My boobies have survived the medieval machine of mammography and even sprung back to life (well as much as they do at 38). This one didn't hurt like the last one...perhaps I had an evil technician last year. Hopefully all is well in Boobieland and I'll get a gold star on my chart after the review.
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I am feeling angry today... Could it be the mammogram I have scheduled for this afternoon? Could it be that I am poor? Could it be that the only free time I have is on the toilet? Could it be the chips and M&Ms I had for lunch? Maybe my underwear is on wrong-side-out. I did get a hatband sewn in over lunch--and another pinned in and ready to sew. That made me feel better. I dreamed about angora rabbits last night. (Like that smooth transition in my writing?) | 
*inspired by Ultramicroscopic's doodles. |
Even though the volume of reading in my classes is kicking my ass, I have to say that the group intervention class has been unbelievably valuable to me. I think everyone should have the experience of working out problems in an interactional setting like that. You find out that you are not unique in your suffering, or your insecurities or your fears. The first half of our class is lecture and the second half is a 90 minute process group. Since we are all future clinicians we probably delve into material faster than maybe a group from the general population, but it's interesting to watch our group unfold just as our text describes--just as most groups do. Now a little more than half-way through the semester we are becoming more authentic with one another, dropping the facades of social niceties and cocktail party conversation--"goblet" issues as Yalom would put it. I feel much richer emotionally having this experience, despite its inherent frustration. I got home at the usual 10 p.m. last night exhausted but feeling open and very human.
Hat work tonight.
I hate it when my first class lets out early because I'm stuck for an hour until my next class starts. That would be great for catching up on reading if I had hauled all my books with me, but why would I do that when I'm supposed to have only five minutes between classes? Huh? So here I sit. In a real bad mood. Wanting to quit school. Tired of never seeing my husband. Tired of never getting more than a few minutes of time with the dogs. Sick of work. Wanting to have more time for my fiber projects and non-corporate-drivel writing. Wanting to finish the surprise wool cable sweater that will probably have moth holes in it by the time I get to return to it. Wanting to have a home-cooked meal...of any sort.
It will pass. This is the zit of the semester. It'll go away. Just don't poke it.
 | I need a clone to get this all done. I did have a good time at SAFF. The little guy to the left was one of the alpacas present at the show. I got some wonderful bunnywool/silk/sheepswool roving to play with, some hand-dyed yarn and some unique roving for accents in my felting. I didn't get into the nuno felting class (again!!!), but I did get to take the silk fusion class and it was pretty fun. We made little origami bags--that info alone was worth the fee. Anyway, my mother embarassed me countless times as she is prone to do, but we still had a great time together. |
I'm off to SAFF right after work today...yippee!! I'll pick up my mom and I'll drag her off for a weekend of wooly fun. I can't wait to sink my fingers into all that good stuff!
Here's the hat I was going to post yesterday:
That's how I feel today. Uh...
I had nightmares about WWIII. The United States was under attack and missles where whizzing through our cities. People were disappearing. I couldn't find one of our co-workers and we had assumed her dead. Tidal waves were gushing through the streets. We came under attack and and huge military truck trailering a big bomb drove up. I scooped up a lost little service dog off the street, hopped in a stranger's Jeep with him and we zipped out of the danger zone behind a big ridge that gave us some protection from the explosion. That was just one little part of the dream...what a restful night of sleep. The dog was precious though...it looked like a border collie mix with a petite face, big sweet eyes and a liver-colored nose.
I did another hat last night, but I was a little disappointed that I had one little slightly thin spot in the top, so I guess I just got a hat added to my personal collection! I've been complaining how I am making hats for everyone but me, so I guess I subconsciously solved that problem! I meant to dump the digital so I could upload the pic, but oh well, I forgot. I think I'm going to add some beads and wear it this weekend to SAFF, which I am totally excited about. I just wish I wasn't so tired. I can't figure out if I'm tired because I'm doing too much or if I'm tired because something is wrong.
Since I don't have kids I think that anytime I am tired there's something wrong with me. I always compare myself to someone who is working, going to school and doing art (or other things) AND they have kids. Well, let me tell you, I would DIE if I added kids into the picture. Of course, then I think, I do more of the other things during the time I would be getting worked over by my kids, so? I don't know. I just wish I had more energy.
