Set to Jet

I really need to find a balance between how long I am gone and how long I can stand to be gone because although I was enjoying myself, by Monday, I was ready to go home. I still had a whole nother day.

My last day in SD tends to be jam packed with visiting all the people I hadn't gotten to yet and trying to see the things that I love to see. People and things. Then a rush to the airport.

This time, when my mom asked what I wanted to do and who I wanted to see, I was a little more difficult about it. Sure, there were people I wanted to see, but mostly, I just wanted to relax.

We settled on Lunch and the Spanish Village, an area at Balboa Park where artists can rent studio space and sell thier wares. It's always a neat place to go to see what other people have made and sometimes, if they are feeling chatty, to talk to them about the creation process. It's one ofmy favorite things to do in San Diego and I am glad we chose it. We also had time to walk around the park a bit. San Diego is stunning this time of year. It was warm and full of flowers.

Since it is cold where I live, I forget that you can go outside there in the middle of winter without freezing so I didn't spend as much time outside as I probably should have.

Either way, I wandered about with a silly grin on my face and enjoyed the quality time with my mom. You just can't beat that.

Remember how I'm not that into kids?

Christmas day yawned quiet and empty for me. We did our celebrating in the days before (Pie had to work on Christmas) and by the time the 25th rolled around, everyone had gone their seperate ways and my mom and I were left to our devices.

She had plans to go to her Boyfriend's house for presents with his family. I knew I could tag along, but also knew that I would be a bit uncomfortable. I don't know any of them well and thought that I might be smarter to go somewhere where I would be comfortable.

I chose to go experience Christmas morning with two of my favorite children. These are two kids on the previouse list. They belong to K&J and are, like my biological neices, the product of two of the people I love most in this world. When I asked if I could join them, J said to bring my Joy. I couldn't help but smile, Saturday's post hadn't published yet.

I'm so glad I went. Those two girls are fantastic, and the adult company was great too. There was, as always, a great deal of laughter and I got to spend some time with their dads too; both of whom have been in my life for a very long time. It was nice seeing them.

Although I was missed at the Bf's house, I think I made the right choice with where I spent my morning. I will be smiling about that for a while to come.

In a candy and booze filled coma

Thankfully it takes a heckofalot more alchohol than I consumed on Friday night (this was when we had our Christmas Dinner) to cause hangovers, but between the candy and the booze and the good food (I only had ONE PLATE!!) All the good I did early in the week was deleted by all the overindulgence of the weekend.

Mind you, I did take a run on Friday morning, which mentally felt GREAT, but I paid for in soreness and muscle fatigue for three days. I had to keep laughing at myself every time my muscles would give out. I looked drunk and walked drunk, but after Friday's indulgence, did not have anything else to drink. Except water. I even forgot to drink my rootbeer, a Sprechers I picked up during Thanksgiving.

I don't get why it's so easy to fall out of shape. Boy do I have my work cut out for me!

But Saturday, Saturday was lovely. The designated time with my family exchanging carefully chosen gifts is my favorite part of the holiday. Seeing my neices play with the things I gave them made me happy, and it was fun to see what everyone chose for everyone else.

Stockings, in our family, are a group affair. Each of us brings a few things to add so that the financial burden doesn't rest on one person. Then, everyone gets a variety of goodies and lots of surprises. There were two hits this year. Well, three, but Starbux cards are kind of cheating, everyone loves those. Firstly, Brother presented his monitary gifts in oragami form. And there isn't one of us that wants to unfold them. And then... the mini tiaras.

I have a great love for tiaras anyway. They are sparkly and they sit on your head. I have a small collection of them. They get loaned out and occasionally worn for special occations like birthdays, Halloween, and New Years. I might make it a goal to get pictures of all my friends wearing one; including the menfolk. I can think of two I have already. Hmmm.

Meanwhile, there were tiaras in the stockings. And we wore them all day. When Seester left to go to her in-laws, she made it quite clear- I was to show up that evening wearing mine.

And I did. When I got there, she was wearing hers. Maddy was wearing one (that didn't last long) and when her cousin and brother in law showed up, they donned one too. It was silly, it was harmless, it was fun. It was (excepting the food which is ALWAYS fantastic) the highlight of my evening (well that and educating the gathering regaring El Caganer)

It's funny how a small plastic item can be so much fun.

You want to do something NOW???

The "pearl". for two years it's been sitting there all bump like and not really doing anything. Today, when I was getting dressed for work, I noticed that there is something going on back there. No time to check it out, now I get to worry about it all day. The Doctor warned me that it might um, er, take care of itself (gag) but DUDE! I have an appointment to have it removed in just a couple of weeks! What if it um, well, (gag) while I am at work???

All I know is that I am NOT going to google sebacious cysts because I KNOW it's going to be super gross and if there is anything I hate, it's being super gross. Seriously. I have a phobia.

And now back to your regularly scheduled nicey nice.

I know it's kind of cheating a lot to schedule my posts. (this one is not scheduled) but rather than ramble for pages and pages and then offer up NOTHING for months, I thought I would post when I need to and then if there is already something going on that day, just schedule it for the next day. I'm a little ahead of myself, I know. but at least I am writing again. And pretty much every day, you just don't know about it until later. Except right now. This needed to be shared.

I am not a fan of kids

We know this. Excepting the little ones who belong to people I already adore, I don't generally have use for children. Especially the ones under 5. I think, there might be 10 (under 8,) kids total, in the whole wide word who I will go out of my way to see. the older ones are easier because they talk to you. Sometimes a little too much, but they also don't have diapers.

My BFF and her Hubby. The Loan Shark Prodigy. My nieces.

So when I returned from last minute shopping with Pie and her BF, to two little munchkins, I couldn't help but smile. And give them each a squeeze. And when the little one plopped down on the floor and asked for tickles in her way, well, I knew that that feeling right there, is what life is all about.

That doesn't mean that I didn't hand her RIGHT over to her dad when her diaper was full. that's my right as an Aunt. to avoid diaper duty forever.

Happy Landings

I was standing in line at McDonalds (eew) getting food before my flight when I noticed a couple of people in Santa hats. i must admit, I got a little snarky in my head because I am not a Santa hat wearing kind of person unless it's a special, short, occasion. like passing out gifts or the Santa Crawl. My first thought was that I needed to send a text bitching about it, and my second thought was that there was nothing positive about that sort of behavior. That really, I was being an asshole.

Fast forward a couple of hours and I have landed. As I exited the terminal towards the baggage claim area, I noticed a small group of people all in Santa and elf hats waiting for someone. Seeing them there made me smile. And I thought that it was a little sad that they weren't my family because that's the sort of crazy I love.I'm sure they have no idea what I was grinning at.

Complete turn around from my earlier thinking? Yes. But I can accept that. I was being crankypants and I can be thankful for two things.

I didn't spread the bad attitude.
I found joy in an unexpected place

Another Joyful day

It's not that I have trouble finding things that make me smile, it's that I seem to have collected a lot of negative influence over the last year or so. I caught myself yesterday.

You see, the blogosphere is full of all sorts of people. And some of them are HILARIOUS!! Sometimes they are hilarious because they live a funny life, and sometimes they are funny because they make fun of other stuff. I can't help it. I read a lot of those. I'm not going to stop. Because it makes me smile and well, there's no harm in it as long as I don't follow too much in their footsteps.

There are other blogs that are funny or interesting because they talk about day to day frustrations. I found one of those recently. I started reading the whole thing from beginning to end (which, having done that a couple of times recently is actually a daunting task!!). As I read, I didn't just start feeling thankful for my relatively quiet and drama free existance (relatively.), I started thinking about all the crap that does sometimes rain around here and I felt my attitude slipping.

I felt myself becoming more negative in thought by reading other people's negative thoughts.

Being that I'm all "bring on the joyfullness" these last couple of days, I noticed what was happening and closed the blog. I don't think I will return. I know that those people needed to get that stuff off their chest just as I sometimes need to get things off MY chest. But I can't read it if it's going to bring me down. I just can't. I've been feeling the happy the last couple of days. Like I SHOULD be feeling as opposed to how I have been feeling.

Baby steps.

What made me joyful today? Recently, my coworker was officially given a promotion. While she is now over me in a supervisory manner, I have always looked to her for direction and assistance so it isn't much of a change for me. And her attitude towards me hasn't changed. She directs me the way I like to be directed and I really like that. I already feel like I am a better worker since she took over and I am happier in my job. Last night she talked to our manager about her raise, and whatever it will be, it made her happy and excited. And that makes me smile. I like knowing that she will get paid what she deserves and that she will be able to breathe just a little easier and provide that much better for her little family.

I've been grinning like an idiot over it all day. It's always fun to find true, heartfelt joy in other people's success.

I am a dreamer

There's no time like the present to be more joyful, and what better day than Christmas to post my first bit of joy?

Last night, after deciding that I was going to commit to posting joyful things (don't worry, there will still be rants!) I went to bed. And I, of course, had a dream.

In my dream, I found something that made me happy. So happy that I knew that I had started right away on my joyful journey. So happy that I woke up with a smile on my face. It was somthing I had forgotten about in my grumpy attitudes, and I was so thrilled, in my dream to rediscover it.

I sure do wish I could remember what it was.

