, and I went to his place when I got done. When I got there, I found his best friend passed out on the sofa, him watching TV and drinking. He seemed very excited to see me. I was very excited to see him. It was Friday. I was off work. I wanted to go out and DRINK. But he had to tell me something, as his friend was waking from his beer-induced slumber.
I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.
It was beautiful. Not what my daydreams thought it would be. But for me and him, it was absolutely perfect.
And you want to know the truth? I was in love with him about two weeks into the relationship. It just seemed a little crazy to say anything.
AND I think the reason we fell in love so quickly and worked so well is we skipped the bullshit that is dating. (Of course, that does make it difficult to break up when one of you wants to get married and get lots of babies, and the other one is all, "been there, done that." Yeah. Well, I guess it was almost perfect.)
Think of a man (no boys, please!) who would be a good companion for me, and I for him. He has to be smart, classy, have lots of interests, be open-minded, want lots of children - and I mean LOTS, and tall. I love 'em tall. He has to have his own life separate from me, but he also has to want me to be a part of his life. It's kind of hard to explain. I guess what I mean is I don't want to spend every single non-working minute with him. Once or twice a week, he has to go out with his guy friends and watch sports. Or whatever guys do. Once or twice a week, I will go out with the girls, or just have some "me" time. This is SO essential. Also essential is we have a few things in common. Or at least be genuinely interested in each other's things. And he has to follow the "dishwasher rules," and not leave a few drops of vodka in the bottle, and not squirrel his laundry away somewhere, not squirrel anything away or leave piles of empty pockets and mail all over the place, and, in general, just help with the housework without being asked. And, of course, he has to want to get married and get children. I'm still not sold on pregnancy, and still very much in favor of adoption. (Please note, I believe in compromise on this issue. I'll attempt pregnancy, if we get to adopt as well. Also note, I am totally down with him having children already, but I really want to get to keep a baby I raise, and raise a baby I get to keep. I love babies and what I love even more is seeing them grown up.)
I know it sounds picky, but this really screens out those that shouldn't even know me in the first place.
We would meet, we would talk, and we would fall in love. We would be boyfriend and girlfriend. We would get married. We would become parents. We would live happily ever after.
Yes, I said we would fall in love before becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. I'm on the marriage and family track and there is no time to be messing around. I'm not rushing it, I'm just sayin'...
Help me. Please. Please. Pretty pretty pretty pretty pretty please please.
Stop me before I volunteer again
Have y'all ever seen that quote somewhere? Sometimes it can be found on a magnet or a cocktail napkin.
The first time I saw it, I was babysitting. It was on a refrigerator magnet.
That was before I became a career volunteer.
Yes. I said it. I am a career volunteer. I'm just good at it, y'all.
I love to help. I love to be useful. I love to do something different every single time I do something. (Well, most of the time. Some things are best to stay the same.)
But this year, I'm not going to be getting any Volunteer of the Year awards. And if I do, it's purely by accident (which has happened before). I'm going to fulfill my commitments, don't worry. I'm just going to strive for steadily increasing my responsibilities over time.
See, I'm new to Lee County. I like how things are around here, but I want to make sure I understand how it all really works before I start trying to save the world down here.
Also, I'm used to doing sexual and reproductive health education. I did Junior League to expand my volunteer career because anything related to sex (the act and the biology), well, that's pretty controversial. I wanted to do something I could tell everyone about. I'm starting to struggle a little bit with this decision. I really miss getting in front of an audience and telling them how to protect themselves and be aware of themselves. Ohmigosh. I. Miss. It.
And it's hard, y'all.
I was flipping through my Junior League manual last night, and all those offices and committees were calling to me. I was starting to daydream about how Junior League could get involved with women's health issues.
Girl Sunday. Think of how many people you will be able to help. Think of how much you will get to do. Pick me. Come one, Girl Sunday, pick me.
No. Not this year.
When I decided to join Junior League this year, I originally thought I wouldn't be very involved at all, because of massage school. Then, since my thyroid is "misbehaving" I figured I shouldn't try to be so involved. And I'm starting a new business. Three things on my plate are enough. And that's not including appetizers and dessert, and that's a whole 'nother post. :)
The first time I saw it, I was babysitting. It was on a refrigerator magnet.