In any case, I will be cavorting with angora goats and rabbits, llamas, alpacas, sheep, fellow spinners, felters and other assorted fiber wackos all weekend and I'm excited!! I'll have plenty of photos when I return!
Neither are they.
"Here are a couple of links that show you just what they do to models' photos before they get into the magazines. Here, here, and just so the men don't feel left out, here. Roll over the images with your mouse to see the "before retouching" picture. The full set is on the left side of each page. No one is immune from retouched imaging. We are convinced this is "normal" because we see it everywhere we go. And it doesn't matter that we are told not to compare ourselves to these fake photos, we are shown the fake photos. I don't know for sure, but I bet visual images imprint faster and deeper in most people than verbal images."*
*Shamelessly stolen from Twilight Cafe.
I actually have nearly quit reading women's magazines because they make me feel so bad about myself. Instead, I read magazines about art and craft and about real life. Ok, I can't pass up a People magazine, but those "lose that last 10 pounds!" and all those magazines about how I am a walking fashion faux pas are going into the garbage. Life gives you enough shit as it is--I don't need an army of strangers telling me that I SUCK. There's actually a study that shows fashion mags lowers women's self-esteem...I'll see if I can dig it up and post some stuff from it.
In other news...I'm tired and cranky, but not as tired and cranky as yesterday. So, hey, there's improvement going on.
It got too late last night to post the pics of the new hats . I'm pretty much a walking zombie today and my hands feel like swollen hot dogs (but they're happy hot dogs)...
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I will post some photos of the new hats tonight. Until then dear bloggie brothers and sisters...
Tired and sleepy today. I had to get up earlier than usual to be at a studio for some taping for work. At least it was something different to do.
My weekend was pretty darn productive and yielded three new hats and two sore arms (not done with finishing touches, but ready for the finishing touches). I tried to do the commission hat, but it turned out a little different than I had hoped. It's still a great hat, but I'll have to give it another whirl to repeat the one she wanted. I'll get to that tonight.
The reason it turned out different is because it's all Gotland wool and not Merino/Gottland. It finished up too short to make the contrasting color brim roll. The swirl turned out awesome though. I can't reach the Merino chick I want to buy from. Frustrating! Her Merino is the best, although most Merino batting will do. It's hard to find the exact color I want from another supplier in a pinch.
Well, I'm too tired to be blogging...more later.
For those of you who are interested in knowing how Peanut is doing, you'll be happy to know she is still around. Her brain tumor will probably return, but for now, she seems to have adjusted to reduced capacities and is eating and drinking just fine. Removal of the tumor caused lots of balance problems for little Peanut, so she doesn't do much other than walk around with my dad on his property, sleep and eat. Before she got sick and had surgery, she was a fearsome little hunter and very independent, so it's been hard for her to adjust emotionally, but I think my dad is able to stick by her and help her feel safe. She won't go into the woods without him--smart cat. She wouldn't be able to defend herself on her own. My dad has seen bear, coyote and everything else you can imagine on his property. So, Peanut is hanging in there.
My appointment yesterday was just about like what I expected. My appointment time was 3:45 and the doctor walked in at 4:50. I signed in and started my wait at 3:35. I decided to take my little sketchbook, which made the wait tolerable. They had changed out the fingertip sticker-thingies and you can hardly feel them now. (Yesss!) The only surprise is that I have a lot of blood in my urine and have to go see a specialist (it's always something). And, thankfully, I didn't get surprise biopsies. (Yay!)
As far as the show goes, I got a really nice email apologizing about the previous email that was sent to me. Apparently so-and-so didn't let so-and-so know about the situation and...well, they asked me to reconsider very nicely and tried to help me out. It was SUCH a nice email that I am going to reinstate myself...which means it's back to the slavery schedule. Thank goodness the wool has already come in because I am going to be really busy over the next three weeks.
Gotta get busy on the publication...hope everyone has a great Friday!
