That's What She Said

Guilty Wieners and Dusty Eyes

2012-02-01T07:37:00.003-05:00

I always feel like I've been let in on an inside secret when I finally realize the actual words to a song I've been mumbling through for years. You know those songs. The ones where you can understand most of it, and love those parts and sing them really loudly, but there's that one line or two that you can't quite make out, so you just sort of wing it.

I've been singing a line from a song like this, knowing I couldn't quite make out the actual lyrics: "The dust is something something over and and over..." or sometimes I'd think it went like this: "The dust in your eyes is over and over."

Sometimes I'd just start out "The Dust..." and trail off and jump in at the next line ..."Baby blue eyes, your head on my shoulder" - because I KNEW that line, and I'd get really loud there, to prove I knew it.

That's a Rascal Flatts song, by the way. Your welcome. Because if I didn't put it out there you'd have to go all the way to Almighty Google and just satisfy your curiosity.

Now you could be thinking, "Why not just to to Almighty Google and find out what the lyrics are, rather than singing the wrong line all the time?"

Which makes perfect sense, except that I enjoy the challenge of deciphering, Reader. Or I'm too lazy, or just not bothered as much as I am by, say, non-rhythmic trashcan poetry.

Because when you finally get the lyrics?? Oh, is it a smug smug moment. I smugged myself the whole 20 minute ride home, once I figured out the lyrics are actually, "A dust trail following an old red Nova." Because the song is Fast Cars & Freedom. Now it makes sense, the Fast Cars part. Is a Nova a fast car??

Maybe that's still the wrong line, but I feel as if I've really got it. And now I want them to play that song all the time so I can really belt it out.

Other songs that had me lyrically challenged? George Michael: "Two left feet have got no rhythm."

Actually makes more sense than "Guilty feet". Even "Guilty wieners got no rhythm" which is what I also thought it might be saying. And that even makes more sense, Guilty Wieners don't DESERVE any rhythm!

And then there's the song that has made-up words and you THINK you're singing the wrong thing, and come to find out you're doing it right all along.

Example: curialism

Really, song writer? Shame on you for tricking the public.

What have you got, Reader? What are your mystery lyrics?

Where's The Beef?

2012-01-29T11:31:00.005-05:00

This was one of three things that managed to annoy me at Burger King:

The non-rhythmic verse on the trash cans. The photo's shitty, let me clarify:

TOSS IT IN DROP IT IN

SLIDE IT IN OFF THE TRAY

JUST GET YOUR TRASH

IN HERE SOME WAY

WTF, Burger King?? That's not a haiku, the meter is all off to be any sort of verse -- it's just B.A.D. -- Bad.

The only thing worse than no attempt is a half-assed attempt, and this is one half-assed attempt at being clever.

I wrote this JUST NOW, I gave it just a half-thought more than zero thought and came up with this:

You can drop it, you can toss it

You can slide it off the tray

Doesn't matter how you do it

Just get your trash in here, your way

Get it? Because BK is all about having it your way? See how easy? And they wouldn't give old crotchety ladies an aneurysm trying to find the rhyme.

Responsible Rhyming, Burger King. That's all I'm asking.

Design on a Dime

2012-01-22T11:27:00.006-05:00

We've installed a second bathroom in the house. Kinda like in the movie, The Help, where a second bathroom was highly endorsed, only it's not really like that at all. We finally gave in. Threw down the white flag of surrender, and realized after about a week's worth of cleaning up a pile of poop on the rug, that the problem just wasn't going to go away.

But let me back up first, there's more to the pooping backstory.

Remember when (maybe you don't, why would you remember this, really) I had a bright idea to put newspapers down on the floor in the living room when we travelled, just in case the cat pooped? It would make it much easier to clean up, and wouldn't be sitting on the rug while we were gone. We came home to lots and lots and lots of poops all over that newspaper.

I thought it was a rather successful idea.

Until we went to Vegas over Christmas. We were only gone a couple of days, left on a Sunday, home on a Wednesday. What's the likelihood of poop in that short amount of time? But we put papers down anyway, just in case.

Came home to poop on the papers. Picked it up, threw it out and thought I was done with it.

However. It's never that simple, is it.

I had left the un-pooped on papers on the floor that first night. And the next morning when I got up? Twinkle took a shit right in front of me, on the paper.

I stared in disbelief.

We'd never ONCE thought that Twinkle was the phantom floor pooper. For some reason we seem to believe he's the Smart Cat of the family. We had always assigned him a level of excellence that this incident of pooping leveled.

Unless. Unless, in fact, that my putting the paper down on the floor trained him to believe that the entire living room was now one big litter box. And believe you me, he had a good time scratching around on it before he took his catshit. I watched him go to work, I was in such disbelief that surely the cat that we regarded so highly wasn't actually going to take a shit on the floor (newspaper) right before my eyes. But he did. Oh yes, he did.

So now? We've given up. We put a 2nd litter pan in the corner of the living room. And they have all gone cat-shit-crazy with the freedom/luxury of not having to walk all the way to the back room to do their *what I wish was more personal* business.

Now we get to enjoy the sound and smell of all five of them taking turns pissing and shitting while we watch television/read/blog. Because believe me, they have ALL been enjoying it immensely. It's NEW, of course they are all going to use the newly installed bathroom. They line up to take turns in there.

And I only put a small litter pan there, never anticipating that it would be such a popular pooping spot. As a result, Girl Cat's fat ass sometimes hangs over the edge when she gets in there, and I've had to pick poop up off of the floor anyway.

I've hesitated to even write this blog, because I'm sure you haters out there will think that I have a shit-filled house. However, we do clean it as soon as it happens, so it's not like we're going to qualify for an episode of Hoarders. At least not yet. When I cut a hole in my recliner and decide to just shit right here in the living room while I enjoy uninterrupted blogging, then you may need to stage an Interference. Right now we're still of the mindset to clean it up.

But I watch myself ever so carefully, because Hoarders were at one time Just Like Everyone Else. But then came some defining moment, that pivotal moment when they just stepped over the pile of shit and sat down and watched t.v., and the next thing you know, a team of strangers are in your house shoveling decaying cat carcases (carci?) up off the floor. It all begins with that first ignored poop.

Grandiose Plans

2012-01-21T12:51:00.005-05:00

Before Kenny began his training for the new Cleveland casino, I was a much more productive person.

I don't know what has happened to me.

He trains (unpaid, mind you - for which I admire his gumption and dedication, I can't say for certain that I would have the same unpaid motivation) five days per week, 9 a.m. - 1 p.m., Wed-Sun. His days off are Mon-Tues.

I had lofty plans on how I was going to spend my Saturday & Sunday morning hours sans interruptions. I was going to get up my normal weekend time, 9 or 10 a.m., have some coffee, write a little, blog a little, and then go get busy with my organization plans.

Those organization plans are some Grand Plans I have laid out in my mind. Clear out the back "junk/guest" bedroom, where everything without a dedicated space seems to land. Organize the kitchen cupboards. Which, by the way, I have actually done. Get my paperwork files organized. Clear off all the shit that piles up on the kitchen table. I still have a bag of birthday gifts sitting in a bag on the kitchen floor - no place to put 'em, so I've left them there. I have my 2012 plan to figure out space for stuff.

But what really happens? Kenny leaves for training. I get up, feed the cats, look at facebook, cnn.com. The decide it's too early to be up on the weekend, grab Kitty Purry and plop back into bed. And then we catnap until noon. Noon on a good day. Some weekends, Kenny has called me on his way home from training and has awakened me. At 1:00 p.m.

IN THE AFTERNOON.

Shame.

Lazy, lazy shame.

Today? I was up at 8:00 when he went to training. Stayed up til about 8:30. Realized that was ridiculous and went back to bed until 11:50 a.m.

But then? I got up and cleaned out the freezer. Food that's been in there for a year stands a very small chance of getting eaten. I'm talking about leftovers and such, not normal freezer goods like bagged vegetables. Those can last a little longer.

I pulled out some bagged and frozen raspberries that I had gotten from my grandmother. I'm letting them defrost and am going to see if they are salvageable and turn them into pie. With enough sugar they should be good. Right? Well, we'll see.

And that, Reader, is My Exciting Life. Hide your jealousy, it's unbecoming.

Lemony Fresh

2012-01-19T22:04:00.002-05:00

I wasn't exaggerating.

Unrest in the Sheets

2012-01-15T14:06:00.008-05:00

Why not some cute cat pictures?

Here she is, my baby girl, helping me blog.

The most consistent name we've had to date has been Kitty Purry, or just Purry for short. I tested out Dora/Dory on her yesterday, it didn't really take. I think we'll stick to Purry, it's been 3 months and time to settle on a name. Luckily she does purr, when she's not growling at the other cats.

At night she sleeps tight against my side, and will stretch her paws all the way up to my lips and rest them there. Either I have bad breath, or she is trying to stop the snoring, or she wants a kissy on her feet. I default to the kissies on her feet, and smooch away.

She has learned to take a kiss rather well. When we first got her, she would jerk away like a startled virgin whenever I moved in for a smooch on her nose/side of her face. After constant repetition, she doesn't startle much and will allow me unlimited smoochies.

Additionally, I've taught her the joys of sleeping under the blankets. At first she didn't want to be covered up At. All. Nosirree. She needed to be able to make a quick get-away if necessary, unencumbered by the confines of blankets.

I began our Blanket Therapy by first making her a little blanket "nest" next to me, and kind of hooping the covers up on the sides. Not confining her, more like making a little fort of comfort. And then, ever-so-slowly, I'd edge a corner of the Cariloha sheet onto her torso. Do cats have torsos? Is that the accurate name for the cat midriff area?

She's a lucky cat, to be ensconced in the Cariloha sheet. She must have recognized the magic powers of these sheets, and would relax right into them.

Now? I still build her a little nest, but now can get her completely covered up, with her little nose and paws sticking out.

And then I'm afraid to move all night, because I don't want to disturb the cat.

I woke up around 4 a.m. this morning, floinking and complaining, disturbing everyone in bed. I felt boxed in. Confined. Restricted. Twinkle was conked out on the pillow above my head, his paws draped over onto my head, and Purry was in her cover cave, paws reaching up to me. Kenny on the other side, who was crowding me because Girl Cat was taking up more than her fair share of space on his side of the bed.

I created such a ruckus everyone was up and out. And then finally, I was able to comfortably adjust myself for my 2nd half of sleep, sweet sleep.

Toby? He's happy making himself a little bed in the styrofoam casing that housed the new printer. Now he looks so cute in there, I don't have the heart to throw it out, so I have this lying about my living room floor.

We closed him up in it with the top. He didn't like that one bit.

Simple Pleasures.

2012-01-14T11:53:00.009-05:00

Kenny has a fetish.

What excites him? A very tight, moist package.

He gets excited when he sees it, and can't control his urges in public.

He loves the way it feels in his hand. Cannot resist the smell. Dives in face-first. Rubbing it.

All.

Over.

His head.

What titillates him so?

Why, The Wet Nap. Of course.

He takes great precision with opening, being mindful to tear from the edge, slipping the wet, folded towelette from the tight confines of the foil-lined package.

Unfurling it to maximize it's potential.

And then quickly burrowing his nose in it, before the smell dissipates.

From there, he proceeds with a cat-like detail: Washing his entire face, the back of his neck, rubbing it over his shorn hair, before using the last remaining drops of lemony freshness to wipe his fingers clean.

The wet-nap is second only to the Hot Towels served in first class on an airline. We had the luxury of traveling in first on our recent trip to Vegas. I had forgotten about the steamy hotness that awaited.

Kenny did not.

He saw the flight attendant prepping.

He put his tray table town. Took off his glasses, reclined back in his chair and closed his eyes, proclaiming, "Ahhhhhh.....here they come!"

On the return trip he scored not one, but TWO of the hot towels, and promptly placed one against the back of his neck, and draped the other across his glasses-removed-in-anticipation face.

I pretended I didn't know him, and sipped my gin, looking out the window. Which is why there are no photos chronicling this event. I know you're saddened. For that, I apologize. But sometimes? Blind staring out a window better serves me.

But alas, despite the lemony scent of the towelette, and the hot steamy washcloths of first class, they both take a back seat to that which holds the #1 spot in Wetnap Goodness: The Quaker Steak & Lube naps.

Not only lemony. Not only moist. Not only large. But also, STEAMY. The perfect storm of pleasure for those who adore the moist towelette.

Which I found to be somewhat disturbing while writing this, apparently, there's enough interest in the wet nap to have a dedicated museum.

Oh, Google. You DO know everything.