That was before I became a career volunteer.
Yes. I said it. I am a career volunteer. I'm just good at it, y'all.
I love to help. I love to be useful. I love to do something different every single time I do something. (Well, most of the time. Some things are best to stay the same.)
But this year, I'm not going to be getting any Volunteer of the Year awards. And if I do, it's purely by accident (which has happened before). I'm going to fulfill my commitments, don't worry. I'm just going to strive for steadily increasing my responsibilities over time.
See, I'm new to Lee County. I like how things are around here, but I want to make sure I understand how it all really works before I start trying to save the world down here.
Also, I'm used to doing sexual and reproductive health education. I did Junior League to expand my volunteer career because anything related to sex (the act and the biology), well, that's pretty controversial. I wanted to do something I could tell everyone about. I'm starting to struggle a little bit with this decision. I really miss getting in front of an audience and telling them how to protect themselves and be aware of themselves. Ohmigosh. I. Miss. It.
And it's hard, y'all.
I was flipping through my Junior League manual last night, and all those offices and committees were calling to me. I was starting to daydream about how Junior League could get involved with women's health issues.
Girl Sunday. Think of how many people you will be able to help. Think of how much you will get to do. Pick me. Come one, Girl Sunday, pick me.
No. Not this year.
When I decided to join Junior League this year, I originally thought I wouldn't be very involved at all, because of massage school. Then, since my thyroid is "misbehaving" I figured I shouldn't try to be so involved. And I'm starting a new business. Three things on my plate are enough. And that's not including appetizers and dessert, and that's a whole 'nother post. :)
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
It wasn't so long ago
I've been a good un-housewife today. Laundry, dishes, work, organizing.
It wasn't so long ago I was a housewife-in-training. Girl Tuesday and I would abscond to Hobby Lobby Saturday nights and make a stop at Los Amigos for daiquiris and rice and chips. Just because we are adults, we figured we are allowed to break the rules of balanced meals from time to time.
We would make fun of the stupid things our (now ex) boyfriends would say and do.
Like leaving splashes of vodka in the bottle.
Like loading the dishwasher to beyond full capacity and not start it.
Like, oh, I don't even remember anymore.
I miss those days.
Back when I had six cats (or eleven) and a rabbit and one time a stepson staying in my house.
Back when I did laundry nearly every day, and I could easily have a load of whites once a week so my socks were brand-new white.
Back when I had a built-in drinking buddy.
I could go on.
The feminist in me feels like I let down a whole decade of women's lib-bers. I feel like I'm supposed to go out into this world and lead and reign supreme. Because I am woman, and I can roar better than any of you.
But someone's gotta stay home and keep it from burning down, or at least make sure the utilities don't get disconnected. (That reminds me of a story I can laugh about now. I once had a roomate who caught my kitchen on fire. Twice.)
I can talk about almost anything. And I can do quite a few things. It's just I'm best at being a housewife. I'm good at staying home and looking after things. Well, at least I like to think I am good at that. I'm really not. But at least I keep the bills paid, laundry done, animals vaccinated, and everyone loved. That's gotta count for something, right?
It wasn't so long ago I was a housewife-in-training. Girl Tuesday and I would abscond to Hobby Lobby Saturday nights and make a stop at Los Amigos for daiquiris and rice and chips. Just because we are adults, we figured we are allowed to break the rules of balanced meals from time to time.
We would make fun of the stupid things our (now ex) boyfriends would say and do.
Like leaving splashes of vodka in the bottle.
Like loading the dishwasher to beyond full capacity and not start it.
Like, oh, I don't even remember anymore.
I miss those days.
Back when I had six cats (or eleven) and a rabbit and one time a stepson staying in my house.
Back when I did laundry nearly every day, and I could easily have a load of whites once a week so my socks were brand-new white.
Back when I had a built-in drinking buddy.
I could go on.
The feminist in me feels like I let down a whole decade of women's lib-bers. I feel like I'm supposed to go out into this world and lead and reign supreme. Because I am woman, and I can roar better than any of you.