As I pork up on some lunch I realize today is the best day of the year. This afternoon I get my annual check-up. Here's what I have to look forward to:
My Norwegian wool batts came in yesterday. I opened the box and squished my face into them--six pounds and six colors of the most delicious wool in the world. Now I can finish the hat commissioned from me in Nashville. Just thinking about them makes me want to go home and start felting. I like to make hats that have Merino on the inside (for next-to-the-head softness) and Gotland/Pelssau on the outside because it holds its shape and has great texture. Thanks to Jean Hicks for that better-than-gold info! I used the last of my Nashville show earnings on the wool, but it will last me a long time.
On a less-than-positive note, I think I'm going to cancel out of the November show with a guild I'm in. The membership director gave me a break initially and said that I could pay the rather steep space fee of $300 after the show because we going through such a terrible financial crisis. I thought that was wonderfully generous. Well, a couple of days ago I get this slightly snippy email from another guild officer about how the membership director shouldn't have done that and I will have to pay up front at the beginning of the show. It also reminded me of the "real" deadline on the contract which was in October.
Well, I'm not retarded. I read the contract.
I actually could pay the day of the show, but now that there's been so much attention placed on HOW I DID IT WRONG and my PATHETIC FINANCIAL SITUATION, I think I would feel like a despised step-child coming in and sneaking a check over the table after everyone else has paid. The membership director was just trying help me. I feel like they should have honored the agreement and reprimanded him, not embarass me...even if they said that this was a one-time situation and that it can never happen again for anyone. So, I wrote back and said that I was really uncomfortable with all the attention placed on me as a new member and as someone with a less than great financial situation. Basically, I was visualizing how I would feel handing over that check at the show and it I didn't think it was nice way to start out showing with the guild. I said "no thanks" this time and that I would look foward to future shows.
Maybe I'm just sensitive.
Or stubborn.
Or I'm getting better at showing myself some respect.
It's the end of the day. It's the end of the day. It's the end of the day.
Or something like that.
Must muster energy. Have no energy now. I've always been kind of a low-energy person which has always been a major irritation to me. Even when I am in great shape with no depression or other medical/psychological concerns I'm still tired most of the time. I do lots of things and get a lot done, but I just feel like I'm always dragging a big fat carcass behind me (that would be me, again). I have little fits of energy, but I rarely get what I would call "hyper." I'm always that damn turtle and sometimes I would like to the be impulsive nutty-and-out-of-control hare, you know? Mind energy is another matter though. I probably have 15 new ideas for figures a week and I have hundreds of doodles and drawings of those ideas scattered EVERYWHERE...my mind is very impatient and easily distracted if even slightly bored. Maybe I am a modern day Frankenstein--I've got the mind of someone with ADHD and the body of a phlegmatic 80 year-old.
Wow, now that's appealing. Thank God I'm already married.
You know I can't even REPEAT my google searches here they are so bad. It's amazing my for-the-most-part-pretty-clean site comes up with some simple switch-a-roos in wording. Some of you are just plain SICK 'N' NASTY.
On that note, I have to share some good email I got today. Guys, it's just a joke.
Education for Men
For those of you who are married, were married, or are contemplating marriage - under the assumption that men need (or ought) to be trained for marriage. Southwest Tech is offering a new 2 year associates degree...
TWO YEAR DEGREE: Becoming a Real Man. That's right, in just six mini-semesters, you, too, can be a real man as well as earn an associates degree in MA (Male Arts). Please take a moment to look over the program outline.