Throwback Blog (also known as: too lazy to write something fresh)

2012-01-07T20:55:00.003-05:00

Today, I've decided to step back in time and reblog this from almost 3 years ago. I like this story because it really happened.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

A Real Douchebag.

Conversation overheard at the funeral I attended today:

Older Lady: "So my husband says that when he goes, he wants to be cremated."

Other Older Lady: "Oh, really?"

Older Lady: "Yep. And then he asked if I could put the ashes in a douche and give him one more pass through."

Other Older Lady: Laughing and Laughing.

Me: Pretending to ignore this whole thing. Secretly thinking: "I cannot WAIT to blog this!"

Tough Love

2012-01-04T22:37:00.003-05:00

Scene: Tracye was spending a few minutes on the exercise bike before bed, limbering up her hips to ensure a restful night of sleep.

Tracye to Kenny at 10:20 p.m.: "Go make the bed, and do a good job. I want my sheets smoothed out."

Kenny: "It's already done, I did the best job I can do."

Tracye, sarcastically: "I anticipate seeing what classifies as the best job you can do."

Kenny: "It's good, it's nice, everything's smooth."

Tracye: "Well then, go pull the headboard away from the bed a little, it's knocking against the wall (when we knock boots).

Kenny: "I don't know how to do that."

Tracye: "Yes you do, you fucking moron."

A few things I'd like to note about above conversation. Firstly, that Kenny dreamily suggested going to bed at 10:20 p.m.

My, my, Mr. Fly. How times a-change when YOU have to get up for a J.O.B. in the morning.

Back in the olden days, when I suggested heading to bed at oh, say 11:00 p.m., I was answered with whines of, "So early?? Stay up and watch Seinfeld and Old Christine reruns with me." Which I did.

I believe I'm the fucking moron. Ahem.

The second thing I'd like to note about the above conversation. When I called him a "fucking moron" there was laughter and a smile behind the words. So it's not quite as harsh as it may read to you, Reader. In my defense. Are those love words even defensible??

Anyhoo. If they are offensible, someone needs to toughen up. Pussy. Or shall I say "Pussytwat," which is a frequently used word I've stumbled upon in the latest book I'm reading, House of Holes. That book gets it's own blogpost. Consider this your teaser.

She Knows What She Likes

2012-01-01T08:51:00.004-05:00

We spent New Years Eve with grandma Margie & Linda. It was the perfect evening for me to foist my favorite movie, The Help, on everyone. I heart that movie so hard I would like to foist it on everyone I know - and I'm sure I will!

So I brought it over for some pre-Dick-Clark festivities.

Margie couldn't understand it. At one point she made a noise that sounded like "Pfffffffft" and threw her hands at the television in a motion of dismissal.

That didn't thwart me.

At the end of the movie? Margie had this to say:

"You know what's a good movie? One I really liked?"

"No, Margie, what's your idea of a good movie?"

"The Hand that Rocked the Cradle. Now THAT'S a good movie!"

So. A poignant, heart-tugging movie that showcased friendship and the hardships of life pre-Civil Rights movement? That's junk.

Junk compared to a movie with this storyline: After her humiliated husband kills himself, an embittered pregnant widow loses her child, and embarks on a mission of vengeance against a woman and her family.

Cats-in-Crowns 2012 Edition

2012-01-01T08:16:00.004-05:00

Don't they all look thrilled? Happy New Year, 2012!

Girlie Cat (she refused to open her pretty blue eyes):

Twinkle Toes:

Toby (he had to go first, and refused to look happy about it):

And Kitty Purry, who was the best poser of the bunch:

We couldn't catch our little black kitty Sami. She absolutely refused to participate. She's a Cats-in-Crowns Series spoiler.

All of us wish you a Happy New Year! Cheers to 2012!

2011 Rewind

2011-12-31T13:23:00.007-05:00

I've been reminded that it's good to take a look back at everything that made up the year 2011. Now, I'm not really remembering 2011 with much fondness, so maybe it's a good thing to give it a review and see how it sorts out.

So here it is, for my own entertainment, and yours, should you care to come along for the rewind:

Trippiest Parts of 2011:

Vacations were less than in prior years, but still more than most people get. I'm lucky that way. Lucky and childless, hence I can spend-spend-spend on myself and actually have free time to travel without worrying about a college education for someone.

Some vacation Life List dreams were realized when I travelled with Joanne in April. Was it really only this year? It seems like a lifetime ago, really.

I made swimming in a bioluminescent bay a reality, down in Vieques Island, a hop-skip-&-a-short-flight from Puerto Rico. I was a little frightened to be jumping in dark waters at dark, but jumped anyway. I didn't let fear stop me from accomplishing a Life Listable Item, and for that I pat myself on the back. Well done, Me.

The experience itself was neat, but fell a little short from my imagination. Perhaps I had just hyped it too high, it's been on the list since I was a very young teen and read about the experience in a Reader's Digest. That's a long time to nurture a dream.

The second part of that trip also realized a life-long dream, of visiting Barbados. That was also a young-teen dream of mine, gathered from reading my mom's True Romance magazines. Oh, the contests I entered to try to win that trip! Filling out those index cards with perfect print, mailing off my "entries" in the legal-sized envelope...never winning. But, oh, how I dreamed as I slid that stamped mail into the box, visions of frolicking on the beaches of Barbados, the most exotic-sounding destination of a young girls imagination.

True Romance should really be outlawed for a number of reasons, first and foremost because of the promise of "True Romance" bottled up in the title. No wonder I've had grand expectations my whole life of how things should be, I was molded from a very young age - and incorrectly so. Ah well. Back to the point. The point is, I made it to Barbados, and frolicked around. With Joanne, which is much more realistic and less pressure-y than a True Romance scenario. With Joanne, I didn't even have to shave my legs if I didn't want to. I did, but it was OPTIONAL.

Other trips included:

Vegas, twice (Fourth of July, Christmas). Those trips are just fun.

Another Caribbean cruise (October), where I had one of the most fantastical beach experiences in Cozumel.

This is Antigua, one of the other beautiful beaches I experienced in 2011:

That was about it. Two big cruises and two trips to Vegas. I need to branch that out in 2012 expand my world a bit. I see this as an "Area of Opportunity" as we politely call "needed changes" in Corporate World.

Stupidest Health of 2011:

Health is a clear Area of Opportunity for 2012. In 2011, I was beset by:

Bad, herniated disc - ouch!
Scary-boobie not-cancer cells
No weight loss
Still not nimble

Here's what I'm celebrating about 2011 in the health arena, though:

Had my vagina's health checked out. That's a first in about 6 years. She said it looked fine down there. I said, "thank you, I've been told it's nice."
Fixed - sort of - my bad ouchy disc with exercises instead of surgery. Hooray, Me! It still twinges up on occasion (well, daily) but I exercise it back into position.

I shall strive for better health in 2012. I won't bore you with those details, as I'm sure you're about to snooze it up right about now.

That's okay, I'll wait for you.

Waiting.

Okay, back to it.

Saddest Parts of 2011:

We said goodbye to our beloved grandfather, Stanley, my father's brother, Uncle Carl, and my best catpal, Stanley. I won't go on about that, but I assure you that each of these losses are still felt deeply, especially during this holiday season.

You are missed.

(p.s. - I'm only posting pics of The Stanley's because I don't have a photo of my uncle. I don't want backlash that "a cat is more important than an Uncle," that's not the case, I just don't have any on hand. So break off.)

That's such a heavy thing to gloss over, and now I feel like a newscaster who segways from a grim tear-filled story to an upbeat tale of puppies romping in the switch of a minute.

Drunkiest Night of 2011

"How drunk was she?" the crowd yells.

"She was soooo drunk one night, she had sex and has absolutely no recollection of it."

With My Mister. Or so he tells me.

Foodiest Parts of 2011:

My Mister & I dabbled in a meat-free month of August. It was good and I had some really good poops with the change of my diet. Of course I didn't keep it up. But that's a new goal for 2012!

I had a big Foodie moment in Las Vegas, where we ingested $108 lobster tails. And it was good. Oh, so very good. Sorry, lil' lobster. Worth the price, although it was comped off in Vegas, so technically "free" if you don't count the $$ spent gambling. But I'd rather spend $108 dollars in a video poker machine than on a meal. Priorities.

I made perfect frosting. Yes, that is noteworthy.

Those are the things that stick out for me in 2011 just now as I sipped coffee and typed this nonsense. There's more, much more, all things that make up a life, but that's enough for looking back. I've got to get the kitty tiaras ready, it's showtime tonight!

Expect pictures tomorrow.

Good In Bed

2011-12-30T23:02:00.003-05:00

So remember that blog where I hee-hawed back and forth on the thought of to buy $200 sheets or not? Well, I hee-d to the side of buying them. I'm not sure if Kenny's grandma fully appreciates what she'll soon be drooling on, but hopefully she'll like them.

I put our set on the bed last night. I had them before Christmas, but wouldn't put them on the bed until the bedroom was cleaned and dusted and sorted and organized. I did all that prior to Christmas in Vegas, but didn't want to put them on before we left, in case the cats threw up on them while we were gone. Which was good foresight, since the cat threw up all over the bed while we were gone.

Last night? Sliding into those $200 Cariloha sheets? Heaven.....I must be in heaven.....sing-songed through my mind, and then I picked up my parasol and twirled around a bit, before collapsing for good in the delicious softness and cool comfort of these sheets.

One more thing I need to make it more difficult to get out of bed. Because it was difficult, Reader. I had grand plans for today (Friday), while Kenny was at his job training thingie. I was going to Accomplish Things; sort and organize and write a novel and save the world in that four-hour span while he was gone.

Instead? I rolled right back over and hunkered down into those $200 sheets for Round 2 of Sleep, Delicious Sleep.

Even Girl Cat came back to bed after Kenny left and snuggled back down in the middle of those sheets, purring so loudly it woke me up (briefly).

I got up when his training was almost over, around 12:40ish. In the afternoon. And I went to bed at a somewhat reasonable time the night before.

There really is no excuse. There's only a reason. A soft and snugglie reason.

Just Hello

2011-12-29T17:31:00.002-05:00

Hello, Reader, and Good Day!!

I'm back from our thumbing-our-nose-at-the-holidays trip to Vegas. It was fun. And fast.

No one cares what we did, so I'll save the recap for my own memories.

Did we win money? Well, some. Did we come home with money? Well, no. I hit a few small jackpots (a couple royal flushes, for a grand each, some other video poker wins), but no hand-pays. I like a hand pay. We never got ahead enough between the 2 of us to be able to stash it away. Mr. Anderson was on a loo-zing streak like we've rarely had before. But he was tenacious and would not give up. Much to my dismay. At one point I gave him $500 more dollars and told him, "Don't find me."

So we were both equal losers at the end. Although we rode in on First Class, and rode back home in First Class, too. We're going to be stylin' in our arrivin'-in, now matter what city it be.

I should be a rapper. Maybe in my next life. I've got a natural ability to rhyme. Agreed?

Okay, that's it. I've got laundry to be a laundry-ing. The kitties threw up on our comforter during our absence. It was good times to come home to that.

Ready for Her Close-Up

2011-12-25T00:23:00.003-05:00

I spent a good part of an afternoon applying backgrounds from my new birthday phone to pictures of our little gray kitty, tentatively renamed Ashley.

Postcards-from-the-Edge Kitty:

Vintage Photo Kitty:

Giant Billboard Kitty:

And I wonder why my house is never clean. I spend my usable free time with this sort of shit. I'm altruistic that way, giving back to you, Reader.

You're welcome.

The Magic of Christmas Eve

2011-12-25T00:17:00.002-05:00

For Christmas, I leave you with this:

I am on my way to bed. Wearing a beauty-potioned-filled Jason-Mask that's supposed to make me purtty.

Kenny's in bed. He's going to roll over and see this face. I laughed out loud in the bathroom when I saw myself with this on, and imagined his surprise / shock / horror-movie-moment when he rolls over and sees me.

I had to wear it tonight, because for the past 14 nights I had been applying a "system" of beauty and after the final night, you're supposed to wear this magic-soaked mask for at least 15 minutes, and tonight - Christmas Eve - is that night.

I shared the ridiculousness of this with you, Reader. It's your gift. You're welcome.

Touché, Neighborhood.

2011-12-23T16:55:00.005-05:00

Well played, Neighborhood. Well. Played. ~three slow claps~

THIS greeted me as I walked down my driveway to my car this morning:

WHAT. THE. FUCK. Is a CAR doing in the backyard of the house (rental property) next door??

The good news is, I finally found the cause for Lady the Dog's (Timmy's dog) barking her fool head off this morning. Something tells me they realized the error of their way, parking on a rain-soaked lawn.

