Random Profundities

Stuff Larry Says Saturday

2012-02-18T12:33:00.003-08:00

This Saturday, I can't make fun of my husband. I have to kind of say nice things about him.

We've been married nearly 28 years. It took me 26 years to come to terms with the fact that Larry doesn't do special occasions well. I could write a book about that, or at least a few blog posts. He's completely forgotten some occasions, and on others he's clearly run into an all-night drug store and frantically purchased the first thing he saw. On still other occasions, his gifts have been just ....

Anyway, on Valentine's Day this year, he had the day off. I came home to dinner, all cooked by him: Prime Rib, roasted potatoes and asparagus, chocolate dipped strawberries. He was so very proud of his gift: instead of taking what he called the "lazy route" and ordering flowers, he bought me one single, perfect rose encased in gold, no less. I felt pretty slack -- my gift was a 6 pack of beer. (fancy beer, but still).

Truth be told, I really wasn't in the best of moods that day. I've been stressed out for multiple reasons, the weather was lousy, and I was even annoyed at the high-fat meal that appeared three days into my latest attempt to go on yet another diet. But yet, after all these years, I have a hubby who went to all that trouble for Valentine's day.

So, yeah. I did OK in the husband department. But he still says funny stuff.

Saturdays are supposed to be fun.

2012-02-18T12:23:00.003-08:00

I miss the Saturdays of childhood. Sleeping in, only not wanting to because cartoons were on. (Anyone besides me remember when Saturday morning was the only time you could see cartoons?) My dad cooked breakfast every Saturday: two eggs over easy, each egg atop a slice of toast. My family creatively named this dish "Eggs on Toast". True story: My dad never cooked. But my mom convinced us all -- by demonstrating -- that she could not flip an egg without breaking the yolk. We eventually learned that she broke the yolks on purpose so that we'd wake my dad up for breakfast on Saturday instead of her. Then, we usually got sent outside to play all day. No chores, no errands, no nothing.

Today I was at work before 8:00. I have to be out all of next week and I had a few bazillion things to tie up before I'm out. Then, I went with two co-workers to an employee's mother's funeral. It was in an old, small, country church and the pastor was a lively man of about 907. Yes, I meant to type 907. But as always, I remember how much it meant to me when co-workers came to my dad's funeral, and I try to do the same whenever I can.

So finally, I'm home, and flat worn out. But there's laundry and shopping and ...... I think I'll take a nap.

Life After 50 (or, keeping doctors rich, one appointment at a time)

2012-02-05T13:20:00.000-08:00

This week should be a fun one. What's up, you ask? Here's what's up:

Monday: MRI on the left knee. This knee has been problematic for a couple of years. I reckon I have arthritis in it. However, about 6 months ago, in my quest to become more fit (and I might as well have launched a quest for unicorns), I fell off of a treadmill. In public. My knee was decimated. My ego was in even worse shape. I had a CT scan at the time, as I was really afraid I'd broken something, but all was well. however, the knee continues to be swollen and painful. Now, I'm not exactly sure what I hope to gain from the MRI. If they tell me I need surgery, I will politely decline. I guess I just want to know what's up, what's helping and what's making it worse. In my secret, darkest place I am kind of hoping that I'm told that all forms of strenuous exercise are explicitly forbidden forevermore.

Tuesday: I'm having a biopsy done. Sometimes I'm fairly certain that I only do this blog for my own amusement, but in the off-chance that someone is reading this, I'll spare you any grueling details. I'll just say that the biopsy is being done by a gynecologist and I'll leave it at that. Ouch, you might be saying. Ouch, I will be saying, I'm sure -- along with several of my more colorful favorite curse words. I may even do some research to learn a few new ones. My doc has prescribed some pills to help relax me ("heck, yeah, I'll dope you up -- this isn't going to be any fun at all!" she said helpfully)so I'm hoping to giggle and slur my way through the whole procedure. I'm dragging the hubby with me with the hopes he can converse intelligently with the doctor.

OK, the rest of the week is pretty mundane, except for the waiting-for-biopsy-results part. Whatcha wanna bet these tests will lead to even more doc appointments? Which is why I vowed, years ago, to never volunteer ANY sort of problems to the doctor. I should have kept that vow!

Stuff Larry Says Saturday

2012-02-05T10:42:00.000-08:00

OK, I'm not posting this until Sunday. My husband was remarkably un-funny this week. What's up with that? I did have to laugh at this little vignette from yesterday:

Cue Scene: Larry is in recliner, controlling the remote, watching whatever Pawn Shop/Storage Wars/Swamp People thing he's stumbled upon, and, as always, he falls asleep. I'm paying the bills ... not just mine, but my mother's. Since bill paying is one of my least favorite things, doing it for two households makes me, kind of, insanely bitc .... um, grumpy.

Larry: zzzzzzzzz

Me: OK bills are paid. My mom's bills were crazy this month!

Larry: (snappishly, waking from his nap) You already told me that!

Me: NO I DIDN'T! BUT I'M SORRY I INTERRUPTED YOUR SILLY NAP (i didn't say silly -- for the purposes of this g-rated post please substitute your favorite profanity for the word 'silly') ARE YOU GOING TO DO ANYTHING TODAY OR IS NAPPING ABOUT AS SILLY AMBITIOUS AS IT GETS FOR YOU ON WEEKENDS?

