Want to know how to drive yourself completely and utterly insane in less time than it takes to blink? Well, then you've certainly landed on the right blog post.
First you - oh so carelessly inform your husband that the ONLY thing you want for your birthday next month is to spend a few days at the beach. He agrees enthusiastically that, yes, you DO need a vacation (as long as he doesn't have to go - because seriously? Hubby + beach = Never gonna happen. Which then reminds you that when you both decide to - or can - retire you will have to live on total opposite ends of the state) and that, in fact, you DESERVE a vacation.
And you are giddy. Because now, for the first time in LONG time (in over three-possibly four or five - years to be exact) you and your beloved Man-Child are about to hit the road. Back long before unemployment came along and walloped us upside the head (and before school trips were scheduled over Spring Break - seriously school? What ever happened to quality time with the family?), Man-Child and I spent every Spring Break doing something fun - just the two of us. It was fabulous. We went to Texas; Pennsylvania; Williamsburg, VA; Dollywood; Myrtle Beach; Daytona Beach; Hershey Park; Washington, DC (although, to be truthful - that was one of those "school trips" and not nearly as fun as it could have been). And a few other places that I've momentarily forgotten.
Man-Child and I travel well together; at least we do now that he isn't an infant who had a hate/hate relationship with his car seat. We know how to have fun together. We laugh, we talk, we are silly - and this makes me happier than anything else on the planet. It's amazing.
Now, where was I? Oh yes...giddy. That - so far - is the best part of it.
Then you inform Man-Child that it is time for a road trip to the beach. And he is OVER THE MOON! And proceeds to tell you how much he has missed our little trips together and absolutely CANNOT WAIT for this trip; that it will be the BEST TRIP OF THEM ALL!
And you are pleased. And THAT becomes the best part of it.
Then you begin your obsessive research. And realize that OH MY HELL going to the beach in July is BEYOND expensive. And then you begin to get sick.
So you dial your expectations back a bit and decide that staying in a "dive" isn't beneath you...until you begin to look at the "reviews" that are posted and are accosted with words like "bedbugs" and the words "no refunds, cancellations, etc. for ANY reason - even a death in the immediate family" (ok, that last part is just "implied;" but still....) then you determine that maybe, just maybe, the two of you sleeping in the compact car is actually doable and, possibly start to think that this trip is doomed from the get go...
And then Man-Child asks you if you've found a hotel yet; and you remember how excited he is about it - and then your resign yourself to spending more money than you'd like - in a place, that according to the internet is uninhabitable - go back to searching.
June 20, 2013
It's an "OMIGOSH, I'm SO excited!" and it's a "What the HELL were you thinking, CBS?" moment all at the same time
On Monday, June 24th, the premier of Under the Dome is due to air on CBS.
And I am over the moon, excited about it. As you may remember, I actually reviewed this book way back when - and after re-reading the review, I realize although I told you to go buy the book and read it, I wasn't very specific. Even so, I stand by that review - it was an excellent book (although the ending, if I recall correctly, left me unsatisfied).
In preparation for the premier, I have begun re-reading the book. In hindsight, I should have started earlier. It's a REALLY big book. But I think by the time Monday rolls around I will have at least got my bearings on all the characters.
In my mind, Stephen King really shines in his larger novels - but me, being me, I practically need to take notes just to keep up with all the characters.
Now here is the "what the hell?" part. Can someone please explain to me WHY this premiere is starting at 10:00 pm on a MONDAY night? Yes, I realize it's Stephen King, but still. Don't the executives over at CBS realize that most people have to get up really, really early on "school" days? I'm guessing they don't.
So here are my options:
1) Somehow, figure out a way to record the show AND manage to avoid those people "who have the uncanny ability to stay up until the wee hours of the night and still get to work the next day AND be productive" who have already watched the show
2) Stay up late to watch the show and come to work the next with the knowledge that I will be extremely cranky and unproductive
3) Take a random Tuesday off and call it done.
I'm leaning toward option three - unless the "suits" over at CBS read this, takes pity on a fan and re-schedules the premier to a Saturday in place of my 48 Hours (that I cannot get enough of, by the way). Which I would be TOTALLY fine with - really.
And I am over the moon, excited about it. As you may remember, I actually reviewed this book way back when - and after re-reading the review, I realize although I told you to go buy the book and read it, I wasn't very specific. Even so, I stand by that review - it was an excellent book (although the ending, if I recall correctly, left me unsatisfied).
In preparation for the premier, I have begun re-reading the book. In hindsight, I should have started earlier. It's a REALLY big book. But I think by the time Monday rolls around I will have at least got my bearings on all the characters.
In my mind, Stephen King really shines in his larger novels - but me, being me, I practically need to take notes just to keep up with all the characters.
Now here is the "what the hell?" part. Can someone please explain to me WHY this premiere is starting at 10:00 pm on a MONDAY night? Yes, I realize it's Stephen King, but still. Don't the executives over at CBS realize that most people have to get up really, really early on "school" days? I'm guessing they don't.