But someone's gotta stay home and keep it from burning down, or at least make sure the utilities don't get disconnected. (That reminds me of a story I can laugh about now. I once had a roomate who caught my kitchen on fire. Twice.)
I can talk about almost anything. And I can do quite a few things. It's just I'm best at being a housewife. I'm good at staying home and looking after things. Well, at least I like to think I am good at that. I'm really not. But at least I keep the bills paid, laundry done, animals vaccinated, and everyone loved. That's gotta count for something, right?
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Tuesday Ten: Circa 1995 Edition
I have been harboring a lot of nostalgia for 1995 since, well, 1996. I do not want to go back and repeat all the teen angst, and otherwise general awkwardness of being in junior high school, but then again, that was one of the themes of the year. There's a lot more I could add, but then it wouldn't be the Tuesday Ten anymore.
1. CKone
2. Grunge (music) - Pearl Jam, Nirvana
3. Angst - "My So-Called Life" (yes, I own the complete, one-season series), Alanis Morissette ("You Oughtta Know" 'Nuf said."
4. Clueless
5. Hard Candy nail polish
6. Plaid, flannel shirts (so cozy)
7. Ross and Rachel
8. Chunky shoes - Mary Janes, Doc Martens
9. Belly chains
10. Baby doll dresses
1. CKone
2. Grunge (music) - Pearl Jam, Nirvana
3. Angst - "My So-Called Life" (yes, I own the complete, one-season series), Alanis Morissette ("You Oughtta Know" 'Nuf said."
4. Clueless
5. Hard Candy nail polish
6. Plaid, flannel shirts (so cozy)
7. Ross and Rachel
8. Chunky shoes - Mary Janes, Doc Martens
9. Belly chains
10. Baby doll dresses
Monday, September 20, 2010
Happy Monday: Motivation
Mondays can really suck, right? In all this new business planning, I've thought about what my working hours would be. I feel like I need to set a schedule, just so I can have something to hold me accountable to the job. I'm a sucker for long weekends - travel out on Thursday, come back in on Monday. It's funny that when I do the math, it only leaves me Tuesday and Wednesday to work. Talk about a two day workweek and five day weekend. I don't think that will work too well. Exact working hours will soon be determined, as I should be about to officially go public with the business. Yay!
So, for those of us who have to do this thing called work (whatever kind it may be) on Mondays, I'm going to try to post a little something to motivate me through the week. These little happies will vary - anything from a small something I actually get to a big something I hope to one day get.
You know how us Southerners like things big. Big hair. Big trucks. Big dreams. Here's my big dream:
Ever since the good ol' days of Beverly Hills, 90210, I've wanted a Porsche. Dylan was my dream man, and he had a dream car. Then, I got my beloved Ava. People started telling me about German cars, German engineers, German everything, and how awesome it is. I've got to tell you: you can't beat the reliability of a Honda, but there really is something about driving a German car that make my heart smile. Maybe it's my engineer's brain? The controls in the car just make sense to me. (Sorry, Allie the Acura, but I still get confused about how to unlock the doors.)
When Black Velveteen got totaled, I seriously considered buying a Porsche. I found the Cayman, which was around $50,000 for the base model. Definitely more than I wanted to spend on a car, but I also had a hefty down payment from my insurance money and I was working three jobs. Also, the Acura I was looking at was going to be close to that price. I didn't go so far as to test drive, as building and pricing were all I needed to do to realize that beauty was going to cost way more than $50K!
Since one of my jobs was a bartender, I did not want to be driving a Porsche to work, and have my customers realize it was my car. And, I figured people would think I was a real asshole for buying one. So, I didn't. And I decided to wait until later for my dream car.
When I started massage school, one of our homework assignments was to make a collage of things that motivated us to follow through with the program and career. I never got that far in the course due to other reasons that even a Porsche couldn't cure, but that collage was going to have this car front and center on it.
I know it's frivolous, and I could be spending that amount of money on much more important things, but what can I say? I have a thing for pretty, black, German, cars.
So, for those of us who have to do this thing called work (whatever kind it may be) on Mondays, I'm going to try to post a little something to motivate me through the week. These little happies will vary - anything from a small something I actually get to a big something I hope to one day get.
