September 28, 2012

It's gonna be a long, quiet weekend around here.....for you

I am totally knackered.

Am I allowed to say that even though I'm not from the UK?  Well, whatever, I'm using it because it expresses perfectly how wiped out I am before I even begin all the insanity that this weekend will bring.

If you follow me on Twitter, you may have seen this....

Let me backtrack.  It all began a week or two ago, when she called for some reason or another and we were chatting.  She was telling me about her new venture and mentioned how much she missed having her secret weapon (me) around to do research for her.  Apparently, the person she was using on an intermittent basis wasn't very thorough or fast enough for her.  I mentioned that all she had to do was ask and that I'd help her out in any way I could.  And the conversation moved on.  Basically, she's happy and doesn't miss us enough to come back.  *sigh*

Fast forward to three days ago, when she called again.  This time she came asking if I could help her.  She offered cash.  I agreed.  Although, to be completely truthful, even if she hadn't offered cash I would have still helped her out.  I love working with her and I've always considered her a friend.

It's not heavy lifting by any stretch of the imagination, but it's exhaustive.  And we are on a deadline.  I've been working on it where I can and I'm frustrated that my real job is taking time away from working on her project.  Which means that her project is cutting into my "blog time."

And then my boy, my beautiful Man-Child decided to come home this weekend to celebrate his birthday a few days early and wants to have friends over (oh my hell - I do not have time for the housecleaning, cooking - oh wait, I don't do that part - etc. that comes from having friends over!).  This sneaky MC, informed us that he was coming, much to our delight, a few days ago.  And then he pulled a fast one on us.  He said he was coming home via the bus system that the school offers, which meant he'd get here about 9:30 tonight.  When I got home from work, around 5:30 guess who was already here?  Apparently, his roommate was coming home this weekend too and since he had to drive right by here he dropped MC off.

No one was home when he arrived.  So he called his dad.  And while talking to him, Hubby asked if he'd bought his ticket yet.  We have it set up so that we can see MC's bank account and Hubby had noticed that as of this morning there hadn't been any charges to the account*.  When MC said he hadn't, Hubby geared up to read him the riot act about how what would he do if the bus was full because of his lollygagging around.  And that's about the time that MC told him he was already home.

All of this is my roundabout way of saying that if I don't seem to be around on the 'Net so much for a bit, I hope you'll remember - it's not you, it's me.  I've got too much to do and not enough time to do it.

And if that isn't enough - I STILL haven't bought the birthday boy his gift yet. *sigh*

*For those of you with kids in high school this might be something to look into doing....go ahead and get the kid a bank account with a debit card - but have the accounts linked so that you can watch the activity (to keep them from overdrawing on the account - nobody needs that) online.  This way the kid learns how to handle "air money" vs. cash.  We did this when MC was either a sophomore or a junior (I can't remember) and it has been a great lesson that he didn't have to learn the hard way.

September 24, 2012

After all these years - why am I surprised?

Why am I surprised that the evil next door neighbor (not the good one) had his chain saw out and fired up bright and early on Sunday morning?  One day, evil neighbor, one day when you aren't expecting it karma will reach up and whack you upside the head.  One day......I only hope I'm there to see it.

Why am I surprised that after I stayed up far too late - on a "school" night - that I am extra cranky on Monday morning?

Why am I surprised when I get phone call - from out of the blue - from my dad it just means more worry? If I am giving this much angst to Man-Child when I'm 70 somebody please call me out on it.......although.....maybe this is just payback for my teen years?  Hmmm, something to ponder...let me get back to you on that whole "calling me out" thing.

Why am I surprised that our friends "friendly" divorce is completely spiraling out of control - into the territory of Utter Madness?

And why am I surprised that they are both trying to suck us into it? (Sorry friends, ain't happening)

Why am I surprised when I receive a text - from out of the blue - from Man-Child just saying he loves me?

And why am I surprised when that text from out of the blue brings tears to my eyes? Apparently, I AM a big cry-baby after all.....and I raised him right.

Why am I surprised at the obvious lack of turn signals that most cars seem to carry these days.

Why am I surprised that Hubby's spices STILL reside on my dining room table after - what? - FORTY-FOUR days?! (And yes, I cheated and said something to him about this past weekend.....can you blame me?!)