So here are my options:
1) Somehow, figure out a way to record the show AND manage to avoid those people "who have the uncanny ability to stay up until the wee hours of the night and still get to work the next day AND be productive" who have already watched the show
2) Stay up late to watch the show and come to work the next with the knowledge that I will be extremely cranky and unproductive
3) Take a random Tuesday off and call it done.
I'm leaning toward option three - unless the "suits" over at CBS read this, takes pity on a fan and re-schedules the premier to a Saturday in place of my 48 Hours (that I cannot get enough of, by the way). Which I would be TOTALLY fine with - really.
June 18, 2013
A weekend update that includes a sad, little tree, Father's Day and The Purge (random? Of course)
Sadly, I never got the much coveted pedicure that I was hoping for; maybe this weekend. Or, I'll just cave and do it myself sometime this week.
My poor, little tree. We tried to save it. We really did. My husband, once again, stepped up to the plate and showed me just how much he loves me. Despite the fact that he knew the tree was too severely damaged to be saved, he spent over an hour - AFTER coming home from a hard day's work AND an hour long workout - to bolt that little tree back into shape.
Seeing as our initial attempt seemed to be working, the following morning found him out at Home Depot buying some pruning goop to put on the tree's wounds in the vain attempt to stave off insects and disease - only to find us coming home to the tree flopped back over. *sigh*
At least we tried.
This weekend will, hopefully, find him digging up the pitiful, little stump left behind and me moving on.
After the tree was officially declared deceased; the weekend progressed with as much reading and laziness as I could muster.
On Sunday, Father's Day, my husband's only wish was to find an oyster bar. Funny, how he didn't tell me this until Saturday night AND proceeded to inform me that it was MY job to find the place, make reservations, if necessary, etc. Hmmm, funny how it was also MY job to do the same for Mother's Day.....
I finally found a place that didn't look like it had salmonella on the menu - oh, about 30 minutes from our house (all the closer ones were closed on Sunday - seriously?). Have I ever mentioned that this man hates to drive ANYWHERE further than 10 minutes out?
Surprisingly, he agreed. And seemed excited. Apparently, he doesn't get to indulge in his raw oyster fetish as much as he'd like.
As you might remember, he is a bit of food snob - so I was concerned. But he LOVED it (and obviously has suffered no ill-effects). Not once did I hear a complaint about the food, the service, the drive, or anything...until we got home and he actually looked at the bill. THEN there were comments - because, apparently, we were overcharged and I wasn't given the proper entree (which I knew, but didn't comment on). So I reiterated how much he'd enjoyed it so it was worth it. He agreed, mentioned that we should go there again and let it go (which shocked me to no end).
A few hours after arriving home, Man-Child began to get antsy and wanted to go to the movies. Of course, the husband wanted nothing to do with this wild venture as we ALL know he doesn't care to go to the theater unless under duress; especially after already having driven SO far for lunch. So MC and I headed out and went to see The Purge.
It was a good movie, although a bit violent. Okay, a LOT violent. But the premise was a good one so we both enjoyed it. Although, there was a trailer for The Conjuring that had both of us looking at each other and wondering if we should just leave before the movie even started; particularly since we were the only people in the theater at that point.
Although, I think, I could watch that movie, on DVD, on a very small screen television, in broad daylight, with a bunch of people around me and not pee my pants. Otherwise, no. I don't think I could handle that one.
So, despite my little tree biting the dust once and for all, it was a pretty good weekend. How was yours?
My poor, little tree. We tried to save it. We really did. My husband, once again, stepped up to the plate and showed me just how much he loves me. Despite the fact that he knew the tree was too severely damaged to be saved, he spent over an hour - AFTER coming home from a hard day's work AND an hour long workout - to bolt that little tree back into shape.
 |
| Notice the three, strategically placed, bolts and the zip ties? |
Seeing as our initial attempt seemed to be working, the following morning found him out at Home Depot buying some pruning goop to put on the tree's wounds in the vain attempt to stave off insects and disease - only to find us coming home to the tree flopped back over. *sigh*
At least we tried.
This weekend will, hopefully, find him digging up the pitiful, little stump left behind and me moving on.
After the tree was officially declared deceased; the weekend progressed with as much reading and laziness as I could muster.
On Sunday, Father's Day, my husband's only wish was to find an oyster bar. Funny, how he didn't tell me this until Saturday night AND proceeded to inform me that it was MY job to find the place, make reservations, if necessary, etc. Hmmm, funny how it was also MY job to do the same for Mother's Day.....
I finally found a place that didn't look like it had salmonella on the menu - oh, about 30 minutes from our house (all the closer ones were closed on Sunday - seriously?). Have I ever mentioned that this man hates to drive ANYWHERE further than 10 minutes out?
Surprisingly, he agreed. And seemed excited. Apparently, he doesn't get to indulge in his raw oyster fetish as much as he'd like.