FIRST YEAR
Autumn Schedule:
MEN 101 Combating Stupidity
MEN 102 You, Too, Can Do Housework
MEN 103 PMS-Learn When to Keep Your Mouth Shut
MEN 104 We Do Not Want Sleazy Under things for Christmas
Winter Schedule:
MEN 110 Wonderful Laundry Techniques
MEN 111 Understanding the Female Response to Getting in at 2AM
MEN 112 Parenting: It Doesn't End with Conception
EAT 100 Get a Life, Learn to Cook
EAT 101 Get a Life, Learn to Cook II
ECON 001A What's Hers is Hers
Spring Schedule:
MEN 120 How NOT to Act Like a Buttface When You're Wrong
MEN 121 Understanding Your Incompetence
MEN 122 YOU, the Weaker Sex
MEN 123 Reasons to Give Flowers
ECON 001C What Was Yours is Hers
SECOND YEAR
Autumn Schedule:
SEX 101 You CAN Fall Asleep without It
SEX 102 Morning Dilemma: If It's Awake, Take a Shower
SEX 103 How to Stay Awake After Sex
MEN 201 How to Put the Toilet Seat Down
Elective (See Electives Below)
Winter Schedule:
MEN 210 The Remote Control: Overcoming Your Dependency
MEN 211 How to Not Act Younger than Your Children
MEN 212 You, Too, Can Be a Designated Driver
MEN 213 Honest, You Don't Look Like Tom Cruise
MEN 230A Her Birthdays and Anniversaries Are Important
Spring Schedule:
MEN 220 Omitting %&*! from Your Vocabulary (!Pass/Fail Only)
MEN 221 Fluffing the Blanket After Farting Is Not Necessary
MEN 222 Real Men Ask for Directions
MEN 223 Thirty Minutes of Begging is NOT Considered Foreplay
MEN 230B Her Birthdays and Anniversaries Are Important 2
Course Electives:
EAT 101 Cooking with Tofu
EAT 102 Utilization of Eating Utensils
EAT 103 Burping and Belching Discreetly
MEN 232 Appear to Be Listening
MEN 233 Just Say "Yes, Dear"
ECON 001C Cheaper to Keep Her
I have to rant further about the fabric store Nazis. I have the same kind of experience at MOST fabric stores I frequent. I don't know if there's a such a dearth of social skills that these people merely appear rude or if they are such seamstress snobs that they can't stand to deal with the riff-raff.
During the same trip to said fabric store I posted about yesterday, I also enjoyed having my fabric cut for me. I use upholstery fabric for parts of my fabric figures because it's sturdier and I like the way it looks, so I picked about about four or five fabrics from the remnants heap and took them to the cutting table. I stood there and waited for someone and one of the employees, who has cut my fabric before, came to help me. I told her I'd like 1/2 yard of each fabric.
She says, "What in the world are you going to do with 1/2 yard pieces?"
"I make dolls."
Silence.
I looked at her and she continued with what she was doing. No "oh" or "hmm" or "really?" or anything. I just stood there feeling awkward and she stood there being awkward. It was awkward. I am terrible at small talk myself, but I usually recognize that someone has said something to me. I usually TRY. It wasn't a really big deal, but 90 percent of the interactions at most fabric stores are like that. It's like they're drugged sullen automatons. Does excessive sewing cause retardation of social skills? Did they have to sew their own clothes as kids? I don't know what it is, but it's annoying. Maybe I just expect too much from people.
On another note. I am exhausted. I left work a little early yesterday to finish my readings for my online test which I finished about 9 p.m. last night. It seems like I've been doing nothing but staring at computer screens and burying my nose in books. The classes I'm taking right now have tremendous reading requirements. I'm going to have to dig out my reading glasses because I can hardly focus my eyes. And to make things really fun, I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. Bleh on that. Thankfully I only have to go to one class tonight and will be home by 7 p.m. instead of 10 p.m. Tonight is scheduled ME time.
I went to a fabric store this weekend to get some styrofoam for one of my felting projects (and accidentally rifled through the upholstery remanants) and I wrote a check for my stuff at the check-out counter. The lady slowly rang me up and took my check and asked for a driver's license. Ok. Then she noticed that the area code on my checks was old. Now, East Tennessee has changed its area code about 3,000 times in the past few years, so I was using up the old checks I had. She says "You've got an old area code on your checks." And I said, "Yeah, I know, I'm using up the rest of my checks before I start my new box."
And she snorts at me and puts my check into the register.
Snorts.
Now she could have snorted because my checks are funny (Popyeye checks) or she could have snorted because she was a totally anal-retentive bitch, or because she thought I was an idiot for not marking out the old area code and putting in the new one.
In any case, I don't think you should SNORT at anyone unless you plan to explain yourself. I wanted to take my bag of material, build some velocity with it by swinging it above my head and give her a good hearty thwack.
Even in my worst mood, I have never snorted at a stranger or have been openly rude to someone who didn't do a lot to provoke me...especially in the workplace.