Or maybe they plan on burying a body back there.

To provide some perspective, this is how close the Backyard Car is to their house:

And to think the city inspector fined us last summer because our trash can lid had blown away.

And also? I am officially the fucking Annoyed Old Lady of the Neighborhood, because if that gol'darn car isn't outta there by the New Year, I'll be calling the city inspector.

If you need me, I'll be in my rocking chair listening to the oldies station.

Get Off My Lawn, You Damn Kids!

2011-12-22T22:01:00.008-05:00

I've officially crossed the threshold into OldLadydom. Yes, yes I did. At the ripe old age of.....clears throat...coughs.....well, age doesn't really matter, does it. It's rhetorical, hence the period instead of the question mark for all you Punctuation Judgers. It was intentional.

Now. Back to the story, before I wander completely off like a dog chasing squirrels.

Upon arrival to my humble home after a day at the office, to what 'fore my wondering eyes did appear? A crappy red car with three troublesome yutes. I know it doesn't rhyme, I'm aware; I'm aware. Move along.

They were just parked in a car in front of my house, creating a gol'darn ruckus. And then? The rap music started, so loud I could hear it through my closed car windows as I was parked in the rear of the house, next to the squirrel-free garage.

I walked up to our side door and peered around to the front of the house, trying to figure out exactly who the heck was hosting the rap party, and who this car full of yutes belonged to. They had the dome light on in the car, and they were out and about near it, hootin' and hollerin' and rappin' and dancin'.

I'm too old to be a-putting up with that at dark (I don't care if it's only 5:30, it's still dark out!), during the winter, at Christmastime.

Asking Timmy from downstairs, "Who the hell are these people, and how long has this been going on?" I got the response of, "I don't know who they are, this has been going on for an hour."

Oh, nosiree. No.Sir.EE. I will not stand for that nonsense.

I marched upstairs and promptly called the local police station where I filed my Official Complaint of Loud Noise and Miscellaneous Shenanigans of Yutes Unknown.

My police complaint consisted of telling the policelady on the phone, "We have old people in the neighborhood, and I'm sure they don't appreciate the shenanigans going on, and I realize right now that by complaining about the loud noise I'm officially the Old People in the Neighborhood." To which she laughed and said she'd send a squad car right on over.

How quickly did they respond to the Official Complaint of Loud Noise and Miscellaneous Shenanigans of Yutes Unknown? Well, my tax dollars were hard at work. In the time it took me to poop, two police cars were in front of the house questioning said yutes. And it wasn't a long and complicated-magazine-reading poop, either, just a basic-business business.

I'm not sure what transpired, as I watched out of the corner of the window lest these yutes see me lurking and decide to ambush me later, but flashlights were flashed around and identifications were presented and then? The yutes started up their red car (that was my official description to the policelady when I called) and left.

Just like an episode of Scared Straight, it was. Only without the stories of anal rape. Probably.

It's Time

2011-12-18T13:30:00.002-05:00

Time to get my Christmas cards filled out or there will be no point in sending. Time to do my last-minute shopping for my lovah, or he won't have anything 'neath the tree this year.

Time marches on, ready or not.

Does Santa use google?

2011-12-14T21:52:00.006-05:00

I miss my Mac. The iPad is just no good for blogging and I've had words going to waste. Words you'll never get to read. Sad face. For you. Ahem

So I've been much more productive in the evenings without a computer.

Cooked meals from scratch-ish. Did laundry. Vacuumed. Baked Christmas cookies. Went to bed early without an overload of reading depressing blog stories. I read several blogs that are tearjerkers involving sick babies. This week I don't know whats happening with the babies and I'm a little less teary as a result. That's kinda nice.

We went shopping tonight for some kids who are part of some "kids in distress" place. We bought for 2 kids, a boy & a girl. I yelled at Kenny for being too generous. He called me a Scrooge. But he bought the one little boy, who wanted "WWE men" a hundred bucks worth of men and accessories. We're only supposed to spend about $25 per kid. So now? Our kid is going to hit the jackpot while the other kids get one thing.

So that makes me a Scrooge.

We bought the other kid in our list one thing only, a pretty nice MP3 player. The rest of the shit on her list was either sold out or a gift card and I'm not getting the kid a gift card. For some reason that irks me. Like they think "this fat old lady obviously can't be trusted to buy something good, just give me the money so I can do it myself.". That's what a gift card wish list item says to me and I'm not biting. Put an actual item on your list, Kid.

So now's the part of the story where I tell you A) either what a Christmas Asshole I am or B) what a genius I am. You decide.

There was a "tree" at work with a bunch of names and wish list items, we could pick a name and buy for that specific person. There were a number of separate families on the tree.

So. I decided to check the court docket and see if anyone listed had a criminal background before I choose their name. Don't get confused with the kids we purchased for, that was a completely seperate endeavor. You can't search for the juvies. Or who am I kidding, I probably would have.

Did my Christmas-present-buying background check yield any results? You betcha it did. And their name stayed right on the tree and I picked the lady who was in the court system with only a foreclosure against her name. She obviously is having a bad year.

Santas not the only one who sees if you've been naughty or nice.

Adrift

2011-12-11T11:04:00.002-05:00

The charger for my Mac is broken. We took it to Best Buy last night for a new one, as we paid for the $400 3-year warranty, and I want my covered $80 charger. Good deal we brokered there, huh.

But anyway.

They of course can't give me a cord they have in stock, they need to order one and have it shipped to my house.

Irritated.

Shoulda never bought the warranty. It was against my better judgement, but then like many things I did it anyway.

So that should arrive in a few days. In the meantime I'm interloping on My Mister's when I can, or using the iPad, but that's no good for lots of typing of words, such as now. That's really only useful for playing Bejeweled Blitz (highly addictive).

Today is Saturday.

I hate how fast the weekends go.

Here's some brief recaps of the week:

1/ Kenny began his training for the casino job. He's up and out of the house at 8:00 a.m. I had my moment this morning when HE had to get up for work and I rolled over and slept for 2 more hours. Delicious sleep. He only has training fro 4 hours per day, 9:00 - 1:00, and he really likes it, but he is NOT a morning person. Another reason we belong together.

2/ Speaking of not being a morning person, I recently purchased a Philips blue light thing-a-ma-jig that promises to transform my life and maybe even make me a morning person. I began using it on Thursday. I felt pretty peppy Thursday & Friday, but then I had no troubles at all sleeping til 10:30 this morning. No troubles at all. And while it's supposed to make me happier and sunnier dispositioned, I was a little on the Bitchy McBitchypants side today, for no good reason. I was feeling contrary and not very smiley. Maybe the light has to pull all the bad feelings out and make room, before the good feelings can settle in.

3/ Went to a cooking demonstration today to make a vegan meal of quinoa, black bean burgers, squash soup, salsa and caramelized pears. It was good. The best thing that came of it was the discovery that the chef will cook for you. She will make a week's worth of personalized meals for the low low price of $140/week. Now, while that may seem like a lot at first, considering we spent $60 at Bonefish on Wednesday, $50 at Mustard Seed on Saturday, $50 at Olive Garden last night, and $30 at Bob Evans one night this week, $140 would be SAVING us money and be providing more healthy meals. I'm going to contact her and give it a whirl for 2012.

So we're going to see how that goes. She doesn't just cook vegan, she'll tailor the menu to your needs. I'm sort of excited as I really do not enjoy cooking when I get home from work, which is why it doesn't get done.

4/ Did a smidgen of Christmas shopping tonight. The problem with shopping is that I see all sorts of things that I like, and that gets expensive fast. I bought a couple things that I already want to return. I just don't love 'em once I got them out of the bewitching lights of the store.

I have no idea what to get 92 year old Margie (Kenny's grandma). I was going to get her (and me) a set of Cariloha sheets, that are supposed to be the best sheets EVER, but can't pull the trigger on $170 for a set of sheets, especially that she may not like. And then to get us a set, too (because I can't order them and NOT get some for myself), you're talking close to $400. To snore and drool and fart on.

On that note, I'm going to finish my cuppa rum and peach iced tea and find something to eat. My quinoa wore plumb off.

Feats of Strength

2011-12-04T19:17:00.004-05:00

It's beginning to look a little like Christmas....

The white light strands really showed up obnoxiously in the picture, but in reality they aren't as obtrusive. The tree actually looks pretty good and sparkly. And before you judge, I am well aware it's not a traditional tree, but with 5 cats, I had to make adjustments and get something with a wide, solid base that will sit on the table. I could get all ho-ho-ho-ie and put a tall tree in front of the window, but that would involve moving furniture and if you have ever read anything here, you should be well aware of our lack of extra storage space. So we festive-up where we can and move along.

I anticipate a number of ornaments will be on the floor by morning. Toby already tried to give it a stretch and bat, but I batted him first.

My big attempt at festivus is stringing the lights up around the window. They almost ran a little short (just bought 'em, didn't know how far they'd go), but I managed to finagle it.

We also put some stuff outside, some light up lollipop things that follow the walkway. We need to get another set tomorrow, we only bought one set to test 'em out. They are pretty cute. Cute enough.

Kenny & I were proud of ourselves. While we like festive-looking homes, we don't normally do much of it ourselves, so baby steps.

Reader, if you're interested in a cat update, well, here she is:

Powder Puff (that's her name this week, because her fur is very dense and powder-puffy) couldn't resist all the living room commotion and hesitantly came out of our bedroom. She hangs out there pretty much all day, it's too dangerous in the living room, apparently.

But she bucked up and helped me decorate, and posed for a picture. Well, sort of posed.

She keeps a tight eye on the other cats. Maybe she'll calm down in a few years and join the rest of the family on a regular basis. Maybe.

Does he see me when I'm sleeping?

2011-12-04T16:42:00.002-05:00

Convincing Santa to take me off the Naughty List....

A Day In the Life

2011-12-03T11:10:00.003-05:00

I must be "life unobservant" lately, I haven't noticed any nonsense that has prompted me to write it here for the annals of history. I actually had to just now Google the word "annals" because of course I typed "anals" and that came up wrong. Maybe, though, it's exactly right for this blog. All this stuff just MAY be more suited for the "Anals of History."

On to other Things About My Life.

Today, I embark on putting up the Christmas tree, and ho-ho-ho'ing, and fa-la-la'ing. And cleaning up the house.

Tonight, we have plans to go to Stan Hywett Hall and get our jolly on there.

So that's my day. Now you can move on with yours.

Things On My Lips

2011-11-27T17:57:00.011-05:00

Dragos famous broiled oysters:

Local brew:

To wash down local flavors, including goat meat stew(ish) type food:

I will admit, I was pretty tentative on the goat meat, but then recognized that I've had far more questionable things in my mouth at some point in my life, and ate it. Also included in the meal was jerk chicken, a Jamaican staple, which was spicy deliciousness, crafted by this dude:

The dude in the hat, not the dude in the Bazinga shirt.

More local brews, with a splash of tequila floating. Beer + tequila = yumbuzz!

Shrimp cocktail tasted that much sweeter when eaten underneath a tiki hut on the beach:

And in Grand Caymen, it was my own damn fault. On the rocks.

Which I blame for clouding my good judgment, leading me to say "YES!" when I maybe should have said, "I'll think about it" when looking at new diamond earrings.

The new earring is the lower earring. Purchased only because I lost the mate to the earring in the top hole on Day 1 of vacation. Woke up in New Orleans and I faced a naked lobe, and I was sad. They were a really clean, pretty pair of 1/2 carats that I've had for a number of years (at least 8, I don't remember exactly, but they were a Christmas gift from Fucksteve, so at least that old).

So I had a couple margaritas, went in to the jewelry shop to try and find a single 1/2 carat replacement and the next thing I knew, I was dazedly walking out with new almost-a-carat-each in my lobes.

That was an expensive fucking margarita.

Kenny is a horrible shopping Wingman, by the way. The Caymen brew caught up with him and he was slumped over on a couch while the deal was being done. They kept him lubed up with glasses of champagne, and was trying to push a $16,000 (beautiful!!!) engagement ring his way, to make an honest woman outta me, instead of the loose floozy slutbag that I am. He said he was fine with the cheap (much, much cheaper) slutbag version of me.

One night of very fine dining offered this:

And it was good.

Soft words were also on my lips:

And big smiles, especially from this view:

Dedication

2011-11-27T13:55:00.002-05:00

Look what I found for you, Rob!

29

2011-11-17T00:00:00.003-05:00

Happy Birthday to ME!

I'm feeling pretty lucky to know me. And I celebrated me with a few bites of red velvet cake. My mouth appreciated me.