As you might remember, he is a bit of food snob - so I was concerned. But he LOVED it (and obviously has suffered no ill-effects). Not once did I hear a complaint about the food, the service, the drive, or anything...until we got home and he actually looked at the bill. THEN there were comments - because, apparently, we were overcharged and I wasn't given the proper entree (which I knew, but didn't comment on). So I reiterated how much he'd enjoyed it so it was worth it. He agreed, mentioned that we should go there again and let it go (which shocked me to no end).
A few hours after arriving home, Man-Child began to get antsy and wanted to go to the movies. Of course, the husband wanted nothing to do with this wild venture as we ALL know he doesn't care to go to the theater unless under duress; especially after already having driven SO far for lunch. So MC and I headed out and went to see The Purge.
It was a good movie, although a bit violent. Okay, a LOT violent. But the premise was a good one so we both enjoyed it. Although, there was a trailer for The Conjuring that had both of us looking at each other and wondering if we should just leave before the movie even started; particularly since we were the only people in the theater at that point.
Although, I think, I could watch that movie, on DVD, on a very small screen television, in broad daylight, with a bunch of people around me and not pee my pants. Otherwise, no. I don't think I could handle that one.
So, despite my little tree biting the dust once and for all, it was a pretty good weekend. How was yours?
June 13, 2013
The tree that could have been....
Today we had some freakish thunderstorms roll in out of nowhere. In fact, in the space of an hour I received no less than three severe weather alerts on my phone.
We watched the storm move in from the windows of the office - and all hoped they'd roll right on out before we had to try and make our way home, because they were pretty fierce.
By the time 5:00 pm finally rolled around - the majority of the storms had left the area and so I headed home - ready for a long weekend. It's only long because on Monday I decided that I couldn't face an entire week at the office and took tomorrow off. I had planned on doing a little cleaning and a little self-indulgence in the form of a long, over-due pedicure maybe.
Until I got home and was faced with this...
And I almost cried. Seriously.
I was so proud of that little tree. I recall working so very hard - all by myself, I might add - to plant that tree. The boys were gone and I was bound and determined to get that little maple (?) into the ground. As I recall the hardest part wasn't digging through the rock hard clay to plant it. No, the hardest part was trying to remove the tree from its little pot.
I remember sitting on the ground, with sweat pouring down my face, while I braced my feet against the pot and trying to pull that root-bound tree free. I remember thinking " Boy, the neighbors must be getting quite the show this afternoon" while watching me through windows as I battled with that tree.
Eventually, of course, I freed the tree and got it planted. And it thrived. In the three or four years since I waged the epic battle to set that tree free it has thrived and grown. It has survived the winters and withstood the heat and storms that have battered it. Until today.
Before the possibility of selling this house ever arose, I had been imagining that tree ten or fifteen years from now. I had been dreaming of the magnificent tree that it would one day become. Even after we agreed that we might sell, I could still see myself driving by and seeing "my" tree so big and strong and me smiling at its growth.
Today, my little tree has died.
I will, of course, try to save it. I've already Googled "how to save a split tree" and see that it can be done - but I have a feeling that the damage is too severe. But despite that, and Hubby's skepticism, I have to try.
Poor little tree.
We watched the storm move in from the windows of the office - and all hoped they'd roll right on out before we had to try and make our way home, because they were pretty fierce.
By the time 5:00 pm finally rolled around - the majority of the storms had left the area and so I headed home - ready for a long weekend. It's only long because on Monday I decided that I couldn't face an entire week at the office and took tomorrow off. I had planned on doing a little cleaning and a little self-indulgence in the form of a long, over-due pedicure maybe.
Until I got home and was faced with this...
And I almost cried. Seriously.
I was so proud of that little tree. I recall working so very hard - all by myself, I might add - to plant that tree. The boys were gone and I was bound and determined to get that little maple (?) into the ground. As I recall the hardest part wasn't digging through the rock hard clay to plant it. No, the hardest part was trying to remove the tree from its little pot.
I remember sitting on the ground, with sweat pouring down my face, while I braced my feet against the pot and trying to pull that root-bound tree free. I remember thinking " Boy, the neighbors must be getting quite the show this afternoon" while watching me through windows as I battled with that tree.
Eventually, of course, I freed the tree and got it planted. And it thrived. In the three or four years since I waged the epic battle to set that tree free it has thrived and grown. It has survived the winters and withstood the heat and storms that have battered it. Until today.
Before the possibility of selling this house ever arose, I had been imagining that tree ten or fifteen years from now. I had been dreaming of the magnificent tree that it would one day become. Even after we agreed that we might sell, I could still see myself driving by and seeing "my" tree so big and strong and me smiling at its growth.
Today, my little tree has died.
I will, of course, try to save it. I've already Googled "how to save a split tree" and see that it can be done - but I have a feeling that the damage is too severe. But despite that, and Hubby's skepticism, I have to try.
Poor little tree.
June 10, 2013
Apparently, I NEVER learn from past experiences.
Remember way back last fall when our entire family locked ourselves out of the house; after already experiencing repeated instances of locking some of us out? (What IS it about this house? We've never locked ourselves out of any of our other houses this much - I swear.)