Why am I (still) surprised when my phone "whistles" at me whenever I have an incoming message?  (It's only been six days and I don't get that many incoming messages but still; I should have figured out how to change that by now but to be honest; it's kinda nice to get whistled at by inanimate objects every once in a while.)

Why am I surprised when my land-line rings and it's just a random call?  I mean one I actually KNOW uses that number anymore.

And mostly, why am I surprised that after staying up to late on a "school" night that I am completely and utterly exhausted by 7:00 pm?

Seriously.  After all this time I've spent on this crazy, spinning, globe why AM I surprised?

September 21, 2012

His evil plan to drive me crazy? It's working.

By now we all know that I am the main help desk support in this house.  But I used to have a little bit of back up in the form of Man-Child.  Meaning he could help his father with some of the more basic issues whenever I wasn't around.

Now that Man-Child has set off to seek fame, fortune and an education all help desk responsibilities; along with all the chit-chat, please-talk-to-me-I've-had-no-one-to-talk-to-all-day responsibilities (we HAVE to find this man a job and someone else to talk to, STAT!); have fallen squarely on my shoulders.

Responsibilities that are irritating the very life out of me, if the truth be told.  Especially after the past three days.

Our remote control died.  This did not concern me AT ALL but it bothered He-Who-Must-Have-The-TV-On-Constantly (aka Hubby) to no end.  The how and why a remote can just up and die out of nowhere escapes me, but there you go.  Apparently, they do.  So he went out to buy a new remote.

Hubby, being Hubby (and, to be fair, because of our lack of funds) bought the cheapest remote possible.  And then proceeded to spend the entire day trying to program it to our tv.  And when that didn't work, enlisted me; after I'd spent a boring exhausting day at work; to try and "fix" it.

My determination?  That the remote was a piece of junk and he needed to return it and buy a more expensive model.  The basis of this determination?  Because I've already been down this road more than once....since apparently we kill off remotes left and right around here.  I figure they are dying from overuse, but that's just my opinion.

So yesterday, he returns the one and gets the more expensive model (which, of course, I had to hear all about) and gets it to work.....sorta; at least it turned the tv off and on and changed channels....but that was it.  But because the Giants were on last night - but NOT on regular tv, of course, I was once again enlisted to "fix" it so he could connect the tv to the laptop and stream the game.

After an hour of not being able to get the remote to do anything other than change channels and turn off and on, I finally told him that he had no choice but to watch the game on the laptop......which then necessitated me figuring out how to download whatever special software, etc. was needed to actually watch the game.....

Eventually, it was all done and he was happily watching the game and I could go to bed.  Thank God.

And then there was today.  Today, I spent (no lie) FIFTEEN MINUTES trying to explain to him, over the phone, how he could simultaneously attach two documents to an email......yes, seriously.

I love that man with all my heart.  I do!  But his effort to slowly drive me insane is working.  And it's working well.

Very, very well.

September 18, 2012

A new phone AND being shoved through a window....what a perfect weekend

I have become quite accustomed to having quiet (almost TOO quiet), lazy weekends.  Especially since MC went away to college (how dare he?  The ingrate).

So this past weekend.....well, it drained me.

Obviously, I need to pack my weekends with more activities more often to keep me on my toes.

I took Friday off because with the big boss out of the office the work day has been dead, boring,and eerily quiet I have far too many vacation days left on the calender before the end of the year.

This was perfect because I was in the market for a new phone.  I had decided to make the leap from a Blackberry to an Android (apparently, my last post was cryptic enough to have some of you thinking I'd been "Apple-ized").  But because I'm obsessive anal crazy thoughtful and mature in my decisions, I needed to do my "research."

Research, as I'm sure you know, involves months and months of trolling the internet trying to determine which would be the best fit for me both emotionally, physically, Internet-edly, and, most importantly, cost wise before actually setting foot into the store.

