Oct 29, 2010

This should be fun

Today is like the best day ever.

It's Friday, and quiet at work.  I love quiet Friday's.

I'm working on little tiny things.  Easy stuff.

Not browsing the web type easy stuff - actual easy stuff.  Making labels easy stuff.

And, I get to leave early today. 

I finally have a great weekend planned.

No painting is planned for this weekend on our 'house update' project.

The fam and I are headed for a Pumpkin Palooza where there will be trick-or-treaters and much laughter.

I have been looking forward to this little getaway for a while now.



Why does this always happen to me?  I mean, it's finally a little cool outside so I can wear my new blue jeans to the football game.  We are all packed and ready to go and my children are wishing their school day away so we can hurry up and go already.  Except now, I have a headache that will only go away with a very dark room and extremely quiet sleep.  A lot of sleep.

Do you think I'll get a lot of sleep?  NO!  Instead I'll be miserable in the car as we journey to our Halloween Festival Weekend.  Undoubtedly, I'll have to have my husband pull over on the side of the road so I can barf. 

But damn it, why?!?!

Instead of festivities all I want to do is crawl in bed.......ugh.

What are your plans for the spooky weekend?

Oct 26, 2010

The Real Me

I am not a mean person.

I'm funny.

Sometimes very giving.

I wear my heart on my sleeve which ends up kocking me down in most cases.

I don't like to hurt anyone's feelings.  No matter how ugly you are, I refuse to hurt your feelings.  After all, God made you and I will NEVER think you are ugly.  God doesn't make mistakes and He had the best of intentions when He made you the way you are.  So really, nobody is ugly.  Looks wise you know...personality, now that's a different story and don't get me started on that - you'd be here next week reading about all the "ugly" (mean) people I've encountered in my lifetime.

But mean, I really don't think I am.  Now, my kids will tell you a different story I can promise you that.  Because really, if I have to tell you seven thousand eight hundred and thirty one times how to glue grass in the shoebox, you weren't paying attention the first several thousand times I told you.  So yes, I'm going to yell which in children's minds is being mean. I just think my point is made much more clear when I raise my voice 3 decibles.

I can't stand yelling.  It makes my heart race. It makes me look very ugly because apparently I hold my face in the yelling position for several hours afterward.  So, don't make me yell at you.  Because there are so many judgey people who will think I'm actually not good looking and that God really did make a mistake when he left my face all crinkled up.

However, I recently enjoyed getting my point across with words rather than with voice escalation.  I'm becoming fairly good at it too.

Is it wrong for me to enjoy making someone feel guilty for not following directions, or for making a mistake that I know for a fact that I would never do because of my overwhelming gift of niceness?  I don't think so.

I mean, I did just get my point across a few minutes ago.  I didn't have to yell, kick or scream.  Hell, I didn't even cry and I think I got my point across. My old trick to get you to feel bad or guilty was to make myself cry so you would feel bad for me. 

Not anymore buddy, I have words.  The best part of it all was that I didn't even frown.  In fact, I think there was a slight grin, a smug expression if you will.

My point was made, and I walked away feeling so great!  I didn't have to yell.  I didn't have to say mean things and I came out the same nice, friendly, caring, giving person I've always been.  I walked to my office, put my lunch bag next to my purse so I wouldn't forget it because, if I *forgot* to mention that I *forget* a lot of things lately (I'm not sure if it's age or what but,  I don't think I should worry about it),  me being *forgetful* was the reason I almost yelled today. I could have easily cried too because my feelings were hurt that someone *forgot* to remind me that I was *forgetting* something.

I'm sure it wasn't intention at all.  Because I am usually the one reminding folks of things when necessary. Nobody ever thinks to *remind* me of anything.  It wasn't really a big issue and I wasn't going to say anything at all about it until someone put the *reminder* in my head that had it been anyone else *I* would be the one doing the reminding so that they didn't FORGET!

Still with me?  Good - my point to this long story about how I didn't have to yell today becuase I have changed with age and am able to use words rather than raise my voice or cry or stomp my feet is that when I got to my office, my heart started racing and I feel like there is a gigantic elephant sitting on my chest.  I've also had to get a kleenex because I feel like I may have hurt feelings with my "words".  I was clever, and was sure not to say anything harmful. But since I didn't end the conversation with "it's ok, don't worry about it" and just brushing it off  I feel horrible.  I feel like a different person and think perhaps I should apologize for being so crass and smug with my words. 