After that experience, I SWORE that I was going to have an extra key (or three) made to hide somewhere.
Well guess what?
I never did. And guess what else?
I locked myself out of the house again this morning. What a way to start a hot, wet, dreary Monday.
Luckily though, this time Man-Child was inside the house. Sleeping. Do you know how hard it is to wake a sleeping teenager if you aren't standing over him, dragging him out of bed by the ankle while dousing him with a pitcher of ice cold water?
The answer is VERY.
After simultaneously ringing the doorbell repeatedly while calling his phone (I can only assume that the only thing that woke him up was the phone, which was set to vibrate, buzzed it's way across his nightstand and landed on his head) he finally answered and came to let me back in the house. He was not happy.
So tomorrow, after work - come hell or high water - I think it's safe to say that you will find me at the local hardware store....having some keys made - FINALLY.
After that experience, I SWORE that I was going to have an extra key (or three) made to hide somewhere.
Well guess what?
I never did. And guess what else?
I locked myself out of the house again this morning. What a way to start a hot, wet, dreary Monday.
Luckily though, this time Man-Child was inside the house. Sleeping. Do you know how hard it is to wake a sleeping teenager if you aren't standing over him, dragging him out of bed by the ankle while dousing him with a pitcher of ice cold water?
The answer is VERY.
After simultaneously ringing the doorbell repeatedly while calling his phone (I can only assume that the only thing that woke him up was the phone, which was set to vibrate, buzzed it's way across his nightstand and landed on his head) he finally answered and came to let me back in the house. He was not happy.
So tomorrow, after work - come hell or high water - I think it's safe to say that you will find me at the local hardware store....having some keys made - FINALLY.
June 5, 2013
I've created a monster (or...sometimes if you get off your high horse, you might actually like it)
First a little background...of course.
I am not a foodie. Oh sure, I do enjoy food, but nine times out of ten I will shove whatever into my mouth just to keep my stomach quiet and my body alive, because odds are good I've busied myself with other "more important" things for so long that if I don't eat something NOW, I will surely die. (Yes, I have issues. I know. And one of these days, maybe - I doubt it - I'll get my priorities in order)
Unfortunately, I married a foodie - or as I like to "affectionately" call him - a food snob. This man will walk into a fast food joint and then have the nerve to complain about the food that is put before him. I can only look at him in amazement at that point. Because a) you are in a fast food joint and b) seriously?! You are IN A FAST FOOD JOINT!
So the food snob has gone done his best to raise a food snob, jr. *sigh* Of course, I am outnumbered in this household.
Suffice it to say, most of my dining out experiences involve friends instead of immediate family; because dear God in heaven if I have to sit through ONE MORE MEAL where he complains about the food, the location, the service or the fact that he could make it better, or that it's too bland or too salty or too whatever....well, then I can't be held responsible for any actions I might take.
Which brings me to a local restaurant, which I might point out is NOT a fast food joint, but does have extra fast service. I immediately fell in love with their fajita pita lunch. Who would have thought - combining a Mexican food staple with Mediterranean food?! It's absolutely amazing and unfortunately, I don't get to eat there as often as I'd like.
Try as I might, I have been unable to convince my two food snobs to at least try this delicacy. Until last week.
Man-Child was starving (yeah, right - the boy is ALWAYS starving) and he was weak enough that I was able to drag him into the nearest location.
And now? Now he's hooked. He just asked me to take him to lunch (for the third time in the span of a week!) tomorrow.
At this point, I'm convinced. It may not be too late to break the Hubby of his snobbery, but the boy? Oh yeah, he's breakable.
I am not a foodie. Oh sure, I do enjoy food, but nine times out of ten I will shove whatever into my mouth just to keep my stomach quiet and my body alive, because odds are good I've busied myself with other "more important" things for so long that if I don't eat something NOW, I will surely die. (Yes, I have issues. I know. And one of these days, maybe - I doubt it - I'll get my priorities in order)
Unfortunately, I married a foodie - or as I like to "affectionately" call him - a food snob. This man will walk into a fast food joint and then have the nerve to complain about the food that is put before him. I can only look at him in amazement at that point. Because a) you are in a fast food joint and b) seriously?! You are IN A FAST FOOD JOINT!
So the food snob has gone done his best to raise a food snob, jr. *sigh* Of course, I am outnumbered in this household.
Suffice it to say, most of my dining out experiences involve friends instead of immediate family; because dear God in heaven if I have to sit through ONE MORE MEAL where he complains about the food, the location, the service or the fact that he could make it better, or that it's too bland or too salty or too whatever....well, then I can't be held responsible for any actions I might take.
Which brings me to a local restaurant, which I might point out is NOT a fast food joint, but does have extra fast service. I immediately fell in love with their fajita pita lunch. Who would have thought - combining a Mexican food staple with Mediterranean food?! It's absolutely amazing and unfortunately, I don't get to eat there as often as I'd like.
Try as I might, I have been unable to convince my two food snobs to at least try this delicacy. Until last week.
Man-Child was starving (yeah, right - the boy is ALWAYS starving) and he was weak enough that I was able to drag him into the nearest location.