So with all my research done, Friday began with romps through the various stores in our town.  First stop, to check out the phones and see how they fit.  Only to discover the ones I thought were THE ones were too big, too overwhelming, didn't fit comfortably in my back pocket, etc. (just call me Golilocks and be done with it....I know!).  And to note that they didn't have two of the phones I wanted to look at on display and two more that piqued my curiousity .  God forbid, should I actually ask the sales rep if they had any in the back or about the two phones that looked interesting!  NO!  I prefer not to talk to sales rep until I'm actually ready to purchase....yes, I have an issue with salespeople.....sorry.

Needless to say, I went to three different stores to look at phones that weren't on display at the first store.  Only to come home to troll the internet some more about the other phones I had found; which lead me to two more stores; which lead me back home; which then lead me back to the first store to actually acquire a phone.  And to be truthful, I only returned to the first store because I'd run out of stores in town.

I did all this, of course, to keep the employees from thinking "Oh God, here she comes again!" and then talking about me behind my back.

Okay, after re-reading all that I am ready to admit I may be a little bit insane.  But only a little bit!  God knows, how Hubby puts up with me.

And that pretty much ate up my Friday.  But I DID come home with a new phone, so I consider it a success.  Even though I am still struggling with the virtual keyboard. Seriously, when did my fingers become SO fat?!  And?  I love, love, LOVE my new Android (sorry, Apple-ites.....and Blackberry).

Man-Child came home late Friday night via the fabulous bus that the school offers to the students.  No, not so much because he missed me (the ingrate....I'm beginning to think I should change his name to that) but because we (as in the family) were invited to not one, but TWO, parties on Saturday and he loves seeing these people and by his estimation even if we lived with them it still wouldn't give him enough of them.

Like a dummy, I agreed to both.

Now we all know that I have recently become a recluse.  Mainly, because it's hard to go to these things and put on a happy face and tell people that we are "fine" when obviously I am a blithering basket case.

But I agreed.  And Man-Child was coming home.  It was too late to back out now.

And?  Well, if the truth be told, I knew I'd been hiding from neglecting my friends.  So, despite not wanting to go, I sucked it up and went.

BUT before we could actually leave for the said parties, stacked up right on top of each other (one at 4:00 and the other at 6:30 pm) we hit a little snag, of course.

We were all dressed and ready to go.  Hubby said that we'd take my car.  Fine.  As he was packing up the bean salad that he was bringing for one of the parties, I walked out to wait by the car.  Man-Child followed. We chit-chatted a bit and waited.  Finally, here comes Hubby.  He SLAMS the door (for extra security, doncha know) behind him and we are ready to get on the road.

Hubby tells Man-Child to start the car while he nestled the salad into the back seat.  Man-Child asked for the keys and Hubby just looked at him.  Then he looked at me and said, "Don't you have the keys?"  I shook my head.  Why would I have my keys when he was clearly going to drive?

We all looked at each other with that particular sense of dread and then Hubby said, "$&#*!" and we all looked at the door, willing it to be unlocked.

It wasn't.

Man-Child got the brilliant idea of using the "clicker" (the garage door opener) to get us in but sadly, as I never use that thing anymore, the batteries in it had died.  Man-Child, for once, didn't have his keys on him - since we took them back once he went to school in case we need his car, so we couldn't use the clicker that is in there.  And Hubby doesn't have a clicker and even if he did, his car was locked up tight as well.

So the guys tromped around the left side of the house looking for a way in - with Hubby cursing up a storm about he had just closed all the windows to the house.

I, of course, was tweeting about how we were locked out.  I mean come on, that's what I do.

Until I heard a loud, screeching sound coming from the back.  Then I went around the right side to see what damage they were inflicting were doing.

Once I'd made it around to the back of the house, I'd discovered that they had pulled the grill over to the one tiny, kitchen window that was still open and trying to pry the screen off.  All while putting serious dents into the lid of the grill.

Me, being the genius I am, quickly determined that 1) Hubby would NOT fit through that very tiny, tiny window and 2) that the much, much larger window in the dining room was open.  So I asked the most logical question I could, "Why aren't you going through the dining room?"

Hubby replied that it wasn't open.  I looked back to the larger window and by my estimation it WAS open.  So I shared that opinion with him.  He climbed down and came over to look.....and sure enough it was open (he'd forgotten that he'd opened it earlier in the day - thank God because otherwise I'd be typing this while firemen struggled to free him from the much tinier window).

