So today I crock potted some spaghetti sauce for us. It was a slight combo of a few recipes online, and it didn't turn out as well as I had hoped. It seemed to be missing something, flavor wise. But it was filling, so I guess that's what counts.
Hubby and I went shopping for a 'few times' and spent $70 on groceries. This sounds like a lot, but it's for the materials to make 5 different dinners for 4 people over the next couple of days, so I don't thing that's too horrible. Plus $14 of that was on discount razors (normally $8 a bag, we paid $3.50 a bag or so). Oh, and $5 of that was on reusable produce bags, normally $6 for three, I spent $1 for 3. Go discounts! So, that's like, $19 of non-food stuff. And out of the $51 left we spent on food, my chicken was half price, so that's another amount we saved. And the King Sooper's card saved us another $10... hubby and I figure we saved about $55, so we got about $120 worth of crap for $70. Not bad at all.
It is a crap ton of chicken, but it's what was on sale. Oh, and some pork chops for something somewhere as a break. So, yeah, we did okay.
I have a bunch of crock pot recipes for these, and with the stuff I bought, I can do about 6 different meals during this and next week. After which I think I'm going to have issues coming up with something new to make. I mean, seriously... there's only so much I can do with chicken, right?
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Technology hates me
So, Dig is working for a cable company. Which means we get cable for a reduced rate. Which is fantastic, because I can play things like Reading Rainbow, Between the Lions and other cool programs for the Bug. The only problem is, technology hates me.
Now, you might think I'm kidding. I'm not. First morning they left me here with her and the cable, I had to wake the hubby because I couldn't get the cable to go on. I tried everything. And yes, it was plugged in. Basically, every box was turned on and getting power, but there was nothing on the TV. He figured out that we had to unplug and replug the DVD player because it wouldn't come out of standby.
Second day, same story. So I had him show me the plug for the DVD player so I could pull it and not wake him a 3rd night. Then last night we figured, if we turned everything off at the power switch for the strip everything is plugged into, I could just turn the strip on and hit power All and get things up. Yeah, not so lucky. I turned on the strip, and had sound and everything. Except picture. So once again I had to wake the hubby to fix things. The problem this time? Somehow the input on the VCR got switched to back instead of front. Or something like that.
So yes, Technology hates me. I'm starting to hate it. If it didn't give me a new option for trying to educate her with cute shows that teach things, I'd strangle it completely.
Now, you might think I'm kidding. I'm not. First morning they left me here with her and the cable, I had to wake the hubby because I couldn't get the cable to go on. I tried everything. And yes, it was plugged in. Basically, every box was turned on and getting power, but there was nothing on the TV. He figured out that we had to unplug and replug the DVD player because it wouldn't come out of standby.
Second day, same story. So I had him show me the plug for the DVD player so I could pull it and not wake him a 3rd night. Then last night we figured, if we turned everything off at the power switch for the strip everything is plugged into, I could just turn the strip on and hit power All and get things up. Yeah, not so lucky. I turned on the strip, and had sound and everything. Except picture. So once again I had to wake the hubby to fix things. The problem this time? Somehow the input on the VCR got switched to back instead of front. Or something like that.
So yes, Technology hates me. I'm starting to hate it. If it didn't give me a new option for trying to educate her with cute shows that teach things, I'd strangle it completely.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
I've been cooking
So, since Mur and Dig work, I stay home and take care of the Bug. Which means I'm more likely to be the one who is going to cook dinner. Which is odd because I'm not a good cook. I mean, I can follow a recipe without much issue, but I don't tend to be able to just come up with ideas and run with them easily. The crock pot is my friend.
But lately I've been doing a little cooking. It hasn't always turned out, but one night I crock potted chicken, and it came out okay. Tonight I did stuffing encrusted pork chops, and they came out decent. I forgot to cut the fat off. I suppose it's a live and learn type of thing.
I'm not sure what I'm going to make tomorrow night. I'm running out of ideas.
But lately I've been doing a little cooking. It hasn't always turned out, but one night I crock potted chicken, and it came out okay. Tonight I did stuffing encrusted pork chops, and they came out decent. I forgot to cut the fat off. I suppose it's a live and learn type of thing.
I'm not sure what I'm going to make tomorrow night. I'm running out of ideas.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
We have too much junk
So I keep trying to organize the house. I've talked about it with the others, and every time we get a room clean, it gets messed up again shortly after, because we use it. Which tells me we just have too much junk. If we could get rid of some things, I think we'd have a better chance of keeping the mess down.
Now, I realize that there are two houses here. And when Mur and Dig move out into their own place (which I am assuming they will want to at some point) we're going to go back to two single houses. Which means that maybe there are things neither of us want to permanently get rid of. For example, if they have a better stereo system than I do, we'd want to use theirs, but I might not want to sell mine, because when they go, I'm going to want mine back. I'm probably more likely to part with things than they are, because after all, there's a lot of stuff here I could see go and not really miss.
The issue comes with finding time to pack it up and get rid of it, as well as getting rid of things. I know there are some things I'd rather get rid of that the Hubby wants to keep. There's a lot of stuff we have that 'looks cool' but really doesn't do much but take up space. Lots of space. Space that could be better served by being open and uncluttered.
I'm not saving we should go minimalistic and get rid of everything except clothing, beds, chairs, and other necessities. Sure, it might sound cool, but I'm fairly certain I'd be depressed in a minimalistic environment. Still, setting a goal of getting rid of one item a day for a year, or removing 30 items at the start of every month, or even 101 items every month, no matter how small, would be a decent goal. It's quantitative. It's a solid number we can work with to make sure we meet.
I'd rather have things go all at once rather than one a day. It's easier to toss one item in a box each day, sure. But after a while it's going to be difficult to remember if I've put something in the box that day or not. While it might be cool to just toss an item in 'just in case' so that if I did forget, I cover it, but then I know I'd look at it and go, 'well, if I toss a few more in today while I'm at it, I can skip the next few days guilt free'. And then I'm stuck trying to remember what day I have to start dropping things in again, and next thing you know, it's too complicated to keep up with.
Sitting down on, say, the first Sunday of every month and dropping 30 items in a box for that month has it's advantages. It's 30 items for the whole month, all at once. When we finish, we're done for that month. Add to that the fact that at the end of the month, we can take the box into some place to donate the items, or off to a storage unit. And by doing it that way, we have almost a full month to figure out if we need the item or will miss it. If not, guilt free removal. If so, we can trade it out for something else.
It's a good plan. if this procrastinating house hold can get behind it.
Now, I realize that there are two houses here. And when Mur and Dig move out into their own place (which I am assuming they will want to at some point) we're going to go back to two single houses. Which means that maybe there are things neither of us want to permanently get rid of. For example, if they have a better stereo system than I do, we'd want to use theirs, but I might not want to sell mine, because when they go, I'm going to want mine back. I'm probably more likely to part with things than they are, because after all, there's a lot of stuff here I could see go and not really miss.
The issue comes with finding time to pack it up and get rid of it, as well as getting rid of things. I know there are some things I'd rather get rid of that the Hubby wants to keep. There's a lot of stuff we have that 'looks cool' but really doesn't do much but take up space. Lots of space. Space that could be better served by being open and uncluttered.
I'm not saving we should go minimalistic and get rid of everything except clothing, beds, chairs, and other necessities. Sure, it might sound cool, but I'm fairly certain I'd be depressed in a minimalistic environment. Still, setting a goal of getting rid of one item a day for a year, or removing 30 items at the start of every month, or even 101 items every month, no matter how small, would be a decent goal. It's quantitative. It's a solid number we can work with to make sure we meet.
I'd rather have things go all at once rather than one a day. It's easier to toss one item in a box each day, sure. But after a while it's going to be difficult to remember if I've put something in the box that day or not. While it might be cool to just toss an item in 'just in case' so that if I did forget, I cover it, but then I know I'd look at it and go, 'well, if I toss a few more in today while I'm at it, I can skip the next few days guilt free'. And then I'm stuck trying to remember what day I have to start dropping things in again, and next thing you know, it's too complicated to keep up with.
Sitting down on, say, the first Sunday of every month and dropping 30 items in a box for that month has it's advantages. It's 30 items for the whole month, all at once. When we finish, we're done for that month. Add to that the fact that at the end of the month, we can take the box into some place to donate the items, or off to a storage unit. And by doing it that way, we have almost a full month to figure out if we need the item or will miss it. If not, guilt free removal. If so, we can trade it out for something else.
It's a good plan. if this procrastinating house hold can get behind it.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
I give up trying to talk to people
It is clear to me that my ability to vocally communicate with people is in the lowest percentile as far as successful transmissions. I fail at telling people anything. Apparently I do not know how to communicate correctly. Odd, up until this year I was certain I was capable of communication, but since I've been proven wrong, I figure it is useless for me to continue to try communicating with others.
Since I have failed, after graduating high school and community college, to learn how to correctly communicate to other human beings, I figure there is no chance of me learning to do so at this late date. I will stick to talking to my cat. At least he understands me.
Since I have failed, after graduating high school and community college, to learn how to correctly communicate to other human beings, I figure there is no chance of me learning to do so at this late date. I will stick to talking to my cat. At least he understands me.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Ugh. Just.. ugh.
First off, this is jut a place for me to vent. I am not looking for feedback, and honestly I don't know that I want any if you feel you want to supply it. I just need a place to vent.
Finances are tight. I know this. I realize this. I've been made painfully aware of this.
Dig and Mur are expecting paychecks. I know this. I realize this.
But our bills are currently draining us of any buffer we had. Paying everything for October is basically going to drag us down to zero, if not below. So yes, I'm a touch panicked right now.
I am aware they get paid soon, but Dig's paycheck comes in Oct 8th, and most of that, from what I remember was already spoken for for their current bills of car payment, insurance, and other things. Mur's check comes next Saturday. Great. I'm not sure how much of that is already spoken for, for the things they need.
Our bills, or at least 1/2 of them, are due the 1st of October, and are on autodraft from my checking. Which means no, I cannot opt to just hold off and pay them late, they come out without me having to do anything. From my bank account. Which may or may not have the money needed there for them to draft from.
So I'm freaked out the bills are going to draft and I won't have the money to pay them. Add to that, that because we are worried about that, we've switched to putting things on Discover, which means we now have about $800 on Discover we have to pay off too. And we're going to be at a near zero balance to do so. Add to this that when I suggest something to try and cut back on things to save money, I feel like I get laughed at and blown off. "Don't worry about it."
I'm sorry, might as well tell me not to breathe. I do worry. I AM WORRIED. Simply treating it like it's not important or not valid isn't going to make the fear and worry go away. It's only going to make me feel like you don't care at all. After all, it isn't your credit about to tank, or your home about to be put in jeopardy, or your concern. So it's easy for you to say 'don't worry about it' because there's nothing there for you to worry about. I on the other hand, am worried, am freaked out, and now I feel completely ignored.
So when I walk away to try and cool down and destress and stuff, perhaps letting me do so would be wise. you don't walk up behind someone in a panic attack and shout "OMG We're going to DIE!", why would you not let someone take a few moments to calm down? Is making your point so you have the last word on something really that important that you cannot give me 10 minutes to de-freak out? Because when I'm panicked and freaked and starting to hypervent over something, that's exactly how it feels when I need to walk away, and someone follows me just to make sure I hear the last thing they have to say. Know what? I am fairly certain you can say the exact same thing 10mins from now. When I'm calmer. When I'm not freaking out. When my heart doesn't feel like someone is pinching it and twisting it and shoving it against my chest cavity.
Then, to go completely overboard in a suggestion, just makes me feel mocked. You didn't like my idea to start with, so now you're just poking fun at me. Okay, go on, twist the knife a little deeper. Feel better? Because I sure don't.
This is why I don't talk to people. This is why I can't trust people. Because anything I say gets blown out of proportion and mocked. I'm sorry.. I FEEL anything I say gets blown out of proportion and mocked.
I asked if we could maybe turn off computers when we're not home to use them. Maybe turn off lights when we aren't using them (because a light on the bathroom all day when no one is home doesn't make sense. And the energy saving websites all say if you're not going to be in the room for over 15 mins or 30 mins, turn the light off and you will save more energy than just leaving it on.). Telling me "oh the savings are so small they don't matter" is like saying coupons aren't worth it. Savings add up over a month. $4 a day over a month is $120 a month. You still think that $120 a month isn't worth it? Cool, fork over $120 a month to me every month, since it isn't so important. Because I'm fairly certain $120 a month to me is worth something.
25 cents a day might not seem like much. But if you save 25 cents a day on just the computers, 25 cents a day on the lights, and 25 cents a day on all the other things, that's 75 cents a day. That's $22.50 a month that can be used for other things. Or better yet, $22.50 a month that I'm not trying to scrounge up and figure out how to pay, and panicking over. $22.50 a month might not seem like much to you, but it's a crapton when you don't have it and HAVE to have it.
I realize my concerns and worries are not yours. But they are mine. You might not feel they are valid, but I do. Please stop treating me like I'm always wrong and I know nothing about anything, because that's how it feels when I constantly get blown off and ignored about things. I am how I am. If you don't like it, I'm sorry. I cannot do anything about it right now. I'm too busy trying to figure out how to pay existing bills without trying to add on the expense of health care so I can be seen and given medication to help with the issues I have.
Adding to the paranoia and stress does not make it go away any faster.
Now, I've been told communication is key. So I'm communicating. Sort of. But there's issues with this.
I've also been told to 'stop caring'. Just don't care and it will make things better. I'm fairly certain that if I stop caring about the bills being paid and take a 'meh' attitude that eventually, something with get shut off or the house will be foreclosed on. Should I really just not care?
If I stop caring that we have food in the house to eat or that everyone has something to eat, is that really cool?
If I stop caring if people have money for gas, or smokes or anything else, does that make me a better person than I am now?
Because to me, if I stop caring, I only see things getting worse, not better. To me, is seems if I stop caring, then none of us will be able to walk in the house for the piles of clothing, trash and other things. To me, if I stop caring... it seems like everything will just fall apart, because it seems to me I'm the only one here who does care. Because every time I voice a concern, I get told "Eh, don't worry about it."
And then I wonder why I'm so panicked? Maybe I should just stop caring. If the bills don't get paid and the electric gets shut of, eh, don't worry about it. if the bank doesn't get paid and the house gets taken, eh, don't worry about it. Right?
Sure, that's a bit extreme. But that's what I see. So telling me not to worry, is like telling me 'Who cares if you lose the house... it's no big thing." Logically, I realize that's probably not what is being said. But there's nothing logical about paranoia, is there?
Now that I've had some time to cool off, I'm still paranoid, but now I can see the logic/illogical issues. I might still feel the illogical side of things, because they aren't going to go away. But I at least understand, rationally, which is which. Which is why when I need space, I'd appreciate getting it. So I can process. So I can de-stress. So I can sort things out without the raw emotions.
As far as communications go, I'm still pretty much feeling whatever I say doesn't matter, because it will either be ignored, blown off or mocked and made fun of. So I'm left feeling like there's no real reason to bother communicating anymore. Maybe I just need more time to cool off. I don't know.
I suppose I'll just shut up, stay quiet and stop caring. I can see how well that works after a month.
Finances are tight. I know this. I realize this. I've been made painfully aware of this.
Dig and Mur are expecting paychecks. I know this. I realize this.
But our bills are currently draining us of any buffer we had. Paying everything for October is basically going to drag us down to zero, if not below. So yes, I'm a touch panicked right now.
I am aware they get paid soon, but Dig's paycheck comes in Oct 8th, and most of that, from what I remember was already spoken for for their current bills of car payment, insurance, and other things. Mur's check comes next Saturday. Great. I'm not sure how much of that is already spoken for, for the things they need.
Our bills, or at least 1/2 of them, are due the 1st of October, and are on autodraft from my checking. Which means no, I cannot opt to just hold off and pay them late, they come out without me having to do anything. From my bank account. Which may or may not have the money needed there for them to draft from.
So I'm freaked out the bills are going to draft and I won't have the money to pay them. Add to that, that because we are worried about that, we've switched to putting things on Discover, which means we now have about $800 on Discover we have to pay off too. And we're going to be at a near zero balance to do so. Add to this that when I suggest something to try and cut back on things to save money, I feel like I get laughed at and blown off. "Don't worry about it."