And now? Now he's hooked. He just asked me to take him to lunch (for the third time in the span of a week!) tomorrow.
At this point, I'm convinced. It may not be too late to break the Hubby of his snobbery, but the boy? Oh yeah, he's breakable.
May 30, 2013
Gigi's Travel Agency...May I help you?
For the love of Mike! What is it about a short week that makes them the most impossible weeks of all??
Yesterday afternoon, the Big Boss asked me to arrange for him to travel to a certain city on the 19th and return to another city on the 20th; where he would then drive back to our fair city after his meeting.
Fine. No problem.
Done and done in about ten minutes.
This morning I walked in to discover that now I should completely cancel the entire trip before the twenty-four hour grace period ran out because he needed to be in the first city on the 18th.
Fine. No problem.
I canceled the entire trip without penalty; thank God. Like a smart girl, I held off on re-scheduling the trip. Why was this smart? Because this afternoon I was informed that now the meeting that was to take place on the 18th will take place on the 5th (which totally screwed up another trip) instead. Oh, and that the trip for the 19th - needed to replicated and re-booked because that was still on. Seriously?
After I re-arranged the trip for the 5th to accommodate the new meeting and re-booked the trip for the 19th I was then asked; "Why are these tickets so expensive?"
I'm thinking that our travel software has caught on to the fact that this man changes plans more than he does his underwear and has just started adding change fees to all his flights, as a matter of course.
I'm also thinking that I should just start holding off on scheduling ANY of his commercial flights until the night before...it would probably save the company a boatload of money in change fees, despite the exorbitant plane fare, and my sanity.
Now excuse me, while I go pour myself a glass of wine and pray that Friday doesn't bring anymore surprises in the travel department.
Yesterday afternoon, the Big Boss asked me to arrange for him to travel to a certain city on the 19th and return to another city on the 20th; where he would then drive back to our fair city after his meeting.
Fine. No problem.
Done and done in about ten minutes.
This morning I walked in to discover that now I should completely cancel the entire trip before the twenty-four hour grace period ran out because he needed to be in the first city on the 18th.
Fine. No problem.
I canceled the entire trip without penalty; thank God. Like a smart girl, I held off on re-scheduling the trip. Why was this smart? Because this afternoon I was informed that now the meeting that was to take place on the 18th will take place on the 5th (which totally screwed up another trip) instead. Oh, and that the trip for the 19th - needed to replicated and re-booked because that was still on. Seriously?
After I re-arranged the trip for the 5th to accommodate the new meeting and re-booked the trip for the 19th I was then asked; "Why are these tickets so expensive?"
I'm thinking that our travel software has caught on to the fact that this man changes plans more than he does his underwear and has just started adding change fees to all his flights, as a matter of course.
I'm also thinking that I should just start holding off on scheduling ANY of his commercial flights until the night before...it would probably save the company a boatload of money in change fees, despite the exorbitant plane fare, and my sanity.
Now excuse me, while I go pour myself a glass of wine and pray that Friday doesn't bring anymore surprises in the travel department.
May 28, 2013
Today my heart hurts...a lot.
There are so many other things I'd like to be sharing today. Like how I have just re-read the Harry Potter series one after another and love those darn books to pieces. Or how I'm worried that Man-Child may accidentally kill Hubby in his quest to help him lose weight and fit; apparently the boy doesn't recognize that Hubby isn't 18 anymore. Or how they both seem to have some kind of electro-magnetic thing going on that causes at least one of the windows in the cars they drive to fail in some kind of spectacular way (I have now forbidden either one of them to drive my car, by the way, since I like my windows to go up and down at my command). But instead, you are getting this post.
The first day back to work after a four day weekend is ALWAYS hard. Always. This morning was particularly difficult because for some odd reason I had severe indigestion. As in, I found myself awake at 4:00 am chomping on Tums before falling back into bed, in what was, apparently, a coma since I found myself being woken up by Hubby shaking me violently on the shoulder a few short hours later telling me it was late.
And I still had heartburn. Which pretty much meant that I had to mostly forgo my caffeine this morning - I had about half a cup before I realized I couldn't take much more. This, of course, meant that I was very sluggish this morning.
This, coupled with all the "catch-up" work and "surprises" (i.e., did anyone think to order lunch for this meeting that was scheduled over a month ago? Ummm, no.) that kept popping up all morning made for a very off-balanced Gigi.
So when Man-Child called and asked if I wanted to grab some lunch (at this point, at least the heartburn was gone), I decided to forgo the packed lunch I had and dine with one of my most favorite persons in the world.
As soon as we sat down, he looked at me and said, "Well, I got some bad news last night while I was hanging out with the guys." When I asked what had happened, he informed me that one of his high school classmates had died. The guys apparently found out about it last night via Facebook.
He had no idea what had happened only that the boy had been found in his bed. By his parents, I assume.