Larry: Why are you yelling?

ME: BECAUSE ALL YOU SILLY DO IS SILLY SLEEP! I'M SO SILLY SICK OF SEEING YOUR EYELIDS EVERY TIME I LOOK AT YOU! I CARRY ON CONVERSATIONS WITH YOU ONLY TO SILLY REALIZE YOU ARE SILLY SLEEPING!!!!

Larry: Well I had a big lunch!

******

Oh. My bad.

"Stuff"-Larry-Says Saturday

2012-01-28T14:19:00.000-08:00

I mentioned previously on Facebook that my son and daughter in law have told me several times that I should write a blog called "S*&$ Larry says". Larry is my husband of, let me count, 28 years. As he gets older, he gets funnier. Only he doesn't mean to. Which makes it even funnier.

So I'm going to try to make every Saturday a post about the latest absurd or funny thing Larry did.

Last night, my husband was watching the news. Which almost always means that he's actually napping. The funny thing about my husband's naps, which are legendary, is that he frequently acts offended and/or defensive about them. "I'm awake!" He often snaps, if you suggest that he, perhaps, go to bed to snore.

Anyway, he was napping or watching the news, depending on who you ask. My son called and was telling me about something that had happened at work. We'd been talking awhile. At one point, I asked my son, "what do you think's going to happen?" Larry sat up straight, eyes wide open and said, "I don't know!" very conversationally, as if we'd been talking all along.

Doctor, My Eyes!

2012-01-24T16:25:00.000-08:00

Getting old kind of sucks. For many reasons. I could go on and on. But for now, I'm only going to go on about the vision part.

I've worn glasses or contact since I was, I think, about 8. My mother was "frugal" before it was cool to be frugal, and she would be the cheapest possible thing no matter what.

(a quick story that proves my point. When I was pregnant, just barely pregnant, and living 400 miles from home, mom called to ask if I needed anything. I was quickly becoming too fat for my regular clothes but not yet big enough for maternity clothes. So, I told her I needed some stretchy sweat pants in a size Large. She sent them. In a size Medium. Which didn't fit. When I asked why, I was told that the medium ones were one dollar cheaper.)

OK back on point. My frugal mother purchased for my first pair of glasses the least expensive glasses she could. These were blue, pointy, and very, very, very not cool. I realize retro is kind of "in" now, but before it becomes retro, it's ugly and geeky. So off I went into the belly of the beast that is grade school, sporting my specs. Yeah, four-eyes was one of the nicer things I was called. I became the "girl with the glasses". And it's true what they say about boys and passes and girls with glasses. (at least I think it was the glasses!)

My memories of growing up oddly include many about my vision correction devices. Finally getting the cool wire rimmed specs in 7th grade. Begging, pleading, crying for contact lenses at 15. Begging, pleading, crying for SOFT lenses at 17 and not getting them. Buying them myself when I was 18, going out and getting drunker than a skunk the first night I wore them, (I'm so old it was legal to drink when i was 18) and 3 of my college hall-mates (who had been drinking with me) trying to help me get them out. Hint: they don't come out the same way as the hard ones did.

So I go every year for the eye exam, and have been doing this for lots o' years. When I hit 40, doctors started warning me that the reading vision would start going any time. Ha. I could read even the tiniest print on the card. Year after year. My reading vision was fine, thank you very much. Until all of a sudden, it wasn't. Crap! I couldn't read the time on your watch, the back of a box of macaroni to see how long to cook it, and Lord help if I need to know how many pills to take! So I started sporting the readers, leaving them in every room, purse, and location. I must have collected 10 pairs. But I always hated how I look in glasses, and this just wasn't making me happy.

When I first tried multi-focal lenses, I was ecstatic. These amazing lenses are comprised of concentric circles for close vision/distance vision, and somehow one's eyes just know which circle to use. Amazing! No more readers! I could see like a 39 year old! And I could, for a long time. Until I couldn't. Apparently, the worse your close-vision gets, the less likely it becomes that these types of lenses will work. So next, we did the split one-eye-for-close-and-one-eye-for distance. I hated it the whole time. I felt off balance, and I couldn't really see that well up close OR at a distance. Plus, my dry-eyes have gotten worse and worse, making contacts terribly uncomfortable some days.

So this last visit, I scrapped them. Now on deck: Daily wear disposables. So thin you can barely see them. UBER comfy.Wear 'em once, and toss 'em. No cleaning, no solution to buy. And, once more, an array of stylish, cute, quirky readers. I'm learning to embrace the four-eye look again. I may even look for a pair of pointy blue ones.

Presenteeism

2012-01-23T09:13:00.001-08:00

I'm home sick from work today. The thing is, I've gone to work on days when I felt much worse than today. I've been sick, off and on, for most of this month. First a cold/sore throat/plague thing that lingered forever, then a vicious stomach bug (or food poisoning?) last week, and this morning, the stomach bug, albeit a milder version, seems to have returned. From what I hear, it's circled around the office a few times as well. A few weeks ago, when I had the cold/sore throat/plague thing, everyone in the office was hacking and horking and looking like death warmed over. But our schedules were demanding, our calendars were full, our deadlines were looming, and we pressed on.

