Archive for December 2011

Opinions are like…

Everyone has one and they all stink. There are some things I swore off writing about anymore, but since I am feeling pretty full of myself, I changed my mind. I’m not saying that’s a good thing, unless you define good as actually blogging. haha I add this statement after I’ve written a bit: it seems as though I feel like ranting. :dlstrike:

1. Tim Tebow. Please stop talking incessantly about him. I like him, but stop.

2. The 2012 Presidential race. Please stop talking incessantly about it. Ok, so maybe that doesn’t really apply in this case since we need to be informed about the candidates, but really, there are none when all we are given with any credible shot of winning is either a Democrat or a Republican. Yes, they all suck. Rick Santorum is the best of the Republican lot, and so, of course, he doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance.

3. Sarah Palin. Why is she still news? I like her ok, but would not vote for her for probably anything.

4. Michele Bachmann. I liked her a whole lot better before she started campaigning. I still like her, but would not vote for her for probably anything.

5. Political conversations. I know, I am violating this in a sense with this post, but really, I don’t care anymore. I used to care. I attended one of the first Tax Day Tea Party demonstrations (there is a YouTube video to prove it), and I drug my kids along with nothing more to bribe them but the promise of a Chinese buffet lunch afterwards. The only thing I regret about it is that I managed to end up on a Cumberland County political email list. But I digress. The left tends toward anti-Christian; the right plays the Christian “hot button” issues for political gain. Both sides are playing their base for votes and doing nothing to improve society’s ill(s). So, I don’t care if it’s a Democrat or Republican. They both suck.

6. Dismissiveness. This particularly chaps my hide, and probably because I tend to do it myself. But really the fact that I tend to do it myself makes me feel qualified to point out the unchecked arrogance behind it. Which is why it chaps my hide for someone to seemingly direct their dismissiveness towards me. Obviously it wouldn’t bother me so bad if I didn’t think so much of myself. Still, hear me out! Let me finish my blankety-blank sentence before you blow me off!

7. Prissy women. You know them. I don’t mean “girly” women. There is a difference. Girly women don’t bother me. Prissy women do. Get over yourself.

8. Joyce Meyer. Irks me. Battlefield of the Mind being the sole exception once you get past the Joyceisms.

9. Lennon/McCartney. Great songs. Solo McCartney. Not so much. Solo Lennon. Crap.

10. Honda drivers. Green means go. That means put your foot on the accelerator and press down when the light turns green, not foot off the brake and ease off for a quarter mile and then try to race when the Neon has had enough.

Um, I should probably stop now. lol


So I was going to blog yesterday, but I couldn’t get it going. Lots that I wanted to say and pour out, but it was just so heartbreakingly personal that I opted to journal it instead. Yes, that’s right. Pen and paper…and a lot of tears. Oh, and I still don’t have it all out either. See, there is an issue going on that is only going to get worse before it gets better, and the getting better part will be little easier.

My mom has Alzheimer’s. So does one of her brothers and one of their cousins. So did their oldest sister. I’ve seen aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends waste away from cancer, ALS, Parkinson’s, and old age. It’s difficult to watch disease and/or age destroy the body of a loved one whether quickly or slowly. But when the body is being ravaged, deep down (or not so deep down), you can see the end is not so far away. Not so much with Alzheimer’s.

Mom is 79, and except for high blood pressure, she’s healthy as a horse. Her doctor began treating her with medication for Alzheimer’s about 4 years ago, but he said then all it would do would be to delay it. She did really well on it, but this year I have really been noticing the decline again. Her conscious mind is dying much more rapidly than her body. And on good days, she knows it, and hates it. She feared it, and what she feared has come to pass.

My heart breaks. I’m going to lose my Mama before I physically lose her. Oh, I will see her again in heaven, and I take great joy in that. But there is still the pain of loss in the here and now. And my heart also breaks because she so didn’t want this. I think she could have handled any physical ailment, any physical pain, but not the loss of her ability to think and remember…and communicate.