And I cried. I don't personally know this boy, but Man-Child does. He wasn't one of MC's usual crowd, but despite the fact that they were one of the largest freshmen classes the school had ever had it was still a small class - there was maybe 150 kids, if that, in the graduating class of 2012. They all knew each other pretty well. MC had him in his homeroom class and maybe a few others. They talked every day.
And this has haunted me for the remainder of the day. Imagining what might have happened. Imagining the pain and horror that his parents are dealing with right now. Knowing that this kid had just finished his first year of college - and that there is no future for him. That he will not graduate. That he will not find his passion in life. That he will never find his soul-mate. That these poor parents have to bury their only (I think) child.
Bad things happen every day. We witness it on the news, online, hear about it from people and it hurts and we mourn. But then it hits that close to home and it really, really becomes real.
So today, my heart does hurt. A lot. For the family and friends of this boy; particularly the parents. For the life that won't be fulfilled. My heart hurts for his classmates who are now reeling in shock - because to most of them this is a new experience. Their friends aren't supposed to die - at this age they are invincible. They are supposed to come home and meet up at parties - like the one they had last weekend - to talk about all their new experiences and dreams for the future. They aren't supposed to be discussing memorials.
The first day back to work after a four day weekend is ALWAYS hard. Always. This morning was particularly difficult because for some odd reason I had severe indigestion. As in, I found myself awake at 4:00 am chomping on Tums before falling back into bed, in what was, apparently, a coma since I found myself being woken up by Hubby shaking me violently on the shoulder a few short hours later telling me it was late.
And I still had heartburn. Which pretty much meant that I had to mostly forgo my caffeine this morning - I had about half a cup before I realized I couldn't take much more. This, of course, meant that I was very sluggish this morning.
This, coupled with all the "catch-up" work and "surprises" (i.e., did anyone think to order lunch for this meeting that was scheduled over a month ago? Ummm, no.) that kept popping up all morning made for a very off-balanced Gigi.
So when Man-Child called and asked if I wanted to grab some lunch (at this point, at least the heartburn was gone), I decided to forgo the packed lunch I had and dine with one of my most favorite persons in the world.
As soon as we sat down, he looked at me and said, "Well, I got some bad news last night while I was hanging out with the guys." When I asked what had happened, he informed me that one of his high school classmates had died. The guys apparently found out about it last night via Facebook.
He had no idea what had happened only that the boy had been found in his bed. By his parents, I assume.
And I cried. I don't personally know this boy, but Man-Child does. He wasn't one of MC's usual crowd, but despite the fact that they were one of the largest freshmen classes the school had ever had it was still a small class - there was maybe 150 kids, if that, in the graduating class of 2012. They all knew each other pretty well. MC had him in his homeroom class and maybe a few others. They talked every day.
And this has haunted me for the remainder of the day. Imagining what might have happened. Imagining the pain and horror that his parents are dealing with right now. Knowing that this kid had just finished his first year of college - and that there is no future for him. That he will not graduate. That he will not find his passion in life. That he will never find his soul-mate. That these poor parents have to bury their only (I think) child.
Bad things happen every day. We witness it on the news, online, hear about it from people and it hurts and we mourn. But then it hits that close to home and it really, really becomes real.
So today, my heart does hurt. A lot. For the family and friends of this boy; particularly the parents. For the life that won't be fulfilled. My heart hurts for his classmates who are now reeling in shock - because to most of them this is a new experience. Their friends aren't supposed to die - at this age they are invincible. They are supposed to come home and meet up at parties - like the one they had last weekend - to talk about all their new experiences and dreams for the future. They aren't supposed to be discussing memorials.
May 18, 2013
You could say I'm persistent....or maybe just stubborn. One of those.
The guys headed out to Asheville this morning. As soon as they left, I donned my painting clothes and pulled out my gear.
It's not that I wanted to spend my Saturday painting the teeny-tiny downstairs bathroom - but it had to be done.
Someone bought the paint oh, about two years ago(!) and never got any further. Despite the promises and the recent proclamations that "we" need to get some of these projects done around here since we are "supposed" to be selling the house. (I say "supposed to" because someone still hasn't even bought the sign)
Well, as you can imagine, he hasn't begun one project yet but still points out every single week that we need to get these things done.
I realize that painting is one of his least favorite things to do and, usually, I don't mind painting. Unless it's a teeny-tiny bathroom that has lots of trim and molding that has to be taped off and cut in. I have even offered SEVERAL times that if he would do the prep work, I would do the painting.
And still that paint just sat in the closet.
Until today, when I took it upon myself to get at least one project done around here while they are gone; because whether or not we sell, that bathroom needed to be painted.
Everything was going fine until I realized that I couldn't reach the ceiling trim with the step ladder to tape it off. So I went and found the ladder. Only to discover that the ladder is too big for the teeny-tiny room.
Undaunted, I decided to go ahead and paint what I could reach and make him finish the rest when he got home.
After I had done all I could do, I was sitting back congratulating myself on a job well done, when I realized that a couple of walls in the kitchen also needed painting. And that it is the same color as the teeny-tiny bathroom. The only problem? The kitchen is painted with flat paint. The bathroom paint is eggshell. If I were going to paint those two small walls I would either need to go out and buy flat paint or use the remaining paint from the bathroom project to paint the WHOLE kitchen.