The Results are In

The good (GREAT) news is that I am healthy. My liver, kidneys, pancreas, and thyroid are fine. No sign of disease in any including Diabetes. Thank goodness. The only thing they found was that I have elevated cholesterol (on the high side of normal) but given my fairly high protein diet, I am not surprised about this. I have already switched to low fat milk (yes, i am a whole milk girl!) and will likely downgrade to nonfat soon. I already eat more chicken than beef and will try to replace some chicken with fish, something I have been doing lately anyway. I've already cut back on my cheese intake, but will try to cut back further and I will be adding oatmeal back to my diet and practice starts up again in two weeks.

The not so good news is that the above mentioned great diagnosis does not explain my moodiness and mood swings. Or the absent mindedness which, my seester says has everything to do with being medically blonde. And it means that in addition to practice, I am going to have to have to add more exercise in. I hate the gym but I dislike gaining weight even more.

I'm not complaining, it was good to get that worry (lingering for many years) off my mind. I am greatful for my health. Now that I know I am healthy in body, I can start working on my mind.

I think I've gotten away from what I consider to be my purpose in life which is to Bring Joy. Perhaps it is because my own joy seems to be elusive of late. I'm sure that I lost one for lack of the  other. I'm not sure. I do know that when I am joyful, it is catching, so I will be looking for mine again and likely posting it here so I don't lose it again.

Do you think I can do it? Do you think that I can achieve what so many other happy bloggers have done? Can I blog 365 days of joy? Is it cheating if I prepost? I'm already ahead of myself here.

The right place

I've been bitching a lot lately about my bad attitude and how I just want to feel normal again.

This weekend I feel like I started getting back on track.

I did some volunteer work, I spent some time with a friend who I have felt, for awhile, that I could take less for granted. I performed a wedding ceremony and while I don't party like the wedding party parties, I was still glad I went. It was wonderful sharing the bride and groom's special night. It was a busy weekend but in the end, I still got a few chores done and felt good about the way things went.

The only thing that I didn't get to do? Well, I know the chances of that were slim and thankfully, I was ok with it. No hose beast, just a shrug and a snuggle with my dog.

This weekend, I think I was right where I was "supposed" to be. It was a good feeling.

Apprehension

Of course, by the time you read this, I will have an aswer, but I still need to get it out...

I'm afraid of my results from Saturday.

Part of me wants there to be an answer indicating that there is a problem. That will explain why I have so much trouble with my weight whether I exercize or not. Read: I still gain if I exercize. I lost a good 10 or 20 pounds and it came right back even though my activity level and eating habits didn't change. In fact, my activity level went up.  I still gain if I drop calories. In fact, dieting makes me crazy. Not in the cheeky "dying for a donut" way, in the psycho hose beast kind of way that I know isn't me.

The other part wants to hear that I am normal and that I need to eat more salad and exercize more and I will be fine. I don't really want to take a pill for the rest of my life. I don't want to have to check the box that says "thyroid issues" when I fill out medical information. I don't want to have a pre-existing condition. I'm pretty sure that this is just vanity talking. Goodness knows, I have plenty of it.

Either way, I miss feeling normal and I haven't really felt normal in a long time. Less so lately. I blame some of that on not having skated or done any "real" exercize in the last couple of months. I'm falling apart. my neck and shoulders are so tight I pulled a rib out last weekend sleeping (alone) and another one out last night reaching for a nearly empty box of borax. I haven't really slept well since last week because it hurts to move. I'm a side sleeper and can't sleep on either side after last night. I'm pretty sure I sounded like a buzz saw since sleeping on my back makes me snore.  I've had a headache for three days. Ibuprophin doesn't touch it. Yes, I have seen my chiropractor. I'm thinking of seeing him again today. Tension, my friends, is a terrible thing. I don't really know where it's coming from. I mean, I have some idea, but I don't know if it's accurate. It could be the lurking hose beast.

She's always around the corner. She can be tamed with food. protein and carbs. I've learned to be afraid of her. Enough that I got up before 7 to avoid a meetup because I knew that if I fasted too long, she would appear. Last night, food didn't help. Maybe I ate too early. Maybe I didn't eat the right things. Maybe it's not a food issue at all.

Maybe I just need to get myself past the holiday season and get my life back in order.

More Shameless Bubbly Creations Promotion

I try not to market here on the old personal blog because, well, if you wanted to know what the business was up to you'd head on over to the Bubbly Creations Blog or you'd like BC on Facebook (search bubblycreationssoap).  But I figured that you might not know that there is fun stuff going on over at the blog and on FB so I'd better tell you. Unless I already did in which case, I'm getting old and am that lady who tells the same story over and over.

In all seriousness, I'm doing some pretty fun (so thinks I) shit through the mail and if you would like to get in on it, I would recommend getting on my mail list by shooting your information to gina.bubblycreations.com. If I already have your address from Secret Crafters or you are in my family,

While I'm at the promotion game, I talk a bit more about derby and post more pictures of our bouts on Grace N Motion's FB page if you want to go like that one too. I'll really start talking it up once we are practicing again!

Disorderly eating part 4

Don't get me wrong, I know I could try harder. But I also know that I have come a really long way from the kid who ate 1 meal a day to a woman who makes sure that she has plenty to food to eat throughout the day.

I can no longer skip meals. I used to periodically turn evil, now I turn evil and then into an emotional, paranoid mess. Thankfully, I am rational enough to question whether what I am feeling is reasonable or if, perhaps, I need to eat something. This is all very recent, the emotional rollercoaster, I'm still learning to deal with it. Believe me, no one needs to see me spontaneously crying in costco while I decide whether I should have a hot dog now or wait and eat something "real" when I get home. (Neither. I had Qdoba. Way too much food but so, so, tasty. And better for me than a hot dog. I even skipped the cookie)

I try to add more veggies to my diet. I try to portion my meals instead of eating everything in sight like a ravenous dog not certain where her next meal will come from. I no longer have donut emergencies. Actually, since I don't have ready access to a snack machine, I don't crave sweets like I used to. I do have trouble if it's on my desk or in the break room. I still want to eat what I see. I try to eat nuts or craisins for a snack if I get hungry; that is what is in my "snack" drawer now instead of donuts.

I'm not sure if my bad childhood eating habits brought me to this place of crazy or if it is genetic, but there is a thyroid test in my future which is your past because I am preposting. I'm sure I'll let you know what the outcome is. I can't starve myself (I can barely go one a gentle diet without getting all spacey at the end of the week), and I shouldn't have to exercize constantly (reasonably, yes) to maintain a healthy body weight.

It's possible that my bloodwork will come back normal and that I do indeed have to exercise constantly and cive up cookies completely. Part of me hopes not. The other part doesn't really want to be on meds for the rest of my life.

By the time you read this, I may even have answers.

Disorderly Eating Part 3

Moving, this time, turned out to be much better for my eating habits. I started developing better ones. There was an abundance of top ramen and if we could afford them. cup o noodles. We ate a lot of chicken. I started learning how to cook since my mom was often gone at work or school.

Suddenly, I had resonsibilities, and at 15, I wasn't going to fall behind. I learned to pack myself a lunch most days, or, I could use baby sitting money to buy. Sadly, I have a sweet tooth and would binge on donuts and such. earning an admonition from my cohorts that eating like that would make me fat.

I didn't think so though. At least, I thought, I was eating. Still skipping breakfast, but eating lunch and dinner. A lot of dinner. I was a growing teen. by 15 I was done growing up, but not done growing out. But the time I graduated, I had gained 40 pounds but was still pretty small.

Americorps brought regular breakfast, lunch, and a diner that usually consisted of rice and gravy if we were on base. I started getting concerned about my weight so I tried to offset with salad, but the way I liked it. With plenty of cottage cheese and thousand island dressing. I fasted on the full moon like I thought a good little witch should.

Until I nearly passed out on the job one day. After that, I didn't skip days of eating, just meals.

Since then, I have been fighting the food monster. I either binge or starve (until recently. more on that later) Sometimes I am able to keep myself on a healthy diet. I don't binge on sweets like I used to. (there was a time when I would have what I called "donut emergencies" where I absolutely had to have a packet of donut gems RIGHT NOW. I would buy several at a time and keep them at my desk) I've been chunky, I've been close to the weight I was when I graduated. It always comes back. Even when I am good about not eating sweets. It comes back. Even when I exercize, skating 4 or more hours a week, it all came back.

Tales of disorderly eating part 2

You would think that by realizing that there was something wrong with my eating habits that I would change them, but remember, kids are lazy.

And then we moved. No more friends (at all, really) with free lunches. If my new friend or two noticed that I didn't eat, nothing was said. I'm sure I was simply the weird new girl who never had lunch. Among other things. I didn't fit in well in my new school.

Somehow I got through Jr High without starving to death. I ate heartily at home and learned all about Grandma's Double Chocolate Cookies which were only 75 cents. I could generally find that on my parents dresser without them noticing. I was young and skinny. I thought I would always be young and skinny. I still think I should be!

Freshman year, I was adopted by my sister's friend Cong who, when he discovered that I didn't eat lunch, took it upon homself to make sure I ate lunch every day. Cong became my  "brother" and my protector, making sure none of the other boys could get near me to ask me out on a date. I gained 25 pounds in the first few months of 9th grade (was still all bones and boobs) and eventually rallied against kind Cong's overprotective ways. I have often wondered what happened to him. I hope he is well and happy. Seester might know.

Then we moved again.