Well darn it.  Imagine that.  Had he walked two more steps over he might have noticed it.  Not only was it much, much larger it was also marginally closer to the ground.

And with that they abandoned the grill and came over to start prying the screen out of the window.  Once that was accomplished, they both grabbed me by the legs and hoisted me up and shoved me through the open window.  Whereupon I thumped unceremoniously to the floor.  Upon regaining my equilibrium (and dignity) I grabbed the keys and headed toward the door.

Needless to say I made it through and proceeded to the parties just a tad dusty.

Three lessons were learned:

1) we need to be more careful about closing and locking our windows
2) we need to have a spare key somewhere...especially since this is about the third or fourth time we've had to break into our own house. *sigh*
3) go to the parties.  They do care.

September 13, 2012

Dear John.....errr, I mean Blackberry.

Dear Blackberry -

You know how I love you.  You and I have been together for years.  You were my very first.  You knew that, didn't you?

You showed me the joys of what it means to own a smartphone.  You were so intoxicating; providing email access to all of my accounts, texting, access to the Internet (thus giving me the capability to prove that I was right in whatever argument I might be having at the moment - for that alone, I will always love you), the task list, the memo pad feature.....and Twitter.  Oh, how I love to be able to access Twitter on the phone.  Not to mention that you are so slim and cute and fit perfectly into my back pocket.

And your keyboard?  Oh, how I love that keyboard, with the raised buttons and the fact that it's not too big and not too small.

But now? know what, Blackberry?  It's not you.  It's me.  Seriously.  And well, frankly, I'm due for an upgrade.

See, I keep hearing all about these fabulous things called "apps" and from what I can see, you offer very, very few.  And those apps?  Well, they are tempting.  Especially when I hear that a lot of the hot ones, like Words with Friends are free and easy for anyone on a device other than you.  And, you know how much I love word games.  I mean, you were the one that I used every time I needed to complain to the newspaper about not receiving my paper; which we both know I only subscribe to for those fabulous, daily crossword puzzles and the funny pages.

And you know how I love new technology and gadgets and those apps offer so many.

And you know what else?  The screens.  They are so much....well; I'll just say it.  Bigger.  Not there is anything wrong with your screen size.  It's just that with these old eyes, I need something a little easier to read.  I'm sure you understand.

And then there's the whole touch screen thing.  Yes, I admit it, I'm kind of a tactile gal and my fingers are just itching to get at one of those screens.

So here's the deal, Blackberry, I'm leaving you.  Please, please know that in my heart you will always hold a special place.  I mean, you were my first.

Please don't cry.  You are a beautiful phone, with that fabulous raspberry cover.  You WILL find someone else; I promise.  Someone who will appreciate your QWERTY keyboard and your comfortable size.  Before you know it you will find yourself cradled in someone else's palm, or better yet, in their back pocket; and you won't even remember me; I'll be nothing but a distant memory.

You'll see, BB.  You'll see.  This way we will both be so much happier.  I know it.

One last text; just one.  Because tomorrow, I'll be shopping.

I'll love you forever but now?  Now I must say goodbye, for both of our sakes.


September 11, 2012

I am exhausted (again, thanks to Hubby) but still....I Remember

No.  This time he did not physically assault me in his sleep.  Lucky him, since I swore that I would kill him if it happened again.

No.  This time instead of hitting me in his sleep, around 3:00 am he violently jumped out of bed and began making odd noises;  "HE! HE! HE! HE! HE! HE! HE! HE!" and making his way out of the bedroom and down the stairs; where he was headed and what help he was looking for; I just don't know.

Apparently, he couldn't catch his breath and was freaking out.  And me right along with him; all the while yelling, "Should I call 911?!" and him shaking his head and gasping, "NUH! HE! HE! NUH! HE! HE!"  I have since determined that if anything major does happen he will be in a boatload of trouble all because he will never allow me to call 911.

Needless to say, once again I did NOT sleep well for the remainder of the night. *sigh*  I have asked him if he could possibly, just maybe let me get a full night's sleep tonight.  He just sighed like I was asking too much of him.

In the cold light of day, he has determined that he must go on a diet.  He thinks that his weight might have contributed to the problem last night.  Maybe it did.  Maybe it didn't.  Personally, I think he is under a lot of stress and it's coming out in his sleep.  But either way, he does need to lose some weight, if only to help keep his blood pressure under control.