Do the Hustle

2011-11-14T21:06:00.007-05:00

I give up. On the celebration that is supposed to be Birthday Month, that is. It has repeatedly turned out to be a sucky month, more than once, and now I'm tired of the disappointment. Yeah, I said it, and sound like a big baby crying about the unfairness of Life and wants to take her ball and bat and just go home. Well, Birthday Month, you can sort of suck it.

A few examples of shitty birthday month:

One year during the start of Birthday Month, my Fatass-Ex-husband's dad killed himself. Shot himself right in the head, he did. I remember it distinctly because it was the year I was turning 35, and we had to go to Texas and take care of bidniz. And we had planned a trip to Memphis for my birthday, which I distinctly remember because we had really angry hotel birthday sex that year, as he was feeling distraught and took it out on my vagina. My vagina had to pay the Piper for the dad's deed and act like a wailing wall or a crying towel. Or something.

Then another year, right at the start of Birthday Month, my Fatass-Ex-husband was discovered to be a cheating fatass-husband and got thrown out of the house, complete with a hillbilly-white-trash-moment police escort (which was ironic, as he IS a policeman!), and earned the "Ex" part of his title. My vagina was sad that birthday, until it found someone to cheer it up, but that didn't happen until well into the holiday seasons, and by then Birthday Month was a memory.

This year? I've had my fair share of troubles this month so far. None of it can be linked back to my fatass-ex-husband or my vagina, which is a step in some direction. In fact, Kenny is doing his part to ensure my vagina does not suffer. But really? Times seem to turn to suck this time of the year, as if somehow The Universe does not understand the rules of Birthday Month.

How did this month start? Oh, with my boobie-non-cancer surgery - that's right! That morphed into the ol', "you don't have cancer, but should take some cancer drugs" discussion, which is weighing heavily on my mind because I don't want to be making the wrong choice and have to pay the Piper later, because I hate the Piper. He is pretty bitey.

I've had more family drama, as hard as I try to avoid it. It's too much for a stupid nonsense blog, but it's not helping me age gracefully. I thought my fucking Clean Karma spray would help out, but it doesn't appear to be living up to the promise.

On a positive note, I met my mother's friend for drinks and chats on Saturday night. Now, that was a good time! And it was full of a lot of stories. Fifteen years worth of words came out of my mouth. She is a funny woman. And she knows several unladylike things about me - that, coincidently DO involve my vagina - so if I'm ever running for president, I'm going to have to have her as my vice president so she doesn't sell out to The National Enquirer and give them pictures of me in my teensy-weensy bikini. When I was 16, so yes, it looked a lot better than images of Current Me in a bikini would look.

Perhaps if she has that picture I will scan it in. In fact, that just inspired me to do a whole cringe-worthy photo series of myself through the years. Now that could be an interesting look-back to celebrate birthday month! If it's going to stink anyway, I may as well provide you, Reader, with a laugh at my expense. Laughter is the best medicine, at least when you're out of Vicodin.

Unearthed

2011-11-13T21:27:00.003-05:00

Look what I found while walking Lady the Dog at 8:00 a.m. on a chilly-but-bright Sunday morning:

A ripe tomato hanging from a very sad looking vine next to the backporch.

Over the summer a couple of plants were thrown into the ground, and then pretty much forgotten about. They didn't mind the insult and bore fruit anyway.

I shall enjoy that on a slice of toast Monday morning.

Winter's On The Way!

2011-11-11T18:33:00.003-05:00

Snow clouds moved in over the city this morning, making an impressive backdrop against the Fall colors. Impressive way to start my Friday workday.

Good Thing It Was Nothing.

2011-11-10T23:08:00.004-05:00

So I had my follow up appointment with the boobie doctor. And I'm not too thrilled with the outcome. I need to do a lot of research.

I do not at this time have any cancer. I had abnormal cells. Now I am high risk.

They gave me a little chart that factored in my age, the age of my first period (which is a guess, who the hell knows if I was 11 or 12, or whatever). That's something all mothers should mark down for their daughters somewhere, because apparently that's info you need when you're in your 40s.

My risk is 35% that I could develop cancer. I didn't think that sounded too bad (considering all the shit we encounter on a daily basis just living life), but then she told me that the Average Woman (who is this average woman, anyway?) has a 12% risk. So I'm a triple threat.

They recommended I take tamoxifen for 5 years, which is normally what you take after you have cancer.

I wouldn't care too much except it would probably throw me right into menopause.

I'm not ready to be in menopause.

I'm just not. I'm forty-fucking-four. I don't want to get a dried up vagina and sweats and more hairs to fight, not to mention more risk of weight gain (hooray, like I need that).

And oh by the way, the tamoxifen can increase your risk of uterine cancer. Maybe.

I guess I'd be more accepting of the fate of this if I had cancer! But I just have some shitty cells, that they scooped out.

And oh, by the way, I also get to get a titty MRI in May, which is where I lay in an MRI machine with my titties in a cup and they do an MRI on 'em. And even more exciting, she told me, "Don't be surprised if we find a lot of stuff we have to biopsy after the MRI, because that thing picks up every little thing and we have to check it all out." WTF. REALLY?

So that's when I started crying and told her that let me get this straight, I didn't at this time HAVE cancer, but I've been worried for the past three months, and now every six months I get to go through this all over again, and worry for three months? So for six months out of the year, I'll be getting biopsies and waiting for test results. Hooray.

Now don't get me wrong, I'd rather be making these decisions than scheduling chemo appointments, and far far too many women are in those shitty pair of shoes. But I cannot imagine that poking around inside my titty every six months - not to mention my mental strain - is going to do me a bit of good in the long run.

I am going to request an estrogen test. I want to know what my levels are, and if they are high, and if I can decrease them naturally over the next six months through diet and exercise and Juice Plus. That's my call back to the doctor tomorrow. She never even told me about that, Almighty Google did.

And one last oh, by the way, she also shared that another option is to have a bilateral mastectomy, and that will reduce my risk of developing cancer to 1%. Why don't I just get all my fucking potentially troubling body parts removed, just in case? What would I be left with? My hair?

Like Madonna sang, I'm keeping my boobies, oh yeah, I'm going to keep my boobies. For now. I'll hold off on the bilateral mastectomy for the moment, but thank you for the option.

Without the Green Jello

2011-11-09T18:17:00.004-05:00

Computer's going into the shop. Won't keep a charge. It's only a year or two old, was quite expensive. Why should I expect it to last?

My newish car, with less than 10,000 miles, stinks. Literally. It's been in to the shop once already. They sprayed some stuff in the vents, but that's not it. I think it may be the foam in the seats deteriorating, based on some Eos forums I've read. Those forums aren't anywhere near as exciting as Penthouse forums, but they are somewhat informative.

That's it, I only have 3% of a battery life left and I have other, important things to google and squander that precious life on.

Look Before You Leap

2011-11-08T23:03:00.003-05:00

I have a cat. Who randomly decides to shit - occasionally, no rhyme or reason, sporadically - on the living room floor.

He's lucky he's lovable, sweet and kind.

Or we'd stomp right on his fucking shitting-on-the-floor cat head and squash his brains on the floor right next to the steamer he leaves.

Like I said, he's pretty darn sweet other than this. And he's taught me my new life mantra, "Nobody's Perfect" so he's actually a TEACHER, Reader, kinda like the Dalai Lama. And I do like the Dalai Lama.

So we don't squish his head under our feet and instead we just clean up the poop. With a lot of bitching and complaining.

Today?

Kenny didn't see the pile of poop. He didn't even notice it until the stench caught up with him. After he'd traipsed around the house.

I did that once before, too, so I can't judge him for his unwitting behavior.

Tonight? We got to steam clean the carpet as soon as I got home from work.

Good times.

Nobody's Perfect? I'm pretty fucking close, for excusing that bad cat behavior and still showering his nose with kisses. Because did I mention how sweet he is? He is. He's lucky.

Now we know why he was a year old and at the pound. Now we know.

Monday Madness

2011-11-07T22:52:00.002-05:00

I have a love / hate relationship with the time change. I love it in the a.m., when I'm stealing an extra hour of sleep. I hate it at 5:30 p.m., when I leave work and it's pitch black and I think I should go home and slip immediately into my pajamas.

I didn't do that tonight. I kept my day clothes on, thinking I would perchance venture out this evening. Instead I whipped up a quick dinner of general toes chicken and vacation rice. Vacation rice is supposed to trick you into thinking you're on a vacation, due to the peach flavor and coconut. It was okay. It blended well with the general toes.

And then? I found my place on the recliner and napped through Dancing With the Stars. I'm totally digging on the Latino with all the Moves. Holy smokes, can he do things standing that I'd like to try in the horizontal position. With him. Or Kenny, if he could learn some of those moves. I'm not too particular.

Mr. Rogers Was Right

2011-11-06T20:05:00.001-05:00

I took another walk around the neighborhood park today, drinking in the last of the Fall days. It's pretty out there.

Essential Oils

2011-11-06T19:38:00.002-05:00

I believe I am the most gullible shopper. Ever. Because I buy into (get it? I "buy" into it all) anything, if it's hyped the right way and appeals to whatever is aggravating me at the moment.

So it's no surprise that when I saw the chance to clean my aura and purify my spirit, I whipped out my credit card and made the purchase.

And spent the weekend spraying and spraying and spraying things.

A clean aura smells like refreshing peppermint. My aura got sprayed, Kenny's aura got sprayed, the new cat got her aura sprayed, the rooms got sprayed, and Timmy came upstairs for something on Saturday morning and got a good spraying, too. His only word as I was spraying him was, "Idiot." But he gamely turned around and let me spray all angles. I gave his wiener area an extra dose, so he can get some new energy around that thing. He didn't seem to appreciate my efforts.

And then today? I've been a Bitchy McBitchy Pants. I think when I get my karma unknotted and my aura cleaned, it releases a lot of stuff I keep bottled up. I'm not friendly to be around for a while.

Man Vs. Wild

2011-11-06T15:46:00.006-05:00

In the saga of Kenny vs. Squirrel: Squirrel 2, Kenny 1.

After the debacle of the failed CD Blockade, a Blindingly Bright Idea came to light. He would add MORE CDS to the hole, to make it extra-extra snug.

So he did.

And the squirrels?

Laughed and laughed and laughed some more. And then crawled through the hole and snuggled up for another night inside the cozy confines of the Parma Palace.

Finally? My DIY'er decided to get something a little more hardy than music. And a plywood board was located. And inserted over the hole.

Some CDs were still used in the making of the blockade, to snug it up. They were the perfect height for snugging the board.

We think the squirrels have been defeated. There is probably still space for the mouse to get in, however, as they can fit through a hole the size of a dime. We'll have to fill the holes with foam, once we determine that the barricade holds.

I will probably have to take the board and get it cut to not look so hillbilly jacked up, however it is difficult to see in it's current position. One thing at a time.

When we pulled in the driveway yesterday afternoon? A very disgruntled squirrel was poised on the rooftop of the garage, looking towards his former doorway, with a WTF bubble over his head.

Free Range

2011-11-05T00:49:00.001-04:00

This made me laugh.

Prognosis Negative

2011-11-03T19:45:00.002-04:00

I am curious as to what lies beneath the bandage on my boob. Kenny and I are both curious if I still have a nipple, as we don't currently see one. If I do not, my new nickname will be Nip.

I don't have cancer in there - it's official - and hooray to that news! However, I need to hear about some stuff when I have my follow-up appointment, she said it'll be "easier to explain with pictures." WTF. Why do I have to see some horrible warning pictures??

I asked her if the prognosis meant I was going to have to give up cake. She laughed and said, "No." The Hoff would disagree, probably.

Anyone get the blog title?? Seinfeld fans out there?

The Rhythm Isn't Gonna Get 'Em

2011-11-02T22:21:00.004-04:00

So remember waaayyyy back when, in some other blog post, I mentioned that Mr. Non-Handyman was letting squirrels live in our garage? We have some bricks missing near the facia and, well, squirrels were having a grand, warm and cozy winter in there last year.

And they ate through many of my things, and our electrical wires that control the garage door opener.

So Mr. Non-Handyman who thought he was doing a good deed by providing shelter for outdoor critters decided it wasn't a good idea after all.

Then this summer, he attempted to fix the doorway to squirrel heaven by slipping a little piece of cardboard over the hole.

The squirrels said, "Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, and LOL, too!"

Last weekish sometime, I pulled into the driveway and saw a mouse coming down out of the hole. A large mouse. Large enough that the Mister thought maybe it's not a mouse, but we both agreed to let me believe it's a mouse. And things needed to be done. STAT.