Tales of disorderly eating pt 1

I'm sure I have mentioned over the past (many) years that I am convinced that I have an eating disorder. I think much of it stems from the fact that I never really learned to eat properly.

I'm not talking about my need to completely overstuff my mouth every time I eat pasta, although I have to admit that this is definately an eating disorder. I thought it was in my head until my Seeseter mentioned one adult day that I can't seem to eat pasta without overstuffing my mouth with it.

The way it began, I believe, was with pure laziness. I remember being a wee monster and being fed wonderful things like egg burrios and cereal and the not so wonderful concoction known as Spinach, Eggs, and Cheese which looked a lot like green eggs and cheese and tasted rather gross. I still hate canned spinach. FRESH spinach, eggs, and cheese, however, brings me great glee now that I am an adult. As a kid I probably would not eat it. I was picky. There were no hot dogs in there.

As I grew, so did the responsibility over myself grow. I'm not sure when I stopped being fed breakfast, but I do recall walking to school munching on a carrot. Or maybe a banana (this was pre banana allergy). I didn't really like bananas all that much so I was far more likely to be eating a carrot. This evolved into me skipping breakfast all together once I learned how to jump out of bed at the last possible moment. I blamed my parents, of course. There was never anything to eat in our house. (read, children are lazy)

Sometime as I was developing my non breakfast eating habits, my mom stopped making me lunch. I think I was 9. That year, I lived on peanut butter or peanut butter and butter sandwiches. Sometimes I would snag money out of the change jar over the washing machine. Sometimes I would borrow from the office. But mostly, it was peanut butter on white. Why, you ask, didn't I have jelly? I still hate when the jelly soaks through the bread liks a sandwich bruise. and for pete's sake, I was NINE. I hadn't learned that you can put peanut butter on both sides of the bread and then the jelly doesn't soak thorugh.

It didn't take very long before I was skipping lunch too. (Remember. Children are lazy) By 6th grade, my friends who got free lunch would sometimes give it to me while they spent their allowances on cookies and such. I can recall one dinner conversation whereas my parents went around the table asking what we all had for lunch. When it came around to me, my reply was, "a dorito". They either didn't realize that I meant one chip, not one bag, or (as I thought) they didn't care. I think that was the moment when I realized that there was something wrong with the picture.

Wii Lied to me

Ok, it didn't, I just like the title.

I'm not sure if I mentioned that after 3 years of waiting, I finally got myself a Wii. With the Fit. Because I was totally going to play that shit. More than Mario cart. (this is true so far) then, more than Kirby's Epic Yarn (also true. They were about even for awhile) then, ok, I never lied to myself. I didn't think I would Wii Fit more than I play Cake Mania.

I think I have more games for the Wii than I ever did for my original Nintendo. If not I am close. Same with the N64 (which is still in my garage. I had Mario Cart for that too. When they come out with Wii Rampage, I shall never be seen again)

I never actually shopped for games for my first consoles, I would save up and buy them or borrow them from my friends who seemed to have video games coming out of thier ears. With the N64, my boyfriend at the time would choose them. Which is why I have Golf and Goldeneye. I don't play those, I much prefer the silly games. I laughed for MINUTES the first time my Rampage character ate one of my opponents. Little nakid people running around everywhere... All that laughing got me eaten. Damnit.

Meanwhile, I was working... um, on the Best Buy website because they are having sales and finding ALL sorts of fun games that will eat my time in a totally relaxing non productive way. If you know me at all, you know that I think I have to be productive ALL THE TIME. Which is not atually healthy.

But, if I can pretend I am being unproductive but I'm actually DOING something, well, that's a good thing, right? Like how skating feels like playing but I am really exercizing. And the Wii Fit Hula Hooping thing makes me feel like (a complete dork) I'm goofing off but boy, it works my abs. Until they hurt so much that I switch the work to my knees. Kinda defeats the purpose but I'm still moving, right? I didn't give up, right?

The awesome thing about the Wii is that I can exercize and feel like I am playing all at the same time, which is why I kind of want Gold's Gym Dance Workout (it has music I like. For example, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun instead of Katy Perry crap. Nothing against KP, I just don't like her music. Which is fine. She can totally be popular without my vote) and also Dance Like You're on Broadway!! (Time Warp anyone?) and Jeopardy, which will exercize my BRAIN. and OH MY GOODNESS... JUST TAP?? Will it teach me to tap dance? I already have the shoes! (which I cannot wear in my house because my tile floors are REALLY slippery) I tried to learn by way of YouTube but that guy's beginner video was really hard. I'm old. My feet don't do that yet and SLOW DOWN YOU BASTARD! Fuckin YouTube.

So of course I had to look closer at it. It's not about Tap Dancing at all! You put your controller in a box and bang on the box and see what happens. Totally lame. No wonder it's only 5 bux.

I got my hopes up for nothing.

But I'm not, I promise! Am I?

I probably would have brushed it off if he had been the first to say it. But he wasn't.

I could own up to it without a problem when Patty asked if I had some sort of issue with her last spring. No, that, I could see. I was under a lot of stress and for awhile expressed my frustration in a very negative manner. I turned into a complete bitch. That was my wake up call, last spring, to shape up because it's one thing to feel bitchy, but a whole other to be mean. Patty hadn't done anything. I told her that, and apologized.

Then, a couple of months ago, after I reconnected with an old friend and neighbor, it kind of happened again. He posted something melancholy on FB and I responded. I said I was sorry to hear he was going through that thing. And I was. I've been through the thing he mentioned. More times than I can count. More times than you know. He responded that he was expecting something sarcastic and mean. This from someone I hadn't seen in at least ten years. What kind of impression did I give at the wedding? What did I say? What did I post to FB that said that I am cold and callous? I know I wasn't always nice back then, but what 14 year old is nice to the younger boy next door? Not that he deserved it, but that I had hoped I had grown out of that. We're both adults now.

Brother lost his phone last weekend. And I admit, my response to his FB post about it could easily be taken the wrong way. He didn't know if I was being sarcastic or kind. I was being kind. I really did think it was sad that he lost his phone, he was very excited about it. He waited a long time to get it. It wasn't really lost, it turns out, but stolen. Even worse.

And then the text. The one that said that I'm not always nice. The one that I could brush off as kidding if it didn't ring true.

I didn't set out to be a mean girl. Jack said that it isn't that I am mean, but that I don't always think about how things will affect other people... But that doesn't sound like the person I want to be either. I'd like to know when I changed or if I have always been this way. It is not who I want to be.

It's  obviously time for an attitude adjustment.

I catch myself at work a lot. Bratty laughs at me because when I catch myself I declare that I'm not going to bitch for "x" amount of time. But truly, I just want to break the cycle of complaining. it brings down morale. Mine and Her's. That's also not who I want to be.

I need to rediscover the me that I like. If only I could figure out when I lost her.

A project that brings back memories

In the heady days after I moved to Reno almost 4 1/2 years ago, I might have talked a little too much about the goings on at work. I don't think I said anything inappropriate that couldn't be found posted freely on craigslist, but I tried not to talk bad about my new employer then, or I'm pretty sure even now.

I avoid talking crap about them because I live in a small area and I don't need to be making enemies of important people. Or any people.

I was just given a project that will make the new hire experience in my department easier and happier and I was reminded of my first day of work in that establishment.

I posted about it here. I noticed that I didn't mention the leaky sewer pipe over my desk, and I'll tell you now, it was a lot worse than I described, but I wanted to maintain a good attitude and show them that I am the rockstar I pretend to be.

Since then, I have paid attention to how new hires are brought into a company. I think most companies probably fall short when bringing on new people because there is so much going on in every day activity that it is easy for the details to fall through the cracks. The last one? well, it was a new building and we had some growing to do, but I think I had a handle on my stuff by the time I left. I don't know if they are continuing with the stuff I did, but at least I know that for awhile, each new associate recieved their safety tools and locker combo during orientation along with a welcome note and some candy. Little things that make you feel welcome and loved.

I'm excited to have the opportunity to help develop something similar here.

Anything you do can and will be difficult

My brain is full of brilliant ideas. BRILLIANT IDEAS.

Most of the time. When I decide to try to bring these brilliant ideas into fruition, I call it scheming. Sometimes, the scheming goes somewhere (hello soap business), sometimes it hits a wall, (ahem. secret crafters) and sometimes it never gets beyond the planning stages because when I am scheming, I like to figure out all the logistics and everything because I am a freak like that.

So, for our meeting next week I got it into my head that instead of plain old boring place cards, I would do little gifty packages whith everyone's name on them.

I ordered all the supplies and started my scheming.

The boss lady decided she wanted place cards after everything had already arrived.

Whatever. Gifties for everyone. Looking like something I saw on Pinterest when I could still see it at work. Awesomness.

Except the wrapping. I thought, GEE it sure would be easiest if I could just slip everything in a little glassine bag.

I need 30.

Glassine envelopes come in packs of 1000. Do you know how much shipping is on a box that big? way too much for a little project AND I wouldn't get them in time. ARG! I've checked many stores in town, you know, like Smart and Final wihich ought to have such things. They have sundae holders. And hot dog holders. But no little bags. You know, the kind you get a cookie in. only a little bit smaller.

I haven't checked the craft stores. I haven't checked Costco OR the restaurant supply store. I'm running out of time. The meeting is next week.

Sigh. This was supposed to be an easy project.