But I wonder -- when you just keep working when you're sick, what are you really accomplishing? Sure, you get things done and maybe avoid missing a deadline. But at best, you're not firing on all pistons. At worst, your brain is fuddled by medication or fevers or lack of sleep. And the germs you're sharing are just going to mean that your co-worker has the same thing going on a few days later. Also, I just have to think that actually staying out of work and resting (like the doctor suggested I do a few weeks ago -- fat chance, I worked a holiday instead) would go a long way towards getting well faster warding off the relapses. So a day spent at home might equal four productive workdays, whereas a day in which you drag your half-dead ass to work might drag out the illness and result in five days of mediocrity or mistakes.

Most of my co-workers and many of my friends have very busy, demanding jobs. I consider my job to be demanding, and most times it's quite busy. For the most part, if I get behind, there's no one who can cover for me. So we drag ourselves in. Secretly, I think, we all want the brownie points we get for going the extra mile. These days, no one can afford to be seen as the weakest link. So we're damn glad to have our jobs and we just don't think a fever or a night spent vomiting is an acceptable reason to stay home.

What's wrong with this picture?

Revival

2012-01-22T15:06:00.001-08:00

I'm not sure why I've let the blog go dormant. I've been busy since the last time I posted with things like, oh, I don't know, a few dozen months of working and living. I'm sure there are many spell-binding tales I could share, some good, some bad. But the quick highlights (many of which would have made AWESOME blog posts) are as follows:

-2010 sucked. Enough said.

-2011 was way better. Went to Key West, started working out again, and best of all, got blessed with a second amazing and awesome grandson named Owen.

Anyway, I missed my quirky little blog that I'm sure no one reads. So I'm reviving it. My life is full of randomly profound moments and equally random absurd moments, and I want to remember them.

So stay turned, whoever you are.

1.1.11

2011-01-01T12:02:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! I didn't realize that it had been more than 6 months since I posted anything here. 2010 was just not my best year. My dad died early last January, and the world sort of, I don't know, tilted. So this year, my only resolution is to get my world back on its proper axis.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted ....

2010-06-23T19:45:00.000-07:00

My husband and I are on a long-awaited, much-needed vacation this week. And we're having a really great time. We're at the beach -- my favorite place since childhood. And like I said, we're having a really great time. Except that, we have somehow become a couple of grumpy old farts.

We haven't been to the beach in the summer in ages. For the last 4 or 5 years, we've beached in September, November, April, and May. We forgot about what the beach was like at the height of "tourist season". Well, now we remember why we QUIT coming in summer: 1. It's hotter than hell. 2. Kids are everywhere and we don't really like kids unless they are cute and named Carson. 3. There are people everywhere, and many of them are rude and loud and drive badly.

About the heat -- I know it's supposed to be hot in the summer but DAMN it's hot! Temps have been in the 90's with a "heat index" of over 100 every day this week. After about an hour at the beach or the pool, I feel like I'm baking from the inside out. Literally. And speaking of the pool, people apparently get up at 5 am to go festoon all the deck chairs with towels, because no matter how early we get out there, all the chairs have towels draped on them (of course, there are only 4-5 people at the pool and all 30 chairs appear "taken".) Never mind that there are signs everywhere saying "no reserving of chairs allowed!". Grr.

Oh! This is new -- golf carts. There must be a gazillion of them riding the roads. Usually there are a couple of teenagers motoring down the road in this little go-cart. So while I'm trying to get to the Kroger to pick up more beer and coffee, I'm behind a golf cart going 7 miles an hour. It's not a good thing.

But just when the hell did we turn into old farts??? We've been "in" every night by around 9. Asleep by 11. Tonight, we were going to head to the pier to check out the live music, and we couldn't find a parking place closer than 4-5 blocks away -- so we just gave up! I remember when we used to walk the mile and a half from where we stayed to the the pier. I wouldn't imagine subjecting my poor aching knees to a hike like that now.

I think we'll tour retirement homes tomorrow.

Stuff Happens. Be Prepared.

2010-04-11T12:43:00.001-07:00

Boy oh boy. There are a lot of things about losing a parent that are very difficult. OK, I know, there is NOTHING about losing a parent that is NOT difficult. But I have a point here so I'll get right to it.

When you die, which, I'm sorry to tell you, you will do one day, someone is going to have to tie up all sorts of lose ends for you. They will be struggling with grief, guilt, stress, worry, heartache, and any number of other fun things that go with losing a loved one, so they won't be thinking all that clearly. So go ahead and set aside some time to get your "stuff" in order. It's probably one of the most loving things you can do.

I'm not saying my dad left a mess. It wasn't incredibly difficult, but then again, it wasn't very easy, either. His records -- those that I could find, anyway -- were a mish-mash of papers crammed in one big ol' drawer. No order, no system, no logic. An investment statement might be right next to an empty envelope from the phone company. My mom, bless her heart (and I sort of mean that in that southern way right now) is NO HELP. She wants to help, but she has perfected the helpless damsel in distress role to a high art form. Here are some things that you might want to think about.