You know how us Southerners like things big. Big hair. Big trucks. Big dreams. Here's my big dream:
Ever since the good ol' days of Beverly Hills, 90210, I've wanted a Porsche. Dylan was my dream man, and he had a dream car. Then, I got my beloved Ava. People started telling me about German cars, German engineers, German everything, and how awesome it is. I've got to tell you: you can't beat the reliability of a Honda, but there really is something about driving a German car that make my heart smile. Maybe it's my engineer's brain? The controls in the car just make sense to me. (Sorry, Allie the Acura, but I still get confused about how to unlock the doors.)
When Black Velveteen got totaled, I seriously considered buying a Porsche. I found the Cayman, which was around $50,000 for the base model. Definitely more than I wanted to spend on a car, but I also had a hefty down payment from my insurance money and I was working three jobs. Also, the Acura I was looking at was going to be close to that price. I didn't go so far as to test drive, as building and pricing were all I needed to do to realize that beauty was going to cost way more than $50K!
Since one of my jobs was a bartender, I did not want to be driving a Porsche to work, and have my customers realize it was my car. And, I figured people would think I was a real asshole for buying one. So, I didn't. And I decided to wait until later for my dream car.
When I started massage school, one of our homework assignments was to make a collage of things that motivated us to follow through with the program and career. I never got that far in the course due to other reasons that even a Porsche couldn't cure, but that collage was going to have this car front and center on it.
I know it's frivolous, and I could be spending that amount of money on much more important things, but what can I say? I have a thing for pretty, black, German, cars.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
More healthcare diatribe-ing
I'm sure you've seen on Facebook the letter written by a Mississippi ER doctor stating his opinion of healthcare reform, using one of his patients as an example of why the healthcare bill should not pass. (This was written in August 2009.)
Here is the snopes.com link:
http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/starner.asp
I posted a status update about my thoughts of re-posting this letter in agreement, but a status update only allows for so many characters, and I felt the need to rip the letter apart.
First, I will say that I do not think those who spend excessive amounts of money on non-essential things for themselves should be allowed to receive government aid.
However, this doctor based his letter on one person. Albeit, one person who seems to be like the others who appear to not deserve said aid.
Dr. Starner Jones points out some of his observations of the patient's materialistic possessions - a gold tooth, tattoos, tennis shoes, and a cell phone with a special ringtone. He also mentions her heavy smoking habit and alcohol use.
In the patient's defense, she may not have always been on Medicaid, and she could have gotten the tattoos done before that. They also could have been done for free, by a friend, perhaps. The tennis shoes could have been gotten at a thrift store or from even a clothing bank, and the cell phone, well, she could have gotten it for free and it came with the ringtone. It's possible.
While I believe Dr. Jones' letter is in accordance with HIPPA (there is nothing identifying who the patient is and what she was treated for), I have to wonder if it really is, based on the Labor and Delivery nurses' blogs I read - they are no longer allowed to post stories about births without changing nearly everything about the story, so that the story ends up being fictional. Keeping with that logic, is Dr. Jones' story even true? If not, and simply based on truth, he has created a fictional character with characteristics that annoy even the most tenderhearted people about who is benefitting from government assistance. So, I guess my point is this story Dr. Jones relayed could be fictional. And it could also be violating HIPPA. (Could being the operative word, as I am not a 100% expert on HIPPA.)
Also what bothers me is I caught a person (or people) who has (have) been "that patient," reposting in agreement with the Facebook version of the letter. Can you say hypocrite?
I know people like "that patient." Yes, I am embarassed by their irresponsible actions. But I know that for some of them, even if they didn't spend any extra money on their material desires, they would still need government assistance.
It's so easy to say, "If they would just ...," but the reality is until you have been there, you don't know how hard it is to work two jobs, hardly ever have free time, and still not have enough money for healthcare at the end of the month. To those of you who know me, you know I haven't been there personally. But I have seen people who have been there. And I know that if I was not blessed with supportive, future thinking family, I could very easily be there, and possibly worse.
I thought of a solution for this problem, though. When organizations want to spend public money, they have to provide receipts for how the money was spent, and they have to spend according to strict guidelines. I propose we make anyone or anything who receives government money to do the same.