I'm sorry, might as well tell me not to breathe. I do worry. I AM WORRIED. Simply treating it like it's not important or not valid isn't going to make the fear and worry go away. It's only going to make me feel like you don't care at all. After all, it isn't your credit about to tank, or your home about to be put in jeopardy, or your concern. So it's easy for you to say 'don't worry about it' because there's nothing there for you to worry about. I on the other hand, am worried, am freaked out, and now I feel completely ignored.
So when I walk away to try and cool down and destress and stuff, perhaps letting me do so would be wise. you don't walk up behind someone in a panic attack and shout "OMG We're going to DIE!", why would you not let someone take a few moments to calm down? Is making your point so you have the last word on something really that important that you cannot give me 10 minutes to de-freak out? Because when I'm panicked and freaked and starting to hypervent over something, that's exactly how it feels when I need to walk away, and someone follows me just to make sure I hear the last thing they have to say. Know what? I am fairly certain you can say the exact same thing 10mins from now. When I'm calmer. When I'm not freaking out. When my heart doesn't feel like someone is pinching it and twisting it and shoving it against my chest cavity.
Then, to go completely overboard in a suggestion, just makes me feel mocked. You didn't like my idea to start with, so now you're just poking fun at me. Okay, go on, twist the knife a little deeper. Feel better? Because I sure don't.
This is why I don't talk to people. This is why I can't trust people. Because anything I say gets blown out of proportion and mocked. I'm sorry.. I FEEL anything I say gets blown out of proportion and mocked.
I asked if we could maybe turn off computers when we're not home to use them. Maybe turn off lights when we aren't using them (because a light on the bathroom all day when no one is home doesn't make sense. And the energy saving websites all say if you're not going to be in the room for over 15 mins or 30 mins, turn the light off and you will save more energy than just leaving it on.). Telling me "oh the savings are so small they don't matter" is like saying coupons aren't worth it. Savings add up over a month. $4 a day over a month is $120 a month. You still think that $120 a month isn't worth it? Cool, fork over $120 a month to me every month, since it isn't so important. Because I'm fairly certain $120 a month to me is worth something.
25 cents a day might not seem like much. But if you save 25 cents a day on just the computers, 25 cents a day on the lights, and 25 cents a day on all the other things, that's 75 cents a day. That's $22.50 a month that can be used for other things. Or better yet, $22.50 a month that I'm not trying to scrounge up and figure out how to pay, and panicking over. $22.50 a month might not seem like much to you, but it's a crapton when you don't have it and HAVE to have it.
I realize my concerns and worries are not yours. But they are mine. You might not feel they are valid, but I do. Please stop treating me like I'm always wrong and I know nothing about anything, because that's how it feels when I constantly get blown off and ignored about things. I am how I am. If you don't like it, I'm sorry. I cannot do anything about it right now. I'm too busy trying to figure out how to pay existing bills without trying to add on the expense of health care so I can be seen and given medication to help with the issues I have.
Adding to the paranoia and stress does not make it go away any faster.
Now, I've been told communication is key. So I'm communicating. Sort of. But there's issues with this.
I've also been told to 'stop caring'. Just don't care and it will make things better. I'm fairly certain that if I stop caring about the bills being paid and take a 'meh' attitude that eventually, something with get shut off or the house will be foreclosed on. Should I really just not care?
If I stop caring that we have food in the house to eat or that everyone has something to eat, is that really cool?
If I stop caring if people have money for gas, or smokes or anything else, does that make me a better person than I am now?
Because to me, if I stop caring, I only see things getting worse, not better. To me, is seems if I stop caring, then none of us will be able to walk in the house for the piles of clothing, trash and other things. To me, if I stop caring... it seems like everything will just fall apart, because it seems to me I'm the only one here who does care. Because every time I voice a concern, I get told "Eh, don't worry about it."
And then I wonder why I'm so panicked? Maybe I should just stop caring. If the bills don't get paid and the electric gets shut of, eh, don't worry about it. if the bank doesn't get paid and the house gets taken, eh, don't worry about it. Right?
Sure, that's a bit extreme. But that's what I see. So telling me not to worry, is like telling me 'Who cares if you lose the house... it's no big thing." Logically, I realize that's probably not what is being said. But there's nothing logical about paranoia, is there?
Now that I've had some time to cool off, I'm still paranoid, but now I can see the logic/illogical issues. I might still feel the illogical side of things, because they aren't going to go away. But I at least understand, rationally, which is which. Which is why when I need space, I'd appreciate getting it. So I can process. So I can de-stress. So I can sort things out without the raw emotions.
As far as communications go, I'm still pretty much feeling whatever I say doesn't matter, because it will either be ignored, blown off or mocked and made fun of. So I'm left feeling like there's no real reason to bother communicating anymore. Maybe I just need more time to cool off. I don't know.
I suppose I'll just shut up, stay quiet and stop caring. I can see how well that works after a month.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
MonsterQuest
I had never seen this show before I found it on Netflix. Honestly when I started watching it, I thought it would be crap. But I find I enjoy it. They take one monster myth each episode and set out to try and hunt it down. Like Mythbusters only they only focus on monsters.
I told the hubby today, I am seeing a lot of common stories. Sasquatch, Big Foot, Skunk Ape, etc... all over the US there are reports of these human-ape like creatures, but each area calls them something different. They're varied in height, and varied in fur color, and even varied on how much human to ape ratio they have. Of course, I'm sitting here thinking, "well, look at humans.. we're varied in height, varied in hair/skin color and look at how varied our facial features are. Duh." But maybe I'm over simplifying it. Now, do I think these creatures are real? Not sure. Do I think there's a chance some offshoot of an ape evolved into something like them? It's possible. You cannot say it isn't possible. Do I Think they've remained hidden from humans all this time to avoid detection? Dude, they haven't avoided detection, or we wouldn't hear about it.
Think of it this way. First, primates are intelligent. No one can deny this. They can learn to use tools. They use wood knocking to communicate over distance. They work in groups. This supports intelligence. If something did evolve off an ape chain into something manlike, why would you think it failed to evolve higher intelligence as well?
Now, add to it the fact that most people see something they don't believe, they keep quiet about it, or only tell a few friends. A good portion of the population doesn't (seem to) go spouting off "Guess what unknown weird and improbable thing I saw" at the top of their lungs to anyone and everyone who listens. Those who do usually get marked as a "nut-job" and ignored. So communication of these things... probably a lot lower than if you happened to see J-Lo eating at a Denny's.
Now, you might say that, if people saw J-Lo eating at a Denny's, they'd have video and photos posted all over the net in seconds, so why don't people just do that? I don't know about you, but normally I don't go out with a video camera on my hip, or even my digital. I have to plan to take it. So if I ran across something cool, I'd be forced to snap a picture on my cell phone. My cell takes craptastic photos. How's yours? About the same? Now, figure that someone is less likely to question if that pic of J-Lo is a fake, than that pic of a BigFoot walking across the corn field. More people will cry 'fake' on the monster pictures. So, a crappy cell photo won't cut it on a monster sighting. Which means, why take one?
Anyways, I certainly think it's arrogant of us to assume there's things out there we still don't know. I mean, seriously, new creatures and new species are being discovered even today. Why would anyone think that these stories, reported in all kinds of places, might just be fairytales? There's always a change they have some truth to them.
But beyond that, the search into the unknown is just freaking cool to me. So much so, that while I was watching the story on the 'Black Beast of Exmoor' the narrator said something about taking precautions so as to not run into the beast and get hurt, and I was going "Why? Dude, close encounters could be awesome.. run up and hug it. If it mauls you, then you have real proof."
Mind you this 'beast' is supposed to be some kind of large cat, like a Jaguar. I am SO a cat person. Had it been something like a snake or a dog I might have agreed, but it's a cat. I just want to pet the thing!
I told the hubby today, I am seeing a lot of common stories. Sasquatch, Big Foot, Skunk Ape, etc... all over the US there are reports of these human-ape like creatures, but each area calls them something different. They're varied in height, and varied in fur color, and even varied on how much human to ape ratio they have. Of course, I'm sitting here thinking, "well, look at humans.. we're varied in height, varied in hair/skin color and look at how varied our facial features are. Duh." But maybe I'm over simplifying it. Now, do I think these creatures are real? Not sure. Do I think there's a chance some offshoot of an ape evolved into something like them? It's possible. You cannot say it isn't possible. Do I Think they've remained hidden from humans all this time to avoid detection? Dude, they haven't avoided detection, or we wouldn't hear about it.
Think of it this way. First, primates are intelligent. No one can deny this. They can learn to use tools. They use wood knocking to communicate over distance. They work in groups. This supports intelligence. If something did evolve off an ape chain into something manlike, why would you think it failed to evolve higher intelligence as well?
Now, add to it the fact that most people see something they don't believe, they keep quiet about it, or only tell a few friends. A good portion of the population doesn't (seem to) go spouting off "Guess what unknown weird and improbable thing I saw" at the top of their lungs to anyone and everyone who listens. Those who do usually get marked as a "nut-job" and ignored. So communication of these things... probably a lot lower than if you happened to see J-Lo eating at a Denny's.
Now, you might say that, if people saw J-Lo eating at a Denny's, they'd have video and photos posted all over the net in seconds, so why don't people just do that? I don't know about you, but normally I don't go out with a video camera on my hip, or even my digital. I have to plan to take it. So if I ran across something cool, I'd be forced to snap a picture on my cell phone. My cell takes craptastic photos. How's yours? About the same? Now, figure that someone is less likely to question if that pic of J-Lo is a fake, than that pic of a BigFoot walking across the corn field. More people will cry 'fake' on the monster pictures. So, a crappy cell photo won't cut it on a monster sighting. Which means, why take one?
Anyways, I certainly think it's arrogant of us to assume there's things out there we still don't know. I mean, seriously, new creatures and new species are being discovered even today. Why would anyone think that these stories, reported in all kinds of places, might just be fairytales? There's always a change they have some truth to them.
But beyond that, the search into the unknown is just freaking cool to me. So much so, that while I was watching the story on the 'Black Beast of Exmoor' the narrator said something about taking precautions so as to not run into the beast and get hurt, and I was going "Why? Dude, close encounters could be awesome.. run up and hug it. If it mauls you, then you have real proof."
Mind you this 'beast' is supposed to be some kind of large cat, like a Jaguar. I am SO a cat person. Had it been something like a snake or a dog I might have agreed, but it's a cat. I just want to pet the thing!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
When it rains
So, I don't usually make plans to go do things. I'm always home. Even if I don't want to be. So Tuesday when a friend asked if I'd like to get together for a little celebration 'tomorrow', I thought, sure, why not? I never go do anything. I can go out once in a while. Mur can watch the Bug for one night.
Mind you, Mur was out at a job interview while this was going through my head. So she came home and was all "I got a job on the way to the interview, I start tomorrow."
Tomorrow. That day I had just made plans to finally get out of the house on.
Anyone else see the cosmic 'f-u' flashed here? I did. I mean, yes, it's awesome she has a job. Even if it is only a 2 week temp job, it is still work and a paycheck. It just was ironic it happened just as I finally tried to get out of the house.
But, it happened to work out. The Hubby took today off so he could adjust from a day schedule for training, back to a night schedule for working. Which meant he could watch the Bug during he hour lapse from when I left and Mur and Dig got home.
It worked out nicely. And to top it off, the girls at the little party were cool, and they are planning to get together once a week. To hang out and stuff. So, if they move the meeting time a little later on Wednesdays, I should be able to still watch the Bug and go to the meetings. I'm crossing my fingers, because this getting out of the house thing is kind of cool. I forgot that other people exist outside the house.
Sadly, Denver has a LOT of other people. about 1/8th of what's out there would be a better number but what are ya going to do? Sterilize the water supply?
>.>
Nah...
Mind you, Mur was out at a job interview while this was going through my head. So she came home and was all "I got a job on the way to the interview, I start tomorrow."
Tomorrow. That day I had just made plans to finally get out of the house on.
Anyone else see the cosmic 'f-u' flashed here? I did. I mean, yes, it's awesome she has a job. Even if it is only a 2 week temp job, it is still work and a paycheck. It just was ironic it happened just as I finally tried to get out of the house.
But, it happened to work out. The Hubby took today off so he could adjust from a day schedule for training, back to a night schedule for working. Which meant he could watch the Bug during he hour lapse from when I left and Mur and Dig got home.
It worked out nicely. And to top it off, the girls at the little party were cool, and they are planning to get together once a week. To hang out and stuff. So, if they move the meeting time a little later on Wednesdays, I should be able to still watch the Bug and go to the meetings. I'm crossing my fingers, because this getting out of the house thing is kind of cool. I forgot that other people exist outside the house.
Sadly, Denver has a LOT of other people. about 1/8th of what's out there would be a better number but what are ya going to do? Sterilize the water supply?
>.>
Nah...
Monday, September 20, 2010
Your internet connection has slowed...
Netflix has issues with my laptop. They constantly have to adjust playback to 'avoid further interruptions'. This rarely works. How many times can my connection slow, during one 30 min episode? Apparently four. So far. And I'm only half way through.
Why does my connect never speed up? I never see "Your Internet connection has improved, we are adjusting playback to increase your viewing pleasure". No, it's always "Your Internet connection has slowed. We are adjusting playback to avoid further interruptions". Not that it works, as I've said.
Anyways, that was a random thought for today. Dig starts work today, and Mur has a job fair to go to, as she's still trying to find a job. Cross your fingers for her? She is trying so hard to go back to work and if she gets paid, I get paid for watching the Bug, so it's a double win all around.
Speaking of the Bug, I get to watch her today while they are go. I know, I am always watching her. But this whole Nanny thing might not be so bad. I even checked out some books about it, to try and help me take care of her better. which reminds me, if they are taking their car, I might have to have them put her car seat in mine, so if I have to go anywhere I can take her with me legally.
But this is why I am on Netflix, because I am finding things to watch to keep me entertained and sane while watching her since they will both be gone most of the day. Oh, and the Hubby will be gone too, so yeah, it's me and the Bug and the Cat all day. Wish me luck while you're wishing Mur luck. We both need it.
Edit: three hours later, I find out Mur isn't going to the job fair after all. She's taking the Bug all day, save for a few moments here and there. I am not sure why the sudden change from last night. Maybe she's trying to give me some space from the meltdown, maybe she's mad at me. No clue here. I suppose I will try and ask later.
Why does my connect never speed up? I never see "Your Internet connection has improved, we are adjusting playback to increase your viewing pleasure". No, it's always "Your Internet connection has slowed. We are adjusting playback to avoid further interruptions". Not that it works, as I've said.
Anyways, that was a random thought for today. Dig starts work today, and Mur has a job fair to go to, as she's still trying to find a job. Cross your fingers for her? She is trying so hard to go back to work and if she gets paid, I get paid for watching the Bug, so it's a double win all around.
Speaking of the Bug, I get to watch her today while they are go. I know, I am always watching her. But this whole Nanny thing might not be so bad. I even checked out some books about it, to try and help me take care of her better. which reminds me, if they are taking their car, I might have to have them put her car seat in mine, so if I have to go anywhere I can take her with me legally.
But this is why I am on Netflix, because I am finding things to watch to keep me entertained and sane while watching her since they will both be gone most of the day. Oh, and the Hubby will be gone too, so yeah, it's me and the Bug and the Cat all day. Wish me luck while you're wishing Mur luck. We both need it.
Edit: three hours later, I find out Mur isn't going to the job fair after all. She's taking the Bug all day, save for a few moments here and there. I am not sure why the sudden change from last night. Maybe she's trying to give me some space from the meltdown, maybe she's mad at me. No clue here. I suppose I will try and ask later.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Country Buffet
So the hubby and I went out for dinner, just the two of us, after yesterday's meltdown. We picked Country Buffet because we can each get what we want and eat as much as we want. It also allows us to sit down and talk a little. Not that either of us felt like talking much, we're still kind of broken. I know I'm still feeling broken.
Anyway, from where I was sitting, I could see the salad bar. I watched, in horror, as some elderly gentleman walked up with a plate, scooped salad onto the plate, set the tongs down and proceeded to pick things out of the salad with his fingers and toss them back into the salad bowl. Now, I'm slightly OCD from dealing with my father who is majorly OCD. (Think Monk, and you're about there). So this disgusted me. Add on the fact that I know restaurant employees are required to wash their hands, but this does not apply to the customers. So you have no promise this older gent has washed after his last bathroom visit or not.