(As a side note, someone remind me to NEVER again let someone (i.e. builder/designer) talk me into using flat paint. Because guess what? Despite the promises that flat paint "has come a long way" and "can be cleaned" the sad fact is that it hasn't and it can't).
In a moment of insanity, I decided to go for it. I figured I had 3/4ths of the gallon left and that there aren't any "full" walls in the kitchen (which meant there was a lot of taping off and cutting in to be done) so I should have plenty of paint. And it worked out perfectly.
And for the second time today, I found myself sitting back and congratulating myself. Until I began to get that nagging feeling in my brain. The one that was telling me that there had to be a way for me to reach the top portions of those bathroom walls.
I found myself eyeballing the swivel stools at the kitchen island. I could hear you all screaming "DON'T DO IT, YOU IDIOT!!!!"
You will be happy to learn that I listened to you.
Instead I found a stationery stool that was just a bit higher than the step ladder. I brought it in and climbed up, but I was still just a few inches shy.
I again considered those swivel stools - which are about two inches higher than the stationery stool. And again, I heard you all screaming, "ARE YOU CRAZY?! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY?"
And again, I listened to you. Mainly, because I didn't want to spend my weekend in a puddle of broken bones in that teeny-tiny bathroom waiting for the boys to come home and find me.
So I turned my sights back to the ladder. I figured there had to be a way to get that thing to fit in there and get the job done.
And after much maneuvering, I discovered that I could open the ladder just enough to wedge it between the two walls - so it wouldn't go anywhere even though it wasn't locked into position. And then all I had to do was somehow wedge myself between the wall and the ladder enough to get up four steps.
So with much maneuvering and wedging I was able to finish the bathroom. And now I'm exhausted, sore in that kind of way that I know means I won't be able to move tomorrow and very proud of myself.
And when the boys come rolling in on Monday, I will be able to show them the results of all my hard work. And with THAT I think I will be able to guilt someone into cleaning out the flower beds without my assistance next weekend.
It's not that I wanted to spend my Saturday painting the teeny-tiny downstairs bathroom - but it had to be done.
Someone bought the paint oh, about two years ago(!) and never got any further. Despite the promises and the recent proclamations that "we" need to get some of these projects done around here since we are "supposed" to be selling the house. (I say "supposed to" because someone still hasn't even bought the sign)
Well, as you can imagine, he hasn't begun one project yet but still points out every single week that we need to get these things done.
I realize that painting is one of his least favorite things to do and, usually, I don't mind painting. Unless it's a teeny-tiny bathroom that has lots of trim and molding that has to be taped off and cut in. I have even offered SEVERAL times that if he would do the prep work, I would do the painting.
And still that paint just sat in the closet.
Until today, when I took it upon myself to get at least one project done around here while they are gone; because whether or not we sell, that bathroom needed to be painted.
Everything was going fine until I realized that I couldn't reach the ceiling trim with the step ladder to tape it off. So I went and found the ladder. Only to discover that the ladder is too big for the teeny-tiny room.
Undaunted, I decided to go ahead and paint what I could reach and make him finish the rest when he got home.
After I had done all I could do, I was sitting back congratulating myself on a job well done, when I realized that a couple of walls in the kitchen also needed painting. And that it is the same color as the teeny-tiny bathroom. The only problem? The kitchen is painted with flat paint. The bathroom paint is eggshell. If I were going to paint those two small walls I would either need to go out and buy flat paint or use the remaining paint from the bathroom project to paint the WHOLE kitchen.
(As a side note, someone remind me to NEVER again let someone (i.e. builder/designer) talk me into using flat paint. Because guess what? Despite the promises that flat paint "has come a long way" and "can be cleaned" the sad fact is that it hasn't and it can't).
In a moment of insanity, I decided to go for it. I figured I had 3/4ths of the gallon left and that there aren't any "full" walls in the kitchen (which meant there was a lot of taping off and cutting in to be done) so I should have plenty of paint. And it worked out perfectly.
And for the second time today, I found myself sitting back and congratulating myself. Until I began to get that nagging feeling in my brain. The one that was telling me that there had to be a way for me to reach the top portions of those bathroom walls.
I found myself eyeballing the swivel stools at the kitchen island. I could hear you all screaming "DON'T DO IT, YOU IDIOT!!!!"
You will be happy to learn that I listened to you.
Instead I found a stationery stool that was just a bit higher than the step ladder. I brought it in and climbed up, but I was still just a few inches shy.
I again considered those swivel stools - which are about two inches higher than the stationery stool. And again, I heard you all screaming, "ARE YOU CRAZY?! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY?"
And again, I listened to you. Mainly, because I didn't want to spend my weekend in a puddle of broken bones in that teeny-tiny bathroom waiting for the boys to come home and find me.
So I turned my sights back to the ladder. I figured there had to be a way to get that thing to fit in there and get the job done.