Funerals are outrageous. I think we spent about $25k, and that didn't include a cemetary plot. We didn't, at least to my knowledge, do anything extravagent. The problem is, you're making decisions when the death and grief and shock are so fresh that someone could tell you that you will need an elephant at the funeral and you'd just sign the form. I'm not saying we were taken advantage of -- maybe we were, maybe we weren't --- but for sure, no one in my family was making any smart decisions about that purchase. Preplanning a funeral, while a depressing way to spend money, would be a really good thing to do.

Remember that someone will need to make sense out of your finances. Someone in your family should have a list of things like:
-do you have a will? Is it current? Where is it?
-life insurance and 401k. do you have a policy at work? who is the contact at work?
-passwords -- for bank accounts, computers, 401k, etc.
-what bank accounts do you have?
-where are important papers kept?
-who do you owe money to?
-does anyone owe YOU money?
-where are your tax records from previous year?

These are all things I've had to figure out on my own. Fortunately, my dad was not a very complex man, and he did not have complex finances. Simply gathering a month's worth of mail pretty much told me everything I needed to know. His bills were few, he hadn't set up any online accounts, and he had a will. The most challenging thing, so far, was deciphering his tax form from the previous year .... he did his own taxes, by hand, in his terrible handwriting.

I am the person in my family who handles all the finances. My husband doesn't like that sort of thing and is happy to just not worry about it. But if I die unexpectedly, he wouldn't know where to start. And I only have one son, so the thought of him having to make funeral arrangements all on his own breaks my heart. I am going to make it my business to get my "affairs in order" this year. You should too.

Changes

2010-03-18T17:29:00.000-07:00

I have always had a tendency toward glass-half-empty kind of thinking. I try not to be that way, but it's kind of who I am. When things are going well, I'm sort of looking over my shoulder waiting for the dropping of shoes. Job's going great? I figure it's a matter of time until I blow something big. Vacation? I tend to focus on how quickly it's passing. So as the year of 2009 brought so many happy things into my life -- new house, new grandson, new daughter in law, for starters -- I had this nagging feeling that the worm was turning. So it was with a little trepidation that I rang in 2010. I felt I had used up my share of good stuff for awhile.

I was right. My dear father died one week into the new year. That was alot harder to write than I thought it would be.

I know that this is not a unique experience, but rather, sadly, a universal one. But it is painfully unique to me. I feel so lost. Empty. I suppose I'm depressed. I guess you get a free pass for depression in this situation. I know for sure I'm stressed. My mom has been leaning -- hard -- and I am trying not to break. It breaks my heart all over again to see how lost she is. It's not like she would ever admit it, but she relied on him for so many things. And now, she is looking to me to handle those things. I'm out of my depth here.

I am not going to write alot about my dad for now. I probably will, but right now, it just makes me cry, and I've cried about as much as I care to for awhile. I will just say that he was one of the finest people I have ever known. Someone told me, shortly after he died, to focus on the good memories and not dwell on the bad ones. That was easy --- I don't HAVE any bad memories.

I will say that I was stunned, overwhelmed, blown away by the support of my friends and co-workers. Stupefied at the goodness of the people in my life. People showed up. Called. Sent cards. Sent food. Prayed. I am humbled to have such friends in my life. OK, I'm crying now so I shall stop.

Anyway, I will just end with this. I can't believe my dad is gone. But the very last time I saw him, it was Christmas Day, and he was crawling around on the floor with his great-grandson -- CRAWLING ON THE FLOOR -- and loving every minute of it. I shall carry that memory -- and the blessings of the pictures that we took that day -- close to my heart.

The Gratitude Project

2009-11-07T14:01:00.000-08:00

A Facebook friend (and someone I've known a really long time) posted that, because Thanksgiving is this month, each day's status update for the month would be about something for which she was thankful. What a great idea! I decided to do the same. The most amazing part about it is how it has snowballed. I see some of my friends picking up the idea, and I'm sure they're passing it along to their friends, and hopefully, on and on it goes. Because really, when you're focusing on the things that you have to be grateful about, it's hard to pout.

I'd like to expound a little bit on my first week's worth of gratitude meditations. A status update can only be so long, after all.

Nov. 1. I am grateful for the end of daylight savings time. I know that seems very frivolous, but to me, it really isn't. For one thing, there's that extra, glorious hour of weekend. I usually spend the Saturday night of the time change looking at the clock and thinking, "it's 10:00. But not really! Really, it's 9:00!" And so on. But the fact is, I just can't stand waking up when it's dark. My body is smarter than that. Just moving the clock around doesn't convince me that it's really earlier than I think it is, or later, or whichever. It's so confusing. I think I miss that lost hour all summer long! People complain about going back to standard time, they don't like it being dark when they come home from work. But I find it cozier somehow. I like it.

Nov. 2. It was a Monday, and my first thought was "yuck, Monday". But then I realized that alot of people I know don't have jobs right now, don't have any place to dread going on Monday. And I realized how very glad and thankful I am for a job, a good job at that. Most of my family has been affected by this economy at one time or another, and many of my friends. It sucks. I am very thankful for my job.