On another note, I got a lot of work done over the weekend, both studying and felting. I look forward to the day when I actually have a real weekend devoid of work and study. Sometimes I don't feel like I have anything to look forward to. But, I have to say that the scheduling idea is helping me tremendously...I am moving and getting things done. And, I am scheduling guilt-free self time which makes a big difference.
I have never seen the Vols play that bad... sometimes it's like being in a stormy codependent relationship. Quick, call a therapist.
I've taken short tests, long tests, official tests...they all come up the same. I'm either uniquely wonderful, or a bizarre freak that belongs in a jar full of formaldehyde...only time will tell.
| INFP - "Questor". High capacity for caring. Calm and pleasant face to the world. High sense of honor derived from internal values. 1% of the total population. |
I'm better today and more positive. To battle the gridlock I am going to schedule blocks of time for different activities (study time, art time, hubby time, self time). That way I can allow myself to think about only one type of activity at a time (thanks Kat and M2). So, my evenings are going to be very scheduled for about three or four weeks to get over the hump. The first week of November is the big crunch date with a big research paper and two art/craft shows (one small, one big) all due. After that, I can take the level down to hysteria. Right now I think I am emoting radiation. (Later that night...editorial smirk/update: What the hell? I think I meant "emitting"...either that or I just made a brilliant play on words...)
So, I think I DID get out of the road. And that's a good thing. Now all I have to do is find my way through the woods.
I am in a fog. I do NOT like fog. Quite simply, I'm overwhelmed. When I pick up a magazine, I have to put it back down because I know I should be picking up a textbook instead. When I pick up a textbook I think about how many pieces I need to make for the November art fair. When I work on creative projects I feel like I should have studied before spending time on art projects. When I try to knit and relax I think about how I should be felting instead of knitting so I put it back down. When I am at work, I think about how much studying I have to do and how many pieces I need to get done for the November art fair. When I'm on the toilet I think about how I've been avoiding my laundry and how I need to clean the house. When I'm in bed, I'm thinking about how much stuff I have to do at work, school and for the fair so I can't go to sleep. When I watch television I feel so guilty I pull the covers over my head. When I'm in the shower I think about how fat I've gotten because I can't get out the door to exercise because I have too much studying and fair pieces to complete at home. When I get up in the morning, I think about how behind I am at work and I hope I'll drown in the shower. And while all of that is going on I'm worried to death about money.
Well, ok, I don't really hope to drown in the shower, but that's how my life has been. I'm the quintessential deer in the headlights--except I think I've been run over a few times. I don't know how I keep getting back up. I do know that it would be good to GET OUT OF THE ROAD. And that's what I'm going to think about now.
Some things I learned (and some relearned) about that unattractive grey gob of matter stuck in our skulls:
The news on my internal clock is that I DON'T HAVE ONE. I got up 30 minutes earlier today and I was 15 minutes later than I was yesterday. And, I didn't do anything differently. Did I pass out in the shower? Did I enter a fugue state while brushing my teeth? I just don't understand it, and quite frankly, I have stopped trying to understand it. My husband can guess the time within 5 minutes and he never wears a watch. I religiously wear a watch and I am late every single day and never have any idea what time it is or what the date is. The closest I can get is: "It's Wednesday and it's morning, but not lunchtime yet."
So, I had more nightmares last night and my right jaw joint is clunking like an old transmission, which means I gritted my teeth a lot while sleeping. It didn't help that group intervention class was incredibly intense last night. I think everyone left a little rattled.
On a more positive note, I'm really looking forward to going to SAFF later this month. Some of us in the Feltmaker's Network who live in the Southeast will be meeting for to start a smaller guild, which would be awesome. Chad Alice Hagen, an incredibly talented textile artist, seems to be the emerging ring leader. Anyway, it's always fun to go play in Asheville and even more fun to go wallow in wool and fuzzy animals. I can't take the classes I'd like because we are so damn broke, but I am going to take a silk fusion and nuno felting class. Last year nuno filled up and I couldn't get in. Bleh! I'll be taking Ma along with me so it will be good mother-daughter time, too.
Most interesting Google search for my page in the last few days: "Barium enemas on 70 year-olds". Ouch.