Anyway.....on to the main point of this posting today.....

In the three years I've been on this blog, I've only posted actual words about this date once.  Usually, I just put up a picture with a title like "We Remember" and leave it at that.

That is because although I do remember and I will never forget (despite my poor, poor memory) - I don't have the words to describe what this day makes me feel.  So I back off.  I let those who actually have the skill of using words do it for me.  But today, I felt the urge to try.  Forgive me; because I know my words are but a mere drop in the bucket as to expressing the sheer horror of that day.

Today dawned, as it has (if I recall correctly) for the the majority of the past 11 years, as almost an exact replica of that horrible day.  It was bright and beautiful, you know....the kind of day when you just know it is going to be an awesome, AWESOME day.  A day full of wonderful possibilities.  Not a cloud in the sky.  And once again, I wished for rain.  Yes.  Me.  Wishing for rain.  Something, anything, to change it up.

For some reason, the bright, blue sky seems to bring it all back all the more vividly.  And I'd rather not remember the feelings I was having that day; because it's hard.  And it hurts.  It physically hurts.

But, as you all know, you can't bury your head in the sand and forget what today is...we are surrounded by it.  Every time you turn on the news.  Every time you turn on the radio.  Every time you write a "While You Were Out" message.  Type a letter.  It's there.  And it will continue to be there for those of us that were either affected that day or who can physically remember it.

I remember that I had a small radio at my desk that day.  I'd only been there a few months and had already figured out that I needed an escape until I could find my way into the department I was meant to be in.  Way back then we actually had  the Bob & Sheri Show on the air here.  These days, because some bonehead cancelled the show, I can only listen to the show via podcast, which I've only discovered a few years ago.

That morning, I listened as they told us what was happening live.  I was stunned.  No, I was more than stunned.  I sat listening in disbelief.  This could NOT be happening.  But it was.  Oh dear God, it WAS.

Today, as they have for (I assume) the past eleven years, they ran a tribute which includes much of what was aired that day.  It nearly kills me every time I hear it.  Because I can clearly remember the shock.  The anger.  The utter horror.  The feeling of "why?!"  Why would people hate us so much to cause this kind of devastation?  What have we done to deserve this; what have the innocent children done to deserve this kind of hatred?  And so many more feelings.  I can't even begin to describe the emotions.

And I pulled my little family closer.  I held them tighter.  I loved them, and my friends, even more fiercely.

So as today, a day of remembrance and mourning, comes to a close I continue to pray.  I pray for the people that died.  Those that gave their lives.  I pray for their families.  I pray for the firefighters, the policemen, and the countless others who risked their lives trying to save others.  I pray for a solution.  I pray for us all.  But most of all, I pray that we never forget.  That from the ashes of that day, we learn peace.  And love for our fellow man.  Because, obviously, we need it.

I remember.....


September 10, 2012

Dear God; I could REALLY use a good night's sleep. You know, one without any unexpected mishaps.......

I have just spent the past fifteen minutes hour going through my archives looking for a post that I'm SURE I wrote that would have relevancy to this post.  Either I didn't write it (although I CLEARLY remember writing it) or I just can't find it.  Maybe I should start using that "label" feature.....

At any rate, here we go.....sans a link.

In the past year or so, my husband has developed a bad....."habit" - for lack of a better word.

He has been lashing out in his sleep.  It doesn't happen every night.  Or even once a month.  It only seems to happen after I've let down my guard and quit sleeping ninja-style, with one eye open and an arm ready to fight back.  But when it does happen?  Oh boy.

He first started out by kicking me in his sleep.  Kicking me hard enough to wake me up.  ME.  The one who sleeps like the dead.  Seriously.  Once I'm asleep it takes a LOT to wake me up.

Annoying.  But innocent enough, right?

Then one night, there I lay sleeping so innocently, like a newborn babe really (you know, those rare times when newborns actually sleep) when he hit me in the back of the head.  And it HURT.  I had tears.

Fast forward a few months.....and then there was last night.