This could be beneficial in so many ways. First, the recipient would be aided in budgeting resources. Second, the government could use the statistics on how money was spent, budgeted, and what was still needed (or leftover) to study ways to make necessary things affordable, where more or less money should be allocated, and where to put shopping, housing, and public education so that it best benefits those in need of it.
This patient of Dr. Jones is one, not all, of the faces of those receiving government aid. It is not fair to those who truly need it to be denied because some people abuse it.
Here is the snopes.com link:
http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/starner.asp
I posted a status update about my thoughts of re-posting this letter in agreement, but a status update only allows for so many characters, and I felt the need to rip the letter apart.
First, I will say that I do not think those who spend excessive amounts of money on non-essential things for themselves should be allowed to receive government aid.
However, this doctor based his letter on one person. Albeit, one person who seems to be like the others who appear to not deserve said aid.
Dr. Starner Jones points out some of his observations of the patient's materialistic possessions - a gold tooth, tattoos, tennis shoes, and a cell phone with a special ringtone. He also mentions her heavy smoking habit and alcohol use.
In the patient's defense, she may not have always been on Medicaid, and she could have gotten the tattoos done before that. They also could have been done for free, by a friend, perhaps. The tennis shoes could have been gotten at a thrift store or from even a clothing bank, and the cell phone, well, she could have gotten it for free and it came with the ringtone. It's possible.
While I believe Dr. Jones' letter is in accordance with HIPPA (there is nothing identifying who the patient is and what she was treated for), I have to wonder if it really is, based on the Labor and Delivery nurses' blogs I read - they are no longer allowed to post stories about births without changing nearly everything about the story, so that the story ends up being fictional. Keeping with that logic, is Dr. Jones' story even true? If not, and simply based on truth, he has created a fictional character with characteristics that annoy even the most tenderhearted people about who is benefitting from government assistance. So, I guess my point is this story Dr. Jones relayed could be fictional. And it could also be violating HIPPA. (Could being the operative word, as I am not a 100% expert on HIPPA.)
Also what bothers me is I caught a person (or people) who has (have) been "that patient," reposting in agreement with the Facebook version of the letter. Can you say hypocrite?
I know people like "that patient." Yes, I am embarassed by their irresponsible actions. But I know that for some of them, even if they didn't spend any extra money on their material desires, they would still need government assistance.
It's so easy to say, "If they would just ...," but the reality is until you have been there, you don't know how hard it is to work two jobs, hardly ever have free time, and still not have enough money for healthcare at the end of the month. To those of you who know me, you know I haven't been there personally. But I have seen people who have been there. And I know that if I was not blessed with supportive, future thinking family, I could very easily be there, and possibly worse.
I thought of a solution for this problem, though. When organizations want to spend public money, they have to provide receipts for how the money was spent, and they have to spend according to strict guidelines. I propose we make anyone or anything who receives government money to do the same.
This could be beneficial in so many ways. First, the recipient would be aided in budgeting resources. Second, the government could use the statistics on how money was spent, budgeted, and what was still needed (or leftover) to study ways to make necessary things affordable, where more or less money should be allocated, and where to put shopping, housing, and public education so that it best benefits those in need of it.
This patient of Dr. Jones is one, not all, of the faces of those receiving government aid. It is not fair to those who truly need it to be denied because some people abuse it.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Living it up
I'm linking up with Kelly's Korner for "Show us your Life Fridays". This week is living rooms. I'm doing my Auburn one, since it's where I live now (but stay on the lookout for my Birmingham mantle!). Keep in mind the room is mostly finished, but I still have a little more to do.
The Auburn condo is really small, and considering I love to entertain, I have to make the best of my space.
People ask me all the time about my furniture and "things" around the place. So, I'm going to fill in some of my decorating tips and where I got the things, as much as I can remember.
I think the best way to describe the theme of this room is "things I LOVE." I originally wanted to do an animal print theme, but it turned into a room that defines me. (By the way, I am going to have to SEARCH to see if I have anything from Pottery Barn in here. I haven't noticed it yet, and you all know how much Girl Sunday loves her Pottery Barn!)
This is the living room from the front door. My "studio" (not quite complete) is to the left, my bedroom to the right, and, duh!, the "kitchen" (te-niny!) is in the back. Also in this picture, in the bottom left, is the rabbit cage.