Rambling

I read a lot of blogs. Well, not as many as I used to before I discovered Amazon.com and the wonderous wish list where I could post things I want but don't really need or have the room for just for the sake of "having" them. It's like shopping without spending money and if I happen to need to add something to my cart so I get free shipping, then I have a place to go.

gasp

I read a lot of blogs. Lately, its been all about http://www.rimarama.com/ because she's awesome on the internet and funny and I am learning a lot about Lithuanian culture and if there's anything I love, it's learning about culture. And laughing at other people's parenting since I don't have any spawn of my own. Plus, she has a recipe for CHEESE.

For some reason, it's taking forever to read her whole blog, which is the idea since she's funny. And I can't help but think of all the times people I know have come to me with the dread words, "I found your blog!" (oh my goodness, did I talk crap about you in a fit of manic rant??) which are sometimes followed up by "And I read the whole thing!!" (Oh my goodness, you have seen me in my underwear)

Which is one of the reasons I don't talk crap (very much) anymore and I don't participate in HNT. Well, that and I ran out of angles for my feet AND I tend to forget about it.

Well, I try not to talk crap. But the only person who has promised not to read is my mom, and she's awfully funny from 500 miles away... And in the same room.

One of the things that I see a lot when reading about other people's lives is not only are other people's lives really funny, but many of those funny people are either shopping for or have a book deal.

I often wonder if that is why they write. So they can have a book. And if so good for them. If I got offered a book deal, I'd totally think about it, but the risk of pissing off a lot of people with all the things I don't talk about here haunts me and well, if I DO talk about it here, you can read it for free so why would you buy my book?

No, I write here for the sake of writing here and amusing myself. And you, but mostly me. I have to get this crap out of my head, and sometimes I think Bratty might get tired of the sound of my voice. In about 5 minutes I'm going to turn around and tell her all about the things I just wrote... I don't think she bothers to come here anymore. Yanno, since she pretty much lives with me.

This is getting rediculous

I don't know how it is for you, but I'm getting increasingly frustrated with this whole need-a-password-for-everything thing.

I used to keep the same password for everything. It made it really easy to remember. I would just change numbers when I needed to change it. Then I added another one. And another one. So now I have three different passwords. Which is fine, I know it's one of the three.

But then, the numbers in one place don't change at the same pace as the others. it might be 1, it might be 15. Did I capitalize? Is there a space? Is there a special character? I don't know! So I change it and further lose track of what I changed it to.

I need people to stop trying to steal identities because this password thing? Gonna drive me mad. I'd write them down but they are supposed to be SECRET passwords. So I DO write them down and then stick them in random hidey places only to be found after I have changed the password because I forgot that I wrote it down OR I hid it so well I can't find it.

Not a good way to hold on to the few threads of sanity I have left.

Honestly? I just want to get online, pick out a Primary Care Physician so I can get my thyroid (and my pearl*) checked out to see if maybe I'm not just mentally but hormonally imbalanced and THEN, if I am, maybe I can fix it and I won't be so absent minded anymore. AND maybe not gain weight whether I over eat or not.

*I developed a lump on my back. It was a zit or something that healed over and never went away. It's firm but doesn't grow. neither is it discolored in any way. My girly dr said it looks like a fatty deposit but "that's not her area of expertease so I should probably go get a second opinion" She didn't even want to look at it (she referred me to my PCP but I didn't have one then either. Come on, I go to the Dr once a year.) but I was insistant that she make me feel better. Since it doesn't do anything but look like a bump, I can generally ignore it. I decided that I got some sand or something stuck under my skin and someday when the Dr removes it they will find a lovely pearl. Which is WAY better than the other thing I think which is that they will a) remove it with a melon baller leaving a giant cratery scar on my otherwise blemishless back. (snort) b) It will be icky in there and someone will have to help me clean it out while it heals as I have heard does happen and I don't really have anyone nearby that I feel like I can go to for that stuff. There's a couple of people who would likely do it if I asked, but that's a super personal thing that I just can't ask of anyone. "Hi! Will you help me irrigate my pearl hole? I can't reach it since it's right in that spot that only Gumby can get to. Here's a turkey baster and some H2O2"

Allright. I think my password has been reset (again). Since I have my control journal with me today, I think I'll just go ahead and jot it down this time. In a made up language so no one can access my medical files and steal my identity. Including myself in all likelyhood...

Whooo Arrrre Yoooou?

I had a blog post all ready to go in my head complete with graphics and a title. But then I got distracted by something shiney, which was actually work and not shiney at all and completely forgot what I was going to post about. Since I hate to waste a good graphic and title, I thought I would post them anyway. So here you go. If I remember what I had to say later, I'll just edit.

Adventures in the hometown

It's nice to be back from my holiday in San Diego. It amazes me that it really doesn't much feel like home any more. I'll always love the city, it will always be my hometown. But I'm no longer up to date on the current locations of all the Starbucks in the city. A few highlights:

• I announced to my mother that I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas (Bratty and I have been having fun with the song) She responded that she is NOT getting me a damn hippopotamus for Christmas. Plus, I would have to hire someone to take care of it. Today, Bratty and I decided that someone needs to genetically modify POCKET HIPPOS so we can have one. There would be less trampleing risk and the poo would be way smaller. I'm thinking something the size of a Chiwawoodle. (do they make those yet? If not, I just copyrighted the name with my creativity so you have to pay me if you use it.)
• Playing pranks on my mom is fun.
• Actually, hanging out with my mom is fun. She says the darndest things.
• LOTS of quality family time especially with Seester and the Nieces. The Nieces are funny, but I have to say, that Mini Me is damned hilarious. And she knows it. You never saw a 14 month old (huh?) pull off deadpan humor like that kid.
• I never get to see the everyone I want to see, but this time I got closer than I usually do
• These trips are expensive.
• I apparently am able to poke my Seester with my eyeballs.
• There was a lot of laughter and good times. I was and am overflowing with gratitude.

I must REALLY love him

There are a few things that I didn't consider when I first picked up Chango and he lay his little black head on my shoulder.
Firstly, I didn't know I could want a dog as much as I wanted him. It was love at first snuggle and I can't imagine a better match. He keeps me in line. Maybe it's the Border Collie? and like any good collie, he keeps me out of trouble. Like how he tells me it's time for bed or that I've forgotten that I'm cooking dinner and its about to burn.
He's a really good boy.
But, I didn't consider kennel costs. If I did, I just didn't think there would be this many weddings, holidays, baptisms, or VERY IMPORTANT birthdays.  Or how often I'm not at home. Or how I might date someone who prefers his house over mine. (Chango gets to visit sometimes too and I'm sure said date would be happy to go to my house, but his is neater and tends to smell a lot less like bunny).
I also didn't consider that he might have a sensitive belly.

Sensitive belly means that he often gets the P&Ps. The poop and pukes. And it often happens that I'm not at home so it's all over himand his kennel when I get home. Then there was the night I had a very realistic dream that someone squeezed a mustard bottle and immedietly woke up knowing, the sound didn't come from my dream.

Poor boy. He always looks so unhappy, but he sure likes to eat chicken and rice for a few days until I put him back on food. And of course, the expensive stuff bothers him the least...

We have a routine though.

1) I come home, take a deep breath, and say, "oh no" (Hi Baby! (Phew!) I know, thank goodness I made it home AGAIN! Lets go take care of your brother)
2) Into the laundry room I go...
3) "Hi bug. I know. you're a good boy. you didn't do it on purpose" during which I open his kennel and we run through the house (thank goodness for tile flooring because it's always on his paws) and out the kitchen door

Now, time before last that this happened, he shook himself all over the kitchen. twice. Now I am smart enough to hold his scruff until he is out the door.

4) clean clean, scrub, scrub, bleach.
5) Into the tub he goes.
6) tub clogs (this has happend twice). Dog watches me as I carefully balance myself on the sides of the tub, nakid (no pictures!) and shower the dirty away one half a body at a time. Thank goodness my shower has a handicap bar.

He's on Iams Natural now which is supposed to not have any allergens. Lets hope it works out for him...

They took away Pinterest

At work. You know, because it's a time suck. So, um, you'll likely see a lot more of me inane ramblings. I can only focus on excel for so long...

In other news, I had an incident today. It isnt' really that big of a deal but enough that it tickles my brain and I need to talk about it some more.

Now, I'm one of those loyal shoppers. I pick something and I generally stick with it because it's usually easier than changing it.

I eat the same foods, shop at the same stores, nearly never rearrange my furniture, I generally stick with the same job unless I am REALLY unhappy (and even then) or I get the itch to expand my horizons which, well, that's another story.

The point is that I made an appointment for a teeth cleaning 6 months ago after my last cleaning appointment. I am VERY interested in keeping my teeth. They help me eat cupcakes. And steak. My appointment was Monday. ( I think. it might have been last week.) Come to think of it, my original appointment was on the 9th.

They called and changed it to last week. Then again to today. I choose the latest appointment I can get because I want to go home after my cleanings. What I SHOULD do is go first thing in the morning so I can be all shiney and polished at my coworkers all day. But, habits.

So, they changed it to today which was fine. Then they wanted me to change it to an appointment an hour earlier, which was also fine, I have things to do this afternoon.

Then they wanted to change it to 2 hours earlier than the last earlier time. I told her I have too much work to do to go in at one; the day before a long holiday can be VERY hectic. Can be.