Only for one minute did I feel like such a great person for not yelling (by the way, I don't yell when I'm at this establishment, only home, to my kids, who can't really hear well. I think).  The more I think about it, that's not really who am at all. 

I am the person you can step on just so you're a little bit taller.

I am the person who will always put in a little extra every single time, so that you don't have to do as much.  Yes, I will complain about it but I would rather complain than have you do something that you, well - don't really want to do.  In my wiser years, I have changed the word complain to vent.  Because when you complain, you have to have a solution.  If you vent, no solution is necessary.  I don't really want a solution because I feel like if I find a solution to me not doing so much work I become less valuable.  My assests go down with every complaint.  If I vent, I feel much better about the day and move on. 

I'm also the person who even if I really didn't do anything wrong, I will make myself believe that I did if I feel like it will make you have a better day.

I'm sorry.  And, You're welcome.

Oct 13, 2010

"CHI CHI CHI, Le Le Le!"

Oh my, it's been a few days since I made you laugh hasn't it?  I'm sorry...it's just been a very low key past couple of days.  Not really much has happened that made me think...oooooh!  I need to blog that!

I was sick right before the weekend. Throwing up.

I really hate to vomit.  Honestly I will do *anything* to avoid having my insides present themeseves outside.  I took enough Phenergan to make me sleep all day long.  But, some kind of nasty bug flew in my mouth and made it's way down and just didn't want to leave me.  It was pure misery.  So that's basically where I was.  It the bed.  And, on the floor by the toilet (which is enough to make anyone hurl).  I tried to show my face to my family once in a while but each time I did they would all point me back to the bedroom.  I could hear my husband tell the boys in a panic "come on over here and get some hand sanitizer!"  Dude, I didn't even touch you!  I didn't even get 20 feet near you.  Then I'd hear the Lysol spray.  Ugh....  I can't really blame him though because I would hate it if they were throwing up like I was.  I hate to even hear people, including myself throw up. Next time, I think I'm wearing ear plugs so I don't even have to hear myself.  I just hope there isn't a next time anytime soon.

You would have thought that I'd have lost some weight.  Because seriously, even the damn water I drank to keep myself hydrated didn't want to stay down there with whatever monster was inside me.  But NOOOOO, I didn't lose *any* weight.  Let me tell you why - Saturday afternoon, Saturday night, all day Sunday....I ate.  I ate a lot.  I couldn't get full!  And whatever food was at the house, I ate it.  I don't even like potted meat but I ate that shit like it was going out of style.  I also ate spaghetti.  Usually when I cook spaghetti for supper I don't eat it.  I'm not a tomato person.  So, I eat the noodles with a little butter and parmesean cheese.  This time though, I ate two servings of spaghetti *with* the sauce.  Lord help me! 

I ate like a Chilean Miner being rescued.

Speaking of the Miners - OMG!  They have been down there for 69 days?  WOW! This is nothing short of a miracle performed by none other than God.  Honestly, He is to have all the glory.  I know that a whole bunch of people had a lot to do with the operations side of it and how exactly they were going to get the miners out alive.  And I mean THOUSANDS of people had a hand in it.  Smart and methodical people from *all over the world*.  These people put their minds together and took precise measure in order to keep the miners safe and rescue them alive.  But Lord, how did they survive *that long* more than 2000 feet underground?  Only He knows.  I can imagine they had tremendous faith and a strength and will power within themselves to keep fighting.  They all had something to look forward to.  Each one of them has a family member (or twenty) just 2000 feet above the ground waiting for them.  Each man is alive and will live to talk about it.  He is a part of history.

One reporter said it's just as big a moment as when Neil Armstrong stepped foot on the moon.  This is *that* big.  An operation that is taking place to save 33 men who went to work one day, just like every day and didn't return home because of a very scary accident.  It's precedential. Not ever, across the entire nation, left to right and top to bottom, has anyone EVER lived for as long underground with little to no food and an environment that is not condusive to every day life.  And, 33 men did.

Wasn't Jesus 33 when he died?  Coincidence or not, GOD is AMAZING all of the time.

Oct 6, 2010


When I walked through the door I wasn't greeted as usual. 

There was not the normal sound of hurrying feet rushing to my side.

I didn't feel the familiar arms wrapped around me immediately upon entrance.

When my eyes met his as I scanned the room for him, I knew in an instant the reasons for my feelings of abandonment.