And after much maneuvering, I discovered that I could open the ladder just enough to wedge it between the two walls - so it wouldn't go anywhere even though it wasn't locked into position. And then all I had to do was somehow wedge myself between the wall and the ladder enough to get up four steps.
So with much maneuvering and wedging I was able to finish the bathroom. And now I'm exhausted, sore in that kind of way that I know means I won't be able to move tomorrow and very proud of myself.
And when the boys come rolling in on Monday, I will be able to show them the results of all my hard work. And with THAT I think I will be able to guilt someone into cleaning out the flower beds without my assistance next weekend.
May 17, 2013
The husband, intersections, how to unfollow blogs and some pretty....just because we all need a little pretty
The husband: He's annoying the hell out of me. Why? Because he's breathing. Why is this worthy of announcement? Because I'm not PMSing; as far as I know.
But really? Does he have to breathe so often? Or so loud? Ugh.
Intersections: There was an article in the local paper this morning about our "most dangerous intersections" and what the plan is for making them less dangerous. (As a side note: apparently, we have 450 intersections with traffic lights - somehow I would have thought there were more. But then, I'm probably factoring in the outlying areas.)
At any rate, their "plan" for some of these intersections includes using flashing yellow arrows for turn lanes rather than the standard green (or as they are better known "it's your turn to go now, idiot") arrows. Naturally, I am against this.
Particularly when you take into account that these people are used to waiting for the green arrow. I, myself, narrowly escaped disaster when they changed the system - sans announcement - at one intersection I frequent quite often.
No, I think the better option would be for the DOT to find a way to get people to actually pay attention while they are driving. And, while they are at it, get rid of all these damn concrete medians they've put up all over the city. The ones that force you to go out of your way to get where you are going.
If anything, they need to put up GIGANTIC signs on the lights that say, "Hey, moron! This is a turn ONLY lane" to keep them from trying to move over into the going straight lane at the last minute, while NOT using their turn signal...but I digress...
Unfollowing: Ever since Google got rid of Google Friends, or whatever it was called, I have been trying to figure out how to unfollow some blogs. I don't generally follow any blogs unless I'm sure it's one that I want popping up on my dashboard but, occasionally, a few slip in or the blogger just stops blogging for no apparent reason - note to self: if you ever decide to stop blogging, TELL people - and you feel the need to "spring clean." With Friends being gone (although, from my research, the widget seems to be alive and well), I couldn't easily unfollow.
As any of you who have been around for a while can imagine; this drove me insane.
But I've finally figured it out (after spending hours of looking). According to one website, there is a way to do so via the widget - don't ask me about the website, I couldn't find it again if my life depended on it.
BUT, if you happen to have a Google+ account, which I do (why? I have no idea; I never use it) you can go to your Account settings; scroll down and find the Friend Connect area and stop following from there.
The pretty: Because after listening to all this random, ranting you (and I) deserve something pretty to round it all out.
But really? Does he have to breathe so often? Or so loud? Ugh.
Intersections: There was an article in the local paper this morning about our "most dangerous intersections" and what the plan is for making them less dangerous. (As a side note: apparently, we have 450 intersections with traffic lights - somehow I would have thought there were more. But then, I'm probably factoring in the outlying areas.)
At any rate, their "plan" for some of these intersections includes using flashing yellow arrows for turn lanes rather than the standard green (or as they are better known "it's your turn to go now, idiot") arrows. Naturally, I am against this.
Particularly when you take into account that these people are used to waiting for the green arrow. I, myself, narrowly escaped disaster when they changed the system - sans announcement - at one intersection I frequent quite often.
No, I think the better option would be for the DOT to find a way to get people to actually pay attention while they are driving. And, while they are at it, get rid of all these damn concrete medians they've put up all over the city. The ones that force you to go out of your way to get where you are going.
If anything, they need to put up GIGANTIC signs on the lights that say, "Hey, moron! This is a turn ONLY lane" to keep them from trying to move over into the going straight lane at the last minute, while NOT using their turn signal...but I digress...
Unfollowing: Ever since Google got rid of Google Friends, or whatever it was called, I have been trying to figure out how to unfollow some blogs. I don't generally follow any blogs unless I'm sure it's one that I want popping up on my dashboard but, occasionally, a few slip in or the blogger just stops blogging for no apparent reason - note to self: if you ever decide to stop blogging, TELL people - and you feel the need to "spring clean." With Friends being gone (although, from my research, the widget seems to be alive and well), I couldn't easily unfollow.
As any of you who have been around for a while can imagine; this drove me insane.
But I've finally figured it out (after spending hours of looking). According to one website, there is a way to do so via the widget - don't ask me about the website, I couldn't find it again if my life depended on it.
BUT, if you happen to have a Google+ account, which I do (why? I have no idea; I never use it) you can go to your Account settings; scroll down and find the Friend Connect area and stop following from there.
The pretty: Because after listening to all this random, ranting you (and I) deserve something pretty to round it all out.
 |
| Pretty - right? AND they smell like heaven, I assume. |
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