I understand that they want to leave early today. So do I. But if that was the case, they should have planned for it before I set an appointment and cleared it with my manager. The Hygenist didn't want to clean my teeth at 3 pm as originally shecduled so that asked to reschedule me next Monday.

I rescheduled. With a new dentist.

Whether you are a retail chain or a Doctor, there's something called customer service. And quite frankly, I don't have the patience for the bad kind. The truth is, although they are providing me a service, they are there for me, I'm not there for them. I like them, I really do. As people. But I'm thinking that as a dental practice, they are more concerned with going home early than cleaning my teeth. That's ok. I'm just going to switch to a place that is more likely to keep my appointment times.

I almost cried at the grocery store today

I was there buying personal items to donate when I sat something stuck in with the deodorants. It was a business card that had been ripped in half, but put back together and placed at eye level.

Of course, I had to investigate.

What it said was that such and such a casino supports the gay pride parade. And for the moral safety of your children, you should boycott them. Because gay people are evil. every one of them. And they are out there out there to turn your children on to their homosexual ways.

Funny, in all my years of association with gay people, (and there have been many, many years) I have never seen them try to recruit. I have never been propositioned. Sure, I worked with a woman who would stare freely down my shirt, but I have worked with far more men who have done the same. I have never been encouraged (except by strait men) to experiment with women.

It made me sad. With all the talk about acceptance, all the discussions on stopping the bullying, there are people out there spreading hate. Believe what you want, but there is enough hate in the world. There is no need to encourage it.

Flashbacks

I wasn't blogging yet the first time my city was burning. I can't actually remember if I ever talked about it here.

I have to say that the fires today have brought back a lot of memories. I still can't stand the smell of wood burning. The constant watch over the news. Phone trees to see if everyone is ok.

I'm lucky this time, though, that the fires are nowhere near my home or my work (we did close a couple of branches today though) and that most of my friends live on the other side of town like me.

I do have a couple of friends that live in affected areas. Please keep them in your thoughts along with the thousands of others affected by the fires.

There's something wrong down there.

We all know I'm not the neatest person in the world (although, thanks to http://www.flylady.org/ I am TOTALLY getting there! YES! I drank the flavor aide and am a full fledged flybaby! I love it!) and when it comes to my clothing, I care a little less than I should.

That's not true.

What is true is that I have accepted that I can't afford to dress in the manner I would like and I am far too lazy too mend. I have to force myself to get rid of things that are worn or ill fitting (I always wash them first) but I am getting better about that too. I have started throwing out stuff with even the tiniest stains and the other day? I managed to match my socks to my shirt, my underthings to each other, I wore a belt (needs replacing) and my shoes and handbag matched insomuch as they were both black. So was the belt. Progress. Baby steps. Apparently, that's still not good enough, but whatever. My sisters have been trying to affect my wardrobe for years. like, 20 years. Wait. better make that 30. I have never been a fashionista. I do admire them though. And wonder how they afford it...

There's one thing I am insistant about.

One thing that is (almost) always in good repair.

Socks.

They are matched according to wear level and color fade, folded and put away. If they are thin, they go into the trash or the monkey pile. (except the cookie monster socks)

Today I was sitting at my desk when suddenly, something felt a little funny.

You know. Down THERE.

In my shoe. (which also needs to be replaced. I've already plugged one hole in the sole with hot glue)

I took off my shoe and saw to my horror... my big toe. I have errands to run after work. And my big toe is NAKID. Not okay. If I wasn't still at work I'd draw a face on it. Then I would feel better. I'd totally get caught though. Shoe off, toe out, with a sharpie...

My favorite time of the year

I'm sure that I mention every year that Halloween has always been a particular favorite of mine. Like most things, I have calmed my fervor over the years; there are no longer bats hanging from my ceiling year round, and I no longer dream of decorating in a gothic manner, but to me, Halloween is more that a high holiday, more than candy and costumes, it's the start of "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" (you know you sang that. I did.)

Halloween marks the beginning of spicy smells, gift giving, food eating, and family time. Cooler weather and crisp mornings. I love crisp mornings, I just don't like to get out of bed to greet them.

On Halloween night, I look forward to watching the movie standards and giving away candy. But it seems to me that somehow, the trick or treat ettiquite has been lost.

Trick or Treating, is for kids. I think I stopped when I was 16. I just didn't feel right going around and asking for candy among the 7 year olds. And the adults gave me and my cleavage a look that said, maybe this should be your last year. Last night, I had adults. And I don't mean adults with kids, I mean 50 and 60 year old women at my house, in costume and not, without children, asking for candy. I try not to be rude, I gave them candy. And when I ran out, the first thing I thought was, I told that 10 year old no because someone's grandmother was here.

Teens, have a costume on. SOMETHING that tells me you're having fun with it. Don't just show up on my doorstep in your hoodie and jeans. It you are too old to dress up, you're too old to trick or treat. Yes. I gave them candy anyway. And when I sent away the 8 year olds at 8pm, I thought of those teens next. Bigger than me, no costume, out begging for candy.

Parents with babies that have no teeth, you aren't fooling anyone. Go home. I know you've been excited to show off your baby and his/her costume. They are SUPER CUTE! but I know they aren't eating that candy. Go buy some like I do.

Unless you have allergies, please don't look at what I just put in your bag. When all I had left were singular starburst that I pulled out of my own stash, I felt bad that I didn't have any more mini candy bars. I didn't have any more candy bars because I gave them to someone's grandma.

I did have one woman who politely told me that her son was allergic to peanuts and I gladly gave them a different piece of candy. They were actually my favorite group of the night. The kid was adorable and had excellent manners, and the adults were clearly having a good time.

After I ran out of candy, I turned off my porch light, unplugged the wreath, and let my dog out of his kennel. Chango doesn't like Halloween because he is protective of me and my house so rather than have him bark at everyone all night, I put him away. If the lights are off, that means that house is not participating. Please don't knock/ring and make me hold the dog while he barks his head off, and tell you that I ran out of candy (because I gave it to a bunch of un-costumed teens). I feel bad, I want to give you candy, but I don't have any left that I am not planning to eat. (I saved one of each of the three types of candy I bought for my own consumption and they were goooood)  I turn off the lights so you know not to come to my house. Thats how it works. If you follow this, then you aren't disturbing the people who don't celebrate Halloween.

Next year, I might have to get mean.

The revolution continues

I still feel the way I felt before about it. But now it's coming out that no one really knows what all those people are protesting about; it seems each has their own adjenda, with no set plan for the group.

Which kind of makes me slap my forehead with my right wing.

Have a plan numbnuts. You can't affect change without knowing what exactly you are changing. Sitting around with a sign that says "I've been wronged" doesn't help me if you can't tell me what is wrong (other than "corporations are evil" of course, which still doesn't tell me HOW you have been wronged)

Keep standing up for yourselves! But for goodness sake, have some sort of platform to stand on because when people start throwing logic, you're gonna get dirty.

Tiny Revolution

Since I listen to NPR a lot and spend WAY too much time on Facebook, it has come to my attention that there is a little revolution going on in this United States (and some in Canada too) called the Occupy Wall Street Movement.

It seems to me, that Americans are (finally) standing up and making thier voices heard about various things that bother them. It seems to me that the purpose of the movement is to remind the government that people like me are the majority. I'm not wealthy, I dream the American Dream, which some days seems farther away than I think. But then, of the 99%, I'm a "lucky" one. My choices have kept me in good jobs with decent paychecks and medical covereage. I have a working car (even if she is old and will have to be replaced soon) and own my home. Did I say dream? I think I am living the American Dream. Maybe I am not part of the 99% after all.

I like that folks are standing up and being heard. I can't go protest for various reasons (firstly, I would like to keep my job. Secondly, I don't want to, and thirdly, I don't know where it is in my town. I'm ok with that) but I think it's important for people to stnad up for thier rights and be heard. It's one of the fabulous things about our great country and I tend to think that the extremes have too much voice in this country. (hello Tea Party).

Something I heard while NPR was invading my dreams this morning bothered me though. In Seattle, the protesters were kicked out of the park they were in because it is illegal to camp there overnight. After the tents were down, jars were being passed around so that new ones could be purchased.

I wasn't there, so I don't know HOW the tents were taken down, but having taken down a lot of tents in my time, I don't see how this would have rendered them unusable. That isn't the point. The news story made it sound like it was the Police's fault the protesters were being moved. And Thank Goodness it all went peacefully.

Then the next story was about how in New York, the police came in to move the protesters because the park needed to be pressure washed and sanitized. But they decided to let them stay and skip the washing and avoid the drama. The protesters feel like they won a battle against the city because they didn't get kicked out of the park.

Let me first say that whatever is going on out there is not the fault of the Police. They, like me, are just doing their jobs. Their job is to uphold the law. That's what your taxes, whether you want them to or not, are paying for and THANK GOODNESS because without those laws and the police officers to uphold them, there would be anarchy. Anarchy is only a good theory when you don't consider the consequences to yourself and your family. Anarchy is for rebellious teenagers and psychotic adults. Are there times when the Police get a little too rough? Yes. And yes, I remember Rodney King and yes I know some protesters have been sprayed with pepper spray and arrested. Guess what? a couple of months ago in Northern Africa, there were some protesters standing up for their rights and demanding governmental change, and they got shot. Now they are dead. And they weren't asking for the government to be "fair", they were asking for basic human rights.