When the waiter, if the guys at Country Buffet can be called waiters, came by and asked if everything was alright, I looked at him and shook my head. I didn't expect him to be able to do anything, after all, they cannot control their customers. But, I knew it would make me feel better to tell someone. So I told him what I had just seen.
He asked which bowl of salad, and promptly removed the whole bowl, disappearing back into the kitchen and appearing a few moments later with a different bowl of salad. He came back over and said, and I quote, "We didn't have any more of that kind of salad, but we've replaced the salad there with new salad."
Prompt.
I was stunned, and really, it made me feel good about eating in that place, to know they handle things in such a manner. I was really pleased.
Of course, if they look at it like I did, if someone gets sick off that salad, they can be blamed for poor hygiene codes or something, so it does make sense they would do something. Still, I didn't expect them to do anything and they did, so I was happy.
Anyway, from where I was sitting, I could see the salad bar. I watched, in horror, as some elderly gentleman walked up with a plate, scooped salad onto the plate, set the tongs down and proceeded to pick things out of the salad with his fingers and toss them back into the salad bowl. Now, I'm slightly OCD from dealing with my father who is majorly OCD. (Think Monk, and you're about there). So this disgusted me. Add on the fact that I know restaurant employees are required to wash their hands, but this does not apply to the customers. So you have no promise this older gent has washed after his last bathroom visit or not.
When the waiter, if the guys at Country Buffet can be called waiters, came by and asked if everything was alright, I looked at him and shook my head. I didn't expect him to be able to do anything, after all, they cannot control their customers. But, I knew it would make me feel better to tell someone. So I told him what I had just seen.
He asked which bowl of salad, and promptly removed the whole bowl, disappearing back into the kitchen and appearing a few moments later with a different bowl of salad. He came back over and said, and I quote, "We didn't have any more of that kind of salad, but we've replaced the salad there with new salad."
Prompt.
I was stunned, and really, it made me feel good about eating in that place, to know they handle things in such a manner. I was really pleased.
Of course, if they look at it like I did, if someone gets sick off that salad, they can be blamed for poor hygiene codes or something, so it does make sense they would do something. Still, I didn't expect them to do anything and they did, so I was happy.
Journey of Questions
Not long ago I asked, 'Who am I?' and while I am not going to go back to read that post right now, I find myself once again asking that question. After my meltdown today, I find myself asking 'Who am I?'
Once I knew. I know I knew because if I asked myself that question I could answer it. The answers might change given the moment asked, or the mindset, but I always had an answer. One might say that means I didn't know who I was, but I argue that it meant that I did know who I was, at that moment. Fluidity is a part of life, the ability to adapt and adjust is necessary.
Now, if you ask who I am, I couldn't give you an answer.
I have a name, but that name doesn't make me who I am, anymore than I make my name what it is.
I am a wife, but sometimes I do not feel like I am a wife. Sometimes I feel like a maid, a babysitter, a cook, house keeper, reminder service and occasionally a friend.
I am a friend, but often I don't feel like one. I feel like a rental, someone that people look to when they need something from me, but who gets forgotten and ignored in all other times. I feel like someone who is just a stand-in, someone to take up space when needed, to fill a gap left if a 'real' friend doesn't show.
Most often I feel like someone trapped, stuck in one place, unable to break free. I feel alone. I feel invisible. I feel like I don't belong, don't exist, do not matter in the picture beyond my own head. I feel like a discard.
But none of this tells me who I am. None of it.
So who am I?
Why am I here?
Why do I stay?
Why have I lost sight of myself, and how do I find my way back? It isn't as if who I am has a cellphone I can call. I cannot take a taxi to why I am here. So how do I figure it out again, and how do I find myself? How do I fix what is broken, and survive the fixing?
There comes a time in everyone's life when they question. Most often, twice at the very least. The first time is our teenage years, when we question everything and try to adjust who we are based on the people around us. The second is often called a midlife crisis. As if what we learn in our rebellion stage is supposed to last us our whole life, and magically fit forever. When it doesn't, we have a 'midlife crisis' and try to re-find the answers.
The problem I have with this is that a midlife crisis is supposed to happen at midlife. Generally around 50 or so. Because that's the halfway point for most lives. (Okay, some say 40-60, but again given a lifespan of about 80-120, that only tells me some people have some later than others). I'm 32. I think I'm a little young for a midlife crisis, unless I only plan on living to 64. Which is possible. I'm a little old for a quarter-life crisis, because even if I live to 100, that would have happened about 25. So I can't win on the timing.
I could be having a third-life crisis, but that implies I have two other lives, when I barely have one. I suppose I could be having a 30% life crisis, because well, I sometimes feel I only have 30% of a life at best.
So I don't know what I'm having, except that I'm sitting here, wondering who I am, where I'm going and why I'm here. I seem to remember doing this in my teen years. So the idea of the midlife-crisis still seems to fit. The name is just a little misleading. And yeas, I've wandered off topic a touch.
So, if I am having a midlife crisis, what do I do? And will this crisis end in me finding myself again, or am I still going to be lost on the other end of it, but just too numb to care anymore? If I do find myself on the other side, will I be someone I want to be, or will I be someone I hate? Will I be someone I can at least tolerate, or will things only be worse, and if worse, will I be stuck with the new me, or can I keep looking?
Is this really like shopping for a car or dress, or is that thinking too much? Or too little?
If I am shopping for a new me, what's the best store to shop in, and who do I pay when I find the right fit? Can I get myself on a discount if I'm too broke to afford the upgrade? Or will I be sent home with the old, worn out model because of a lack of funds?
I find it hard to believe I will wake up and things will be better. I don't expect that I'll suddenly forget Math, or suddenly be more educated. I cannot imagine that I will wake up in a new me and have that shiny new body smell, or that low mileage excitement. Am I trading a Chevy for a Ford, or a red paint job for a green? Or am I simply going to settle for the old dress and a new set of heels and possibly a new purse to make things seem newer than they are?
And no, I'm not getting a face lift or a boob job. Even though that last thought stabs at that idea, those just aren't my style. If they are the new me's style, then I'm going to already have issues with this person.
I suppose the crisis part of a midlife crisis comes from the unanswered questions and the trepidation about who is waiting on the other side of this journey. I just wish I could figure out where the journey starts and what time the tour leaves, because I feel completely lost.
I may never figure out why I am here. I doubt any of us really know why, not even at the moment of death, though that would be really cool if at the moment we die it's like that game show where you pick a door. Your life was a door, and when you die, there's this voice saying 'let's see what you've won'. If you succeeded in fulfilling your mission, your 'why you were here', then you win. If you got part of it right, you get the secondary prize, and see what you could have done differently. If you just missed completely you see the ways you mucked everything up and get the boobie prize. Sadly, I feel like right now, I'm picking the boobie prize door. But I feel like everyone is screaming door 2, and I'm picking 3. a lifetime supply of Q-tips, aren't I lucky? Bye-bye shiny new car and bye-bye runner-up prize.
But what happens if I switch my gut instinct, and go with the crowd? What if door 2 is a can of re-fried beans, and Door 3 was a vacation to Scotland? You see the problem? What if the end result of all this screws me up worse than I am right now? What if when everything is over, the smoke has cleared, and I've completely missed the mark on what I was supposed to do because I started having doubts and listening to others? But... what if that's what I am supposed to do, and my paranoia keeps me from doing it because I'm afraid I'll mess up? Catch-22. And I hate my life.
As for why I stay... I don't know. I really don't. Why am I mucked down here and not moving? Fear? Paranoia? Over thinking? I can't say. I really have no idea.
In the end, I'm not sure what to do. I have no direction, no hope. No expectations, only fear and questions.
And don't tell me to 'give it up to God.'. Bless you people, but no. Goddess maybe, but there's nothing that's going to convince me a male deity understands the first thing about my body, my issues, my concerns, my complaints. No man enjoys sitting there while a girl goes off on a rant about her cramps and period. I highly doubt a male deity will either. And the image of God with his fingers in his ears going 'lalala can't hear you' isn't exactly comforting. Especially not when I'm supposed to be firing off all my rants and issues and expecting some help in return.
And yes, this is more than cramps and a period. A lot more. But the idea is valid. I'm not about to sit down to counseling with a male and completely open up to them and know, they understand. I'm sorry. No male is going to understand my body issues, my health problems, and my fears and concerns, which in some way wrap into the larger picture of no longer knowing who I am. I'd be more comfortable talking to another chick about things, and having that knowledge that some things are universal.
So, will I give it up to Goddess? I don't know. It's been a long time since I talked with Her. Perhaps that's part of the issue, but as disconnected from myself as I feel, I am fifty times worse when it comes to Her. I don't know I'd even know where to start anymore.
Maybe my journey starts there. Maybe the first step in finding myself is finding Her again. I don't know. After today, I wonder if there's anything left for me to find. I feel like a shell. A dead leaf. Is there a point to seeking the wind, other than to be smashed to pieces by it?
Once I knew. I know I knew because if I asked myself that question I could answer it. The answers might change given the moment asked, or the mindset, but I always had an answer. One might say that means I didn't know who I was, but I argue that it meant that I did know who I was, at that moment. Fluidity is a part of life, the ability to adapt and adjust is necessary.
Now, if you ask who I am, I couldn't give you an answer.
I have a name, but that name doesn't make me who I am, anymore than I make my name what it is.
I am a wife, but sometimes I do not feel like I am a wife. Sometimes I feel like a maid, a babysitter, a cook, house keeper, reminder service and occasionally a friend.
I am a friend, but often I don't feel like one. I feel like a rental, someone that people look to when they need something from me, but who gets forgotten and ignored in all other times. I feel like someone who is just a stand-in, someone to take up space when needed, to fill a gap left if a 'real' friend doesn't show.
Most often I feel like someone trapped, stuck in one place, unable to break free. I feel alone. I feel invisible. I feel like I don't belong, don't exist, do not matter in the picture beyond my own head. I feel like a discard.
But none of this tells me who I am. None of it.
So who am I?
Why am I here?
Why do I stay?
Why have I lost sight of myself, and how do I find my way back? It isn't as if who I am has a cellphone I can call. I cannot take a taxi to why I am here. So how do I figure it out again, and how do I find myself? How do I fix what is broken, and survive the fixing?
There comes a time in everyone's life when they question. Most often, twice at the very least. The first time is our teenage years, when we question everything and try to adjust who we are based on the people around us. The second is often called a midlife crisis. As if what we learn in our rebellion stage is supposed to last us our whole life, and magically fit forever. When it doesn't, we have a 'midlife crisis' and try to re-find the answers.
The problem I have with this is that a midlife crisis is supposed to happen at midlife. Generally around 50 or so. Because that's the halfway point for most lives. (Okay, some say 40-60, but again given a lifespan of about 80-120, that only tells me some people have some later than others). I'm 32. I think I'm a little young for a midlife crisis, unless I only plan on living to 64. Which is possible. I'm a little old for a quarter-life crisis, because even if I live to 100, that would have happened about 25. So I can't win on the timing.
I could be having a third-life crisis, but that implies I have two other lives, when I barely have one. I suppose I could be having a 30% life crisis, because well, I sometimes feel I only have 30% of a life at best.
So I don't know what I'm having, except that I'm sitting here, wondering who I am, where I'm going and why I'm here. I seem to remember doing this in my teen years. So the idea of the midlife-crisis still seems to fit. The name is just a little misleading. And yeas, I've wandered off topic a touch.
So, if I am having a midlife crisis, what do I do? And will this crisis end in me finding myself again, or am I still going to be lost on the other end of it, but just too numb to care anymore? If I do find myself on the other side, will I be someone I want to be, or will I be someone I hate? Will I be someone I can at least tolerate, or will things only be worse, and if worse, will I be stuck with the new me, or can I keep looking?
Is this really like shopping for a car or dress, or is that thinking too much? Or too little?
If I am shopping for a new me, what's the best store to shop in, and who do I pay when I find the right fit? Can I get myself on a discount if I'm too broke to afford the upgrade? Or will I be sent home with the old, worn out model because of a lack of funds?
I find it hard to believe I will wake up and things will be better. I don't expect that I'll suddenly forget Math, or suddenly be more educated. I cannot imagine that I will wake up in a new me and have that shiny new body smell, or that low mileage excitement. Am I trading a Chevy for a Ford, or a red paint job for a green? Or am I simply going to settle for the old dress and a new set of heels and possibly a new purse to make things seem newer than they are?
And no, I'm not getting a face lift or a boob job. Even though that last thought stabs at that idea, those just aren't my style. If they are the new me's style, then I'm going to already have issues with this person.
I suppose the crisis part of a midlife crisis comes from the unanswered questions and the trepidation about who is waiting on the other side of this journey. I just wish I could figure out where the journey starts and what time the tour leaves, because I feel completely lost.
I may never figure out why I am here. I doubt any of us really know why, not even at the moment of death, though that would be really cool if at the moment we die it's like that game show where you pick a door. Your life was a door, and when you die, there's this voice saying 'let's see what you've won'. If you succeeded in fulfilling your mission, your 'why you were here', then you win. If you got part of it right, you get the secondary prize, and see what you could have done differently. If you just missed completely you see the ways you mucked everything up and get the boobie prize. Sadly, I feel like right now, I'm picking the boobie prize door. But I feel like everyone is screaming door 2, and I'm picking 3. a lifetime supply of Q-tips, aren't I lucky? Bye-bye shiny new car and bye-bye runner-up prize.
But what happens if I switch my gut instinct, and go with the crowd? What if door 2 is a can of re-fried beans, and Door 3 was a vacation to Scotland? You see the problem? What if the end result of all this screws me up worse than I am right now? What if when everything is over, the smoke has cleared, and I've completely missed the mark on what I was supposed to do because I started having doubts and listening to others? But... what if that's what I am supposed to do, and my paranoia keeps me from doing it because I'm afraid I'll mess up? Catch-22. And I hate my life.
As for why I stay... I don't know. I really don't. Why am I mucked down here and not moving? Fear? Paranoia? Over thinking? I can't say. I really have no idea.
In the end, I'm not sure what to do. I have no direction, no hope. No expectations, only fear and questions.
And don't tell me to 'give it up to God.'. Bless you people, but no. Goddess maybe, but there's nothing that's going to convince me a male deity understands the first thing about my body, my issues, my concerns, my complaints. No man enjoys sitting there while a girl goes off on a rant about her cramps and period. I highly doubt a male deity will either. And the image of God with his fingers in his ears going 'lalala can't hear you' isn't exactly comforting. Especially not when I'm supposed to be firing off all my rants and issues and expecting some help in return.
And yes, this is more than cramps and a period. A lot more. But the idea is valid. I'm not about to sit down to counseling with a male and completely open up to them and know, they understand. I'm sorry. No male is going to understand my body issues, my health problems, and my fears and concerns, which in some way wrap into the larger picture of no longer knowing who I am. I'd be more comfortable talking to another chick about things, and having that knowledge that some things are universal.
So, will I give it up to Goddess? I don't know. It's been a long time since I talked with Her. Perhaps that's part of the issue, but as disconnected from myself as I feel, I am fifty times worse when it comes to Her. I don't know I'd even know where to start anymore.
Maybe my journey starts there. Maybe the first step in finding myself is finding Her again. I don't know. After today, I wonder if there's anything left for me to find. I feel like a shell. A dead leaf. Is there a point to seeking the wind, other than to be smashed to pieces by it?
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Meltdown
So today is a write off. Woke up, couldn't walk without pain (thank you gout) and m y mood was sour. Things spiraled out after that. Hubby and I had a record fight. Thankfully Mur and Dig were here to mediate. Not sure anything got solved but A lot got vented.
Not my proudest moment, but even if nothing comes of this at least I got some things said, even if he didn't hear them.
I'm just sick of being invisible and ignored or being second choice in his plans. He comes home, vanishes downstairs, goes to bed, gets up goes to work, repeats. On his days off he's off with his friends and I'm here watching the Bug. So I never see him, never get out and just got fed up with it.
So yes, I had a meltdown. I had a lapse in sanity and completely lost my cool. I'm not proud of it, but I feel somewhat better. Do I think anything will change? No... sorry. I'm still too cynical to think this is going to effect anything other than the fact I blew off some steam.
Not my proudest moment, but even if nothing comes of this at least I got some things said, even if he didn't hear them.