I grieve. I grieve the loss, and I grieve the decisions I will have to make. I grieve that I grieve. I grieve for family who are dealing with the same thing. And I long for the end of the grieving…for no more tears…

Moments of greatness

I seem to have a predisposition for clumsiness and poor judgement. So consider this a wall of shame of some of my embarrassing moments. There is mostly physical clumsiness involved, but one does involve an incident with the police.

1. 11th grade. One day I was in a hurry at the end of the school day. I had been out on trip that afternoon with the drama club (Thespians for the cultured – lol), and we got back right as school ended. I was rushing because I wanted to ride home with my friend rather than walk home, so I came out of the auditorium at a run, down the stairs, and 3 steps from the bottom…faceplant…in front of the half of the high school that was walking out to the parking lot…now laughing at my clumsy self. Ok, it wasn’t really a faceplant as I was able to keep my face off the sidewalk that I slid across, but I do have a scar on my left hand which hit first and took the brunt of my weight. It was traumatic at 17.

2. This is from college, and it’s not one incident because it happened several times. Whenever I had a class in the “basement” of Main, I seemed to have a class following that one on the 1st floor of Main, requiring traversing up a flight of stairs. I don’t know what it was with that stairwell, but I have fallen up those stairs more times than I can count.

3. Speaking of stairs, when I was in England, I worked on the second floor. One day, I had gone downstairs for a soda and chips, and 4 steps from the top, I tripped. Soda can (unopened) and chip bag (also unopened) went flying into the room (an open bay separated by 5ft cubicle walls), and my upper body landed in a sort of incline push-up position as I was thinking “Please don’t anyone be sitting in that first desk.” As I look to my right, yeah, that was witnessed. They were nice enough to make sure I was ok before they laughed. Did I mention it’s a metal staircase and the fall was very loud?

4. Same stairs, different direction. Heading downstairs with a couple other co-workers, and halfway down, my feet went out from under me. I managed to grab both rails quick enough to catch myself, and pull my arms from my body. Ok, my arms didn’t pull loose, but they hurt bad enough from the save. They were not, however, strong enough to save my pride.

5. Happy birthday. For my daughter’s first birthday, we had photos made, and stopped to eat. We thought it would be cute to have the waitstaff to do the happy birthday thing for her, and it was cute. She looked at them like they were crazy, but we got a kick out of it. We also had a pact (I thought) to never do that to one another. So, fast forward several years…to England. A bunch of us from work decided to do one of the MWR trips to London one night. Just so happened that night was my birthday. I had been very careful not to mention that fact to anyone but the women, because I knew they would have my back. And they kept it quiet, but the hubster did mention it to one of the guys as we picked him and his wife up and dropped our heatherns off with theirs for babysitting. So, here we are sitting down for dinner in some restaurant in London, and the other 2 ladies and I had to go to the bathroom. Yes, we went in a pack. The 4 men kept the table. By desert time, I was leaning toward a certain one, but both our waitress, and a couple of the guys insisted on a different desert, and, well, I was probably pretty toasted by then anyway, and said “Ok, whatever.” Now, let me describe for you, if I can, the room. I’m sure it doubled as a club, and so you had a lower level, and an upper level that surrounded the lower on 3 sides. Being close to Christmas there were several obvious office parties seated at large tables on the lower section. We were seated on the upper level opposite the door against the railing overlooking the lower level. Best seats in the house. And it was happening before I really realized it. At first I didn’t notice that more than just our waitress were serving desert, but as it dawned on me what they were doing, it was waaaay too late to hide as they were making me stand up…as if on a stage…in front of dozens of total English strangers…totally entertained…while I was totally mortified by the waitstaff singing happy birthday to me. And the ring leader of that little bit of fun threatened to do it again later as we waited in another restaurant/bar unless I did tequila shots. Needless to say, I slept the whole way back to base.