Last night he hit me in the nose.  HARD.  There were more tears and quite a bit of cursing.  And him falling back asleep mumbling, "I'm so sorry; I'm SO sorry.  It was a terrible dream.  Terrible....." while petting my head (his standard response whenever I wake him up in the middle of the night for a noise I heard, a dream I had or you know, when he hits me in the NOSE is to pet my head.  Idiot).

Like that was going to soothe my injured nose.....and pride.

Fortunately, it wasn't a full on punch as there is no bruising and only a slight, residual ache and which I am TOTALLY blaming this raging headache on today.

Of  course when I've brought it up many times in the cold light of day today he's brushed it off.  "Oh, you are FINE.  Look there is no swelling or bruising!  But it WAS a pretty bad dream......the devil was there and he was trying to kill me....."

Like I care what he might have been dreaming about.  This is my face we are talking about, dammit!  He could have broken my nose!  Not to mention the fact that I spent the remainder of the night jumping every time he so much as twitched.

So tonight, I'm prepared for him.  Not only am I going to start wearing this to bed....

Which will only add to the sexy that I'm already rocking in my baggy t-shirt and shorts......

But I'm also insisting that he wear one of these.....

Because next time, I might wake to find him choking me.  And that?  That ain't gonna happen.

September 3, 2012

And this is why we don't need to tip the paperboy....this time.

And is also the reason that little, old ladies wear robes tightly belted up, even on the hottest mornings, to collect the newspaper.

Let me explain in detail, if you will, how it is that I have come to these startling realizations.

In the summer, I generally sleep in a thin, but long and loose, tee shirt and old gym shorts.....because I am ALL about bringing back sexy in this house (obviously).  And up until recently, have felt pretty comfortable about trekking this look (along with my crazy bedhead, glasses and that dazed look of one who is in SERIOUS need of caffeine) down the long, long driveway to fetch our newspaper in the mornings.

Mainly, I have felt okay with this ensemble because a) it's usually early, early, early and who is going to see me  b) it's a tee shirt and a pair of shorts and c) since I'm the only one who actually reads the newspaper in this house it only makes sense that I should be the one to get it.

At any rate, Sunday morning dawns bright and early (as do most mornings, it seems) and I find myself shambling down the long, long driveway in search of the paper as my morning "helper" is merrily brewing itself away back at the house only to discover that the paper is not there.

This befuddles and irritates me.  I have long ago discovered that should my morning routine be varied in any way usually winds up with me being irritated.  I walk back up the long, long driveway to get my coffee and find something else to pass the time so early in the morning.

I am not happy.

I end up cruising around on the internet and making bread.  I mean really, what else was there to do at this ungodly hour?

Around 7:00 am, I end up taking, what I assume will be, another fruitless walk up the long, long driveway (because in reality - if the paper isn't here by 6:00 am then it usually isn't coming at all) only to spy the paper sitting at the very end of the drive - almost in the road really.  And I am happy.  This means I can re-direct my morning routine and get everything back on schedule.  Now, I'm back on track and almost glad I woke up extra early.  Almost.

From the corner of my eye, I see a car slowly rolling up to the end of the drive.  I briefly wonder what that is all about because on this road, no one EVER drives that slowly.  As I get nearer to the paper, I see the car stop at the end of the drive.

The passenger door opens and I realize that it's early, no one is around and I'm in my pajamas.  I wonder if I should be worried.

A young man jumps out (now, I'm definitely getting a little nervous) but yet, I'm still walking forward.  He bends over to pick up the paper and reaches it out to me.  And he says, "We missed the driveway.  We were coming back to fix that."  I notice the woman driver behind him (I feel a little better now).  I take the paper, thank him and turn back toward the house.

Later, after I recount the incident to my husband (why yes, we ARE reduced to discussing trips to get the paper and the mail now, thankyouverymuch), he starts to laugh.

When I ask why he's laughing he informs me that my tee shirt, the one I have felt SO confident about going out in every morning, shows everything - and, according to him, he means everything in great detail.

I was beyond mortified.  Apparently, I had basically just flashed the paperboy, excuse me, paperMAN. Great.

Guess what one of Hubby's new responsibilities is?  Yup, you guessed it.  He will now be getting the paper for me every morning.  *sigh*  Another variation in my morning routine.