I'm just sick of being invisible and ignored or being second choice in his plans. He comes home, vanishes downstairs, goes to bed, gets up goes to work, repeats. On his days off he's off with his friends and I'm here watching the Bug. So I never see him, never get out and just got fed up with it.
So yes, I had a meltdown. I had a lapse in sanity and completely lost my cool. I'm not proud of it, but I feel somewhat better. Do I think anything will change? No... sorry. I'm still too cynical to think this is going to effect anything other than the fact I blew off some steam.
Friday, September 17, 2010
748 days left
On my 101 in 1001 thing, if you're wondering.
so almost one year down and I'm only 13% complete. I have this huge mild panic attack. Like that? "Huge mild"... yeah, it's not a major one but it's wide spread so it's huge mild. I suppose I shouldn't feel too rushed, after all, I have 748 days left to finish the rest of the list. I just kind of hoped I'd be further along right now. Like at 30% so I could relax a little. But oh well.. time to amp things up I suppose.
I know some things will have to wait until next year. Summer's over so anything dealing with summer is going to have to wait. Like things involving me going outside for extended periods of time. I don't think outside in the cold is a good idea.
I'm waiting to do a few for this winter as well. Try two new Christmas cookies for one. I want to shoot for this year so if I miss, I still have one more Christmas before it all ends. I think. I should check and make sure. Yes, one more before it ends. So I have some buffer room there.
I really want to try and go get us library cards. Mostly because once the Bug starts getting to an age she can be read to without trying to rip the book out of your hands, the library is a decent place to find a few books for her. Not that she doesn't have any. She has a lot. But she just won't sit still for them. Anyway, the Library Card thing is on my list of things to do. It's so easy, and yet I haven't managed to get it done yet.
I semi-sort of blame Facebook games. I sit down, check 'a few' and suddenly half the day is gone. Makes me sad. I really do want to be productive. I just have a hard time getting there from here.
so almost one year down and I'm only 13% complete. I have this huge mild panic attack. Like that? "Huge mild"... yeah, it's not a major one but it's wide spread so it's huge mild. I suppose I shouldn't feel too rushed, after all, I have 748 days left to finish the rest of the list. I just kind of hoped I'd be further along right now. Like at 30% so I could relax a little. But oh well.. time to amp things up I suppose.
I know some things will have to wait until next year. Summer's over so anything dealing with summer is going to have to wait. Like things involving me going outside for extended periods of time. I don't think outside in the cold is a good idea.
I'm waiting to do a few for this winter as well. Try two new Christmas cookies for one. I want to shoot for this year so if I miss, I still have one more Christmas before it all ends. I think. I should check and make sure. Yes, one more before it ends. So I have some buffer room there.
I really want to try and go get us library cards. Mostly because once the Bug starts getting to an age she can be read to without trying to rip the book out of your hands, the library is a decent place to find a few books for her. Not that she doesn't have any. She has a lot. But she just won't sit still for them. Anyway, the Library Card thing is on my list of things to do. It's so easy, and yet I haven't managed to get it done yet.
I semi-sort of blame Facebook games. I sit down, check 'a few' and suddenly half the day is gone. Makes me sad. I really do want to be productive. I just have a hard time getting there from here.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Ewww.
So, the Bug got sick. I thought it was bad when I puked, but watching a toddler do it is both gross and heart wrenching. Because a) No one likes watching people puke. And b) she can't tell you what's wrong.
Mur and I spent a few hours in the Children's hospital ER making sure she was fine. She didn't puke once there, and they cleared her. We were just really worried.
So, short post because I'm fried and not really wanting to do more than wash up and go to bed.
Mur and I spent a few hours in the Children's hospital ER making sure she was fine. She didn't puke once there, and they cleared her. We were just really worried.
So, short post because I'm fried and not really wanting to do more than wash up and go to bed.
Monday, September 13, 2010
NDK wrap up
So Mur and Dig had cleaned the living room while we were gone to NDK. I came home and it was so nice. It lasted maybe half a day. They hit two food banks to try and get food for them and the Bug, and now I have stuff all over my living room again. I am about to give up on it getting clean because with 4 adults, one toddler and a cat, I doubt we can do it. Not unless I toss half the crap in this living room away. I'm tempted.. sorely tempted.
Anyway, we hit NDK early, and I helped out with the early pre-reg badge pick up. It was not as bad as I expected, because not everyone expected to be able to pick up early. It helped lines somewhat on Friday, and given that next year 90-95% of the Con will be pre-reg only, I have a feeling this will simplify things greatly. After all, rather than one side pre-reg and one side at-the-door, they can do both sides pre-reg and just have one person somewhere doing at-the-door. And that's if they do any at-the-door at all. I haven't heard.
Friday was wicked like always. Saturday busy as hell, and Sunday shockingly mellow. It was a normal Con in reality. Save the fact my boss gave me a field promotion. Basically, you have the Area Head, his/her Lt., and the Staff, and then Volunteers. This is how it's set up in each department. Volunteers come and go, they fill the space, And the Head runs everything. The Staff is the backbone and the Lt is the second in command. We all following here? Okay, so I was staff. Apparently next year, I get to be Lt.
This is scary shit. I mean, I've been staff 2 years now? And I volunteered the year before that. So I'm still green. Still learning. I'm afraid I'm not going to be cut out for this.
I suppose we can find out on the fly next year. I should mention that I'm being moved up because the current Lt and the next qualified staff member are both taking jobs out of the country next year, so they will not be there. Otherwise I might have had more time to learn the ropes.
I have to come up with some ideas to organize Ops again. Last year I suggested a standing rack and baskets to divide up the lost and found. It worked, but not perfectly. I have to tweak it a little. I also suggested this year that we look at getting two more, to store supply items for the panels and rooms. I hope they take the idea, as I think it would work to declutter the office some more and allow us easier access to the items we keep digging for.
I also want to try to organize the supply items we use on a regular basis. Like pens, clips, clickers, scissors, first aid things, and all that. Anyway, I suppose I should try to think about things and rest a bit. I haven't slept much since getting home and the day wasn't exactly mild.
Anyway, we hit NDK early, and I helped out with the early pre-reg badge pick up. It was not as bad as I expected, because not everyone expected to be able to pick up early. It helped lines somewhat on Friday, and given that next year 90-95% of the Con will be pre-reg only, I have a feeling this will simplify things greatly. After all, rather than one side pre-reg and one side at-the-door, they can do both sides pre-reg and just have one person somewhere doing at-the-door. And that's if they do any at-the-door at all. I haven't heard.
Friday was wicked like always. Saturday busy as hell, and Sunday shockingly mellow. It was a normal Con in reality. Save the fact my boss gave me a field promotion. Basically, you have the Area Head, his/her Lt., and the Staff, and then Volunteers. This is how it's set up in each department. Volunteers come and go, they fill the space, And the Head runs everything. The Staff is the backbone and the Lt is the second in command. We all following here? Okay, so I was staff. Apparently next year, I get to be Lt.
This is scary shit. I mean, I've been staff 2 years now? And I volunteered the year before that. So I'm still green. Still learning. I'm afraid I'm not going to be cut out for this.
I suppose we can find out on the fly next year. I should mention that I'm being moved up because the current Lt and the next qualified staff member are both taking jobs out of the country next year, so they will not be there. Otherwise I might have had more time to learn the ropes.
I have to come up with some ideas to organize Ops again. Last year I suggested a standing rack and baskets to divide up the lost and found. It worked, but not perfectly. I have to tweak it a little. I also suggested this year that we look at getting two more, to store supply items for the panels and rooms. I hope they take the idea, as I think it would work to declutter the office some more and allow us easier access to the items we keep digging for.
I also want to try to organize the supply items we use on a regular basis. Like pens, clips, clickers, scissors, first aid things, and all that. Anyway, I suppose I should try to think about things and rest a bit. I haven't slept much since getting home and the day wasn't exactly mild.
Adams County DHS Apparently Sucks
So, Mur and Dig have been trying to get a small amount of help from DHS. They aren't looking for a ton of help. He has a job. It starts this month, on the 20th. But the first paycheck doesn't hit until the 8th. So they need something to cover food, gas, and some extra for bills and stuff.
They looked up DHS on google and found one near by, went and got a fantastic social worker. She explained that if all they needed was a little help for the one month or so while he got back on his feet and had a paycheck come in, they could do a disbursement. It was going to help with food, bills, rent, car insurance... it sounded fantastic. Until they entered the address and found out they were in the wrong county. Arapahoe county apparently, and we're in Adams. Mind you, the border for this county division is so close it's comical. They just barely were in the wrong county.
But no worries, right? If Arapahoe could help, Adams should be able to as well, right?
#@&^ No. You'd be mistaken. Apparently Adams won't even touch them because they haven't lived here 6 months. Just moved in? Can't feed the baby? Can't pay your rent? So sorry, suck it up and move out of Adams county. That's the message they are getting. What's worse is, their social worker told them "Go here, get this assistance." And they go, and guess what? Can't help, you haven't been here 6 months. Her answer? "Oh, yeah... I forgot about that."
Are Adams county workers that stupid, that poorly trained, or just that cruel? I'm not certain. Perhaps a little off the top of each.
Now, add insult to injury. They can get Tanif, if they have a state driver's license. She hands them a voucher. It's for a state ID, which doesn't allow you to drive. You cannot have a driver's license and an ID, if one is out of state. Theirs is. So they have to surrender the Driver's License to get the ID. Which means they cannot drive to work. Which means, they have to pay for public transportation to get him to work for that job. Which they cannot afford public transportation because they have no money. Which means they have to have financial assistance they cannot get because they haven't lived here 6 months.
Her reply to the ID/License thing? "Wait, what? Oh.." with that implied 'crap' at the end which tells you she had no idea how badly she'd messed up. Again, idiot or just poor training? Not certain. At least this one didn't seem to be direct cruelty.
So the bottom line is, Adams county doesn't want people moving in unless they are wealthy. Poor people go home, in another county. Your 'Department of Human Services' doesn't find you worthy of their attention or help, come back when you no longer need it, or you no longer have a place to live, provided you've been homeless but living in Adams county for at least 6 months.
If I knew who to call to bitch someone out about this, I think I would. Because it is a sad day when the PAGAN is more Christian than the goddamn Christians.
They looked up DHS on google and found one near by, went and got a fantastic social worker. She explained that if all they needed was a little help for the one month or so while he got back on his feet and had a paycheck come in, they could do a disbursement. It was going to help with food, bills, rent, car insurance... it sounded fantastic. Until they entered the address and found out they were in the wrong county. Arapahoe county apparently, and we're in Adams. Mind you, the border for this county division is so close it's comical. They just barely were in the wrong county.
But no worries, right? If Arapahoe could help, Adams should be able to as well, right?
#@&^ No. You'd be mistaken. Apparently Adams won't even touch them because they haven't lived here 6 months. Just moved in? Can't feed the baby? Can't pay your rent? So sorry, suck it up and move out of Adams county. That's the message they are getting. What's worse is, their social worker told them "Go here, get this assistance." And they go, and guess what? Can't help, you haven't been here 6 months. Her answer? "Oh, yeah... I forgot about that."
Are Adams county workers that stupid, that poorly trained, or just that cruel? I'm not certain. Perhaps a little off the top of each.
Now, add insult to injury. They can get Tanif, if they have a state driver's license. She hands them a voucher. It's for a state ID, which doesn't allow you to drive. You cannot have a driver's license and an ID, if one is out of state. Theirs is. So they have to surrender the Driver's License to get the ID. Which means they cannot drive to work. Which means, they have to pay for public transportation to get him to work for that job. Which they cannot afford public transportation because they have no money. Which means they have to have financial assistance they cannot get because they haven't lived here 6 months.
Her reply to the ID/License thing? "Wait, what? Oh.." with that implied 'crap' at the end which tells you she had no idea how badly she'd messed up. Again, idiot or just poor training? Not certain. At least this one didn't seem to be direct cruelty.
So the bottom line is, Adams county doesn't want people moving in unless they are wealthy. Poor people go home, in another county. Your 'Department of Human Services' doesn't find you worthy of their attention or help, come back when you no longer need it, or you no longer have a place to live, provided you've been homeless but living in Adams county for at least 6 months.
If I knew who to call to bitch someone out about this, I think I would. Because it is a sad day when the PAGAN is more Christian than the goddamn Christians.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
NDK
This weekend is NDK, or Nan Desu Kan. It's an Anime Convention here in Denver and I work in Operations during the Con. It's a tough job but someone has to work with the other crazies. I mean... Seriously, I love the people I work with. We have a blast. We keep each other sane and they have great senses of humor. I enjoy working the Con, which is why I still do it.
However, this means I will not be back until Monday. I just won't have time to post things while I am at con. However, if things of interest happen, I promise I will post when I get back, and even try to backdate the posts to the right dates.
Have fun, don't miss me too much while I am away.
However, this means I will not be back until Monday. I just won't have time to post things while I am at con. However, if things of interest happen, I promise I will post when I get back, and even try to backdate the posts to the right dates.
Have fun, don't miss me too much while I am away.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
31 Meal Challenge
That's right. It's the list 31 different meals challenge. Let's see how I do.
For the record, 21 is where I started getting a little difficult. Had to really start thinking about what all I'd eaten in the last few months that might qualify. Even worse, 24 on were things I had to ask for suggestions with. My hope of coming up with 62 is fairly shot, and 93 seems like an impossible dream right now.
Of course, most things could have variations. Spaghetti with sauce could easily be rigatoni, fettuccine, ziti, etc. Pork chops with rice could be chicken with rice. You get the idea. However, I decided to just try for one variant on them at a time.
- Chicken cordon bleu
- Onion Baked Pork Chops
- Spaghetti with sauce
- Mac and Cheese
- Chicken with Chicken Ramen
- Turkey
- Baked ham
- Chicken noodle soup
- Grilled Cheese and tomato soup
- Gypsy Casserole
- Creamy Chicken over noodles
- Turkey Burritos
- Corn Chowder
- Baked pork chops and rice
- Pork roast and veggies
- Orange citrus Chicken
- Lemon pepper chicken
- Hot dogs
- Boca Burgers
- Pizza
- Chicken Stir-fry
- Lasagna
- Poor Man's Meal
- Oriental Orange Chicken
- Baked potato with fixings
- Meat-Helper
- Mur's Chicken and Rice
- Creamy pork loin
- Chicken and green bean casserole
- Turkey and Dumplings
- Fried Chicken
- Vegetable Chicken Soup
- Antelope Chili
- BBQ meat
- Meat nuggets
- Swiss Chicken
- Chicken Kiev
- Gumbo
- Cabbage & Sausage
- Alfredo
- Shepard's Pie
- Baked Pasta
- Stroganoff
For the record, 21 is where I started getting a little difficult. Had to really start thinking about what all I'd eaten in the last few months that might qualify. Even worse, 24 on were things I had to ask for suggestions with. My hope of coming up with 62 is fairly shot, and 93 seems like an impossible dream right now.
Of course, most things could have variations. Spaghetti with sauce could easily be rigatoni, fettuccine, ziti, etc. Pork chops with rice could be chicken with rice. You get the idea. However, I decided to just try for one variant on them at a time.
Chicken Bleus
So, I can't eat beef. Not that I don't like beef. I love a good hamburger or nice steak. Only problem is, if I eat beef, I can't walk for a week after. Thank you Gout.
So I am left with Chicken, Pork, Turkey, and Fish. But, I can't stand fish. Makes me gag. Go me. So that's one more protein off the menu. Also, cannot have bacon, for the same reason as beef. Other pork is fine, but bacon apparently has too much grease or fat or something. So, no bacon.
Chicken. Pork. Turkey.
Not a whole lot of menu options there. After a while, you get really bored with the food and sneak one of the no-no foods. Then there's a gout attack, pain, tears, swearing you're not going to sneak it again. And you're fine for a month. Maybe two. Then slowly you get bored again and the cycle of pain continues.
Because, it doesn't matter how many ways you can cook chicken, or pork, or turkey, you're going to get bored ad go out for steak or a burger, or sneak something else you can't have because you just want something different.
I have a few 101 goals that are tied to food. "Try 10 new recipes." "Make a custom cookbook." Things like that. Things that remind me to try and expand the culinary repertoire. To try and fend off the boredom. To expand the tastes and flavors enough that I can spice things up and not slip back to the no-no foods for comfort. So far Muriel has been helping me. We tried something new last night. Some orange citrus chicken. A little heavy of the spices for me, but it wasn't bad. She's even got me eating veggies again with almost every meal.