Nov. 3. I am incredibly grateful for my amazing friends. I have found old ones and made new ones on Facebook, I have friends from practically every job I've ever had, and I have friends that are like family to me. They are wise, funny, caring, and generous. I have a friend who dressed me in the hospital once. A friend who helped me throw a baby shower for my daughter in law. A friend who was at the hospital with me when my son was born, and I returned the favor 10 years later. Friends who spent most of a weekend catering my son's wedding. I've rediscovered old friends on Facebook that I hope to reconnect with in person. I could go on and on and on because truly, I am rich in friendship. I don't know how I got so lucky.

Nov. 4 brought news that my precious 5 month old grandson had a confirmed case of swine flu. This was not happy news. However, i was incredibly thankful that he had been taken to the doctor right away, put on Tamiflu, and was having a relatively mild case, it seemed. He continues to improve. In a day and time when many people don't have access to health care, I am so grateful that my grandson does, at least for now.

Nov. 5. I am having a wonderful year, mostly related to the happy expansion of my family. My son got married this year, and I now have a daughter. I don't really think of her as an "in-law", with all those silly negative connotations. She is my family. I love her so much and am so thankful to have another person in this world who loves my son as much as I do. (maybe even more!)

Nov. 6 was a pretty good day. My friend and co-worker brought homemade breakfast to the office. It was Friday. I found myself thinking how much I enjoy cutting up and hanging out with the people I work with. We have some really annoying things happen at work -- doesn't everyone? -- but we have a great time commiserating together. And I enjoy them when we're not being miserable about something, too. I really do have a great bunch of co-workers. It's a good thing, since I spend more time with them than I do my family!

Nov. 7. I have only one child, my son Eric. I know I'm supposed to say these things because I'm his mom, but damn, I hit the jackpot with that kid. He has grown into such a fun, smart, funny, loving and responsible adult. He is very considerate of him mom and dad and we are very close. I couldn't be more proud of the son I've raised.

So far, thinking of my post for each day has been easy. It's funny how just thinking of one thing each day, and writing it down, really focuses me on the positive aspects of my life. It's been said that what you focus on is what you see. I'm going to try to remember that.

WHEW.

2009-10-24T17:29:00.001-07:00

If I am not mistaken, (and please, God, I hope I'm not mistaken) I have reached the end of the long list of exciting things happening this year. Moving, grandson, big birthday, son's marriage. I'm exhausted!

I am a person who is happiest with a fairly empty plate. I don't really like to have too much going on at any given time. I think life is what happens in between all the "must do's". OK, so I'm lazy. This year of crazy busyness has whooped my ass. So why, now that it's all over, am I feeling so blue?

There's something to be said for having something to look forward to, I suppose. I'm sure I'm a little down to have crossed all of the landmark events of this year off the list.

The wedding was beautiful. I was honored to be allowed to participate in all the planning and organizing for the big day. I now feel like I have a daughter -- which is kind of cool after living among men for so many years. And my friends, who ROCK by the way, jumped in and helped out with everything from cake making to catering to providing an affordable honeymoon rental, and lots of things in between.

So after weeks and weeks of crazy, this weekend has been, so far, blessedly quiet and uneventful. And I am puzzled to realize that I'm a little bit bored.

What's next? I think I'm ready!

Happy Birthday to Me

2009-08-16T18:49:00.000-07:00

I just had a great big birthday. I hit the big "five-oh". I couldn't really get a grip on how I felt about it. I won't go so far as to say I embraced it --I pretty much was down with just trying to ignore it. Didn't work out so well.

For one thing, my family and friends kept asking about my "big plans". When I'd say I really didn't have or want any "big plans", they'd look at me like I had a bugger hanging out of my nose or something. But really, I didn't -- until about 48 hours before my birthday, when I suddenly started pouting because I didn't have any plans.

Now this I should disclose about myself: I am a birthday brat. I have always expected BIG THINGS on my birthday. Not big gifts, necessarily, (although those would be fine) but merely that the world revolve around me for exactly 24 hours (or more in some cases -- I've been known to declare a birthday week). I want lots of fuss. I blame it on being a Leo --most of my Leo friends are the same way I am. I have learned over time that my husband, who loves me very much, is not a big birthday person. He finds my birthday neediness to be perplexing, annoying, and, I believe, more than a little bit scary. When my birthday comes, he is paralyzed with the fear of getting it wrong. He remains so paralyzed that he ends up not buying or doing anything until the last panic-stricken moment.

So really, my best birthdays are the ones I plan myself. My 40th was a great event that I orchestrated and directed like a crazed mad-woman. And then, from the stress of planning it all, I proceeded to get poop-faced drunk about an hour before the guest arrived. I hear I had a great time. I've seen pictures that indicate that I did indeed, but unfortunately, about the time I sobered up from my pre-party nervous cocktails, someone thought tequila shots were in order. So needless to say, I spent the first days of the decade of the 40's 1) puking, and 2) extraordinarily hung over. (Hangovers last several days beginning at age 40, I've learned)

But I just didn't feel up to planning my 50th. I've already moved this year, become a grandmother, and have a wedding to help plan. And really, I was fine with a small celebration, until about 2 days before my birthday. Then my inner spoiled birthday girl reared her head. My husband asked, one final innocent time, "are you sure there's nothing special you want to do for your birthday?" To which, I replied, "YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT? I WANT YOU TO FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO WITHOUT ME HAVING TO TELL YOU!" Let's be fair. My husband is a wonderful guy, but he has a long and storied history of mucking up birthdays and special occasions. He knows this about himself, and he would change, I believe, if he could. Well, my outburst elicited a look of fear as if my head had spun around a la' Linda Blair in the Exorcist.