When I say to move, it means to go someplace else, not switch positions with each other so there are still two of you in the way.
The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help, because I fall faster than you can run.
I cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure your comfort. Look at videos of dogs and cats sleeping, they can actually curl up in a ball! It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space used is nothing but sarcasm.
My compact discs are not miniature Frisbees.
For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. When I exit this room, I will come out the the same door I entered. In addition, I have been using bathrooms for years. Canine attendance has never been necessary.
The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog's butt. I cannot stress this enough. It would be such a simple change for you.
In return for your following these simple rules, I have posted the following message on our front door:
Rules for Non-Pet Owners Who Visit and Like to Complain About Our Pets:
1. They live here. You don't.
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture.
3. I like my pet a lot better than I like most people.
4. To you, it's an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.
5. Dogs and cats are better than kids. They eat less, don't ask for money all the time, are easier to train, usually come when called, never drive your car, don't hang out with drug-using friends, don't smoke or drink, don't worry about buying the latest fashions, don't wear your clothes, don't need a gazillion dollars for college, and if they get pregnant, you can sell the results.
Thanks to my friend, Sharon, who sent me this via email today. I knew I liked you for some reason.
 | I always try to keep up with the NIADA artists to see who's been accepted, etc. Forest Rogers is one of the newer ones I am admiring. She works mostly in clay. Delicious, delicious eye candy. |
And I'm winning! Huh-huh. I've noticed that on every day that I say I don't feel like "blogging" that I immediately proceed to peck out 100 breathy posts on nothing but mindless, but slightly entertaining, drivel. I'm especially good at producing said drivel when I have a paper to write and about 500 pages of textbook reading to do. Hmmmph. Double-hmmmmph.
Last night's procrastination session included rainbow-dyeing some merino wool. I had to remove my wool drying (long since) on sweater racks in the downstairs shower because I was informed by my husband that the bathroom smelled like a skunk. I had to vacate the premises of wooly materials before it got to fisticuffs. So, of course I had to play with some of the wool after bagging it all up.
I guess if I've resorted to talking about stinky wool then I've hit the bottom of the barrel in procrastination blogging. Off to the books I go. *sigh*
Saturday I was unusually happy. Sunday I had the blahs. Today I have the putrid blahs a la noir. Now what the hell happened on Saturday? I need to find out and repeat the behavior.
| The Big Five Personality Test |
| Extroverted | |||||||||| | 32% |
| Introverted | |||||||||||||||| | 68% |
| Friendly | |||||||||||||||||||| | 84% |
| Aggressive | |||| | 16% |
| Orderly | |||||||||| | 32% |
| Disorderly | |||||||||||||||| | 68% |
| Relaxed | |||||||||||||| | 52% |
| Emotional | |||||||||||| | 48% |
| Intellectual | |||||||||||||||||||| | 84% |
| Practical | |||| | 16% |
I can't believe I was blogless for two whole days, and I still don't really feel like blogging. It could be the grand piano teetering on my shoulders. The worries of being worried about money, being behind in school after dedicating so much time to the art show, the worries of feeling unmotivated at work and at school because I am so worried about so many worrysome things. It's breaking me out, making me eat lots of sugar and causing me to stare a lot at blank walls. The gloom introduced by last night's nightmare in which my mother died of a stroke while we were shopping together didn't help. This could be less than healthy.
One goody gumdrop this morning was the link found at Ultramicroscopic: Jay Long. Delicious artwork always makes me feel better. And I have a real thing for art that incorporates the use of words. Several of my new designs for figures have words incorporated into them. If I ever get to them, they should be good.
Looks like it's going to be Monday ALL DAY, but I'm sure I'll plod on through...
that every time I take a few days off from work the only thing I discover when I get back is that I wish I had stayed away even longer?
Then again, I'm just glad to have a job right now.
Shame on me. *whirrrrrrrrrr--crack!* Back to work. Ow.
My dad says when it's his time he wants to go via the "AC" syndrome. Now, my dad has a bleak sense of humor to say the least. The AC belongs between the M and the K. When he turns around to face his end that's all he wants to see. Now all he has to do is make sure he's standing in the middle of a highway.