Of course, it's hard, because she doesn't want to cook beef for her and Dig while I'm here. Because she thinks it's going to make it harder for me, and honestly, it might. She made chili one night with super lean beef, which I technically can have in small doses. But I hadn't had beef in a while so for the next three days I was sneaking small bowls. Small bowls frequently, just so you know, don't count as 'small doses'. I found this out when I ended up with gout in my ankles. She got onto me about slowly poisoning myself with beefy goodness. You see how well her lecture registered with me. So apparently now she's only going to cook beef when I'm not here. Like this weekend when I'm gone for a convention.
So once again I am left to just chicken, pork, and turkey. But, I feel bad, because that means for the most part, meals for four people are being tailored around one. Me. Because everyone else in this house can eat beef. Of course, I feel even worse because my hubby doesn't tend to eat what we have. I'm sure it's because he's fed up with eating around my dietary needs. I know it's hard. But at the same time, it's frustrating. Not just for them. For me. I didn't ask for this. I didn't want it. I'd love to be able to eat anything like everyone else. I used to be able to. Now, I can't have things I used to eat, used to love. So here I am, forced to this restricted diet, and dragging everyone else down with me.
It sucks. And what's worse, there's nothing I can do about it. Apparently I'm stuck with this issue. So I have to learn to deal with it, and everyone around me has to as well. Which is fine for Mur and Dig, because honestly, they can go out to eat and not feel bad. They can sneak meals when I am gone, or happen to sleep during one (which happens once in a while with me taking shifts with the Bug, where I sleep during lunch or dinner). But my Hubby has a somewhat harder time of eating around me at home. Then again, he works, and takes a lunch, so it's not too hard to take hamburgers or steak to work for his meal. Which he does. But he still doesn't tend to eat with us at home.
Anyway, bringing this back around, I have a few goals for my 101 list that deal with food, because I'm honestly trying to learn to live with Gout. So I asked some Facebook friends to share recipes, given what I can't eat, and I got a few replies. I'm hoping that the added differences in tastes will help expand my options. After all, everyone knows at least one dish that doesn't have beef or bacon or fish in it, and is free of other triggers. Even 10 new recipes will mean 10 things I can work into my diet, work into my schedule.
Long ago, the Hubby and I sat down and made a list of 31 foods we both could eat. It was a difficult process. Thinks like Hotdogs, and Mac and Cheese. You might think it's easy, but after about 17, you start to sit there thinking and drawing a blank. I was hard pressed to come up with 31 things. Why 31? Easy, 31 days in the longest months. One food item per day. Just one item, mind you. Typically dinner. So that's not counting lunches or breakfasts. Just dinners. We had to really work at it.
I'm thinking of doing the list again, on my own. Just me. Try to see how far I can get before I have to start asking Mur for ideas. I'm hoping 20. Maybe 23. It would be nice to know I have a list of 31 dinners I can turn to for support. Of course, 62 or 93 would be far better. Why? That's one dinner a day for 2 or 3 months. That means the 3rd isn't always mac and cheese, and the 15th isn't always chicken cordon bleu. No matter how much you love a food, eating it every month, even just once a month, can get boring. The more I can list for dinners, the better chance I have of not turning to the no-no foods.
Wish me luck. I think I'll go start that list.
So I am left with Chicken, Pork, Turkey, and Fish. But, I can't stand fish. Makes me gag. Go me. So that's one more protein off the menu. Also, cannot have bacon, for the same reason as beef. Other pork is fine, but bacon apparently has too much grease or fat or something. So, no bacon.
Chicken. Pork. Turkey.
Not a whole lot of menu options there. After a while, you get really bored with the food and sneak one of the no-no foods. Then there's a gout attack, pain, tears, swearing you're not going to sneak it again. And you're fine for a month. Maybe two. Then slowly you get bored again and the cycle of pain continues.
Because, it doesn't matter how many ways you can cook chicken, or pork, or turkey, you're going to get bored ad go out for steak or a burger, or sneak something else you can't have because you just want something different.
I have a few 101 goals that are tied to food. "Try 10 new recipes." "Make a custom cookbook." Things like that. Things that remind me to try and expand the culinary repertoire. To try and fend off the boredom. To expand the tastes and flavors enough that I can spice things up and not slip back to the no-no foods for comfort. So far Muriel has been helping me. We tried something new last night. Some orange citrus chicken. A little heavy of the spices for me, but it wasn't bad. She's even got me eating veggies again with almost every meal.
Of course, it's hard, because she doesn't want to cook beef for her and Dig while I'm here. Because she thinks it's going to make it harder for me, and honestly, it might. She made chili one night with super lean beef, which I technically can have in small doses. But I hadn't had beef in a while so for the next three days I was sneaking small bowls. Small bowls frequently, just so you know, don't count as 'small doses'. I found this out when I ended up with gout in my ankles. She got onto me about slowly poisoning myself with beefy goodness. You see how well her lecture registered with me. So apparently now she's only going to cook beef when I'm not here. Like this weekend when I'm gone for a convention.
So once again I am left to just chicken, pork, and turkey. But, I feel bad, because that means for the most part, meals for four people are being tailored around one. Me. Because everyone else in this house can eat beef. Of course, I feel even worse because my hubby doesn't tend to eat what we have. I'm sure it's because he's fed up with eating around my dietary needs. I know it's hard. But at the same time, it's frustrating. Not just for them. For me. I didn't ask for this. I didn't want it. I'd love to be able to eat anything like everyone else. I used to be able to. Now, I can't have things I used to eat, used to love. So here I am, forced to this restricted diet, and dragging everyone else down with me.
It sucks. And what's worse, there's nothing I can do about it. Apparently I'm stuck with this issue. So I have to learn to deal with it, and everyone around me has to as well. Which is fine for Mur and Dig, because honestly, they can go out to eat and not feel bad. They can sneak meals when I am gone, or happen to sleep during one (which happens once in a while with me taking shifts with the Bug, where I sleep during lunch or dinner). But my Hubby has a somewhat harder time of eating around me at home. Then again, he works, and takes a lunch, so it's not too hard to take hamburgers or steak to work for his meal. Which he does. But he still doesn't tend to eat with us at home.
Anyway, bringing this back around, I have a few goals for my 101 list that deal with food, because I'm honestly trying to learn to live with Gout. So I asked some Facebook friends to share recipes, given what I can't eat, and I got a few replies. I'm hoping that the added differences in tastes will help expand my options. After all, everyone knows at least one dish that doesn't have beef or bacon or fish in it, and is free of other triggers. Even 10 new recipes will mean 10 things I can work into my diet, work into my schedule.
Long ago, the Hubby and I sat down and made a list of 31 foods we both could eat. It was a difficult process. Thinks like Hotdogs, and Mac and Cheese. You might think it's easy, but after about 17, you start to sit there thinking and drawing a blank. I was hard pressed to come up with 31 things. Why 31? Easy, 31 days in the longest months. One food item per day. Just one item, mind you. Typically dinner. So that's not counting lunches or breakfasts. Just dinners. We had to really work at it.
I'm thinking of doing the list again, on my own. Just me. Try to see how far I can get before I have to start asking Mur for ideas. I'm hoping 20. Maybe 23. It would be nice to know I have a list of 31 dinners I can turn to for support. Of course, 62 or 93 would be far better. Why? That's one dinner a day for 2 or 3 months. That means the 3rd isn't always mac and cheese, and the 15th isn't always chicken cordon bleu. No matter how much you love a food, eating it every month, even just once a month, can get boring. The more I can list for dinners, the better chance I have of not turning to the no-no foods.
Wish me luck. I think I'll go start that list.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Home is Where the Clutter is
So, I need to start this by saying I am not the most neat or most organized person on the planet. I am fairly messy and fairly disorganized. But in my youth I used to say that there was an organization to my clutter. I fairly vividly remember being able to find anything of mine in the giant mess that was my room. Right up until I turned 16. Then the superpower started to fade. At present, it is safe to say it is only a fond memory.
I am still messy. I am still disorganized. And now, I am cluttered. I have been trying, without success to declutter for almost 3 years now. Ever since we bought the house. You see, before we could justify hanging onto something because it was always "We might need this when we get a house." We have a house. Have had a house for 3 years. If we haven't needed it, I think it's safe to get rid of it. And yet, the clutter persists.
The more I fight it, the more friends it enlists to the cause. We have cleaned the living room and kitchen no less than three times since Mur and Dig got here. I still cannot walk in either. I know this isn't because we haven't done anything. It is because we have too much stuff. Far too much stuff for our own good. But I don't know where to start cutting back, and I cannot afford to just toss everything out. No matter how much I want to. And days when I trip over things repeatedly, I really, really want to.
Anyway, I'm looking at ideas to help declutter. Not sure any of the ideas online will work. Maybe a few together will. But for how long? They all say you have to treat the cause of the clutter. The source. But finding that cause, the source, in a house of four adults, one toddler and a cat... not so easy. I suppose that means I have a hunt on my hands. To hunt down the source, the headwaters of the clutter river. And then start organizing like mad.
Wish me luck.
I am still messy. I am still disorganized. And now, I am cluttered. I have been trying, without success to declutter for almost 3 years now. Ever since we bought the house. You see, before we could justify hanging onto something because it was always "We might need this when we get a house." We have a house. Have had a house for 3 years. If we haven't needed it, I think it's safe to get rid of it. And yet, the clutter persists.
The more I fight it, the more friends it enlists to the cause. We have cleaned the living room and kitchen no less than three times since Mur and Dig got here. I still cannot walk in either. I know this isn't because we haven't done anything. It is because we have too much stuff. Far too much stuff for our own good. But I don't know where to start cutting back, and I cannot afford to just toss everything out. No matter how much I want to. And days when I trip over things repeatedly, I really, really want to.
Anyway, I'm looking at ideas to help declutter. Not sure any of the ideas online will work. Maybe a few together will. But for how long? They all say you have to treat the cause of the clutter. The source. But finding that cause, the source, in a house of four adults, one toddler and a cat... not so easy. I suppose that means I have a hunt on my hands. To hunt down the source, the headwaters of the clutter river. And then start organizing like mad.
Wish me luck.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Medical Mayhem
Okay, Mayhem might be the wrong word to use. But it certainly was a medical piss-me-off and crap-I'm-screwed kind of thing.
I have not been feeling well lately. It isn't anything new. I have asthma, so it seems every year about this time, and once about the end of February, I get sick. Nasal issues, mucus, sinus ick, etc. So here I am, struggling to breathe, going through Kleenex like crazy, sneezing, and feeling like I've been run over, then warmed over. I finally worked up enough nerve to tell the hubby "I think I might have to go to the doctor."
Now, this means that 1) self medication of my symptoms hasn't worked. I've tried over the counter things, popped pills, swigged syrups and done everything else I can think of and it's not gotten better. If anything, I'm worse. And 2) I've finally hit that point I feel bad enough to admit defeat. I've gone on long enough feeling like crap that I'm ready to admit I can't fix it and someone has to give me stronger meds to kill whatever is messing with my mojo.
Now, I've been dreading telling him this because he has failed, for a while now, to get our medical insurance cards from his work. They never came in the mail, and every time I asked him to get them from work, he 'forgot' or 'didn't get around to it'. So yes, I'm dreading telling him I have to go see a doctor.
Apparently, rightly so.
He looked everything up online, and could only find his medical card to print. Not mine. So he called work. Apparently, at some point they dropped me from his medical plan. So, here I am, sick as a dog, and I'm not covered. Mind you, this is supposedly their muck-up. They apparently admit that. They, according to him, know he got all the paperwork returned on time and can prove it. But they somehow dropped me, and since it's been 5 months, they can't undo it.
So we have to wait until the next enrollment period. Thankfully that's the start of October. I say thankfully, not because I look forward to being sick, and getting worse, until the first part of October when I can get in and have things taken care of. No, I say thankfully because at least it isn't January before they can fix this.
Now, I love my husband. I do. But I only have his word to go on when I say 'they admit' and 'they know'. He called them while I was out of the house running errands. For all I know he's covering his butt because he made the oops and doesn't want to tell me. In any case, whoever is at fault, I'm uninsured and sick. And I can say, that this totally sucks. Because remember, I've tried self-medicating, and it didn't work. I'd reached the point I admitted defeat. And now, I'm stuck with having to self medicate more until October. And that's provided he doesn't somehow forget to get me enrolled.
Now, he already said I could go to a doctor as long as the total bill doesn't go over a certain amount. I'm sitting here thinking 'sure, because doctors are cheap without insurance'. I'm really not comfortable trying to find a doctor I like who will see me without insurance, and then ask 'will this go over X dollars? I'm on a budget.' So guess who's sitting here thinking she's going to wait until October, and hoping she doesn't get so bad that I have to hit an ER. Because an ER will definitely go over his budget.
Though, if he did do this to me and was covering his butt, I suppose that would serve him right. Having to pay for an ER visit in the middle of the night because he failed to get paperwork in on time and I got dropped. Yeah, sounds about fair. But again, I cannot prove one way or the other. So I'm stuck here looking at the generic Dayquil and generic Musinex and thinking, yeah, this isn't going to get better.
Oh well. Whatever doesn't kill me, makes me stronger, right?
I have not been feeling well lately. It isn't anything new. I have asthma, so it seems every year about this time, and once about the end of February, I get sick. Nasal issues, mucus, sinus ick, etc. So here I am, struggling to breathe, going through Kleenex like crazy, sneezing, and feeling like I've been run over, then warmed over. I finally worked up enough nerve to tell the hubby "I think I might have to go to the doctor."
Now, this means that 1) self medication of my symptoms hasn't worked. I've tried over the counter things, popped pills, swigged syrups and done everything else I can think of and it's not gotten better. If anything, I'm worse. And 2) I've finally hit that point I feel bad enough to admit defeat. I've gone on long enough feeling like crap that I'm ready to admit I can't fix it and someone has to give me stronger meds to kill whatever is messing with my mojo.
Now, I've been dreading telling him this because he has failed, for a while now, to get our medical insurance cards from his work. They never came in the mail, and every time I asked him to get them from work, he 'forgot' or 'didn't get around to it'. So yes, I'm dreading telling him I have to go see a doctor.
Apparently, rightly so.
He looked everything up online, and could only find his medical card to print. Not mine. So he called work. Apparently, at some point they dropped me from his medical plan. So, here I am, sick as a dog, and I'm not covered. Mind you, this is supposedly their muck-up. They apparently admit that. They, according to him, know he got all the paperwork returned on time and can prove it. But they somehow dropped me, and since it's been 5 months, they can't undo it.
So we have to wait until the next enrollment period. Thankfully that's the start of October. I say thankfully, not because I look forward to being sick, and getting worse, until the first part of October when I can get in and have things taken care of. No, I say thankfully because at least it isn't January before they can fix this.
Now, I love my husband. I do. But I only have his word to go on when I say 'they admit' and 'they know'. He called them while I was out of the house running errands. For all I know he's covering his butt because he made the oops and doesn't want to tell me. In any case, whoever is at fault, I'm uninsured and sick. And I can say, that this totally sucks. Because remember, I've tried self-medicating, and it didn't work. I'd reached the point I admitted defeat. And now, I'm stuck with having to self medicate more until October. And that's provided he doesn't somehow forget to get me enrolled.
Now, he already said I could go to a doctor as long as the total bill doesn't go over a certain amount. I'm sitting here thinking 'sure, because doctors are cheap without insurance'. I'm really not comfortable trying to find a doctor I like who will see me without insurance, and then ask 'will this go over X dollars? I'm on a budget.' So guess who's sitting here thinking she's going to wait until October, and hoping she doesn't get so bad that I have to hit an ER. Because an ER will definitely go over his budget.
Though, if he did do this to me and was covering his butt, I suppose that would serve him right. Having to pay for an ER visit in the middle of the night because he failed to get paperwork in on time and I got dropped. Yeah, sounds about fair. But again, I cannot prove one way or the other. So I'm stuck here looking at the generic Dayquil and generic Musinex and thinking, yeah, this isn't going to get better.
Oh well. Whatever doesn't kill me, makes me stronger, right?
Sunday, September 5, 2010
I want to Create, Like I want to Breathe.
Some people will understand what I'm talking about. For others, simply replace 'create' with something meaningful to you, like 'play sports', 'hunt', 'recycle', 'drink'... you get the idea.