So he fixed it.

In the only manner that Mr. Karaoke would know how.

Yep. With music CDs, from his old Doo Wop group, The Nitelites.

The squirrels and mouse (ahem..yes, MOUSE) just laughed and laughed.

And laughed some more.

The end.

11.1.11

2011-11-01T19:52:00.003-04:00

It's Biiiiiiiiiirrrrrrth Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay Month!!!!!

Yay me.

I celebrated? With boobie surgery. And all went well, of course, because it's BIRTHDAY MONTH and nothing else would do!

I had to be at the hospital at 7 a.m. Let me reiterate: Seven. A.M. That's EARLY. I don't know when I got home, sometime around Judge Joe Brown, which is in the 3-4 p.m. timeframe. Kenny had the bed all nice and fluffed up for me, turned on mindless Judge shows (I was waiting for Judy, she's my favorite to sleep through), but I was o.u.t. in seconds.

Just got up around 7:00, blogging as I signed up for that blog-a-day-for-a-month thing, and today is Day 1. So here it is, but it's really taking a lot of effort to get this much down, so all you need to know is:

1/ I didn't die today (so far)

2/ It wasn't too bad

3/ Vicodin rocks

4/ Popeye's Chicken seems to be my official "you had a scary day" meal

5/ Kenny had his first day of orientation for his new job at the casino!

6/ My friend The Healthy Hoff is the best!!

7/ Boobie hurts a little bit now, but there's a cure for that

There you go. Aren't you happy now. Ha.

Almost Halloween 2011

2011-10-31T00:03:00.004-04:00

Pretty Fall evening in Ohio.

Kenny & I got up at noon on Sunday. We went directly to a movie, and saw the new Justin Timberlake disaster, something about running out of time. Wow. Bad. Really really really bad.

Then, we had tickets to a fundraiser at the chain restaurant next to the theater. We supported St. Jude's Children's Hospital by eating Subway sammichs, hotwings and cookies. That's my kinda charity work, frankly.

We were watching the football game. And suddenly I had to leave. I was just itchy, jumpy - restless. I hadn't seen daylight, or not much of it anyway.

So I ditched the party. I was going to go home and get some Sunday Things done around the house, but I drove right by the towpath trail and decided to turn in. The sun was shining, the air was crisp. I was going for a walk. I happened to have my camera in my purse and captured some of the scenery.

I had forgotten how nice it is to spend time on the towpath. I used to go there a lot, back in my old married life. I had a bike rack and would bike along the path, or walk my dog. Nowadays, it's more difficult as Kenny is NOT Mr. Outdoorsman. But I decided that while he may not be, I like a little communing with nature in the form of a walk along the trail.

It did a lot to restore balance in my mood. I hope to do more of it before the snow flies. But no pressure on myself, I don't want to take away the pure enjoyment of it by setting guidelines and timetables.

Itsy Bitsy

2011-10-30T02:45:00.002-04:00

Tracye: "I think a spider crawled on my face at night and laid eggs under my skin. Look at this lump I have right by my hairline."

Shows Kenny lump.

Kenny: "Yep, it sure does look like a spider bite."

Tracye, freaking out: "I didn't really THINK it was a spider bite, now I'm freaked the fuck out that a spider was crawling around on my face at night!!! Do you think it laid eggs??"

Later that evening:

Tracye: "You know, those cats should really keep those spiders offa my face at night. That's the least they can do, right? Those cats are lazy fuckers."

Now I'm mad at the cats. And if my face hatches spiders, I'm going to be REALLY mad at Kenny, too.

With a Capital "D"

2011-10-29T13:35:00.007-04:00

The new cat went missing on Wednesday. She had done exactly what I had told her not to do: messed with Girlie.

Girlie don't play that shit.

Girlie is the Queen of the Castle.

And Girlie got her in her cross-hairs, and it was Game Over for the little one. We awoke Wednesday morning to caterwauling and fur flying. I spanked Girlie, loved the little one, and calmed her down, leaving her high on a table when I went to work.

And that was the last we saw of her.

At first we thought she was just back under the bed hiding. But nope, she was not. We figured wherever she was, she'd come out sooner rather than later. By Thursday evening, I'm starting to get worried, because we haven't seen hide nor hair.

I pestered My Mister until he started searching around for her with me. He had kept assuring me she'd come out eventually, but I wasn't sure she hadn't had a heart attack from fear and we'd find her by the eventual stink.

We turned over every square inch of our house. We have a small house. It's 2 -bedrooms. We looked in every probable and improbable place. Kitchen cupboards. In the 1-inch of space between fridge and wall. Under every piece of furniture. Every nook & cranny, until it was determined that she just wasn't here. Houdini Cat.

And then, I panicked as I thought of the one place she could have possibly gotten that we hadn't checked. We have a vent, where the vent cover just rests against the wall, and some cables come out of it that run from somewhere into our house and operates Things. I don't really know, but I think it's running phone lines and television lines from the upstairs (our house) to the downstairs house, as we split stuff.

Thanks to Mr. Non-HandyMan, the cover just rests against the wall.

It was knocked over.

You see where I'm going with this? Is the cat stuffed between the floor/walls of our two houses?? Dear Garth, that would be a nightmare. We wouldn't be able to get her out. My little black one was helping me investigate, sticking her nose into the hole while we were meowing into it to see if we elicited a response, and checking into spaces too difficult to see with a little hand-held mirror.

Friday nights at my house are really Dream Date nights.

Eventually we decided to move our efforts to the basement. The door to our kitchen had been opened for a while, as Toby went exploring, but we didn't think the new cat would be so bold as to take a big leap out into the Great Unknown. We had half-heartedly checked the basement anyway between Wednesday & Friday, but it's really too difficult to tackle all the nooks & crannies down there, especially with all of Kenny's business shit down there. There's just too much stuff, despite the cleaning out we embarked on thanks to our summer flood.

We looked again down there. Calling and meowing and shining flashlights, as we had no other options, she clearly was not in the house.

And finally we heard something. A bump in the night. The faintest of faint "me-ows". Coming from what could have been the ceiling, or a vent in the ceiling, or the wall.

We narrowed down our search to a corner of the basement, which was piled high with stuff we store down there.

We shined the light everywhere. No little pair of eyes glowing back at us.

And then, I heard it again. Mew. She has a weird mew-er to begin with, kind of deep and raspy and hard to hear under the best circumstances.

We determined she was under the stairwell, which is of course where we have a ton of shit/boxes stored. Heavy stuff that we need one day, but not anytime soon. It was an obstacle course to get back there, and Kenny started just chucking heavy boxes all over the room, and then shit started falling and it was a disaster. But then he finally caught a glimpse of shining eyes.

In the farthest back corner underneath the stairs a cat could possible get. We're not sure if she got back there and got stuck, because it was a pretty tight squeeze, or if she was just that much of an asshole that she wasn't helping us on purpose. He cleared some space and she gained some footing and ran like a shot out of that hidey-hole.

Directly into the part of the basement that's my storage and laundry area. Which by the way is where we had the majority of flooded items and it's relatively cleaned up back there.

Still couldn't find her.

So we said, "Fuck this shit!" and left for drinks. Several drinks.

Checked again when we came home, after she'd had a chance to calm down. We were vewy-vewy quiet. I mewed a few times, kitty-style. But I tried to keep it sounding like Friendly Kitty instead of like a big mean bitchy Girlie kitty.

I heard a mew. She finally peeped her little head out from the 2 inches of space between the furnace and the floor. She is an exceptional hider, we would have never found her there.

She did a good job of dusting.

The cobwebs blend in with her fur, but she had a little veil on over her face. I was kind of scared to touch her as webs frighten me, but in the interest of the Greater Good (getting that cat located and hauled back into the house), I did it. And then we took a picture, because at that point we needed to find some humor in the situation.

She came upstairs and had a good meal and a lot of pets, and stayed on the bed with us for a good long while. She pooped in the litter box (I don't even want to think about where she pooped/peed from Wednesday-Friday, but I'm sure one day we'll discover it). And all was right in the world.

Until 6:00 a.m., when I heard more hissing & running around the house. I jumped out of bed but didn't see anything.

She's been under the spare bed since. I fed her there, she's been through a lot.

She may have to go back to her original mama, despite original mama's allergies. I can't have a distressed, picked-on cat who hides under the bed. That's no good life. For her or us.

Timmy (downstairs) said he'd try her out, he only has 1 cat and a dog. He's not sure the cat will like it, but he'll try her out on Sunday when he's home, see how she does.

If that doesn't work, she'll have to go back. We really like her, she's a good girl, and I wanted to help her allergic mama out, but it may not be a good solution.

The upside? She was NOT in the walls. Because that would have spelled D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R.

Debut

2011-10-23T18:49:00.002-04:00

Here she is, our newest addition. She's pretty enough. She was out today, the other cats were on the back porch soaking up the last of a sunshiny day that October gratuitously offered.

She was rolling around in a little bit of catnip. Figure I should mellow her ass out a little bit, maybe she'll be more friendly to the other cats.

Kenny renamed her Ash, short for Ashley, since she's ash-colored. Sort of cute. Her name was/is Shaun. So far I just call her the new kitty.

Reality Bites

2011-10-23T12:58:00.002-04:00

Discussing the symptoms of iron deficiency with my friend, Mimi, trying to come up with a rational reason why I'm just so tired all the time. Some reason other than laziness.

Me: "Maybe I have an iron deficiency. I can sleep 12 hours and still be tired when I get up - no exaggeration."

Mimi: "Take an iron pill, that'll fix it if that's the problem."

Me: "I wonder what foods I need to eat to get more iron?"

Mimi: "Just take a pill. We don't need to find reasons to eat more food."

She has a point.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more

2011-10-22T12:31:00.003-04:00

So here's the boobie update. Good news, I get to keep 'em both! No cancer growing around in there - thank Garth, because that would have sucked and then this blog would have been even more detailed about the color of my poop and other stuff that you'd rather not know about. So shew, you're SAFE, Reader!

The thing is, I still have to have surgery. I'm still scratching my head about how NO CANCER can mean, "Well, get yourself some surgery anyway." Preventative surgery. There's one little spot, in the boobie calcification part, that they just don't like the looks of, so they're going to put me under, get out the melon baller and scoop it out.

Whatever.

I guess.

Better to scoop now than chemo later. And the lump was nothing, too, by the way. Two separate spots, one boobie. But it was sure much ado about nothing.

Then? They think I'm going to get mammograms every 6 months. I don't think so, no-siree. Once a year, max. I'm not getting extra radiation for what turned out to be nothing, so they can stress me the fuck out every 6 months.

I was perfectly happy (and healthy-boobied) prior to any mammograms. I don't think that sticking needles around in there and extracting parts of my body have done it any favors. I kept reminding the doctor, and my boobs, that they are for fun-and-games only, and are NOT to be taken seriously. I'm proud of my boobs for holding up their end of the bargain.

Boobtastic

2011-10-17T18:18:00.002-04:00

On to other things, Real Life Things, that aren't nearly as much fun as Vacation Things.

I endured my 2nd boobie biopsy today. This one was a joy, oh joy. I had to lie on a table, facedown, with my titty in a hole. Then they put a clamp on my nipple, pulled it taut (or so it felt like anyway), and advised me to stay perfectly still while they finagled the spot. Then they drilled in a hole, extracted some of my body parts, took it to x-ray to test and ensure they had enough of my body parts, and then I had to go and get a mammogram so they could note where the metal pieces are currently located for future boobie exams, which I was informed now has to occur every 6 months. Piece of shit news that is, and I'm not sure I am even buying into it, especially if all this is NOTHING. Why do we have to continually test a bunch of nothing and expose me to more radiation? But we'll jump off that bridge when we come to it.

So that's that. I'll know in a week. And now that the numbing stuff is wearing off, my boobie has some sharp and pangy-pangs shooting around in it, and I don't like it.

They advised me not to do any aerobic activities for 5 days, or do anything to bounce them around. I'll do my best to curb my exhaustive workout routine, although it will be difficult to just sit in the recliner for a few days and relax, you know how I'm a bundle of go-go-go all the time, huh.

I advised Mr. A that the doctor ordered me to have Popeye's chicken and a biscuit with honey today, and some Oreos and milk, to help me heal. He obliged on the Popeye's, but we didn't make it to the Oreos. Yet. The more my boobie pangs me, the more I think we'll follow Dr.'s orders and get those cookies tonight.

And the worst of it? I have to sleep in a bra and can't shower until tomorrow evening. I'm going to be a Stinky Pete tomorrow. And probably cranky to boot.