But something amazing happened. First, I had a wonderful dinner with my family, who gave me the most incredibly thoughtful and loving gifts. Most cherished of all, a handmade, heartfelt card from my future daughter-in-law. And accompanying that, tickets to see Bruce Springsteen that my son had won for me (at no small effort, I understand). So, with my heart already full of love and thankfulness for my many blessings, I walked into my home to be greeted by a houseful of dear, wonderful friends. Somehow, my husband came through. He had the good sense to call in help -- first, my son, who, together with his fiancee', and one of my dearest friends, scoured my Facebook friends list, sent out stealth invitations, and lo and behold, in less than 2 days, assembled an evening I'll never forget.

All those birthdays I dreaded? They just keep getting better and better. I can't wait for 60!

Farewell to Miss California

2009-06-10T14:51:00.000-07:00

I admit it. I am one of those gazillion baby boomers who has recently discovered the fun of Facebook. I find it a blast, and a great way to waste time (which somehow seems to be my favorite thing to do....) I have reconnected with people I haven't seen or talked to in years, and for the most part, it has been wonderful. Except this one time. And I blame it all on the Former Miss California.
It all started over one of those silly Facebook apps. This one asked you to name 5 people you'd like to "punch in the face". Smart-assed liberal that I am, I picked Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, and Bill O'Reilly. Just because I don't like her and think she's SO over-rated, I added Madonna. And my last pick was someone who'd been pissing me off -- Carrie Prejean, Miss California and almost-Miss America.
Now, I could give a rat's patootie about Miss CA's now-famous opinion about gay marriage. I disagree with her, but hey, I realize it's a hot-button issue, and I don't expect everyone in the world to share my opinions. (only the smart people. he he) And I don't care that she posed half naked even though it's against the rules. What's pissed me off about her is that she couldn't shut the F up about how the only reason she wasn't Miss America was because of her opinion about gay marriage. (hello, you lost. get over it. your answer was inarticulate) Every time I turned on the freaking TV for weeks, there she was, all smug and conservative. (all the ultra conservative people I know like to pose half naked. How 'bout you?)
Well, anyway. I posted my silly little "5 people" list, then went to bed. Next day, I spent the whole day defending myself against the railings of some clearly homophobic right wing chick who I was friends with in the 3rd grade. We haven't seen each other since about 1970, but she felt a need to attack the fact that I don't care for this beauty-queen chick. She accused me of everything from being a close-minded liberal to having anger management issues because I made a list of people I'd like to punch. I defriended her ass. But it really kind of bothered me. I mean, it was just a silly little time-wasting Facebook application! Why was this wingnut: a) so offended by it, and b) so determined to spend her entire day harassing me about it?
So every time that Prejean bitch comes on TV, it reminds me of that unpleasant experience. And makes me want to punch her in the face for real. And I don't like having such violent thoughts. So when I heard she was finally geting the boot, I was relieved. And crazy girl from 3rd grade, if you're out there, take THAT.

Happy Talk

2009-04-04T18:04:00.000-07:00

I am in a place that feels very unfamiliar to me today. It is quite exhilarating and, like anything unfamiliar, a little bit frightening. This place I'm at? Complete and utter contentment with my life.

I am not accustomed to this place. I dwell in the land of cynicism and self-recrimination. But I think I am, literally, as fat and happy and I've ever been in my life. (The fat part will have to be another post. Fat-talk and happy-talk don't work well together.)

It's been a tough year for a lot of people. I have several friends and family members who are having a pretty crappy year, and I hate that. Boy, have I been there. I am not accustomed to having things fall into place easily. Fortune does NOT often feel very smiley toward me. So I sort of feel guilty, and shocked, that that I am having such an amazing and wonderful year -- my first grandchild on the way, my son's impending marriage, our new home, a job that seems relatively secure (by today's standards, anyway). And yesterday, my hubby and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary.

It's kind of a big deal, I think, to be married that long. I have no magic answer for how I managed to do that, but when asked the secret to a long marriage, I can only offer this: Stay married, even when you think you might want out. It might pass. (It did, every time) Now, that's not to say I think people should stay together no matter what, but I do think that it's easy to forget what all those commitments we made at the alter really mean. The "worse" part of "for better or worse" implies that some really shitty stuff will go down, but we tend to have trouble seeing that on the wedding day, what with the standard-issue rose colored wedding-day glasses we're wearing.

But here I am, 25 years later, still married. Who'd have thunk it? Yep, there's been some "worse". But a heck of a lot of "better". We created, out of nothing, a family; a life. Fully textured, fully lived, with tears and laughter and memories. The past 25 years have not always been easy. We've faced really scary health crises, and we've buried cherished family members. We've dealt with financial challenges, disappointments, and job losses. Sometimes, we didn't like each other very much.