I usually Role-Play. Not that kinky stuff, you twisted people, the kind involving character sheets and dice, or not dice, depending on how you play. Generally It involves myself, someone else, and a whole lot of typing to create a story. To tell the story of the characters we are playing. Like writing a novel, only more complex, because there's two (or more) people writing and you have to think on your feet. Or your bum, because you're usually sitting.
Lately however, I have not been able to RP. My schedule has sucked so horribly I think my normal RP partners have forgotten I exist, or at the very least, wonder if I am still alive. I am, I just have the worst schedule for playing at this time. I've been handling the Bug a lot. The more time I spend with a toddler, the less time I have for creating stories that don't involve small words and tiny sentence structure. And then, when I am free.. I'm usually cooking, cleaning, doing laundry or... on rare occasions.. sleeping. I know, I should cut out the sleep and RP. Sorry, can't do it. I've tried. The tiny amount of sleep I do get is the only thing keeping me functional for the rest.
It's like having a child of my own. Only I don't.
But mind you, I am not complaining. I just need more time in my day. I really do enjoy watching her play with toys, reading her stories, and playing videos for her on Netflix. She seemed entranced by Blue's Clues the other day.
But, because my normal creative outlet has been cancelled like some TV Show, I have to come up with another creative outlet. I must create. Or I will go mad. At the very least, madder than I am now. And that's kind of scary given I'm fairly certain I'm already not playing with a full deck.
The question becomes, how to create, and what to create? Sure, the Blog might be one means to an end. In more ways than one, though I doubt most of the horror I write would be suitable for posting on a blog of this nature. I could try working on other characters in a side blog, but I have to find some that would be public friendly. But, aside from story telling, there's other things I find myself wishing I had time to do.
1. Poetry. I used to write a lot of poetry. I took a creative writing class in college and I used to be able to turn out two to three decent poems a week. I don't think I've written a poem in years. Kinda depressing. I could attempt to write more poems, but the issue I ran into the last time I tried to write a poem was, now that I'm older and less full of that teen angst, I don't seem to have anything to write about. Old age kills my muse, it seems.
2. Crochet. Yes, I do this. I can't knit to save my life. Too many needles and yarns and whatnot's. But I do fine with Crochet, so long as there's only one hook and one strand of yarn at a time. The problem is, this takes money I don't currently have, to buy the yarn to make the projects. So, this is on the back burner.
3. Sewing. Not on a machine mind you. I learned to use one in high school and I do own one, but I can't figure out how to work it, and it kinda scares me. So I tend to sew by hand. I know, takes longer. Hurts more. But I do enjoy it. I have a few projects I would like to finish up. Only problem is, I have to find the supplies. The fabric, the needles and the thread have all vanished since we cleaned up the house for the new roomies. This makes finishing that pillow cover or the jean project a touch harder than normal.
4. Painting. Not rooms, though I want to do that too. No, painting pictures. Or in my case, rocks. No, I don't pick up a rock and paint it pink. I used to do animals on rocks. Eagles, otters, bears. That kind of thing. I haven't done it in a long long time. And I did want to try painting anime characters at some point. Not certain I would be any good at it. But this requires money as well. Paints, brushes, materials. So another burner project.
5. Making Christmas decorations. One of my 101 in 1001 projects is to have a 'Gothic Christmas'. This would require a white tree, some red lights, and some Gothic decorations. Now, there were a few websites which listed ideas for making your own decorations. One was to buy the Christmas ornaments on sale after Christmas, and then repaint them. Obviously both things require funds I don't have at the moment. And a sale that is still a few months off, which hopefully by then I have the funds. But, there's got to be other decorations I can make. More than likely from that salt and flour dough we used to make things with as kids. I just have to research it. I did find out from a recent project I did that some of the items I made from said dough broke afterward. I'm not sure why, but I'll have to look into it. I don't want to spend four months making ornaments for next year, only to pull them out and find they're all in pieces. Unless that works for the decoration.
6. Cooking. I don't do this a lot. Usually because no one eats it afterward and it goes to waste. It also involves a lot of time in the kitchen, and right now, it's too hot to be cooking in the kitchen. In a few months when temps drop and cooking in the kitchen helps heat the house, this won't be so bad. But right now, the last thing I want to do is cook and heat the house. Still, I want to cook. It's like beating my head against a brick wall. However, my plan is to gather some recipes, and have them ready to go when temps drop and I can cook without remorse.
7. Redecorate. This takes money. Still, I want to paint the living room, and rework the decor in the whole house. I want to get rid of things, make room for new items, and change my themes in the house. Right now, it's a lot of anime and Asian stuff. That's my husband's influence. Love him, but at least up stairs, I want to change things up. I want to have different colors, different influences. Sadly, I'm eclectic, which does not lend well to a set theme. Or a flow. I'm not entirely certain how to take Gothic, native American, Victorian, Celtic and Egyptian and mesh everything together to flow and look nice. It's a challenge. If I could get my mind to focus long enough I might be able to work out some kind of a project, but with the kiddo in the house, the ability to focus on anything for more than ten minutes at a go is sorely lacking.
I suppose all of this is one reason I've managed to make so many posts to this blog. That and the fact that no one reads this.
Well, no one that I know of. We will just keep it that way so my mind doesn't start censoring things before I hit 'publish post'. Okay? Okay.
In any case, I have this need to create something. To make something. To still the voices and energies in my head for more than a few moments at a glance, and to walk away thinking 'now that was cool.' The desire to create, to build, to make. To become more than myself for a few moments, and to have something outside myself that I can look at. Like air, I need this. Like breathing, it is a part of me. And lately, I've been slowly suffocating. Hopefully soon I can take a deep breath, and recover my sanity.
I usually Role-Play. Not that kinky stuff, you twisted people, the kind involving character sheets and dice, or not dice, depending on how you play. Generally It involves myself, someone else, and a whole lot of typing to create a story. To tell the story of the characters we are playing. Like writing a novel, only more complex, because there's two (or more) people writing and you have to think on your feet. Or your bum, because you're usually sitting.
Lately however, I have not been able to RP. My schedule has sucked so horribly I think my normal RP partners have forgotten I exist, or at the very least, wonder if I am still alive. I am, I just have the worst schedule for playing at this time. I've been handling the Bug a lot. The more time I spend with a toddler, the less time I have for creating stories that don't involve small words and tiny sentence structure. And then, when I am free.. I'm usually cooking, cleaning, doing laundry or... on rare occasions.. sleeping. I know, I should cut out the sleep and RP. Sorry, can't do it. I've tried. The tiny amount of sleep I do get is the only thing keeping me functional for the rest.
It's like having a child of my own. Only I don't.
But mind you, I am not complaining. I just need more time in my day. I really do enjoy watching her play with toys, reading her stories, and playing videos for her on Netflix. She seemed entranced by Blue's Clues the other day.
But, because my normal creative outlet has been cancelled like some TV Show, I have to come up with another creative outlet. I must create. Or I will go mad. At the very least, madder than I am now. And that's kind of scary given I'm fairly certain I'm already not playing with a full deck.
The question becomes, how to create, and what to create? Sure, the Blog might be one means to an end. In more ways than one, though I doubt most of the horror I write would be suitable for posting on a blog of this nature. I could try working on other characters in a side blog, but I have to find some that would be public friendly. But, aside from story telling, there's other things I find myself wishing I had time to do.
1. Poetry. I used to write a lot of poetry. I took a creative writing class in college and I used to be able to turn out two to three decent poems a week. I don't think I've written a poem in years. Kinda depressing. I could attempt to write more poems, but the issue I ran into the last time I tried to write a poem was, now that I'm older and less full of that teen angst, I don't seem to have anything to write about. Old age kills my muse, it seems.
2. Crochet. Yes, I do this. I can't knit to save my life. Too many needles and yarns and whatnot's. But I do fine with Crochet, so long as there's only one hook and one strand of yarn at a time. The problem is, this takes money I don't currently have, to buy the yarn to make the projects. So, this is on the back burner.
3. Sewing. Not on a machine mind you. I learned to use one in high school and I do own one, but I can't figure out how to work it, and it kinda scares me. So I tend to sew by hand. I know, takes longer. Hurts more. But I do enjoy it. I have a few projects I would like to finish up. Only problem is, I have to find the supplies. The fabric, the needles and the thread have all vanished since we cleaned up the house for the new roomies. This makes finishing that pillow cover or the jean project a touch harder than normal.
4. Painting. Not rooms, though I want to do that too. No, painting pictures. Or in my case, rocks. No, I don't pick up a rock and paint it pink. I used to do animals on rocks. Eagles, otters, bears. That kind of thing. I haven't done it in a long long time. And I did want to try painting anime characters at some point. Not certain I would be any good at it. But this requires money as well. Paints, brushes, materials. So another burner project.
5. Making Christmas decorations. One of my 101 in 1001 projects is to have a 'Gothic Christmas'. This would require a white tree, some red lights, and some Gothic decorations. Now, there were a few websites which listed ideas for making your own decorations. One was to buy the Christmas ornaments on sale after Christmas, and then repaint them. Obviously both things require funds I don't have at the moment. And a sale that is still a few months off, which hopefully by then I have the funds. But, there's got to be other decorations I can make. More than likely from that salt and flour dough we used to make things with as kids. I just have to research it. I did find out from a recent project I did that some of the items I made from said dough broke afterward. I'm not sure why, but I'll have to look into it. I don't want to spend four months making ornaments for next year, only to pull them out and find they're all in pieces. Unless that works for the decoration.
6. Cooking. I don't do this a lot. Usually because no one eats it afterward and it goes to waste. It also involves a lot of time in the kitchen, and right now, it's too hot to be cooking in the kitchen. In a few months when temps drop and cooking in the kitchen helps heat the house, this won't be so bad. But right now, the last thing I want to do is cook and heat the house. Still, I want to cook. It's like beating my head against a brick wall. However, my plan is to gather some recipes, and have them ready to go when temps drop and I can cook without remorse.
7. Redecorate. This takes money. Still, I want to paint the living room, and rework the decor in the whole house. I want to get rid of things, make room for new items, and change my themes in the house. Right now, it's a lot of anime and Asian stuff. That's my husband's influence. Love him, but at least up stairs, I want to change things up. I want to have different colors, different influences. Sadly, I'm eclectic, which does not lend well to a set theme. Or a flow. I'm not entirely certain how to take Gothic, native American, Victorian, Celtic and Egyptian and mesh everything together to flow and look nice. It's a challenge. If I could get my mind to focus long enough I might be able to work out some kind of a project, but with the kiddo in the house, the ability to focus on anything for more than ten minutes at a go is sorely lacking.
I suppose all of this is one reason I've managed to make so many posts to this blog. That and the fact that no one reads this.
Well, no one that I know of. We will just keep it that way so my mind doesn't start censoring things before I hit 'publish post'. Okay? Okay.
In any case, I have this need to create something. To make something. To still the voices and energies in my head for more than a few moments at a glance, and to walk away thinking 'now that was cool.' The desire to create, to build, to make. To become more than myself for a few moments, and to have something outside myself that I can look at. Like air, I need this. Like breathing, it is a part of me. And lately, I've been slowly suffocating. Hopefully soon I can take a deep breath, and recover my sanity.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
It's the Weekend
So her we are, another weekend. There's actually a lot going on as people scramble to do stuff last minute as summer fades. September is a funny time of year. First, my parents have both their birthdays and an anniversary in September. My mother-in-law has a birthday as does my uncle. It's like an explosion of greeting cards. Or it would be if I ever remembered to send cards. I always forget. ALWAYS. I think some part of me rebells against the cost of the card and the fact it's killing trees.
Of course I say this, and I bought a Sunday paper last week. Though in my defense, I bought it to wrap up dishes for storage, and well, Sunday has coupons.
Anyway, Saturday is here, and I'm looking at the back yard thinking, wow, that hole in my garden is still there. I should blame the 'instant-gratification' society we've become. My compost is not yet ready. Of course it's not yet ready, but that 20 month old inside me is wanting to pitch a fit over th fact it isn't ready. More so over the fact I have a hole in my back yard, and it's probably going to be there all winter. But realistically, come next spring we will be in a better position to plant things than now, at the tail end of the season. After all, if we fill the hole now, it's just going to sit there and lose all the cool nutrients and stuff before spring. Right? Well, that's what I'm telling myself.
Of course, I'm also looking at it going, come spring, both boys will be working, and Dig will be less likely to fill in said hole and do said planting because he has a job. So yes, part of me is worried it's going to just stay like it is. Which would suck.
Of course, there are big plans for the backyard. We want to put in a full garden, of course. But we also want to cover the slab of concrete so it's more a porch than a patio. We want to put in an outdoor kitchen. With a large grill and a sink and all that cool stuff. And eventually a hot tub. There's great plans for that backyard. But we need cash, and time. So spring sounds about right. Provided I can wait that long. Damn you insta-gratification.
So, apparently the idea is to put the garden on one side of the yard, in the back. Then on the other side of the yard in the back, put in some kind of water feature. With koi. Or something similar. This progressed into a 'East meets West' idea with an English garden theme verses a Japanese theme. Then it progressed to the idea of having a small playhouse on each side for the Bug. One like an English cottage, the other like a Japanese pagoda or temple.
I have this feeling eventually Dig is going to plan how to get Tokyo Tower and the London Bridge in the backyard. I'm not entirely sure where it would all go, and which one of us is playing Godzilla. At least they are amused by this idea.
Of course I say this, and I bought a Sunday paper last week. Though in my defense, I bought it to wrap up dishes for storage, and well, Sunday has coupons.
Anyway, Saturday is here, and I'm looking at the back yard thinking, wow, that hole in my garden is still there. I should blame the 'instant-gratification' society we've become. My compost is not yet ready. Of course it's not yet ready, but that 20 month old inside me is wanting to pitch a fit over th fact it isn't ready. More so over the fact I have a hole in my back yard, and it's probably going to be there all winter. But realistically, come next spring we will be in a better position to plant things than now, at the tail end of the season. After all, if we fill the hole now, it's just going to sit there and lose all the cool nutrients and stuff before spring. Right? Well, that's what I'm telling myself.
Of course, I'm also looking at it going, come spring, both boys will be working, and Dig will be less likely to fill in said hole and do said planting because he has a job. So yes, part of me is worried it's going to just stay like it is. Which would suck.
Of course, there are big plans for the backyard. We want to put in a full garden, of course. But we also want to cover the slab of concrete so it's more a porch than a patio. We want to put in an outdoor kitchen. With a large grill and a sink and all that cool stuff. And eventually a hot tub. There's great plans for that backyard. But we need cash, and time. So spring sounds about right. Provided I can wait that long. Damn you insta-gratification.
So, apparently the idea is to put the garden on one side of the yard, in the back. Then on the other side of the yard in the back, put in some kind of water feature. With koi. Or something similar. This progressed into a 'East meets West' idea with an English garden theme verses a Japanese theme. Then it progressed to the idea of having a small playhouse on each side for the Bug. One like an English cottage, the other like a Japanese pagoda or temple.
I have this feeling eventually Dig is going to plan how to get Tokyo Tower and the London Bridge in the backyard. I'm not entirely sure where it would all go, and which one of us is playing Godzilla. At least they are amused by this idea.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Terrible Twos
So the Bug is going through the Terrible Twos. And believe me when I say they are terrible. I don't know how parents do it. She fights us with feeding her food. She screams and yells and flails her arms until we manage to get that first spoon in her mouth. Then she stops and she eats. Until the last spoon, when she does it again. Nap time is a fight. Changing her diaper is a fight. Nighttime bedtime... worst of all. Try an hour of screaming and flailing and refusing to take her last bottle. Now, I know at some point you're supposed to ween them off that night bottle anyway. But having her throw it across the room isn't the image I had in mind.
Mur and Dig are out. I caught the Bug at 6:30am when she woke up. I changed her diaper, wiped her off from a leak during the night, and gave her her morning bottle. I made sure she had toys in the play pen, and sat with her, talking to her, interacting as best I can given I cannot chase her around the house. I played Blue's Clues for her on Netflix. And at 10:30am I fixed her breakfast, brought her over to the seat and had the normal temper tantrum over the first bite. She didn't fight me on the last bite, and she didn't fight me with the diaper or putting her down for her nap.
Which has me waiting for her to start screaming when she finishes the bottle.