The Good Life

2011-10-16T13:15:00.004-04:00

Where were we? Well, right here! My toes were in that sand and they were happy feet.

We took a catamaran sail over from St. Thomas to St. Johns island, where we did some snorkeling and lollygagging around. We had a lot of this in our view, and it was good:

I was in this position. A LOT.

And sometimes, we canoodled on the balcony. Canoodle is a word that doesn't get nearly enough play, and should because it's fun to say and type.

Actually, I was on the balcony A LOT. Naked. I like to make that my goal on each cruise, to be naked on the balcony at least once, but I found myself out there every day naked for a little while. You couldn't see over unless you really craned your head around, and if you're that interested believe you me, you'll probably only want to look once. I'm - ahem - not 18 any longer. It's nice to get sun on things that never see the sun.

And we had really pretty nights, too, like this one in St. Maarten:

You can see the island lit up with life for the night, a cruise ship sails off, and the moon casts a beautiful glow over it all.

Because of the weather, we flopped our itinerary a bit and ended up in the Bahamas on the last day instead of the 2nd day of the trip. We went in during the afternoon, 2pm-7pm, instead of the 7am.-1pm crazy times we had originally scheduled. That stop is normally planned so early (not going to happen for me) and doesn't stay long enough, that we never get off the ship.

Since we were leaving during the nighttime for a change we got to see Atlantis lit up:

And we saw the Disney Dream leaving just before us, and it was lit up like a party:

The end.

Saddle Up & Ride

2011-10-06T21:02:00.004-04:00

So I came home after dark (from getting my manicure) and did some looky-looing in the window. Could see that lights were on, but everything looked obscured - somewhat. Like you were looking through a gauzy curtain into our life, which I guess is what you're doing (should anyone be so inclined).

One side-affect I hadn't considered: The sheer gauziness of them makes for prime Cat-Peek-A-Boo-Get-Each-Other shenanigans. I just had to use a Stern Voice with Toby & the baby to get them to knock their cat games off. At least knock them off in the curtains.

It won't surprise me if I come home and the curtains are pulled down onto the floor. It will irk me, but not surprise me.

Okay, I just got back from picking up my packing assistant (bottle of Moscato, all for Me Me Me!), and now my packing games must commence. Yes, I saved it til the last minute, late in the evening. Once again. But whatever, I'm relaxed about it (for a change) and know it will all get done. I chose to spend the glorious afternoon while the sun was shining on the back porch with the cats, finishing up the Hunger Games trilogy. Sad. :( That the story's over, that is. And I'm not sure I loved the outcome, but it was okay enough.

Now I hope that the book I've downloaded for vacation doesn't stink because I'm not sure what my download capabilities will be out at sea. If I chose wrong, it'll be one big sad face from me. I don't even know what I picked - I think Freedom by Jonathan Franz or something, it was a recommendation from someone, somewhere...there was a little yellow post-it-note reminder on my desk. Wait, that's not what I downloaded at all! I downloaded What is the What. No wonder I have Reader Reservations, it seems a little deep for vacation pleasures. I fear I'm going to have to succumb to the best sellers list and get a back-up plan in place. Stat. I'm going to throw a couple Harlequinn Romances in my suitcase for backup. And they'll guarantee Mr. A a little role-playing, which he won't object to. The one I bought involves a cowboy. I think he'll be up for a rodeo.

You're Soaking In It

2011-10-06T15:46:00.003-04:00

I survived the boobie biopsy today. I cried. Even before they did anything, my eyes started puddling up when I saw the lump looking so Big and Scary on the ultrasound machine. But the actual procedure didn't hurt, it was just the thought that they're checking you for CANCER that hurts. That blows.

But we go on vacation in the morning. I shall have wine tonight while I finish up around the house.

So what did I do last night, to prepare for vacation? Well, all practical things, naturally. I decided that was the night I just had to hang up the new curtains I purchased back in JUNE. JUNE. They've sat in the Target bag on a living room chair for 3 months, and the night I should have been packing for vacation? That was the night they had to get hung up. Now, to shed a little light on why they sat in a bag for so long, remember that bad back I had? Well, I wasn't really up to climbing around on chairs. And while I could have had Kenny do it, let's be real here. He doesn't excel at household activities.

They are very sheer. Much more appropriate for when I purchased them over the summer than as we head into winter. A really pretty gauzy linen, but I do need a couple more panels to fill them out, and they probably aren't still selling linen curtains in October. I hope they are, though. The room does look a lot more airy and bright, which we both like, but I do wonder how much of us walking around the neighbors can see. Because I tend to walk through the house naked every morning, after I've taken a shower, as I'm getting ready for work. It's my alone time, Reader. No one's up but me and the cats, and the cat's don't judge. But now the neighbors might. We're going to have to do some reconnaissance and see what they can see.

I really need to plan more vacations, they motivate me to get shit done around the house. I actually have the can of paint out to do some light touch up work that's been neglected for the past 3 years or so. No sense rushing around to do it.

I think the reason I get all motivated to do stuff before vacation is that I want to have something pleasant to look forward to when we come home. We stay in really nice places, I don't want to come home to a dumpy mess. Maybe we should switch our travels to camping. That way, the house in it's natural state of duress would be just fine.

Cats are out on the patio today, soaking up some sunshine. I think I will go join them and read for a half hour or so, before I get busy packing up. I need to get that done, so I can enjoy the evening with a manicure as the hardest thing I have to do.

Know When To Hold "Em

2011-10-05T18:59:00.003-04:00

I'm just so tired lately. I know, everyone's tired, but I'm tired!-tired. I can't get enough sleep, even when I should have more than enough sleep. The least little activity has me pausing for a little break (like now, I just carried up some laundry and fed the cats, needed a break). I think I'm abnormally tired and I fear it has something to do with the abnormality going on in my boobie area. Yes, that still hasn't been resolved. Tomorrow. I get Test 1 tomorrow. Then Test 2 on the 18th. So we'll know by Birthday Month if I am troubled & worried or celebratory & carefree.

And I hope to find out that I'm tired because I've just been so lazy for the past year(s) and it's finally caught up with me. Sitting leads to Sit-some-more syndrome, so I've been told. I've got that for sure.

Okay, I'm hauling up to go and do some things on my To-Do list, which involves more laundry (pre-vacation laundry, hooray, I love that), and tidying up the homestead.

I'd love a glass (or three) of wine, but can't have alcohol before the boobie probe.

In other, much much much more exciting news, Kenny was selected out of the 4000 people who applied for the new casino!! VERY EXCITING! They loved his exuberant personality. I figured it would either work for or against him, but luckily it was FOR. He starts 240 hours of unpaid training in December. But I think he's going to love it. And really? He needs to work at the new casino so he won't be able to gamble there. That'll be the only thing standing between him and 1-800-Gambler.

What's Cookin'

2011-10-02T23:26:00.002-04:00

Nothing much to say to round out the weekend activities here. I was tired this weekend. Slept til noon on Sunday, and had to make an effort to get myself out of bed at that. Sluggish all day, but made some food. Whipped up a pot of chili that was an experiment of sorts. We are low on groceries and not stocking up prior to our trip next week (hooray!). I added pumpkin to the chili per The Healthy Hoff. It's tasty.

I also roasted beets. Lookout, blood-red poop!

And I roasted some red-skinned potatoes with garlic cloves. They are okay. I was just using up stuff in the fridge.

I've got a big pimple on the tip of my nose. Kenny said it's starting to make requests. Tonight it requested Oreos and milk, so I guess he's right.

More later...I know, I know, you can hardly wait.

Party Animals

2011-10-01T11:05:00.002-04:00

Kenny: "How is it that we can have a sink full of dishes, and we haven't eaten one meal at home all week?"

Good question. I have no idea. But we do, and we didn't. The only thing I've "cooked" all week was my morning smoothies, which accounts for the dirty Vitamix sitting in the sink, that I hadn't rinsed out yet. Other than that, nothing was concocted here. Yet? A sink full of dirty dishes sits in the kitchen, awaiting to be addressed.

Kenny thinks the cats must host parties when we're not home. I'm not so sure he's wrong.

Or is it that Taco Bell smells like me?

2011-09-24T21:57:00.004-04:00

Sitting in my recliner this morning, reaching over for my cuppa coffee sitting on the little table, I smelled Taco Bell. Furrowed brow, wrinkled nose, wondering where in the world the smell of Taco Bell meat was coming from. And then I realized: ME. My armpits, to be precise. Smelled like Taco Bell meat.

AND I HAVEN'T HAD TACO BELL MEAT LATELY.

When I went to bed I didn't smell like Taco Bell meat. I don't know what happened during that REM sleep, but somewhere along the way I worked up enough of a sweat to smell like a fast food chain upon waking.

Now go. Get a taco. Think of me (my armpit) when you're eating.

You're welcome.

Just a Bunch of Sentences

2011-09-20T20:37:00.005-04:00

It's really wrong that I had bacon for dinner. While watching The Biggest Loser.

Ahem.

Proud? No. Full? Yes.

But the bacon wasn't really very good, it was too maple-y tasting. Twinkle Toes enjoyed it. And I had it originally planned as part of a BLT, but I don't like my new whole-wheat bread, and the tomato was questionable. So really, a sad dinner - sad for a number of reasons.

Kenny's up at The Islands (Put-in-Bay) for the night. Got a gig. He sounds like a rocker when I put it like that, huh? Kenny The Rocker. Pays $400 for the night, plus they put him up in a room and pay his meals, and his ferry ticket. So really, too good to pass up. I wish I could have gone with him, but I was busy at the Mines. And I had a Nerd Club contest to run today, which went well.

I need to be sitting here writing a speech for Nerd Club, for the Humorous Speech Contest we have next Tuesday, but I fear I only amuse myself (which is really the most important person I need to please).

What the hell is Anna Kornikova doing as a trainer on Biggest Loser?? Where'd the angular-faced Gillian person go?? What is HAPPENING in this world?? I can't rely on any constants! Sheesh.!

Okay, whew, calming down, I can understand using Anna, I guess. She's getting banged by Enrique Iglesias, lucky girl. She's got a good reason to be skinny and nimble.

I think I'm going to use my time in the house to get to bed early for a change. I planned that last night, too, and it was midnight before I was sleeping, with the additional pleasure of waking up intermittently throughout the evening. I've got Things on my mind, consisting of a lot of work and how I'm going to get it all done. Tonight I take Tylenol PM to avoid such interruptions.

There, I'm all sorts of excitement. Who wouldn't wanna be me.

Where My Nose Has Been

2011-09-18T11:03:00.002-04:00

Buried, that's where. Buried in some books. My latest fascination has been The Hunger Games trilogy. I downloaded the first one as a test for my new Nook reader that I received from My Lovah as an early birthday gift.

I wasn't sold on the thought of an e-reader, but decided on my last cruise that it was time. I hauled probably 12 lbs. worth of books to the Caribbean, and that's just too much haulin'. So I got one early, in time for our next cruise, to see how I'm going to like it. I got the color version, so that I can test out magazines & whatnot, too.

Verdict? I LOVE LOVE LOVE this thing! I worried that I was going to miss the whole "reading a book, holding a book, looking at the cover, reading all the details, sniffing the pages" experience. I did not. That was far overshadowed by the ease of holding a light-as-a-feather reader with one hand, being able to increase the font-size to accommodate my old-ass eyes, and having the backlight to further assist my late-night reading pleasures.

So I started with The Hunger Games, and was completely hooked on yet another YA reading selection. What of it, Reader? It's no secret I am known to enjoy the YA genre, including (but not limited to) The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants & Twilight series. I only indulged in the 1st of the Harry Potters, I found it enjoyable enough, but I guess I am more prone to teenage-angsty-lust - that has to comprise an element for me.

With The Hunger Games, we have another love triangle, between Katniss (main girl), and the two boys vying for her affections, Peeta & Gale. The tale is quite twisted, really, with a lot of death and the kids pitted against each other, having to kill each other until only 1 person remains. Sounds like a horrifying premise, and yet? I loved it. I just finished the 2nd book in the wee hours of Sunday morn, and am not going to download the 3rd until I get some things done around the house. Once I start these, it's really tough to be productive.

So that's my book review. Love my Nook, and I'm highly entertained by The Hunger Games.

Out of Date

2011-09-12T22:55:00.004-04:00

I can no longer deny that I am getting old. er. Older. Shopping over the weekend, I realized that I don't even understand clothes any more. It wasn't even at some speciality store, wherein perhaps it might be understandable if I didn't understand the clothes. This was at T.J. Maxx. And by "this" I mean, THIS:

No, it was not touted as a Halloween ensemble, thinking Slutty Prisoner garb. Nope, it was smack-dab in the middle of the ladies clothing selections, like it was trying to be part of the normal stuff.