6. Speaking of birthdays, about 4 years ago while home visiting my mom, we got up and went to church with her. Now this was the first time in nearly 20 years I had been to a full morning’s service there, and funny enough, it is still the same schedule as it was when I was going 20-something years ago. But anyway, there were a few little details I had forgotten, namely that following the morning devotional prior to being released to Sunday School, the church sings Happy Birthday and/or Happy Anniversary to anyone who has celebrated either in the last week. Did I mention this was my first time there in nearly 20 years? Yeah, so Mom elbowed me, and got the dirty look, which was like pouring gas on a flame. She had backup as my aunt and my cousin on the other side of her joined in and by this time all 3 of them are pointing at me. Yeah, they make you stand up there too. Yes, I was the only one…and mortified yet again.

7. Let me back up to junior high…7th grade. At the risk of being named a total dork, I was able (by the skin of my teeth) to compete in our county’s spelling bee. Same auditorium that I would fall down in front of 4 years later. haha So, I was waiting in the lobby with my parents before, and being bored out of my skull, I was checking every thing out I could while checking the parking lot for the other 2 girls from my school to get there. I walked over to the front doors, and had to get up close to the glass to see out as it was getting dark, and misjudged the distance between my face and the glass totally smacking my forehead hard, and being my head, loud. At least the glass didn’t shatter.

And lets wrap this up since I am getting redundant.

8. Yes, I saved the best for last. Back in the day, while we were dating, the hubster and I went parking. At the worst possible moment (or best depending on your perspective), there was the tapping on the side of the van followed by the voice of a deputy announcing his presence and ordering the driver to exit. He just happened to be notoriously hostile toward certain folks (which included my husband), and so he proceeded to search the vehicle. Thankfully, he spared me from having to come out from behind the curtain, but any cover was blown when his backup showed up…who graduated high school with the hubby, and had quite a nice chat catching up with the hubby while deputy #1 frustratingly found no drugs or alcohol. At least there was no citation and just a “Go find someplace else to park” warning. I still don’t think I can look deputy #2 in the eye without getting completely and totally embarrassed.

And now for a quickie

Because it’s a bit much for a status update, and easier than finishing a draft.

So, I just noticed quite a bit of leeway between the waistline of my pants and my actual waistline. Who knew 10 pounds could make such a huge difference? My shirts aren’t so tight. I don’t look quite as pregnant (which I am not, by the way). The sock indentations on my legs aren’t as deep and don’t linger as long. I can take my rings off without having to lube my knuckles first.

And it looks like I will make my goal of under 190 by New Year’s.


Guilty pleasures

It was a problem. At some point in high school, my best friend got me hooked on Santa Barbara. No, I am not the soap opera watching type. Sure, I did watch General Hospital for a while as a kid, but that was for Rick Springfield only. Clearly, that was a problem, too, given that I was like 10/11 years old at the time I was watching GH. But, I can remember skipping class in college to watch SB, and then getting angry that the “cliff-hanger” wasn’t resolved for like another week. But I digress.

William Shakespeare. We were supposed to read Romeo and Juliet in 10th grade. I never did. I knew the gist of the story. 12th grade I think we had to read Hamlet in AP English? Honestly, I only read 3 of the however many books we were supposed to read in AP, and 2 of those pissed me off because of stupid endings. Actually, those were the first 2 books, and that’s why I refused to read any more. I did read Job (from the Bible), but didn’t really get it. (Because of the languange.) I still have problems getting through Job and I’ve read it 5 times since in 5 different translations. But, again, I digress. I didn’t understand Shakespeare’s plays, and I didn’t get his sonnets either. Nor did I get (for the most part) any other poetry. Yes, I dabbled a bit with writing poetry when I was 18 and idealistic. Before you ask, read that again: “18 and idealistic.”

Now you are probably thinking, “What is your point?” I know. It’s like the “random” posts with paragraphs instead of numbered one/two liners. There is a connection. See, there was a character in Santa Barbara by the name of Mason Capwell who was played by actor Lane Davies for the majority of the soap’s televised life. Mason quoted Shakespeare…a lot…and well. Teenage me was captivated by it, and developed what I dubbed the “Mason Capwell fantasy.” I was particularly enthralled hearing him quote Sonnet 29:

When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

I didn’t get the sonnet then, and I mostly don’t get it now (because I really don’t care), but to hear him speak it… Ah, I wish I could find a copy of it somewhere out there on the interwebs…