And on the off chance she isn't going to scream, it leaves me wondering if she's throwing these tantrums simply because there are usually 3 of us there. I know she knows her parents are both gone. So is she really behaving because there's just one person here? If three of us make such a difference, why? Is she trying to get one person's attention, or just pit all three of us against each other?
I realize people will say she's only 20 months old. She has no idea what she's doing. I call Bullshit. This little girl will pitch a holy fit and then pause, tilt her head and peer at you to see if she's getting the reaction she wants, and then launch back into the fit. I'd believe her more if she could carry the fit on while looking at you. But no. Mid-scream she stops, water works and all and tilts her head so she can see your face, looks, and then starts in again. That, my friend, is an act. She knows what she's doing and is looking for the response she wants. Therefore, she knows what she is doing.
And that same child is capable, in my opinion, of great lengths of fakery. I have a feeling now that her tantrums at night are little more than that. An act to get whatever it is she wants. Problem is, she is not yet speaking, so whatever she wants, we have no idea.
But this has defined, for me, the terrible twos. I get to watch her act, scheme, and fake her way into whatever she is trying to get. I have images of her in a few years screaming because she wants ice cream for dinner, throwing things across the room because she wants to watch some cartoon rather than go to bed, and throwing herself in the aisle of a grocery store, full tilt because she can't get pudding cups or some sugary cereal.
Terrible twos are more than just this moment. It's a glimpse at what she could become in a few years. And it is a definite scary picture. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Mur and Dig are out. I caught the Bug at 6:30am when she woke up. I changed her diaper, wiped her off from a leak during the night, and gave her her morning bottle. I made sure she had toys in the play pen, and sat with her, talking to her, interacting as best I can given I cannot chase her around the house. I played Blue's Clues for her on Netflix. And at 10:30am I fixed her breakfast, brought her over to the seat and had the normal temper tantrum over the first bite. She didn't fight me on the last bite, and she didn't fight me with the diaper or putting her down for her nap.
Which has me waiting for her to start screaming when she finishes the bottle.
And on the off chance she isn't going to scream, it leaves me wondering if she's throwing these tantrums simply because there are usually 3 of us there. I know she knows her parents are both gone. So is she really behaving because there's just one person here? If three of us make such a difference, why? Is she trying to get one person's attention, or just pit all three of us against each other?
I realize people will say she's only 20 months old. She has no idea what she's doing. I call Bullshit. This little girl will pitch a holy fit and then pause, tilt her head and peer at you to see if she's getting the reaction she wants, and then launch back into the fit. I'd believe her more if she could carry the fit on while looking at you. But no. Mid-scream she stops, water works and all and tilts her head so she can see your face, looks, and then starts in again. That, my friend, is an act. She knows what she's doing and is looking for the response she wants. Therefore, she knows what she is doing.
And that same child is capable, in my opinion, of great lengths of fakery. I have a feeling now that her tantrums at night are little more than that. An act to get whatever it is she wants. Problem is, she is not yet speaking, so whatever she wants, we have no idea.
But this has defined, for me, the terrible twos. I get to watch her act, scheme, and fake her way into whatever she is trying to get. I have images of her in a few years screaming because she wants ice cream for dinner, throwing things across the room because she wants to watch some cartoon rather than go to bed, and throwing herself in the aisle of a grocery store, full tilt because she can't get pudding cups or some sugary cereal.
Terrible twos are more than just this moment. It's a glimpse at what she could become in a few years. And it is a definite scary picture. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
That will do, Donkey.
This might be one of the posts I think twice about publishing. Simply because I may not be able to get through it all.
It's 3am. Nearly 4am. Yesterday, I got an email from my mother.
Let me preface this by saying we're a strange lot of people, my family. Our pets are family. My mother takes better care of her pets than some people take care of their children. A cat isn't just a cat, a dog isn't just a dog. And a donkey, isn't just a donkey. They're family.
Back when I was just out of high school, I worked security for 3 years. Either Christmas of 96 or 97, my father bought my mother a donkey. Yes, that's right. Small, dark gray (almost black), long ears, brays, four legged. You heard me correctly. He bought her a donkey for Christmas. She named him Pepper. That little donkey made her so happy. He'd bray and she'd be like a kid watching their favorite cartoon.
So yesterday I log into my email to find a message from her. Pepper had died. Apparently during the night. She's upset. Understandable. I'm none too thrilled myself. We'd all completely imagined the donkey would outlive both my parents, leaving me looking for a place to put him when they go, given I live in a large city and not out in the boondocks where they live. I'd even located a nearby stable and while I hadn't asked on costs for boarding, simply because well, both my folks are still going strong and I'm not one to want to jinx anything, I did know it was there. I honestly figured my poor old Appaloosa was going to be the first to go. Then my Dad's Mule. Then then Donkey.
So Pepper dying during the night was just a stab in the heart I hadn't expected. He was a good Donkey. Kind, gentle. He wouldn't hurt you for the world. He had a fantastic disposition, and as I said, was my mother's pride and joy. She's got tons of little donkey things, and now, I can only imagine looking at them is going to be difficult for her. Every time she sees the mousepad with his picture, or the nine hundred different donkey trinkets, dolls, stuffed animals, figurines, etc, that people have given her, she'd going to be reminded of him. It's got to suck.
And here I am, 4 hours away, nothing but email to contact her back for the moment, and I can't do a damn thing to help. Not to mention they'd already buried him when she emailed me. There's a guy up the road with a backhoe. He comes and digs the graves when someone loses a horse. So far, we've buried three. Two of my Dad's horses (Zenobia and Coyote) and now Pepper.
I should also mention I'm overly emotional. Not only have I just lost what amounts to a family member, but I probably feel these kind of events more deeply than normal people. Someone might get misty eyed about a dog dying. I get depressed, ball for hours, and end up with a migraine. So this day has sucked since reading that email.
Nothing I write seems to convey the feelings. Nothing I could write would ever express the strange emotions I'm feeling at this moment.. I am reminded of a children's Christmas cartoon I used to watch every year until they stopped showing it.
The Small One
Music and lyrics by: Don Bluth
Small one Small one Don't look so blue
Somewhere a friend is waiting for you
Someone still needs you to brighten his day
There's a place for each Small One
God planned it that way
Time is passing, days are few
Give while you can to one smaller than you
All things living great and small
Each brings a gift that is needed by all
Small one, Small one, Don't look so blue
Somewhere a friend is waiting for you
Someone still needs you to brighten his day
There's a place for each Small One
God planned it that way
Small One, for those who haven't seen it, was a donkey. Loved by a little boy, who had to sell his best friend. The boy ended up selling him to Joseph, and Small One carried a pregnant Mary on his back, thus helping make Christmas happen. Yeah, sappy Christmas cartoon. I always cried over that damn cartoon. And now, it's all I can think about, sitting here wiping tears as I type. That, and Michael Myers in his Shrek voice, very softly saying, "That will do, Donkey. That will do."
RIP Pepper. You will be missed.
It's 3am. Nearly 4am. Yesterday, I got an email from my mother.
Let me preface this by saying we're a strange lot of people, my family. Our pets are family. My mother takes better care of her pets than some people take care of their children. A cat isn't just a cat, a dog isn't just a dog. And a donkey, isn't just a donkey. They're family.
Back when I was just out of high school, I worked security for 3 years. Either Christmas of 96 or 97, my father bought my mother a donkey. Yes, that's right. Small, dark gray (almost black), long ears, brays, four legged. You heard me correctly. He bought her a donkey for Christmas. She named him Pepper. That little donkey made her so happy. He'd bray and she'd be like a kid watching their favorite cartoon.
So yesterday I log into my email to find a message from her. Pepper had died. Apparently during the night. She's upset. Understandable. I'm none too thrilled myself. We'd all completely imagined the donkey would outlive both my parents, leaving me looking for a place to put him when they go, given I live in a large city and not out in the boondocks where they live. I'd even located a nearby stable and while I hadn't asked on costs for boarding, simply because well, both my folks are still going strong and I'm not one to want to jinx anything, I did know it was there. I honestly figured my poor old Appaloosa was going to be the first to go. Then my Dad's Mule. Then then Donkey.
So Pepper dying during the night was just a stab in the heart I hadn't expected. He was a good Donkey. Kind, gentle. He wouldn't hurt you for the world. He had a fantastic disposition, and as I said, was my mother's pride and joy. She's got tons of little donkey things, and now, I can only imagine looking at them is going to be difficult for her. Every time she sees the mousepad with his picture, or the nine hundred different donkey trinkets, dolls, stuffed animals, figurines, etc, that people have given her, she'd going to be reminded of him. It's got to suck.
And here I am, 4 hours away, nothing but email to contact her back for the moment, and I can't do a damn thing to help. Not to mention they'd already buried him when she emailed me. There's a guy up the road with a backhoe. He comes and digs the graves when someone loses a horse. So far, we've buried three. Two of my Dad's horses (Zenobia and Coyote) and now Pepper.
I should also mention I'm overly emotional. Not only have I just lost what amounts to a family member, but I probably feel these kind of events more deeply than normal people. Someone might get misty eyed about a dog dying. I get depressed, ball for hours, and end up with a migraine. So this day has sucked since reading that email.
Nothing I write seems to convey the feelings. Nothing I could write would ever express the strange emotions I'm feeling at this moment.. I am reminded of a children's Christmas cartoon I used to watch every year until they stopped showing it.
The Small One
Music and lyrics by: Don Bluth
Small one Small one Don't look so blue
Somewhere a friend is waiting for you
Someone still needs you to brighten his day
There's a place for each Small One
God planned it that way
Time is passing, days are few
Give while you can to one smaller than you
All things living great and small
Each brings a gift that is needed by all
Small one, Small one, Don't look so blue
Somewhere a friend is waiting for you
Someone still needs you to brighten his day
There's a place for each Small One
God planned it that way
Small One, for those who haven't seen it, was a donkey. Loved by a little boy, who had to sell his best friend. The boy ended up selling him to Joseph, and Small One carried a pregnant Mary on his back, thus helping make Christmas happen. Yeah, sappy Christmas cartoon. I always cried over that damn cartoon. And now, it's all I can think about, sitting here wiping tears as I type. That, and Michael Myers in his Shrek voice, very softly saying, "That will do, Donkey. That will do."
RIP Pepper. You will be missed.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Lucky Thirteen
This is the 13th topic/post I'm blogging about, so of course I had to make it about 13.
If you're one of those people afraid of the number, you might want to leave now. If you haven't already.
For many people, the number 13 is unlucky. Or at least they believe it is. Personally I find 13 to be a lucky number. I was born on a Friday the 13th. Those days are really lucky for me. My best friend was also born on the 13th. Different month, and not sure if it was a Friday or not. So while many people out there fear and loathe the number, for me at least, it is lucky.
So here's my 13th post. Is it going to be lucky? Doubtful. It isn't going to make me win lotto or find the secret to eternal youth/beauty/etc. This post won't find me a job or pay off my mortgage. It certainly isn't going to fix anything wrong in my life. But it's the 13th post, and therefore, it is special. I've made it this far.
I should note that I'm also 13% of the way through my 101 in 1001 list. Perhaps there's something to this. Maybe something good will happen today. This non-13th day.
Yesterday was numerically a 13. (9+1+2+0+1+0=13). Perhaps I should have done this yesterday for that added kick? Too late now.
Anyway, the number 13 gets a lot of bad wrap. My wedding was on a Saturday, the 14th. I picked that day because it happened to be a New Moon, which is supposed to symbolize new beginnings. Of course, smart people realize the day before our wedding was a Friday the 13th. This was the day we had the 'rehersal dinner'. Nothing went wrong. Nothing blew up, nothing bad happened. We had a great time, played Munchkin until the early morning when we all rushed off to bed. Freddie didn't show up, Jason didn't crash the event. Nothing bad went down.
I honestly think that people create a lot of the ill-effects on a Friday the 13th. They expect something to go wrong, and so it does. They focus so much on the bad, that they find it. Look hard enough, long enough, you'll always find something. If most people just went about the day not knowing what it was, I bet a lot of people would wake up the next morning and find nothing had happened. Of course, bad things will still happen. But generally no more than any other day.
I recently watched 1408 with Mur and Dig. We talked about the play on 13 in that film. "Don't Enter 1408" has 13 letters/numbers if you don't count punctuation. 1+4+0+8= 13. the fact the hotel 'skipped' the 13th floor and went from 12 to 14 means it's technically still the 13th floor. And that brings me to the point. Why do hotels 'skip' the 13th floor? Really? Mislabeling something makes it not exist? If I mislabel my debt into profit does that mean I no longer have debt? If I mislabel a bill paid, does that mean I no longer owe the people? Seriously? Why didn't someone tell me this years ago. I'd be rich now. Oh, wait... probably because it doesn't work. Labeling floor 13 as floor 14 doesn't make it the 14th floor. It's still the 13th floor. Calling a cat a dog doesn't mean your allergies to cats go away.
And I wonder about these people who are afraid of the number 13. It's a real phobia. Triskaidekaphobia. Say that 13 times fast.
Now, I'm a fear of spiders. This means I will not go near a spider. I scream when I see a spider. And should one crawl on me, I damn near hyperventilate. So I have to wonder about these people with a fear of the number 13. Do they pass out at 1pm every day? (1pm is 1300 on a 24 hour clock, or military time). How do they handle 13 minutes pass every hour? Do they froth at the mouth once a month, when it's the 13th? Do these people call in sick, lay in bed and not go anywhere? What happens if they get a phone number with 13 in it? Or if the have to go to an address with 13 in it? Do they have issues then?
How deep does this fear go? If they are given a sentence with 13 letters in it, do they panic? Do they do numerology for all dates, and suddenly 9/1/2010 is a day to be feared? Do they go so far as to have labor halted so they don't deliver a baby on the 13th, or at 13 past an hour? How deep does the phobia run?
Because honestly, me personally, I'd be dead if everything that has to do with a 13 had something to do with a spider. If the panic didn't kill me, the constant barrage of spiders would drive me to off myself simply to avoid the next onslaught. Not joke no lie.
And no, I'm not trying to make fun of Triskaidekaphobia or suicide. I honestly have no idea about the first and am dead serious about the second. If I had to deal with as many spiders daily as people deal with the number 13, I couldn't do it. That's how bad my fear of eight-legged-demon-spawn is.
Anyway, so 13 for me is a lucky number, and I'm actually glad it is. It was the day I was born, and so I don't fear the number 13.
If you're one of those people afraid of the number, you might want to leave now. If you haven't already.
For many people, the number 13 is unlucky. Or at least they believe it is. Personally I find 13 to be a lucky number. I was born on a Friday the 13th. Those days are really lucky for me. My best friend was also born on the 13th. Different month, and not sure if it was a Friday or not. So while many people out there fear and loathe the number, for me at least, it is lucky.
So here's my 13th post. Is it going to be lucky? Doubtful. It isn't going to make me win lotto or find the secret to eternal youth/beauty/etc. This post won't find me a job or pay off my mortgage. It certainly isn't going to fix anything wrong in my life. But it's the 13th post, and therefore, it is special. I've made it this far.
I should note that I'm also 13% of the way through my 101 in 1001 list. Perhaps there's something to this. Maybe something good will happen today. This non-13th day.
Yesterday was numerically a 13. (9+1+2+0+1+0=13). Perhaps I should have done this yesterday for that added kick? Too late now.
Anyway, the number 13 gets a lot of bad wrap. My wedding was on a Saturday, the 14th. I picked that day because it happened to be a New Moon, which is supposed to symbolize new beginnings. Of course, smart people realize the day before our wedding was a Friday the 13th. This was the day we had the 'rehersal dinner'. Nothing went wrong. Nothing blew up, nothing bad happened. We had a great time, played Munchkin until the early morning when we all rushed off to bed. Freddie didn't show up, Jason didn't crash the event. Nothing bad went down.
I honestly think that people create a lot of the ill-effects on a Friday the 13th. They expect something to go wrong, and so it does. They focus so much on the bad, that they find it. Look hard enough, long enough, you'll always find something. If most people just went about the day not knowing what it was, I bet a lot of people would wake up the next morning and find nothing had happened. Of course, bad things will still happen. But generally no more than any other day.