Orange-barrel orange. Black lace inserts in the booby-ish area. Scrunch-up belt side things.

I did not understand it. I do not deserve the title that goes with shopping at T.J. Maxx, Maxamista. Or whatever that is.

Eye for an Eye

2011-09-11T13:45:00.002-04:00

I spent part of the weekend kal-EYE-doscope-ing myself.

If I only used my powers for good instead of inane, I would be so accomplished.

The Real Hunger Games

2011-09-09T21:11:00.003-04:00

Exhausted and happy the weekend is here. One reason I am happy is that it is promising to be a rainy weekend. Why happy over the rain, you ask? Because of my latest book addiction, The Hunger Games trilogy.

I downloaded the first one to my brand new Nook reader, and devoured it last weekend. And then I waited patiently til this weekend for the 2nd one, knowing that as soon as I start it nothing else will be accomplished.

A friend lent me her book, so I didn't need to download it (sad face, while I appreciate the freeness of the loan, I love love love reading on the Nook, especially in bed as it lights up and my old-ass eyes don't need extra lamps turned on and reading glasses).

That's the weekend plan. I hope to get a lot of rest, I fear I have a compromised immune system and I need to let it gather it's strength.

Oh, as an aside, we are back on Meatless Month. Except now we're ramping it up and I'm going vegan, too. So far that is very difficult and it's only been 1 day. Tonights supper was pea soup and grilled tomato sammichs. It wasn't the worst, but I think I took too many liberties with the pea soup recipe, compliments of The Healthy Hoff.

Meat Frenzy

2011-09-05T15:22:00.004-04:00

Other meats we ate this weekend, outside of the 12 oz. ribeye September-kick-off dinner include:

Ribs
Chicken sammich
Wings
Ham, cubed up in an omelet
Bacon - it was limp and not crispy, the way I like it, so it was very disappointing. Cracker Barrel serves the best bacon, and I should have gone there. Sad face :(
Sausage - breakfast
Hamburger - it was super delicious, but I only ate 1/2 of it
French onion soup - maybe they should spell it on'yon (see post below about the apostrophe designating all words as French)
Turkey sammich from Jimmy Johns (I really like their California sammich, but wouldn't miss it without the turkey at all)

We allowed ourselves one weekend of meat-indulgence, and are back on the meat-free wagon come Tuesday morn. We were to begin anew today, but have since decided to enjoy chicken tortilla soup for dinner from our favorite Mexican restaurant.

So, how are we feeling with all that meat? Not as poorly as I had anticipated, but I was meated-out by Sunday night.

It's been detrimental to my Oprah-approved poops, too. Things have changed this weekend down there, and not for the better. So I'll be happy to get back to an easier diet, but after the soup. My innards will thank me, I think.

Because It's Time For Another Cute Cat Picture.

2011-09-05T15:17:00.001-04:00

She's the prettiest princess in all the land.

More Conversations With Kenny.

2011-09-05T14:50:00.003-04:00

I have been off my pills since Thursday, and no good comes of it when I am sans anxiety meds. I didn't realize how much Mr. Anderson annoys the piss outta me when I'm not medicated. He only annoys me with his lack of household motivation. It's always about the house.

Anyway. While I was off on my tirade about his lack of proactively affixing the new toilet seat (that we purchased 2 months ago), I muttered something about, "I should have taken Eharmony up on their email offer for free dates this weekend."

Eharmony sent me some email about free date opportunities for the Labor Day weekend.

Mr. Anderson & I met on Eharmony. I think they forgot to add the "harmony" part to our relationship...

Anyway, the following convoluted conversation ensued:

K: "Four free dates?? How does Eharmony know how many dates you'll get in a weekend?"

T: "F-O-R, not the number 4."

K: "Well, if you need more dates, why don't you go for that guy you've been talking to lately? Your old boyfriend?"

Background story: My very first boyfriend, who took several of my virginities, connected with me via The Devil's Website, a.k.a., Facebook, back in June. We've been chatting it up on the phone for the past several weeks (well, we've chatted twice, but over the course of a few weeks). He has some problems, has had a challenging life, and we just chat a bit here and there because I think he could use a friend and well, why not. We've done nakey things with each other, I loved him long time at one time.

He was my first head-over-heels love story. I was Ka-RAZY about him. I have no idea why we broke up, but who cares, I was 17, it was 2 husbands and many other lovers ago.

Back to the conversation.

T: "That's the last thing I need, I don't need another ne'er-do-well."

K: "Ne'er-do-well? I've never heard of that word in my life"

T: "You are kidding, right? You are too dumb to date me." (I told you, I need my pills. I'm impolite without them).

I Google it, let him hear the audible so he doesn't think I'm the dummy, and read the definition to him aloud.

K: "So, it's Never-do-well"

T: "No, it's NE, then an apostrophe, ER, dash, d, o, dash, w, e, l, l. Ne'er-do-well. Not Never-do-well."

K: "Ah, so it's French."

And then I burst out laughing, because he is funny and it sort of makes up for his lack of household ambition.

p.s. - he was joking on that last part. I hope.

Bring Your Appetite

2011-09-05T14:02:00.004-04:00

Shopping for my very first time at Meijer in Michigan, I spotted this:

In a CAN, Reader! I morphed into a 12-year-old schoolboy as I guffawed and pointed. And I almost - ALMOST - didn't pick it up and put it in my cart. The regrets, I woulda had a few.

The label is so very appetizing. Dark spots against a fleshy, spongy backdrop. Who wouldn't want to put that in their mouth??

I decided then and there that I shall begin a collection of all food products that contain some reference to body parts, the more blushingly bad, the better.

I didn't even realize I started my collection with this purchase from some tropical island:

It's not just black, it's BIG, the label says so.

These items just beg to have a dinner party planned around them. The menu is practically writing itself, Reader.

Messing With My Playground

2011-09-01T21:49:00.003-04:00

My boobies have turned against me. The very boobies which I've adored and cared for all these years.

So I had my first mammogram, if you recall from my post about being naked at work. Stop shaking your finger at me, Reader - yes, yes I KNOW it's my 1st mammogram at 44. Sheesh.

My results finally showed up: "Inconclusive"

I called the diagnostic center for further clarification and to figure out my next steps, and I asked the lady if I should cash in my retirement and book my trip around the world. She said not just yet.

I have to go for a follow-up squishing, I hope to get in next week, before my retirement package flounders even further.

And I've informed Kenny that if it's Dire Boobie News, and Bad Consequences, we shall be spending some of my retirement funds on a going away party for them. I will wear a very pushy-uppy brassier and let people poke and pet them and get a photo taken with them while they are still here. I say "they" because if one has to go, they both have to go. I can't walk around with one giant bajonga, I'd rather walk on the wild-side of the flat-chested, see what it's like to be able to wear button-down shirts that don't gape open.

But seriously? Let's hope it doesn't come to that. They still have a lot of livin' to do.

p.s. - does anyone get the title reference?? Lemme tell ya, to stop your sleepless night... My dad used to tell a little joke, "Do you know why women don't have hairy chests?" Answer: "Cause grass don't grow on a playground."

And It Was Good.

2011-09-01T20:06:00.003-04:00

And Meatless August comes to an end.

September was ushered in with a 12 oz. ribeye.

It was fantastical.

I had worried/thought/considered the possibility that I may not enjoy a piece of animal flesh once my mouth grew unaccustomed to it, but lo, that was not the case. I enjoyed it just fine. My Mister did, too.

We had a very successful August with going meatless. We struggled to figure some of it out, one can only have potato & cheese pierogies so often, but we sort of found a groove. It wasn't entirely difficult.

However, this past week I found myself substituting ice cream in place of a substantial dinner meal. Last night I had a "dinner" of 2 slices of whole wheat toast with sliced tomatoes on it. Then, a few hours later, I wanted an ice cream cone so we went out at 9:45 p.m. for ice cream. That happened three times from Sunday to Wednesday. Ice cream cannot be dinner. Or can it?? I'm still not sure, perhaps that's the next experiment.

My Mister & I had planned to go meatless straight through to our October vacation, but then tonight? At dinner time? We said, "Fuck it, let's get a steak." And that's what we did.

He lost about 7 lbs., I lost about 5 lbs., and this is even WITH the ice-cream dinner menu. So it did us some good, and gave our systems a rest, and our pooping habits changed (not that they needed to, but we noted some differences in how our bodies were processing food), and I even started exercising this past week. I had more energy - finally.

Good things.

We're going to get back on the meatless wagon, right after Labor Day weekend. And then we will sail through on that plan until we sail away on our cruise ship in October.

We're Flexitarians.

Nike Can Suck It.

2011-08-29T07:29:00.004-04:00

Holy Monday. I decided to stop yakking about needing more exercise and just get up early and do something about it. I had planned to use my elliptical machine but couldn't get the t.v. to work. It was on "On Demand" and I have no idea how to get it off of that.

So I went with it, and On-Demanded a 10-minute total body workout. Yes, 10 minutes - stop judging.

Jeeeezuuuuuus.

10 Minutes.

I was out-of-breath-I-think-I'm-gonna-pass-out after 5. In my defense, we were going pretty fast and with a hand weight.

But really. I had to sit out for about 3 minutes of my 10 minute workout and catch my breath.

I'm sitting here sweating like I just ran a marathon.

It can only get better, right? Right??!

Seeing.

2011-08-28T12:22:00.004-04:00

Yesterday was my uncle's funeral. He died this past Wednesday, in the same hospice where Kenny's grandfather died in July.

The funeral was very poignant. There wasn't a lot of religiosity to the event. My cousins wrote and recited personal stories, as did their husbands and some of the kids. It was very personal and meaningful. Much more so than a bunch of biblical passages, in my opinion. But then I'm not one to be much for the biblical passages.

My mother's best friend, whom I haven't seen since my mother died in 1995, was sitting next to my father when I walked in. I didn't recognize her. Her face was familiar, but I didn't know who she was in the context of this setting. She had read about my uncle's death in the paper. I started shaking and crying when I realized who she was. I've missed her so, and didn't know how deeply rooted in me she was until I saw her sitting there. She was such an important part of my childhood and teenhood, she is in so many memories of my life, my mother, and me. She started crying and we hugged so hard, I didn't want to let her go. She hugged me back equally hard.

She quietly exited after the service, slipped out before I could say goodbye and my heart splintered a little when I realized she had gone without a word. But then, outside, my dad passed me a yellow slip of paper with her phone number, and the message to call her soon. We live close by. I want her back in my life.

My family is so fractured, I need her. She is my past, and one of the best parts of it.

So these types of encounters always lead me back to when I go for my spiritual blessings by Amma and Meera, who travel here from India teaching darshan. They dole out personal blessings, finding your deepest spiritual needs, and work to unravel the knots for you. I have had a lot of unravelled knots since I've been on the receiving end of their work.

"There is one truth that shines through all of creation. Rivers and mountains, plants and animals,

the sun, the moon and the stars, you and I—all are expressions of this one Reality."

Knock Boots

2011-08-27T12:30:00.004-04:00

We saw Crazy Stupid Love last night and Holy Mother of Mary, I can't keep my panties up. Two words. One man. Ryan Gosling.

Sorry Bradley Cooper, but I would cheat on you with him. You've got to be my #2 now.

Anyone think I can mold Kenny a little to capture some of this magic? Wardrobe? Hairstyle? I vow to make it my end-of-year mission,since I have very little* chance of bringing Ryan Gosling home. I'll have to adapt what I have.

*note how I use the phrase "very little", as if there is possibly SOME chance, no matter how minuscule? That's optimism right there, Reader. OPTIMISM. Glass-half-full-Girl, that's me.

So that's where we are today.

Other places we are today are 5 lbs. lighter for me due to Meatless August, and 7 lbs. for Soon-To-Be-Ryan-Gosling-Look-Alike.

I wasn't able to get back into the day-by-day reporting (I know, I know, you're disappointed) once I couldn't do a new page per day, but we've been following tightly to our plan. I haven't really been exercising like I need to, but maybe today? I don't know why it's so difficult for me to just do something, but I'm lazy, I guess. I had high hopes of getting up early (by 9ish, that's early for me, no judging!) but instead? It was 11:30 before I hauled up out of that bed. My Other Half had gone with his friend today, and the house was cold (thanks, central air), the pillow was soft, the bed was big, and it was just too delightful to prompt me to leave all that.

No wonder I have low chances of running into Ryan Gosling and taking him for my lover. Unless he just somehow magically appears next to me in bed, there's a good chance we won't cross paths.