I could be wrong about this movement. Maybe over the years I have snuck too far over to the right wing thinking. It seems to me that fighting against the police though, it doesn't get a whole lot done. Would it hurt the protesters so much to move for a couple of hours so that the park where they are protesting can be maintained? Do you know what that many people can do to landscaping? Are you going to protest when your taxes get raised so that there are funds to replace all that grass? Are there adequate Bathrooms? Because I know how much a large group of people can fill up a port o let and I also know that without bathrooms, people use trees and bushes. Dirty. Disease. Do you know how much global disease is caused by inadequate sanitation? Think Hepatitis and Cholora. If even one person in that crowd has Hepatitis and accidentally contaminates the masses, healthcare costs are REALLY going to skyrocket. You know, since some of those people out there protesting are doing so because they can't afford healthcare.

So protest. Please protest. You have some valid issues and I am SO glad you all are making sure that you are being heard. But maybe know the laws and follow them. GO home at night if you have one or move about the city. Then there will be fewer run ins with the cops. But then again, there will be fewer news stories covering the protests too...

My dear friend,

I have to believe and to have faith that somehow, wherever you are, you get this message. I know that you probably know these things already, but I have to get them out.

I want you to know that you made a difference in my life. That your smile was infectious and I always looked forward to our interactions. It really meant a lot to me how your face would light up when you saw me and how you always greeted me with enthusiasm.

I want you to know that I've been thinking of you a lot lately and I kept meaning to drop you an email just to say hi. Because I like you. You were my friend. I always hoped we would have time to get together for tea. Every time I spoke with you, I learned a little more about you, and what an amazing person you are. Were. You did so many little things to try and make all our lives just a little bit sunnier. Thank you for that. thank you, for being you.

I will never have the chance to tell you these things. I wish I could. Everyone should know that they made a difference. That they brought beauty and joy into the lives of others. I should have taken the opportunity every moment that I thought of you.

I will add that to my very short list of regrets.

I'm not sure why you had to go. Perhaps when I learn how I can make some sense of it. Humans. We always have to know how.

The world is a little dimmer without you in it. I'm a little less whole. I miss you already.

Gina Baby

Unexpected attractiveness

It never really occurred to me to think of Dan Akroyd as a handsome man. Silly, goofy, fun, all those things that I find pretty dang attractive, sure. But handsome? Not really. I never thought he was BAD looking, of course, but I also never really thought he got to where he is based on his looks like so many actors do.

Until I tripped across this photo over at http://www.epbot.com/

You never know how someone really looks until you see them from a different angle. Somtimes a slight turn anda genuine smile causes all the goodness within to spill out. I don't know Dan, but I hear he's a good egg. I'm sure his wife thinks so too.

This is not a fashion blog

Dude. What the F*** with the fur vests?

I don't follow fashion. I don't generally get into trends. My uniform consists of jeans and a T-Shirt for normal wear and short skirts and fishnets if it's derby. Usually with a T-Shirt. There are other things that I would probably wear if I had the kind of money it takes to keep up with the trends, but only if I liked it and it looked good on me.

Case in point? Maxi dresses. I'm pretty sure that due to my overall shape, I would look like I was wearing a tent for a nightgown. Given my height, I'm pretty sure I'd trip over said maxi dress all day or worse, the hem would drag and get all dirty and tattered. Now my maxi dress is a maxi rag.

Maxi rag sounds very dirty. Eew.

I have begun spending rediculous amounts of time on Pinterest.com. It is helping me to collect all those cute things I find on the internet without printing them out. Recipes, craft ideas, decor ideas. Yarn and Soap porn. Quotes! You know I love me some quotes. And lots of outfits I would likely wear if I had money that are not jeans or t-shirts. Ok, mostly pretty dresses that I wouldn't wear since I don't have anywhere to wear them. I live in Northern Nevada. Sweat pants are acceptable club attire.

Today I was checking out the stuff that other people have pinned and what do I see but a Maxi dress (in a lovely shade of tourquoise) with a note on it that the pinner would love to have said dress with a fur vest.

Fur vest. I've always wanted to look like a muppet. Or a cave girl. Or maybe...

For granted

I'm not sure about you, but I need  pep talks when I am feeling a little down. Despite appearances, I do not go out looking for validation of who I am from other people and I certainly try not to solicit it. If I want to feel better about myself, I try to think about all the things that I like about me. There are many. There are things I don't like about me too, and once I am back to a normal frame of mind, I address those things. But not when I am down. When I am down and having trouble getting back up, I pinch and poke and prod with positivity until I am upright.

That isn't why I started writing today. I started on a tangent, likely because I have been doing just those things lately. Actually, I've been having a lot of these moments:

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We all go through these times. I try not to let the turkeys get me down.

I'm still on a tangent.

Truth is, that while I have been poking and prodding myself out of the mud, my email has been a jerk. What does that have to do with anything? Well...

It tends to automatically go back to page 1 of all my saved emails (of which there are really way too many). Sometimes I go back and clear out old emails, but if they have pictures or are especially special, I keep them. One from Jack, my grandfather, who you will remember, passed away a couple of years ago. I think this was my last communication from him. Silly pictures from my sisters. Ok, mostly my big sister. Random things that still tickle.

Better online than at my house, that's for sure.

I noticed something though. There's a lot of kind and thoughtful things in there. How C always made sure I had pictures of stuff; like the tattoo someone had made of his drawing. One I had modeled for. Suggestions on soap and packaging from my sister and cousin from when I first started Bubbly Creations. Encouragements and little things that just said, "I'm thinking of you" or "you are part of my world even if you aren't right here".

Suddenly, I started to wonder about how well I appreciate people back. And whether I tell them enough how much they mean to me. It was a needed eye opener. Even if I DO tell my friends and family that I appreciate them, well, if I am questioning, perhaps I need to tell them more.

New thing to work on now that the mud is just about dry and I can start focusing on my improvements again.

For all the joking...

www.postsecret.com

I'm hoping I did that correctly. 

I was in High School when I discovered the faith that would carry me through to now. Although I am not as into it as I was then, I still hold the philosophies close to my heart and try to follow the teachings, but no longer feel the need to be obsessive about it.

I consider myself more of a kitchen witch now, whipping up the occasional spell when needed, and accepting that its probably best that my cauldron lives in the garage with the rest of my alter. Perhaps I will need to see my tools daily again, but ultimately, the divine is in my heart, not in that box.

I was never much for broom closets, and, like any 16 yr old with a new discovery, I was very open about it. I'm sure there are those that rolled their eyes, I know there were plenty who thought I was a nut. I'm glad I have grown into a woman who doesn't need to shout my faith from the rooftops; Wicca is a part of who I am, but it is not the whole.

A year or so after my revelation, as it might be called, my friends pulled me aside during a bonfire we were having at La Jolla Shores. They were very upset, you see, as Christians, that I was going to hell, since I wasn't Christian (and they had never known me to be) and they liked me and didn't want that to happen.

I explained that I had been brought up with vaguely Christian undertones and that I had, at one point accepted Jesus into my heart. Much relieved, they wandered off. Apparently, once you do that, you are saved forever. I will admit that I thought them a bit silly, but I was a bit drunk on my new found beliefs and I'm sure I was pretty silly too.

15, 20 years later, I have occasion to think back on that night. I have come to a place in my life where I believe that your relationship with God, however you call it, if you have one, is between you and your divine. I seem to remember though, that it says in the Bible that it is not up to us to judge. That if there was to be a judgment, it is God's job to do so.  It always amazed me that they had somehow missed that lesson.

What a burden to have to worry about people's afterlife all the time. I would rather trust in God to make that determination and just be friends with people. But then, I don't believe in the hell that I have heard described in church, so that's really easy for me to say.

I may not believe what they believed, but I now respect that they believed it. I hope the sender of this postcard is able to make peace with her fear. It's a pretty big one.

Mikayla

It isn't often that I come forward with a cause.


I have known this family for... Many years. I went to high school with Mikayla's father. His was the first wedding I officiated. He and his wife are good people.

Mikayla is a special girl. She's always lived with her mom in situations that were less than ideal. Tiny houses in not so good neighborhoods with too many kids because her mom just keeps having them. Now, she gets moved around according to where her mom's current boyfriend might be... At 12, she needs structure and stability. Her mom is currently between homes, and her current boyfriend is in Scotland.

I used to bring an extra craft for her when I would visit, hoping that positive interaction with adult women would help her to avoid the fate that befalls so many who have irresponsible parents. She was babysitting her siblings at 8, the age she was in the picture above. During that camping trip, at one point,  I was singing at her. She didn't get it. No one had sung her songs before. It broke my heart; my mom always put us to bed and woke us up with a song. (usually made up. I love my mother.)

Somehow, Mikayla has come through like the shining star she is. With dreams and aspirations and the knowledge that she can and will own a bakery some day. I know that is Mike and Rose's influence.

Mike and Rose are taking the opportunity to try and get custody. It's expensive, but I think Mikayla deserves a chance. This is what she wants. Go read her blog. She talks about the things she is doing to try and raise the money to pay for the lawyer. Buy a t shirt. Or, better yet, just send what you would have spent on the t shirt.

Every so often, we get the chance to play fairy godmother. Please help me make her wish come true.

Another day, another diet

We've heard it before. Every year or so I decide to go on some sort of diet and lose weight and then two days later, I'm binging on cookies.