But we also built traditions and created memories. We raised a wonderful son who has grown into an amazing young man, and is now starting his own family. We've made rich friendships that feel like family. We've found that hard times really DO make us stronger, and that life is just easier when shared. Along the way, we both realized that we were married to our best friend.

I'm happy that my husband stuck with me all these years. He damn well better be happy I stuck with him! It hasn't always been easy, but it HAS always been worth it. I feel very, very fortunate, and yes, blessed.

Mea Culpa

2009-03-26T05:46:00.001-07:00

Moving day is over. We are finally in our new home! Most of the boxes are unpacked, things are functioning at about 90%, the cat and dog have finally figured out that we're not leaving, and I'm back at work. All in all, I couldn't be happier.

However. The process of moving turned me into a raving lunatic bitch and I am sure I owe a few apologies.

To our mortgage guy: You kept telling me everything was going to happen on schedule, and I kept waiting for all hell to break loose. It didn't. I know I drove you crazy calling you to 'check on things' every other day.

To the lady at JC Penneys: I know it wasn't your fault that every single window panel I liked was out of stock. But you were there so who else was I going to get snippy with?

To the customer service guy at the Blinds place: I am sure that you don't get paid enough for me to yell at you because I thought there was no hardware with the blinds. After I hung up on you, I found the hardware. I felt like I should call back and apologize but I was pretty sure you'd see my number on caller ID and not pick up.

To first cable guy: I'm sorry you were at my house for something like 9 hours, but in hindsight, you didn't seem to know what the f*(k you were doing. I know I should apologize over that screaming match about where to put the cable jack in the master bedroom, but I was right and you were wrong, so I don't feel bad about that. Besides, you screwed stuff up which led to me having to spend another day with Cable Guy #2.

To Cable Guy #2: You scratched my new wall with your damn tool belt. Never mind, I don't think I owe you an apology for bitching at you about that.

To the cat: You are 15 and have never been out of our old house except for your once a year vet visit. I know this move literally rocked your world. I'm sorry. But did you really have to piss all over my car?!?

To the dog: It breaks my heart that you try to follow me to the car every time I leave. I know you think I'm going to take you back home! Really, you'll come to love the tiny back yard we have now! I promise!

To my friends: I'm sorry for being missing in action for the past 2 months. This house buying opportunity happened much quicker than expected, so it was all-consuming. And to my friends who I did see, I'm sorry for talking so much about my house hunt. I am sure you are sick of hearing about my travails.

To my family: I know, I was stressed and crazy. I'm sorry. I love you.

There, I think I covered everyone. It has been 18 years since our last move, and I don't plan on doing this again unless and until I can afford to hire someone to take care of everything for me. Which is to say, I won't be moving again!

Oh. I love my new house!

Gave Up Posting for Lent

2009-03-14T11:36:00.000-07:00

This is my first post in more than a month. Last year, I gave up the elevator for Lent, and I almost, not by choice, gave up my home computer for Lent this year. (Actually, for this year, I've given up my sanity. So far, I'm doing well at it) Anyway, about a day after my last post, my PC died, for no apparent reason. It just sat there like a big ol' paperweight doing nothing. My immediate panic was about tax records on Microsoft money, and my checking account balances. Then, of course, I couldn't indulge my recent addiction to Facebook. We finally remember that, our son had purchased the extended warranty when he bought us this computer a year or so ago, so I was relieved to think that I'd be back in business after a quick, and free repair. Free, yes. Quick, not so much.

We returned the computer to Best Buy's "Geek Squad" for repairs. Turns out, the Geek Squad doesn't really fix anything. They ship everything to their "repair center", which, I now presume, is in another solar system on the planet Romulus. They tell us it will take 3 weeks or so. "Three weeks!" we exclaim. They give us this look that says, "and you think we don't hear this 9,273 times a day?" So we were excited when they called TWO weeks later and said our computer was back. (See, I think they tell you three weeks so that you think they're wonderful when it's "only" 2 weeks).

We became less excited very quickly. Thank goodness we thought to ask them to test it out in store, because when they did, what happened was.....nothing. Still dead. As dead as they day we dropped it off. So, the friendly-ish "geek" promised to send it back and have it "expedited".

Two more weeks passed. No computer. I called and was told that the "repair que" showed that parts had been ordered. I informed the clerk that two weeks seemed like an awful long time for a returned repair that had supposedly been "expedited". He ever so helpfully offered to have the matter "escalated". Not sure what THAT means, but I was pretty sure it meant I still had no computer, no access to Microsoft Money OR my addictive solitaire games.

A few more days went by, and since our computer had already been "expedited" and "escalated", I wasn't sure what to expect next. Excommunicated? Ex calibrated? Exonerated? Anyway, happily, the "que" showed that it had been shipped.

One month later, the computer is back, all data intact. The checkbook is balanced. Taxes aren't paid, but my excuse is gone. And I can get back to the really important business of working on my Pathwords score on Facebook.

An Embarassment of Blessings -

2009-02-07T13:21:00.000-08:00

This is a year of many changes for me, and they are flying at me fast and furious. Without exception, these are wonderful changes, but I keep thinking of that old cliche' about "too much of a good thing". I don't want to complain -- I'm enjoying this rare groove of good things coming my way. I feel blessed and am incredibly excited, but I do feel a need to SLOW DOWN!!