I recently watched 1408 with Mur and Dig. We talked about the play on 13 in that film. "Don't Enter 1408" has 13 letters/numbers if you don't count punctuation. 1+4+0+8= 13. the fact the hotel 'skipped' the 13th floor and went from 12 to 14 means it's technically still the 13th floor. And that brings me to the point. Why do hotels 'skip' the 13th floor? Really? Mislabeling something makes it not exist? If I mislabel my debt into profit does that mean I no longer have debt? If I mislabel a bill paid, does that mean I no longer owe the people? Seriously? Why didn't someone tell me this years ago. I'd be rich now. Oh, wait... probably because it doesn't work. Labeling floor 13 as floor 14 doesn't make it the 14th floor. It's still the 13th floor. Calling a cat a dog doesn't mean your allergies to cats go away.
And I wonder about these people who are afraid of the number 13. It's a real phobia. Triskaidekaphobia. Say that 13 times fast.
Now, I'm a fear of spiders. This means I will not go near a spider. I scream when I see a spider. And should one crawl on me, I damn near hyperventilate. So I have to wonder about these people with a fear of the number 13. Do they pass out at 1pm every day? (1pm is 1300 on a 24 hour clock, or military time). How do they handle 13 minutes pass every hour? Do they froth at the mouth once a month, when it's the 13th? Do these people call in sick, lay in bed and not go anywhere? What happens if they get a phone number with 13 in it? Or if the have to go to an address with 13 in it? Do they have issues then?
How deep does this fear go? If they are given a sentence with 13 letters in it, do they panic? Do they do numerology for all dates, and suddenly 9/1/2010 is a day to be feared? Do they go so far as to have labor halted so they don't deliver a baby on the 13th, or at 13 past an hour? How deep does the phobia run?
Because honestly, me personally, I'd be dead if everything that has to do with a 13 had something to do with a spider. If the panic didn't kill me, the constant barrage of spiders would drive me to off myself simply to avoid the next onslaught. Not joke no lie.
And no, I'm not trying to make fun of Triskaidekaphobia or suicide. I honestly have no idea about the first and am dead serious about the second. If I had to deal with as many spiders daily as people deal with the number 13, I couldn't do it. That's how bad my fear of eight-legged-demon-spawn is.
Anyway, so 13 for me is a lucky number, and I'm actually glad it is. It was the day I was born, and so I don't fear the number 13.
Hudson and The Bug
No, this isn't about an insect and some guy. Hudson is my cat. The Bug is what we call Muriel and Dig's daughter. So this is about my cat, and their kid.
I was worried about Hudson when I offered to have them move in with us. Some cats don't do well with children. Some cats freak out. He was a shelter rescue, so I had no clue how he would handle a screaming 18 month old. I had no idea how I'd handle it, why should my cat be any different, right?
Well, he was a little freaked out at first. The 'small angry human' invaded his home, took to crying, screaming, wailing and all manner of fits when someone walked out of the room, she didn't get food when she wanted it, she was wet, or just to amuse herself. In short, she was loud a good portion of any given day, and my cat thought the underside of my bed was the safest place in the world. This was not a happy feeling for me, because I didn't want him to be unhappy. I wanted my cat to know this was still his home, his place, and I loved him.
Now, the Bug has seen cats before. She's been around them before. So I figured, Hudson just needed to see a toddler, and be around one to adjust. We took it slow. I'd hold him, and hold him just near enough she could reach out her small hands and pet him. Which she loved. Him... not so much. But as time passed, he came to understand she wasn't going to hit him, smack him, or pull him. Not so long as I was holding him. So he relaxed.
Then we upped things. I put him closer to her. She could now lay her head against his furry body and listen to his purr. This was strange for him, but again he relaxed. Then we put him in her play pen with her. He figured out fairly quickly he could jump out any time he wanted. So it wasn't as if he felt trapped. This was the test, since it was all on his terms. At first, he jumped out when she got too close to him. Eventually, he let her pet him a little, and then left. Before long, he even sat down next to her in the pen and let her pet him.
So, I figured, this was cool. He was adjusting to her, and things were going to be good. Now, like I said, I had no idea how he was going to react to her. And he is still cautious around her. But it didn't take him long to adjust in ways I wasn't expecting.
Hudson sleeps in my bedroom at night. Generally, curled up against me, or across my legs or on the pillow near my head. Where ever he wants, and usually as close as he can get. Imagine my surprize when he suddenly started waking me up in the mornings. He'd never done that. He'd always let me sleep until I woke up. Now, he was pawing at me, and meowing and I just had to get up right then. Come to find out, he was waking me up when she woke up in the morning.
I am not a morning person. I should probably add that now. Morning for me is about 1PM. Morning for the Bug is about 6am.
You can imagine my slight irratation at suddenly being awake morning after morning at 6am. I thought my cat had lost his mind. Or he was paying me back for bringing strangers into the house. No, he was just making sure someone was awake to take care of the 'small angry human' when she woke up every morning.
Cute huh? It gets better.
Because Muriel and Dig smoke, they go outside several times a day to do this. Now, I'm paranoid that Hudson is going to sneak out and get lost. PARANOID. So every so often, I have to stop and look for him. This becomes a matter of minor panic attacks when he decides to go hide under a sofa or the bed and I cannot find him. So, one night Muriel and I get back from the grocery store, and I can't find Hudson. Dig swears he saw him go downstairs. Mind you, this is about 10pm. I should also note the Bug goes to bed about 7 or 8pm. So I'm trying to panic quietly, so as not to wake her.
I looked all over the house. I lifted chairs and sofas. I looked in closets and under beds, in cupboards and under tables. I looked room by room and in and under anything and everything. No Hudson. I was really worried. Dig still swore he'd gone downstairs. We couldn't find him. I called, I got his food cans out. I tapped dishes and plates, and shook dry cat food. I couldn't find him.
On a whim, the only room I hadn't checked was the Bug's. Because she was asleep. But I was worried, so I cracked the door just a bit and sure enough, out comes Hudson. Apparently, he had gone into her room before she went down for the night, and fell asleep. Or we overlooked him. Not sure which. But, the important thing to note here, was he had not cried or scratched when I was looking for him. He'd been a good boy and stayed quiet. Sadly, that only made me worry more, but in the end, the Bug wasn't disturbed, and I found him.
After that we caught him sleeping on the chair in her room more than once and had to shoo him out for her naps and bedtimes. Apparently he's come to like her. From a safe distance.
Now, she's about 20 months old. She's hitting that "terrible twos" stage. She fights meals, fights naps, fights bedtime. It's a headache. Of course, this has Hudson all worked up again. She cries and he gets stressed. He wants to help, he runs to where ever she is and wants to know what's going on. It's touching. I remember when I was a little older than the Bug, I got my first cat, and she acted the same way with me. He's kind of bonded with her. I have a feeling if for some reason they moved out, he'd be sad, and miss her.
I was worried he wouldn't accept her. Now I'm worried he might get too attached. Even as I type this, she's in her play pen playing with blocks and he's on a chair curled up, one eye watching her and the other watching me. He thinks I can't see it.
I was worried about Hudson when I offered to have them move in with us. Some cats don't do well with children. Some cats freak out. He was a shelter rescue, so I had no clue how he would handle a screaming 18 month old. I had no idea how I'd handle it, why should my cat be any different, right?
Well, he was a little freaked out at first. The 'small angry human' invaded his home, took to crying, screaming, wailing and all manner of fits when someone walked out of the room, she didn't get food when she wanted it, she was wet, or just to amuse herself. In short, she was loud a good portion of any given day, and my cat thought the underside of my bed was the safest place in the world. This was not a happy feeling for me, because I didn't want him to be unhappy. I wanted my cat to know this was still his home, his place, and I loved him.
Now, the Bug has seen cats before. She's been around them before. So I figured, Hudson just needed to see a toddler, and be around one to adjust. We took it slow. I'd hold him, and hold him just near enough she could reach out her small hands and pet him. Which she loved. Him... not so much. But as time passed, he came to understand she wasn't going to hit him, smack him, or pull him. Not so long as I was holding him. So he relaxed.
Then we upped things. I put him closer to her. She could now lay her head against his furry body and listen to his purr. This was strange for him, but again he relaxed. Then we put him in her play pen with her. He figured out fairly quickly he could jump out any time he wanted. So it wasn't as if he felt trapped. This was the test, since it was all on his terms. At first, he jumped out when she got too close to him. Eventually, he let her pet him a little, and then left. Before long, he even sat down next to her in the pen and let her pet him.
So, I figured, this was cool. He was adjusting to her, and things were going to be good. Now, like I said, I had no idea how he was going to react to her. And he is still cautious around her. But it didn't take him long to adjust in ways I wasn't expecting.
Hudson sleeps in my bedroom at night. Generally, curled up against me, or across my legs or on the pillow near my head. Where ever he wants, and usually as close as he can get. Imagine my surprize when he suddenly started waking me up in the mornings. He'd never done that. He'd always let me sleep until I woke up. Now, he was pawing at me, and meowing and I just had to get up right then. Come to find out, he was waking me up when she woke up in the morning.
I am not a morning person. I should probably add that now. Morning for me is about 1PM. Morning for the Bug is about 6am.
You can imagine my slight irratation at suddenly being awake morning after morning at 6am. I thought my cat had lost his mind. Or he was paying me back for bringing strangers into the house. No, he was just making sure someone was awake to take care of the 'small angry human' when she woke up every morning.
Cute huh? It gets better.
Because Muriel and Dig smoke, they go outside several times a day to do this. Now, I'm paranoid that Hudson is going to sneak out and get lost. PARANOID. So every so often, I have to stop and look for him. This becomes a matter of minor panic attacks when he decides to go hide under a sofa or the bed and I cannot find him. So, one night Muriel and I get back from the grocery store, and I can't find Hudson. Dig swears he saw him go downstairs. Mind you, this is about 10pm. I should also note the Bug goes to bed about 7 or 8pm. So I'm trying to panic quietly, so as not to wake her.
I looked all over the house. I lifted chairs and sofas. I looked in closets and under beds, in cupboards and under tables. I looked room by room and in and under anything and everything. No Hudson. I was really worried. Dig still swore he'd gone downstairs. We couldn't find him. I called, I got his food cans out. I tapped dishes and plates, and shook dry cat food. I couldn't find him.
On a whim, the only room I hadn't checked was the Bug's. Because she was asleep. But I was worried, so I cracked the door just a bit and sure enough, out comes Hudson. Apparently, he had gone into her room before she went down for the night, and fell asleep. Or we overlooked him. Not sure which. But, the important thing to note here, was he had not cried or scratched when I was looking for him. He'd been a good boy and stayed quiet. Sadly, that only made me worry more, but in the end, the Bug wasn't disturbed, and I found him.
After that we caught him sleeping on the chair in her room more than once and had to shoo him out for her naps and bedtimes. Apparently he's come to like her. From a safe distance.
Now, she's about 20 months old. She's hitting that "terrible twos" stage. She fights meals, fights naps, fights bedtime. It's a headache. Of course, this has Hudson all worked up again. She cries and he gets stressed. He wants to help, he runs to where ever she is and wants to know what's going on. It's touching. I remember when I was a little older than the Bug, I got my first cat, and she acted the same way with me. He's kind of bonded with her. I have a feeling if for some reason they moved out, he'd be sad, and miss her.
I was worried he wouldn't accept her. Now I'm worried he might get too attached. Even as I type this, she's in her play pen playing with blocks and he's on a chair curled up, one eye watching her and the other watching me. He thinks I can't see it.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Reusable Cloth shopping bags
I have a new found respect for these things. Recently I've been taking them with me on every shopping trip (go me) to the grocery store. You have no idea how rewarding it feels to come out with seven cloth bags full of groceries and know, you got everything you need. But it's more than that.
These things hold a lot of stuff.
Mind you, I've been the victim of the plastic bag tearing halfway to the house from the car, or even in the house on the way to the kitchen. It's angering to have your groceries spill out on the ground right from your own hands. And maybe it's just me, but it seems the plastic sacks get thinner and thinner each year. Next time you go to the store, watch how much goes into one of those bags safely, and then ask yourself if you could have put even one can of soup more in them last year without wondering if they would break.
But these cloth bags, no worries there. I've picked these things up all over. King Soopers, Micro Center, even some cloth totes my hubby got given from his work. I use them all. I particularly love my Micro Center bag. It's brown, and has two sets of handles. One for the shoulder, one for the hand. Now, this it cool. That longer shoulder strap is just the right length that I can hook it over the hanger hooks in the back of the van, and the bag hovers just slightly off the seat. Why is this cool? I usually make sure the bread and eggs go in there, and so long as nothing is packed around it (not hard, the rest goes on the floor behind that seat) my eggs and bread make it home safe.
I set a goal for my 101 in 1001, that I'd start using these bags, and I'm glad I have. I no longer have the added waste of the plastic sacks, or the fear that a sack will break. I can load three or four 2-liter bottles into them and while it is heavy, it hasn't broken the bag yet. I think more groceries fit into them too. And, honestly, they're a ton easier to carry. Seriously. I can carry in maybe four plastic sacks at a time, without fear of snapping handles or fingers. I can usually load myself with about six to eight of these cloth bags before I have to worry about my hands. The straps fit nicely over my shoulders and forearms, and they seem more comfortable to carry along.
Anyway, yes, I love these things. I have about ten so far, and I plan on picking up a few more of various sizes in the future. If you haven't tried them, give them a go. Most places sell them. Some places even give you a small credit for using them. I know King Soopers does. I've heard Wal-Mart does not, even though they sell the bags. Honestly, I've gotten five cents back per bag, though recently they've been maxing hat at twenty cents at the King Soopers I go to. Apparently I'm only allowed credit for four bags. So it's not that big a deal, if you're looking to save money with them. But they really are wonderful, beyond that.
I've seen the reusable produce sacks as well. King Soopers has them in a pack of three for five bucks. Not really sure that's worth it for me right now, but eventually I will probably pick one pack up. Especially if I find them on sale, or somewhere else cheaper. They look stronger, and would probably hold more items. Given the new roommates prefer fresh veggies over the canned kind, it's something I have to look into.
These things hold a lot of stuff.
Mind you, I've been the victim of the plastic bag tearing halfway to the house from the car, or even in the house on the way to the kitchen. It's angering to have your groceries spill out on the ground right from your own hands. And maybe it's just me, but it seems the plastic sacks get thinner and thinner each year. Next time you go to the store, watch how much goes into one of those bags safely, and then ask yourself if you could have put even one can of soup more in them last year without wondering if they would break.
But these cloth bags, no worries there. I've picked these things up all over. King Soopers, Micro Center, even some cloth totes my hubby got given from his work. I use them all. I particularly love my Micro Center bag. It's brown, and has two sets of handles. One for the shoulder, one for the hand. Now, this it cool. That longer shoulder strap is just the right length that I can hook it over the hanger hooks in the back of the van, and the bag hovers just slightly off the seat. Why is this cool? I usually make sure the bread and eggs go in there, and so long as nothing is packed around it (not hard, the rest goes on the floor behind that seat) my eggs and bread make it home safe.
I set a goal for my 101 in 1001, that I'd start using these bags, and I'm glad I have. I no longer have the added waste of the plastic sacks, or the fear that a sack will break. I can load three or four 2-liter bottles into them and while it is heavy, it hasn't broken the bag yet. I think more groceries fit into them too. And, honestly, they're a ton easier to carry. Seriously. I can carry in maybe four plastic sacks at a time, without fear of snapping handles or fingers. I can usually load myself with about six to eight of these cloth bags before I have to worry about my hands. The straps fit nicely over my shoulders and forearms, and they seem more comfortable to carry along.
Anyway, yes, I love these things. I have about ten so far, and I plan on picking up a few more of various sizes in the future. If you haven't tried them, give them a go. Most places sell them. Some places even give you a small credit for using them. I know King Soopers does. I've heard Wal-Mart does not, even though they sell the bags. Honestly, I've gotten five cents back per bag, though recently they've been maxing hat at twenty cents at the King Soopers I go to. Apparently I'm only allowed credit for four bags. So it's not that big a deal, if you're looking to save money with them. But they really are wonderful, beyond that.
I've seen the reusable produce sacks as well. King Soopers has them in a pack of three for five bucks. Not really sure that's worth it for me right now, but eventually I will probably pick one pack up. Especially if I find them on sale, or somewhere else cheaper. They look stronger, and would probably hold more items. Given the new roommates prefer fresh veggies over the canned kind, it's something I have to look into.
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