He gathered his belongings and walked towards me as though it were going to be the last time he made that journey.  We buckled up our seat belts in silence.  The quiet didn't last more than 5 seconds.  Suddenly, there were tears and a burst of agony.  He covered his face in shame as though he didn't want me to see the misery across his face.  My heart ached for him and I wanted to reach out and hold him and tell him it would be alright.  But, I wanted to give him time to cry.  He needed to let go and get the tears out.  Although there would soon be more tears he looked as though he felt better soon after the first tear fell.  He composed himself just before we entered the garage. 

He wanted to be strong.  Tough.

We went our separate ways.  He to one side of the house and me to the other.  Soon enough we would meet again.

Within minutes he was at my bedroom door and in the softest voice he asked me;

Can we get it over with now, I don't want to wait any longer.  I've been thinking about it all day long.  I couldn't even enjoy my day knowing what was waiting for me when I got home.

He cried more when I was finished. 

We hugged. 

I told him that I loved him so much.  Then, he looked in my eyes and said he was sorry for what he did, and told me he loved me even more.

Everything really *was* going to be alright.

MY CHILD TALKS TOO MUCH!!!  He's been getting sad faces at school for chatting away.  I've given him chances and chance and chances.  I told him the last time that if he came home again with a sad face for talking he would be spanked .  I keep my promises.  Only because I want him to take me seriously.  If I didn't spank him this time then the talking would be acceptable.

It was very hard to do.  But let me tell you that when he reached up and wrapped his arms around my neck it was the best and the worst feeling.  Best because it meant that he still loves me even when I spank him.  Worst because he wispered in my ear how much that darn spanking hurt!

What can I say? 

I love to talk.

He gets it honestly.

Oct 5, 2010

1%, Radio and Bad Hair

I don't consider myself a *late* person. 

I would say that I'm 99% on time and 75% early.

Lately, those numbers are completely lying.  I have figured out that I can sleep about 15 minutes longer each morning by taking a shower at night as well as in the am.  The reason why I have to shower in the morning is because I have a major affliction with my fear of bed mites! Plus, it can get kind of steamy in the bed sometimes. LOL! I'm sorry but, I just have to take a shower in the morning too.  I mean what, you're sleeping for at least 7 hours right? Under covers.  Sometimes you sweat.  Or, what if you pee a little?  Or a lot, I mean you could have a problem, you know.  And really, there *could* be little teeny weeny bugs or mites or whatever they call them in your bed.  Listen, I have to psych myself out and tell myself over and over that there aren't any in my bed/on my mattress/pillow, OK? I know, it's crazy but really, who wants to sleep in a dirty bed? 

So, back to me showering at night.  I have a very enormous amount of hair on my head.  I must wash my hair every day.  If I don't, I could fry chicken in the grease from my hair.  I promise.  But the thing is, I've noticed that my hair looks better the next day.  Like, I wash my hair Friday morning before work.  I stlye my hair and work all day. Then, that same evening I just shower but DON'T wash my hair.  When I style my hair Saturday it's SO MUCH BETTER LOOKING!  For about three hours.  Then it stars with the ol' greasy looking mess.  So, I decided that I would wash my hair during my evening shower, let it air dry and get up in the am and style it.  It's been working great because my hair looks better, I don't have to use so much heat on it from the hair dryer, AND I'm still washing my hair once every 24 hours.  I'm loving it!

Except for this morning.  OH MY GOD, when I looked in the mirror my first thought was Donna King (the female Don King in case you didn't get the joke).  Remember when your mom used to say "you look like you stuck your finger in a light socket".  This time I said it to myself.  My hair was a hot mess.  Before I got into bed last night I was on the computer and sometimes I twirl my hair out of habit.  I must have twirled about 4 pieces of hair on either side of my face because those suckers were spiral curled and the rest of my hair was kinky.  My flat iron would NOT get the wrinkles out.  I almost had to re-wash my hair and blow it dry straight. 

There was NO time to re-wash my hair.  Remember I'm never usually late?  It would have made me about 30 minutes late if I had to blow dry my hair, so I had to just flatten as much as I could.  I was already just going to get to work with seconds to spare.  I even hate that....I can't stand to walk into work at exactly 7:30.  You know, there has to be gossip time and laughter and sharing prior to starting the workday. 

So, I sprayed my hair as much as I could and hit the road to work. 

Unfortunately, I don't work very far from my home. 