When my old High School Choirmate suggested that I try a 5 day challenge, it didn't sound half bad. Emily is a Beachbody Coach and I have seen what the programs have done for her. Plus...

It's 5 days. If I can't do something for 5 days, I need to roll over and quit right now. I can get through 5 days on stubborness alone.

Follow the menu. Drink the Shake. Exercise every day. Well, I exercise at least 2 days a week now so what is another 3? Aren't I supposed to be Training for The Tough Mudder?

The menu? didn't look too bad. Actually, it looked pretty yummy. I had to remove a few things that I can't or don't eat, but not as much as you would thinnk considering I prefer to live on steak and cheese.

I measured. on Sunday...

Weight: 158 (WHAT?? I've gotta stop drinking so much cherry vodka)
Waist: 32
Hips: 41

If I was supposed to measure more, I didn't. I also didn't do my fat content because those things can be innacurrate and I didn't want to go all the way to GNC (if it isn't near work, my house, the wreck center or ManCandy's house, I don't want to go. BTW, the nickname on this one really makes me laugh. Not that he isn't. I'm just imagining his face if I called him that out loud) and pay a dollar to have it done. I'd rather use the evil pincers they used to pinch us with in high school PE.

I'm on day three. The only thing I have eaten that wasn't on the list was yellow squash and peas from my garden and olive oil. Last night I wanted something a little sweet so I sprinkled Stevia in my iced tea. There have been no cookies, cupcakes, ice cream sammiches or alchohol.

I have exercised every day. I'm drinking my shakes. When I get hungry, I have a snack (built into my diet).  I think I might even cook myself salmon every week because hey, that was pretty tasty!

I expect to take my measurements again this weekend. I'll let you know how it goes. I'm feeling pretty good about it though.

Changes

Today, I realized that I have gotten in the habit of venting my frustrations to whomever will listen.

Today, as I started to do just that, I shut my mouth, told the person who was listening that I wasn't going to dump on her; that I was going to go back to my desk.

I felt better about myself in that moment.

I'm going to continue on that path in the future. I no longer wish to be that girl.

It's like I can HEAR the wind blowing around here

After discussing briefly with Bratty the fact that the Grand Canyon isn't NEARLY as close to Las Vegas as all those tour companies would have you believe, I decided that that perhaps maybe I ought to go ahead and marry the first guy that manages to get me to said landmark as I seem to be incapable of getting there on my own.

Here's the (non) logic.

Once upon a long time ago, I needed to get away so I decided to go see the Grand Canyon. I was living in San Diego at the time so I hopped on the 8 East and started driving. This was before the days of MapQuest (I SAID it was a LONG time ago!) so I didn't know that I was taking the wrong freeway. The Grand Canyon, after all, is somewhere East of San Diego (as is everything else, but I digress). Once I realized I wasn't going to find the giant hole in the ground in Southern Arizona, I decided to drive for 8 hours and maybe I would make it to New Mexico. I have also never been to New Mexico. After about 4 hours of driving, (some of which was taken up by an hour long religious discussion with a man at Jack in the Box. Why do people talk to me? I was READING my book while I ate, for goodness sake!) I got sleepy and it was getting dark so I took exit 102 and somehow found the Petroglyph campground. When I remembered what a Petroglyph was, it was super cool and after tenting it for a night (Likely illegally since I didn't pay for my camp spot, but I was like 19, I didn't know you are supposed to pay for camp spots!) among the bugs, I turned around and went home.

Several years later, I find myself in Vegas with a rental car and a desire to return home via Kingman in order to visit my Grandparents. And I think to myself, The Grand Canyon is somewhere near Vegas AND Kingman because it's in Northern Arizona, right? Maybe the turn off is on the way to Kingman and I can stop by and at least say that I have seen it from the ground (I have, actually, seen it from the air, but that's not the same, damnit) Nope, it's a pretty big detour. I did manage to see Hoover Dam though. I didn't take the Dam Tour, I just drove over it. That was enough.

A couple of years later, T announced that he would like to take me camping at... THE GRAND CANYON and I went SQUEEEE (in my head because most peolpe don't get to see me go nuts) and I thought, I wanna keep this one because he wants to take me places that are awesome. We know how that ended. I hope T is doing well.

I still haven't made it to the Grand Canyon. At this point, it would be a REALLY long drive and I might even rather go somewhere closer.

Ultimately, I should be careful what I wish for. The senarios are playing thorugh my head and I REALLY don't want to marry the first guy who takes me to the Grand Canyon. Who knows what kind of madman might volunteer to make that VERY LONG drive with me? It takes a special kind of nut to spend that much time in my presence. And what if that person wasn't someone I was interested in romantically? I'd have to say "No" and make a liar out of me.

Sigh. Guess I'll have to get my own self to the Grand Canyon.

Free Soap!

Hey all. I know I have been missing a lot lately. There's just been a lot going on that I can't talk about without running the risk of getting myself in trouble.

BUT, here is something exciting.

As you may know, I have been giving more of my energy to Bubbly Creations than I think I ever have before (yes, even in the beginning). One of the things I have done is get out there and send out samples for review.

My first review is in. You are welcome to participate in the fun too!


http://davisdailydose.blogspot.com/2011/07/bubbly-creations-soap-review-giveaway.html

Why not?

Updates

There have been a lot of things going on. Some are good, some not so, and some flat out broke my heart.

I retired from roller derby, not because I don't love it still but because I took a hard enough hit to scare me into the realization that I am not invincible. and that one day, I may not heal. Since I was knocked back into back spasms and difficulties doing day to day activities, I am choosing my health and not bouting anymore. I will still skate, I am just dropping out of the heavy hitting drills and I will ref. I like reffing and it will mean that I still get to skate and still get to be involved. It was hard. I cried. It's going to be REALLY difficult not to go back to full bore skating when I am feeling better. But the truth is, that I do have chronic back problems and that having the banked track has added a whole new level to our skating. The current dedicated group wants ESPN and you guys all know, that was never my intention. In order to keep up with them, I would need to give more and  I don't have any more to give. It has become far too competitive, the attitude far to serious. So it is better to back out now, while I can still walk upright.

You will have to email me directly to get the updates on boys because I learned not to air my laundry here when it might reflect badly on someone else. Or bite me in the ass. My lack of anonymity is my own fault and something I never thought of when I set up my blog. I don't know how to make these posts password only.

Bubbly Creations is doing great! Oh my goodness, it's so exciting to actually sell soap and worry about replenishing before I run out! I am enjoying my weekly trips to the farmer's market and the opportunity to meet my customers and spin all day long. I sold 30 bars last month (certainly not enough to make a living, but it's a start!) and I'm at 11 this month; far ahead of where I was at this time last month. Hooray!

I rarely rant anymore

You can tell me that I am wrong, I might be, and if so, I will admit it, but right now, I am frustrated.

I don't talk about derby very often unless it is to promote it because I know that there are a lot of girls in my league that have tripped over my blog, and I try not to be negative about it because I can't bitch then tell people how great it is.

Most of the time it is. I'm sure my frustrations have been felt by other skaters, in fact, I know they have because sometimes, they tell me when they are having issues.

And, sometimes, my issues are personal. If I am going to have a personal issue with someone, I really try to either get over it or talk to them about it. If I am going to talk crap, I don't want to do it on the internet. I learned that one the hard way. I accept that people probably talk crap about me too. It's human nature.

There is no denying that bringing in the banked track was awesome. It has taken the game to a whole new level. Different form, different rules, different mechanics.

I have pretty much had to start all over learning my skills. Many of us have. Others, have taken to it quickly or have the time and stregnth to devote to it. I keep having difficulties. First, the angle of the track was hurting me. Then, I got that fixed and my skates started falling apart on me. I got those fixed and my body went haywire.

All in the few short weeks before our first banked track bout. Out first banked track bout against another league. A league that by their very location has access to two of the best leagues in the nation. Leagues that have been skating Banked Track Roller Derby for YEARS instead of a few short months.

There hasn't really been time to start from the beginning and practice, practice, practice until we get it right. I'm rolling into a situation where I don't feel as though I have the foundation to be as good as I could be. As good as I WAS when the playing field was level.

I can barely stay upright in the pack. I keep tripping myself and others. I have gone from being one of the better players on the league to being a liability in the pack. Heaven forbid I should try and hit someone.

It was during a hitting drill that I got frustrated.

We were skating in a line around the inside of the track. The person in the back of the line was to skate forward and hit each girl in the line towards the middle of the track. The drill works on both timing and control; the idea is that you can hit someone without ending up on the infield.

I was the last person in line. I braced myself and took every hit that came at me knowing that I was helping my teammate get used to hitting and myself taking a hit. Even if I got knocked out, I had the opportunity to learn to stop and get back in the game.

When my turn came up, coach announced that once you got hit, you could leave the track. (Fair. Makes sense. It was the end of the night) But I'd go to hit, and my teammate would swerve so I would miss her, and then leave the track.

I spoke up. Asked that they quit avoiding me so that I could hit them. The answer came back that my usual targets weren't going to wait.

I agree with that. But I don't feel as though I have the foundation yet to deal with someone dodging. I felt they were doing me a disservice by moving. I have not built the skills to hit my target consistantly. I have not learned to recover from going at someone and having them move and still stay on the track. I will, but it will take practice.

I didn't feel like my teammates were interested in helping me to improve, I felt like they were interested in going home and avoiding taking a hit.