This is the view from my "studio". To the right is the entertainment center.
Here is the view from my bedroom. Obviously, the entertainment center has some work to be done on it. I got it at Lowes, but you can find wire shelves almost anywhere - Lowe's, Home Depot, Target, KMart, Wal-Mart, etc. Be sure the shelves can hold at least 350 pounds each, and that it is wide enough for your TV. (Back when TVs were square we didn't have to worry about that!)
To the left of the sofa are my beloved books. I found the "Peace" and "Dream" wall art at Target this summer. The bookcase is from Pier One, about six years ago. It's their "Dakota" bookcase, back when "Dakota" was black iron with copper undertones.
This is the detail on the table and chairs under the pink flower (from Ross). I LOVE this furniture set. The copper color is beautiful and really helps tie the room together (I broke a rule and mixed metals, as well as black and brown). The result is actually better than I ever would have thought. I think the key is using tonal browns, so the colors blend and complement with the black.
Also in this picture is the best glimpse at the sofa's color and texture. As with most things in this room, I also love my sofa. It's brown velvet, but it has gray undertones, which help tie the brown into the black accents the developers used. I got the sofa last year at Auburn Furniture and I think it's by Broyhill.
Here is my favorite chair. I got it last year from Pier One. On clearance! And I saved a good bit extra by opening a credit card with them. The chair is purple velvet, and when I got the picture of the pink flower, I had originally intended to put it in my bedroom, but I saw it sitting in the den, next to the chair, and realized it went really well in the room. The chair pulls out the purple used in the painting, so it's not so intense in the room.
I mentioned earlier about using browns that are tonal. The best example of that is this trunk (in the bottom of the picture) I got from Target. It was originally a bedroom linen trunk in Birmingham, but now it is my "coffee table". Notice how some of the "reeds" (is that what they are?) are black and some brown and there are varying shades in between? That's what I mean by tonal.
Onto my console. I got the shelves at Hobby Lobby on clearance, and the table at Target. The glass candle holders are from TJ Maxx, and I put coffee beans and tea lights in them. I ALWAYS keep fresh flowers. Just because :) The turquoise/blue/teal vase in the back has dried roses from my old resident manager. (The vase is also from Pier One, about six years ago and I believe is called the "Peacock Vase". Again, it has some copper in it to help tie the room together.) I used to have a bulletin board covering the fuse box, but it fell and I need to work on that some more. :( The peace sign is a Girl Sunday original. It can be found at my upcoming craft business' website.
When I have parties, I clear the console table and use it to display food or paperwares.
"There was an old bunny who lived in a cage under the TV ..."
Yea! Feffer is back in Auburn! Sweet Bunny Boy is almost eight years old (i.e. really old for a rabbit).
Thank you for visiting! I look forward to seeing what everyone else has done with their living areas. And, thank you, Kelly, for hosting!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I bet they're not having this much fun in Mississippi
Disclaimer: I think the fact that a large snake on the loose is very serious, and I am concerned for those who have been harmed by it and have the possibility to be harmed by it. That is not what I am laughing about.
Only in Alabama do we have such intriguing news. Mom told me about seeing the news story of the snake on the loose in Sumiton (Walker County), Alabama. She told me to check it out, and y'all, this is my latest obsession. The first link is the story with the video in the upper right hand corner. The last two links are just stories, but the second link is much more elaborated than the other stories I have read.
Aggressive 'python-like' on the loose in Sumiton - ABC 33/40 - Birmingham News, Weather, Sports
http://www.mountaineagle.com/view/full_story/9402430/article-Aggressive-snake-missing-in-Sumiton?
http://www.wsfa.com/Global/story.asp?S=13115333
Now that y'all have had a chance to get caught up with the story, let's review the highlights. I love the plethora of cars in the background. The rusted broken down tractor (or as us Southerners like to say "broke down"). I love how the newscasters were SO SERIOUS while reporting the story. But, my favorite part has to be the part about how the woman had to literally bite the snake to get it to go away. I think she deserves a picture in the dictionary next to the word hardcore.