Here's the thing.  I love to listen to the radio.  The radio is on in my car at all times.  It sucks when I have to drive long distances with chatty people because then I have to choose to be a good listener, because I am you know. I want to listen to the radio so would you mind talking over the singing?  Good, then I'll listen to both of you.  I even have a radio in my kitchen because what is better than listening to music and cooking?  Um, hello...NOTHING!  The radio in my room is always on and when hubby is not home, yes I turn it up loud enough to hear in the bathroom.

So, this morning as I'm trying to kind of hurry to work (so that maybe I can get there at 7:27, or 7:28 or 7:29, just not 7:30, heaven forbid I can't chit chat for even a minute before working) and what do you know today must be slated to be a great day!  There are nothing but great songs on the radio.  I'm not talking hip hop or anything like that.  Old School you know?  First Journey - Wheel in the Sky.  Just as I was about to pull into the parking lot Kenny Loggins comes on singing Footloose.  There was no way I could just turn the radio off in the middle of that song....I kept driving.....ha!  I didn't pull into the parking lot but instead decided to drive around the block.....and my radio volume was cranked. 

I didn't make it to work on time today.  Not even close so today I'm that 1%.  But I'm having a great day and I can assure it's all because of the radio. 

Who said bad hair makes for a bad day?

Oct 4, 2010

ID Please?

I got carded on Sunday!!!!  Whoo hoo! 

The funniest part was that my husband was standing there looking at the store clerk like he had lost his mind.  So, when I continued to pull out my ID with the *biggest* shit eating grin on my face, all he could do was stand there with his mouth open, and stare. 

Yep, that's right old man.  I got carded and you didn't!  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 

The more I think about it, I should have just kept my wallet closed, stepped aside and said: "Oh, daddy I guess will have to show the man your ID!"  He would have fell over right then and there. 

So, that was my little happy time Sunday.  It was over just as quick as it started because the next thing on the conveyor belt was prune juice.  That's when the clerk turned red, looked at me and said "I'm sorry ma'am."  So, what does that mean?  He's taking back the whole, "Can I see your I.D. please?"  Does the purchase of prune juice mean he shouldn't have carded me?  Does it mean that I'm old and need it for my bowels?  I mean, it does but guess what?  I'm sorry buddy you don't get to take it back.  And now that it's happened, I'm going to tell the whole world you did it!  Old lady prune juice or not - I.got.carded!

The Oldest One

I have great memories of my brothers.

Growing up with three brothers and two sisters makes it impossible to have a dull childhood.  I will say that my twin sister and I are the youngest of the siblings so I didn't really have a lot of time with my oldest sister.  She did visit during the holidays with her husband(s).  And, I can remember thinking how weird it was to have a sister that was already married.  Since she wasn't around much I just don't have the childhood memories of her.  There are memories, oh yes there are...but those are later in life.  Let's just make this about the boys.  I'll start with the oldest one.

He's 12 years older than me.  That means I was only 6 years old when he graduated from High School.  Needless to say I don't remember much of his childhood or high school days.  Honestly, to this day I don't really even know what he did immediately out of High School.  I think he went to UC Davis or Sac State.  I could be wrong, but he had to be close enough to come home often because he used to babysit my sister and I when my mom and dad went out of town for the weekend.  Most of my memories are from when he lived in the bay area.  I loved it when he came home to visit.  I remember telling my friends that I was grounded for the weekend and couldn't come out to play.  I didn't want to miss a minute of time with him and his funny stories and I never wanted to share my brother with any of my friends. 

One October, he came home to keep my sister and I for the weekend while my parents went to Carmel.  I didn't even know he was coming let alone that my parents were going out of town.  It was Halloween weekend and I had big plans to trick-or-treat.  I didn't know what I was going to dress as because my mom always took care of that.  Usually, my youngest brother would take us to the parade that was downtown just before it got dark and then he and his friends would walk my twin and me and all of our friends around the neighborhood ringing doorbells.  We would use pillow cases as our bags and we filled them up to the top every year!  When I got home from school that day there was a note on the kitchen table from my mom that she and daddy were going to be out of town for the weekend but my oldest brother was coming home to stay with us.  A little p.s. said, "Your father and I didn't get Halloween costumes this year so you and your sister should spend time with your brother tonight instead of trick-or-treating." I was devastated.  I had looked forward to trick-or-treating all year and now I have to spend time with my brother?!?!  When he arrived a few hours later he found my sister and I upstairs laying on our beds crying.  I can imagine that it broke his heart to see his baby sisters crying because he really did make it up to us.