I try to take into account the skill level of the person I am working with. I like to help people improve thier skills even if it means I will fall. Is it wrong of me to ask the same?

Wishes

I wish I could tell you that things are fixed. That somehow I have worked through everything that was bothering me and that I'm back to true normal.

Instead I feel like I am getting frayed at the edges. Unravelling. Having technical difficulties. From my skates, whose moving parts finally wore out, to my computer, the upgrade of which knocked out my internet and printer.

I won't get into work even though I want to. Really really bad. I will say though that I am feeling insecure and that things aren't really going swimmingly. I am having flashbacks to the last casino, to the chiropractor, and to the construction receptionist position. All three led  to a career change. Two out of three were not my choice. I'm the new kid on the block with a prexisting reputation for run ins with fellow employees. I wake up every day and I put on a happy face. I tell myself its going to be a great day and that I am going to do a great job.

I have made Manland far more complicated than it has to be. I know I have and I don't know what to do about it. When I figure it out, I'll fill you all in on the madness. It's easy to say "follow your heart". So easy. My heart says something different every day.

I'm a fixer. I fix things. I get really lost and out of place when I don't know how to fix something. I tend to get overwhelmed and not even try. I ignore the problem until I get a sudden burst of inspiration. I can't do that with my life, I have to keep on truckin. Except that I am. I'm not dealing with my issues, I'm waiting to figure out what to do.

I'm afraid to make a mistake. I have made so many. Careerwise. in Manland. Especially in Manland. Every mistake makes it hard to make more. Because every mistake makes me a little more broken. And I end up at my desk doing my best not to break down into tears.

It's not about being proud to be an American

I don't think that I have to point out that Osama Bin Laden was, in the eyes of America and a good portion of the rest of the world, a bad guy. A really bad guy. Evil Villian would probably fit if we gave those degnations to real people.

I do not support anything he did while he was alive.

But I can't be glad that he is dead. I can't bring myself to dance in the streets and cheer. I won't fault you for doing it. I understand why.

But I also remember that there were people who danced in the street and cheered after 911. Not for the deaths of the individuals, but for the hit that America took. I remember feeling hurt that someone could celebrate the loss of so much life.

I watched the towers fall. Watched with horror as people jumped from windows. It shocked me to know that anyone would plan the mass destruction that I witnessed that day. I know those people and those families deserve justice and closure.

This isn't about that.

It's about celebrating life, not death. We all die. We don't have a choice in that. And while I will not celebrate the life that Osama lived, a life filed with hatred towards a country that I love, where I am proud and honored to live. A man who hated me without even knowing me. No, I will not celebrate his life. But I will also choose not to celebrate his death.

Ultimately, this man, who we called a monster, was doing what he thought was right for his people and his faith. Putting it that way, he doesn't sound like such a horrible person. He was doing what we all do; the best we can for the ones we love.

I DO NOT AGREE WITH HIM. At all. not even a little bit. But I can look at his life and understand that he thought he was doing right.

And now he is dead. Gone. Sleeping, as a coworker mentioned, with the fishes. I'm not sorry to see him go. But I won't celebrate his passing. 

A contest! Please vote for us!

Part of the reason I have been going so nuts is that with the track came a lot more stress and responsibilty. I only have a small share of it, to be sure, but when your cup already runs over, it's hard to handle another drop.
HOWEVER it's still a good time. And today I am feeling pretty much normal, which is to say that I'm jumping out of my skin in elation and I don't know why but I'm going with it because, as I mentioned, this is normal for me.

That said, The reno Roller Girls have entered a contest and I would love it to peeces if you would vote for us. With every email you have. We could use the money and the exposure.

Those are my feet in the beginning. they aren't pretty but they are mine. The track however, that IS pretty. YAY TRACK!


Rink Rash from Humans In Motion on Vimeo.


And, if you really really want to make me super duper crazy happy, will you repost?

Why yes, actually, I do hear voices.

I don't generally discuss matters of religion here. It's tough to avoid offending someone because most people, no matter what they do or don't believe, are pretty firm on it. Plus, I firmly believe that religion is between you and whatever you do or don't believe in.

I don't consider myself particularly religious, but I do consider myself to be among the faithful. I believe, wholeheartedly, that there is a foce bigger than myself out there. Maybe it isn't concious. Maybe it is. Call it God, Goddess, the Universe, The Flying Spaghetti Monster, The Universal Concience, it is a reality for me.

I also accept that for some, there is nothing out there but space. They may be right. Who am I to say otherwise?

The reason for this rambling, is that I was inspired again by Mrs Liv Lane this morning when she talked about how the Angels helped her to locate a lost item. She has been inspiring me a lot lately, I know, but I also think that I have needed the beauty that she posts each day.

I've been going through kind of a tough time. It's still not time to talk about it fully, but I am finding myself having to make some choices and they aren't easy. Someone once looked me in the eye and told me that I am a bitch when I am stressed, and she was right. I've noticed myself turning increasingly cranky and downright assholish over the last month or so. I am working to fix it. Trying to find the balance. Trying to listen to the voice in my head, which is screaming at me again.

I'm not sure if I have ever told the story of the time I needed guidance and got it. How I lay in bed one night unhappy in my job and relationship, wondering how I was going to pay the rent and a voice said to me "Everything is going to be okay"

They were. And when things start getting crazy, even now, 10+ years later, this carries me through.

I've reached out to that energy, that whatever you want to call it lately. Unlike Liv, I tend to ask for help when I feel desperate. (hm. kinda like how I handle physical issues. hmm)  Maybe I need to ask more often, maybe not, I have to do what is right for me.

This time I have asked, not for the answer, but for help getting back on the path I need to be on. And it's funny how quickly I felt redirected. I don't generally make wishes, I don't usually pray for THINGS I want (well, I pray for the light to stay green or for the rain to hold off for a moment if I just did my hair) Or at least I try not to because sometimes these things are answered in unexpected and uncomfortable ways.

But guidance. Even if it ultimately comes fom within and I am redirecting my own life, I'm not afraid to ask for that. That I was poked back into a different direction so quickly tells me I was right to ask.

That doesn't make it easy. That doesn't mean that I am not still conflicted or suffering moodswings so severe that I have pondered going to the Dr. I have friends who have worried that I am angry with them, my house is a mess, and I swing from elation to tears. I osscillate between motivation and apathy. I know this is not normal for me. I know that there's something wrong in my life that is so severe that I have moved beyond feeling overwhelmed, beyond not sleeping, to whatever it is that I have become.

I have a whole list of reasons why. I am doing my best to work through them. Until then, I'll do my best to not be an asshole. The people in my world don't deserve that.

Art. A subjective matter

This morning I came across a post from one of my daily reads. Go look at her here if you like happy stuff. She is upset today over some twitter messages that got posted over the weekend. I recommend reading the post so that you can see what I am talking about.

Not one to get into twitter flame wars OR to take self help classes, I took something else from her upset.

Art. It's subjective. Really.

There is no specific definition of the term "art:". Likewise, there is not real job description for the designation of "artist". One person's art is another person's doorstop.

You have people with a natural aptitude for portraiture, color composition, the building of amazing structures. You have people who spend a lifetime in school to be able to do those very same things.
You have people who ejaculate on a canvas, paint it, and put it up for sale. I wish I was kidding. I wish I wasn't being literal. Not my style. Or my doorstop.

I study art every day. Not because I am a critic or a student, but because I love to see what a human can accomplish. Simple line drawings, vvibrant paper crafts, quilts, paintings, colorful soap, sculpture. Things that make me go, oooh. It is inspiration to me to see the beautiful things that other people make. A well made piece of anything will make me want to go home and create beauty for myself. I love to go to the state fair and look at the things people have made. Fine furniture with impossible curves, carefully hand stitched quilts, photography that takes my breath away.

There is a lot of what I would consider crap out there. But it is not my business to question the creator's belief that they are an artist. I will question whether they should sell that glitter encrusted pile of poo they found in their yard, (It's angel poo! see the halo?) but it is my choice not to buy it and regretsy's job to post it where I can look and giggle. Or gasp in horror.

I'm also not a fan of modern art. I can see the Nevada Museum of Art from my desk and I will be the first to tell you in not very nice terms that I don't care for the sculptures out front. But someone liked the design enough to commission them. And since they hold up to the crazy weather here, they must be well made. I recognize that even though I wouldn't put those sculptures in my yard.

I guess what I am not getting at, is although I may not like all of it, I would never tell someone to stop creating. I can't imagine questioning their ability to make something, and never tell them they should not share the knowledge they have. What makes an expert? Time in the field? Schooling? How about life? Intuition? How can one person's talent, schooling, and/or experience be more valid than another person's? What gives me the right to say, "I am an artist and you are not"? I may sometimes exclaim, "Good Lord! You have got to be kidding me!" across the cube farm, but I also accept that folks may say the same about my creations.

And they have, just not in so many words. I recently mentioned my Butt Soap in a forum and the response was "It's just brown". I didn't argue. They were apparently looking for something different (Pink, actually, but I say, not all butts are pink. There are plenty of perfectly valid brown butts out there.) and anyway, the name makes me giggle and draws attention to my product. Can't fault that. It may not have been what those people were looking for, but I have sold enough Butt Soap to know that some people are.

There are also those who would tell you that I am a crafts person, not an artist. And that's fine too. I don't need a label, I just need to create. Wanna come over and glue glitter to random stuff with me?