Speaking of the big Mack smack, our financial situation has reached heights of horror. If you think it can't happen to you, think again. Being jobless for long periods of time after making good money (and making big bills) can wreck you quickly. We weren't even really big spenders. The weight of this worry is incredible and all-consuming. Save your money and cut up the plastic. Do it tonight.
I've been meaning to leave this comment for some time. Why are the quiz-makers, such as they are, at Quizilla such incredibly bad spellers? If you have the quiz gene, can you not have the spelling-simple-words-that-a-fifth-grader-can-spell gene? Maybe they have to go in the same slot in the pretty little DNA strand. It just ruins the fun-but-faux-validity of the quizzes, you know? And, apparently, I have the must-use-hyphens-until-readers-become-annoyed gene. Good grief. I'm going to bed.
Remember the boastful post I submitted a couple of days ago; how I "saved" the bed from a big Baxter-puke? Well, apparently, Baxter read the blog because not only did I clean up three pukes on the stairs when I got home from work, but I found THIS on the bed. How about that for dead-aim? Will I ever, ever learn?
Did it take a researcher for people to realize this? We may be at the top of the food chain, but we are, by far, the biggest jerks. Study: Roaming Animals Not Good in Zoos.
I just heard the tell-tale "yech, yech, yech" of Baxter, our Amazing Puking Cat, so I ran as quickly as possible from the computer room to the bedroom and there he was, squarely planted in the middle of the bed, tongue drooping in its pre-vomitous state. Swoop! I spirited him from the bed to the floor and where he promptly finished the deed. A little toilet paper, a musical low-water-flow flush and the evil pile of regurgitation was whisked away as if it had never happened. Cats: 5,459 Me: 1
What are the chances that both my husband and I would have western-inspired dreams on the same night? I had a dream I bought the "new John Wayne CD." It was similar to Johnny Cash's last gig--and it was pretty good. It was actually a reel-to-reel type of recording and my shirt kept getting drawn up into the mechanism.
But my husband's dream was much more entertaining than mine.
Hubby dreamed that he was in a giant paneled hotel room and he was dressed up in dirty old western gunslinger garb complete with the big hat and giant handlebar moustache. There were dispensing containers all along the wall like the ones you see at buffets that hold iced tea, except these were filled with liquor. Also in the room were all the old western legends like Jesse James. Apparently there was a one drink limit because some guy got two servings and my husband must have been the sheriff because he said this now classic line in our household:
"I reckon' I'll have to arrest him for that OH-ffense."
And Jesse James stood up and yelled "Like hell you will!" and threw his glass against the wall.
Hubby said he woke up laughing.
On another note, making a pass through the blogs, I read a bit about being uninsured in America at Long Pauses. Having worked in healthcare communications for about 13 years now I guess I've been especially tuned-in to this issue. I am becoming acutely aware of it now that I am making more friends in the independent artist arena. For instance, the woman who was set up next to me at the TACA fair in Nashville had no benefits. She is an amazingly talented clay artist. She used to have benefits when she was a retail manager for many years, but when she went full-time as an artist (which is plainly what she should be doing given her talent) she gave up her access to affordable healthcare. If you've ever looked at getting insurance on an individual basis, you would see that it's plainly unaffordable.
There are many people out there who need to be doing what they are MEANT to do, but can't afford their dream because of THE COST OF BEING INSURED. Our culture suffers as a result. People suffer as a result.
The other group that really suffers is the group of folks who have retired but who are not yet eligible for Medicare benefits. Those benefits do not kick in until age 65. Even then most people need a supplemental insurance to be able to get the healthcare they need. For those that fall into the gap, they are screwed. At a time when they are likely to be sicker, they have less accessibility to affordable healthcare. I have a friend who is in her late 50's whose job was basically eliminated. Her husband is an established illustrator, but they have no insurance since she lost access to group insurance through her company. So there they are, hoping to stay healthy until they can be considered eligible for Medicare. These are UPPER middle-class folks, and THEY can't afford individual healthcare insurance. And really, who can afford $600 a month to just be minimally COVERED?
I could write a dissertation on this subject and it would be full of examples of real-life people not getting the care they needed solely because of insurance. I'll just stop there.
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