Also, what puzzles me is this is Walker County, y'all. Where are the guns? Or machetes? How can one have so many forms of vehicles laying around and no weapon? (And in Alabama, tractors count as vehicles.)
Only in Alabama do we have such intriguing news. Mom told me about seeing the news story of the snake on the loose in Sumiton (Walker County), Alabama. She told me to check it out, and y'all, this is my latest obsession. The first link is the story with the video in the upper right hand corner. The last two links are just stories, but the second link is much more elaborated than the other stories I have read.
Aggressive 'python-like' on the loose in Sumiton - ABC 33/40 - Birmingham News, Weather, Sports
http://www.mountaineagle.com/view/full_story/9402430/article-Aggressive-snake-missing-in-Sumiton?
http://www.wsfa.com/Global/story.asp?S=13115333
Now that y'all have had a chance to get caught up with the story, let's review the highlights. I love the plethora of cars in the background. The rusted broken down tractor (or as us Southerners like to say "broke down"). I love how the newscasters were SO SERIOUS while reporting the story. But, my favorite part has to be the part about how the woman had to literally bite the snake to get it to go away. I think she deserves a picture in the dictionary next to the word hardcore.
Also, what puzzles me is this is Walker County, y'all. Where are the guns? Or machetes? How can one have so many forms of vehicles laying around and no weapon? (And in Alabama, tractors count as vehicles.)
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Suck that, Thyroid!
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile
Busy B
I've been working a lot on the arts and crafts business this week. Lawyers, accountants, organizing, you know - the not so fun stuff. So, to balance it, I did some prep work for the fun stuff - painting canvas backgrounds. My manicure can prove it!
And with chipped nails, I hosted a Friday evening tailgate for my Auburn condos. It was rather succesful, I believe. It was fun meeting neighbors and I even made some new friends that drug me out with them. Yes, I, Girl Sunday, went out. In Auburn. At 10:30. On a Friday night. As I put on my Facebook, suck that, Thyroid!
Which brings me to two tangents - first, it was HOT Friday night. And when I woke up and saw one of my friends talking about 50 degree temps, I asked her to send some of that my way. And you know what? IT ACTUALLY WORKED!!! How often does that happen? LOL.
Second tangent - it looks like my thyroid is going to go. I know this is really superficial, but I'm not married yet and I'm not even close to dating anyone right now. I don't want a scar on my neck when I get married. I also have a 10 year high school reunion in the next year, and I am not looking forward to explaining it. The gall bladder scars are always covered up, so I'm not as self conscious about those. (Two of them are keloids, one rather painful.) I'm anxious I will get keloids on my neck, which is way worse than a simple straight line scar. I'm also anxious about surgery again - the anesthesia, the recovery. And what about all I have to be responsible for? Yeah, I'm a bundle of nerves already.
Finally, with that cool weather, I felt like I needed some vegetable soup and cornbread. And that's what's going on now. If my dinner guests would just arrive ...
And with chipped nails, I hosted a Friday evening tailgate for my Auburn condos. It was rather succesful, I believe. It was fun meeting neighbors and I even made some new friends that drug me out with them. Yes, I, Girl Sunday, went out. In Auburn. At 10:30. On a Friday night. As I put on my Facebook, suck that, Thyroid!
Which brings me to two tangents - first, it was HOT Friday night. And when I woke up and saw one of my friends talking about 50 degree temps, I asked her to send some of that my way. And you know what? IT ACTUALLY WORKED!!! How often does that happen? LOL.
Second tangent - it looks like my thyroid is going to go. I know this is really superficial, but I'm not married yet and I'm not even close to dating anyone right now. I don't want a scar on my neck when I get married. I also have a 10 year high school reunion in the next year, and I am not looking forward to explaining it. The gall bladder scars are always covered up, so I'm not as self conscious about those. (Two of them are keloids, one rather painful.) I'm anxious I will get keloids on my neck, which is way worse than a simple straight line scar. I'm also anxious about surgery again - the anesthesia, the recovery. And what about all I have to be responsible for? Yeah, I'm a bundle of nerves already.
Finally, with that cool weather, I felt like I needed some vegetable soup and cornbread. And that's what's going on now. If my dinner guests would just arrive ...
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