He was bound and determined to get us to the parade and take us trick-or-treating so he went to my parents room and started creating costumes.  He dressed my twin up as a hobo. He put her up in some of my dad's jeans and an old flannel shirt.  Add two mismatched socks and two different tennis shoes.  He smeared vaseline on her cheeks and chin and then basically dipped her face into the coffee can!  She was a really great looking Hobo. I was a little jealous that her outfit had come together so quickly.  We had to hurry though becuase he wanted us to be *IN* the parade.  For everyone to see.  What in the world was he going to dress me as? 
He left the house and told us to sit tight, he'd be right back.  When he returned, I cried again.  He was holding the BIGGEST brazier I had ever seen in one had, and a pretty skirt and blouse with some VERY high heeled, strappy sandals in the other.  With some pantyhose from my mothers drawer my outfit would be complete.  I put the panty hose on, the skirt, the blouse, and the heels.  I didn't quite know how I was going to get the board that was my chest to fill out that enormous bra.  He had gone to my mom's best friend's house to borrow one of hers.  I'd have to use every pair of socks and even underwear to fill up that beast!  And that is exactly what he did.  He even used extra t-shirts to fill up the back side of my underwear!  My brother threw some makeup on me and some very red lipstick.  He curled my hair and back combed it in record time. 
With my chest and rear swollen the three of us headed to the parade.  We made it with seconds to spare....I was so uncomfortable and trying not to cry.  Everyone was staring at me and laughing as they pointed at me.  It was the first time ever that I hated my brother.  I wanted nothing more than to get to the end of Main Street and rip off the heels so that I could cut across the creek and run home.  When I made it to the National Hotel at the end of Main Street I could hear my name being called out.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw my brother running towards me.  He had the biggest grin on his face.  I don't remember everything he was shouting at me.  Something about the west but I couldn't understand him as he was pushing me up the stairs to the stage. My name was being called because I won 2nd place for Best Costume.  I stood on the steps of the National Hotel with one boob lower than the other.  Everyone was watching me.  Laughing. At me.  I could feel the stuffing slipping from the elastic ridge of my panties.....my butt was ever so slowly sagging.  The man with the microphone was in hysterics as he shoved the microphone to my face.  He asked me who I was dressed as. But, everything was such a blur and moving so fast, I couldn't even think straight.  That must have been why the laughter suddenly roared when the only thing that came out of my mouth was "my brother......" 
I don't remember how I got home.  I just remember that it took what seemed like hours to remove the makeup that he had applied to my face.  I remember using the entire jar of my mothers Ponds cold cream.  I didn't get in trouble though, I just blamed it on my brother.

For years I didn't even know what my oldest brother had dressed me as.  Until one weekend many, many years later he had come home for a visit. My sister and I had begged so many times to go back home with him for a few days.  We wanted to stay the night at his apartment.  He moved to the Bay Area and we really wanted him to take us to San Francisco. He and my parents finally agreed.  On one condition.  He was not to dress me up again as Mae West.  There was a lot of laughter but he agreed.

I can't speak for my sister but I know that I had the greatest time staying at my brothers place.  He did take us to the city.  We got to ride B.A.R.T.  Bay Area Rapid Transit.  It's where the buisness people commuted to and from work.  So, cool!  There are windows on that train as well.  We could see all around the area my brother lived.  At one point on the trip to San Francisco the train actually has to ride under the bay.  And because I tend to be a tiny bit guillable, my brother told me that if I looked really hard I could see the fish as we were  under the water.  I believed him.  I even told him I saw a fish.  I wanted him to feel as crazy as he made me feel.  But we were little grown ups when we were with my oldest brother because he was such a grown up and we wanted him to want us around. 

There are so many more stories - like the time he actually did get in trouble for having a party.  My parents would have never found out if it weren't for my sister and I.  We didn't tell on him either because we weren't even 5 years old.  It's just that he forgot to put us in our pajamas for bed.  The next morning when my parents came home and woke us up, not only did we still have the dresses on from the day before but my oldest brother had even forgot to take our shoes off! 

I think that's the only time ever that he neglected us.  Because he was already 12 when we were born he took on a lot of the responsibility of taking care of us.  He didn't get to walk us to school but he did get to walk me into my very first job after High School and I'll never ever forget how much he has been there for me.  Although he lives in Arizona and I in Mississippi he is still supportive of his litte sister.