Just A Day In The Life

2011-08-22T22:33:00.003-04:00

Monday.

What have we been doing? Well, I haven't moved to Montana or Wyoming and hooked up with a rodeo rider (although that still does sound quite sexy).

Here's what we've really been up to:

The Mister & I are sticking strong to our Meatless August. The Mister has lost 7 lbs, me, about 2 or 3ish. I don't really know. Enough to not be as thrilled about it but feeling better overall, so that's worth something.

It's not even really hard to do. I kinda would like a piece of Popeye's Chicken, or some bacon, but other than that, no worries. We went grocery shopping Sunday night and Kenny was quite skeptical when I threw vegetarian corn dogs in the buggy. He was convinced they would be terrible, but had to eat his words once he ate the breaded wiener. They were remarkably good.

I've got big plans to get up EARLY in the morning and go for a walk around the neighborhood. There are solid reasons, Reader, why I need to get a little exercise, but I'll save that recap for another time. But believe you me, I need to get a little cardio in my life. I'm a mess.

Restless.

2011-08-21T15:58:00.002-04:00

I am just creatively drained. I need a re-set. I don't know how to get it.

I fantasize about running away from Life, but I'm sure it would find me, wherever I went.

I'd like to get scooped up by a cowboy and live on a ranch. He'd have to wear chaps, of course.

I'd also like to go live on a tropical island, far away from it all, and not be scooped up by anyone.

I'd like to live by the mountains. I'd also like to live by a lake. But a pretty lake, in the mountains, not Lake Erie.

I need to figure out what I want.

Long Live The King!

2011-08-16T23:25:00.002-04:00

Goose Commemorates Elvis.

Yes, I had this outfit custom-made. The cats should really be more appreciative, that I don't dress them up. It could be so. So. Much worse.

It's All In How You Look At It

2011-08-13T13:07:00.004-04:00

I have been meaning to check out a park that I heard was just a hop, skip & a jump away from my house. I was skeptical that a park existed this close to me and I've never seen it in six years. I was told that it's a couple blocks down, then the street dead-ends and you follow this little path through the woods that ends in the park. The thought of following a little path through the woods sort of concerned me, I guess I lived in the 'hood of Cleveland for too long to just be meandering off through wooded parks on my own. After all, we had a homicidal serial killer from Cleveland, didn't 'cha hear?

My brother was over so I made him take a walk down the street with me in search of this park. I promised him ice cream at the end of the walk so he was on board.

Lo & behold, the street did dead end right to a little wooded trail. As we were making our way through it I expressed my concern about getting accosted/raped if I would take that adventure alone some day.

Chuck: "Uh, at your age, you might want to consider that a compliment."

On the Loose

2011-08-12T00:18:00.003-04:00

I had my very first mammogram today. At work. Can't get much more convenient than that, they bring it right there to ya, and it's free.

So I got one.

And now I chalk this day up to the first time I've been naked at work. Well, partially naked, but if the boobs are out, it counts as naked in my books.

Nothing Much.

2011-08-11T00:00:00.001-04:00

Huh. I can't add unlimited pages to track my Project 31 results. I know, you're sad, right? Cause you need to know what I ate for breakfast. and if I stretched. or whatever.

I'll have to condense and figure this out.

Let it just be noted that nothing special happened on Day 9 or Day 10. Smoothie with spinach. Vitamins. The usual.

Kenny's lost enough weight to be happy about it, and I made a good start too. I'm hungry now, and am going to go and try to ransack the kitchen. I'm sure I will come up empty handed as there's nothing there but zucchini and a big bag of tomatoes that just appeared out of nowhere on my kitchen table tonight. For which I'm grateful. And I don't even care where they came from.

Maybe Twinkle's been growing tomatoes in the back room, unbeknownst to me.

Blogapalooza

2011-08-07T13:10:00.004-04:00

No wonder I'm never well-rested.

You may or may not recall my love affair with pillows.

When I moved in with Kenny I threw out his most disgusting bed pillow and ever since we've been on a quest to find him a suitable replacement. I've spent hundreds of dollars searching for the pillow that will meet his needs, which are:

1/ to be able to ball up a giant pillow into a little square when desired

2/ to be able to create a pillow "tube" if desired

3/ have enough support without having TOO much support

It's been a challenge to meet his needs, because his needs are sort of stupid. Seriously, his pillows often end up in some really funky tube shape, of which I wish I had a photo to share, but we've thrown them out when they become this lumpy mess that he turns them into.

He's been yearning for pillows from The Wynn hotel in Las Vegas ever since our trip there over New Years weekend. I doubted they'd be all he dreamed they would be, but finally in July I looked into ordering one. I was apprehensive about the cost, the pillow cases alone were $400.

I bit the bullet and inquired. They were only $89 each, king sizers. Really?? I was dubious and asked the man about four times if he was sure that was correct, based on the cost of the cases alone, but he assured me that price was correct. So I ordered two. They shipped 'em up here.

Those Wynn pillows have not disappointed us. They are fantastical pillows. So fantastical, in fact that Twinkle, who has never been a pillow sleeper, has taken a liking to them and now retires to my pillow every evening. I put my old pillow at the top of the bed for him, but no-siree, that is not the one he wants. I can push him up to that one for a while, but then throughout the night he encroaches down onto my pillow, and I wake up more often than not with a cat ass in my face, or he just blatently puts his paws on my eyeballs, or decides I need my hair cleaned.

In Other News.

Kenny & I attended a wedding last night. It was held in a party center located at a campground that had all the fine makings of a horror movie. Beat-down looking trailers, a pretty lake, and the rustic, wood-sided party center. It would not have surprised me a bit if something rose from the lake and chased us with a slingblade. ~insert gutteral Ummm. Hmmm. ~

The party center itself was very nice. But it was the country. And a campground. Put those two together, and you get a septic system.

Kenny: "I walked into the bathroom and it smelled so much like shit, I turned around and walked out, thinking I'd already gone."

Ah, country living at it's finest.

And I Was Actually Very Polite!

2011-08-04T20:40:00.003-04:00

My receipt called me a bitch. Twice.

And I still left a $5 tip.

It's Not Weird If Both Do It.

2011-07-31T11:53:00.004-04:00

Guess which concert we went to Saturday night?

Kenny and I actually had a fight about this concert.

He was considering spending $300 on tickets and I put the kabosh down on that. He was pretty glum about missing the concert, and then 2 free tickets dropped into my lap. It couldn't have been better timing, either, it was right when his grandfather was so sick, and it was something for him to look forward to.

I told him if we're going to a teeny-bopper show, we have to at the very least wear Taylor t-shirts. I didn't need to twist his arm.

The concert far exceeded my expectations. It would have been worth the $300 tickets, really. And I'm glad that Taylor is finally 21, so it's not quite as creepy with all the middle-aged men in attendance. Kenny was not alone, oh no sirree. 13 year old girls and 40-something year old men, and the women who support their desires.

More Like a Twitter Than a Blog Update.

2011-07-28T22:18:00.003-04:00

I took a 4 hour "nap" when I got home from work today. Got up, ate 2 corn dogs and half a cucumber for dinner and I'm ready to go back to bed. I call that a good night.

But Wait! There's More!

2011-07-26T09:21:00.002-04:00

Day 2 Treelawn:

The city came and picked up Day 1, so we could reload. I don't envy that job, either.

The upside is, the basement is getting a good cleaning. And we're getting rid of a bunch of stuff. A lot of it was stuff we were hanging on to because it was good enough to keep, whether we used it or not. It wasn't trashable until now.

I do have an unharmed king size 3" deep pillow-top mattress topper should anyone be interested. It's stored in a large plastic container down there since Christmas, when Kenny's mom bought us a different mattress topper thingie. We paid about $150 for it, so see why I hate to just throw it out? But if someone has a king sized bed and would like it, please let me know. I'd like to give it away rather than store it, it's taking up a lot of room in that giant bin.

I also have 2 tail pipes for a Harley Davidson. See what I mean about being too good to just throw out, even though I'm not using them? I still couldn't bring myself to pitch them. I'm sure they would be valuable to someone. Kenny threw out the plastic protector thingie for his big screen t.v. He said they cost about $150 to buy, but he never used it/liked it on the t.v. So that was in the basement until now, too. He did put it on the treelawn. I told him to sell it on Ebay and he asked me how I proposed to ship it. Point noted.

I think I'll take pictures of those Harley pipes and post them up at work. I don't know anything about 'em, but maybe I could get $50. I'd be happy with that. Vacation Fund. Make something good happen out of all this.

Alrightie, I'm off to work. Heading in a little late this a.m., had to split 1/2 a muscle relaxer with Ken last night, we were both aching.

One Man's Water-Laden Trash....

2011-07-24T14:32:00.002-04:00

Can I just invite 'em all in, and they can haul it out for us? Wouldn't that be the more direct method?

Our watersoaked shit has gotten a lot of pickers today. It's like Christmas In July! Except not for us. For us, it sucks ass.

This isn't even 1 section of the basement completed yet. Most of this came from the area where I do laundry, which means I will have A LOT more room in there going forward.

I hate this month, by the way. We're getting the one-two-three punch. I know, I know, it's supposed to be the one-two punch, but we've gotten socked three times (dead cat, dead grandpa, flooded basement). Really a 5-punch smackdown since we're counting. I've had the bad back, and the sick/in hospice uncle. It's good to be me. Anyone wanna trade?

Basta!

2011-07-23T23:19:00.002-04:00

And now? Our basement is flooded. Just a wee tich, not deep, but all over.

Rather than Sunday-Movie-&-A-Nap-Day, we will be cleaning out the piles of shit in the basement.

I think this calls for another glass of Red Velvet Cupcake wine.

Perhaps one day life will calm the fuck back down. But not today.

Crossing Over

2011-07-18T23:22:00.002-04:00

January 21st, 1919 - July 17th, 2011

Kenny's grandfather Stanley died Sunday night, around 11:30 p.m. He lived to a very long 92, with all but the last few years in relatively good health.

We drank beer together and talked about golf, until his Alzheimer's stole that from him (and us).

He loved a good polka (100% Polack, he was), loved the game of golf (played til he was about 88, I believe), loved to sing, dance, and his bride Margie. They were married 69 years. Something to strive for, Reader.

I still cannot believe we've lost both Stanleys this year. May they find each other on the other side.

Temptress.

2011-07-17T20:08:00.004-04:00

I plan on spending the evening getting acquainted with thee. And finding out if you live up to the implied deliciousness of your name.

This Is Life, The One You Get - So Go And Have a Ball.

2011-07-17T11:29:00.004-04:00

This weekend I am learning what hospice is all about. It's not a fun weekend, but we are finding some measure of comfort.

That is all we can ask for some days. We shall see what today brings.

Why This Family Belongs With Me.

2011-07-09T00:10:00.002-04:00

Tonight we went and visited Kenny's mom Linda & grandmother Margie at the grandparent's house. Grandpa Stanley is doing shitty, with extra "itty." Whatever that means. He's back in the hospital, moved by ambulance from the rehab facility today as he has developed pneumonia. Just a tich of it in the lower lung, but it must be stopped. Grandpa Stanley is 92, by the way.

So we visited. And I was pleased as punch to realize that despite all the crying Margie has done today, she still has her bawdy sense of humor.

Kenny: "What's this hundred dollars doing on the counter?"

Margie: "Your mom and I work at night."

Kenny: "What?? You two come home from the hospital and start whoring around??"

Margie: "Yep. That's Linda's from last night. I charge more."

Did I mention Margie is 91?

She told me later that, "Well, they pay for experience, right? I've got a lot of years, of course I'd get more!"

I *heart* her. And it was nice to leave 'em with a good chuckle after the stress of the day.

It's a Girl!

2011-06-30T20:32:00.002-04:00

Survived Day 1 back at the Mines. I was tired by 2:00. No real surprise there, though.

They had a welcome wagon awaiting for me, complete with pink balloons festooned around my cube. One coworker wrote, "It's a Girl!" in black magic marker on a balloon. It made me SOL (smile-out-loud).

Got a basket of daisies, a little box of toffee chocolates and later on another friend brought me some posies in a vase.

I should get injured more often. This is a pretty good haul.

All-in-all, it was good to be back and talking to different faces. I think Kenny was equally thrilled, he never called me all day, and only sent me one email in response to one I sent him. I'm sure he was busy "horsing around" (that's what I told him he does all day).

Tomorrow's Friday - it was good thinking on my part to ease back into life with a couple short weeks. My brain has been on hiatus, it's hard to be a responsible adult all at once.