So far this year, I am:

becoming a grandmother

marrying off my one and only child

having a 25th wedding anniversary

selling my home of 20 years to the son and fiancee'

buying a new home (yeah, in this crazy real estate market!)

turning the big 5 - 0.

The grandmother thing, well, that caught me off guard. It was a surprise, my son is only 22, and although he does well financially for his age, it will be a bit of a struggle for them. But I love his fiancee, and I know they will be happy together. They will be amazing parents. I'm thrilled at the prospect of being a grandmother -- I just need to think of a cool grandmother name! And I can't wait to meet my grandson, Carson, this June. I am certain he will be the most outstanding, brilliant, adorable grandchild EVER.

Which brings me to the wedding. I'm having a little trouble finding my place, as the mother of the groom. I'm a "barge in a take charge" kind of gal, and this just isn't my show to take charge of. However, I'm so genuinely excited about it and I'm having a hard time not blurting out my ideas. Sigh. It's the first time I've really thought about what it means to not have a daughter. But it's going to be a wonderful day, and other than frantically trying to lose weight for the photographically memorialized event, I'm very very happy and can't wait for the big day!

Speaking of weddings, I really can't believe my husband has stuck with me for 25 years this April. I am not the easiest person to live with. (Shocked, aren't you?) He has had his moments. Good ones mostly, but a few real stinkers. When people ask me the secret to a long marriage, the only thing I have to offer is this: Stay together even when you really, really don't want to. Not to say that I think people should stay together no matter what, but I do know that, in my case, these are the best of years and I'm so glad we're still together.

The house thing may sound crazy in this economic nightmare of a time we are living in. I realize this. Here's the thing: we live in the first house we ever bought. It's small, and affordable. We're giving them a good deal, but since there's no realtor to pay, and since our house might have never sold at full market value, I don't really think we're losing much. We're giving up a little equity, but I look at it as the same as helping with a down payment. And they will own a home with a mortgage payment less than their current rent, with a little bit of automatic equity to boot.

And finally, after years of yearning for a new home, but the time never being right for one reason or another, we find that we are both fairly secure in our jobs (and very thankful for that), and able to take advantage of an awesome buyers' market out there. We've found the perfect house, and sellers who have pretty much offered to provide free housekeeping services if we buy! We should be putting in a contract soon.

Now I know there are people out there among my tens of readers that wonder why I put "turning 50" on a list of good things. Well, I don't know why. I guess I've decided to embrace it rather than rant about it. It's coming either way, might as well embrace it. I've always planned to be a really irreverent old lady (I know, not much of a leap for me, is it?) so I'm just getting closer to being able to do that!

I just want to really enjoy all of these wonderful events and not let the stress of so much change get in the way. Fifty years on this earth have taught me a couple things, and one is -- "This too shall pass". I like to think of that about bad times, but lets face it, it applies to the good times, too. So if you hear me stressing about my abundance of joyful events, just smack me. This is about as good as it gets.

Inlaw Overload

2009-01-18T07:31:00.000-08:00

I don't really mind my in-laws. For one thing, they don't live nearby so I don't see them very often, and for another thing, there's not that many of 'em left anymore. And for yet another thing, I actually like them. I did have the mother in law from hell (truly, she was not a nice person, and she immediately and steadfastly hated me), but she's no longer with us. I actually had TWO mother-in-laws -- one step, one blood -- but the remaining MIL only sends Christmas cards and occasional e-mails. My husband's remaining family is his 3 brothers, all of whom I genuinely like, and I genuinely like their wives and families.

I'm getting ready to have a whole new batch of in-laws as my son is getting married this fall. I like them too --quite a lot, actually. I love my future daughter-in-law to pieces. We had the future family-in-law over for dinner last night, and it was a nice evening. Good food, (my husband cooked) great company, and of course, I always enjoy spending time with my son and his fiancee. They're expecting a baby soon, so the 2 first time "grandmas to be" have lots to talk about.

I like to entertain but let's face it, I'm no Martha Stewart -- I am not the world's most gracious hostess. It's like I wasn't born with the entertaining gene. See, I pretty much really mean it when I tell my guests to make themselves at home. In my house, that means: Get your own damn drink. If you're cold, turn up the heat. I have no idea if the hall bath is about to run out of TP but feel free to rummage around for another roll. That sort of thing. So when you come to my house for dinner, please don't think I'm being rude -- I just think of you as family!

Also, as you may know about me, I prefer to spend my weekends wearing sloppy clothes, eating badly and watching all the stuff I recorded on the DVR the previous week. So much as I enjoy company, well, I have to at least put on a bra when people come over.

But now it's Sunday, and I have the day to recover, right? Oh no. Suddenly I have to figure out what to feed 2 of my husband's brothers and their families in less than an hour! All have come to town due to their Uncle Jim's recent stroke. (Prayers appreciated. Jim is 85 and prognosis isn't good) Like I said, I love them all, and am glad to see them, but two in-law encounters are a little much for one weekend!

Thank goodness for the 3 day weekend. I'll be spending Monday on the couch. Don't call me. And don't even think of dropping by to visit because I don't want to have to put the bra back on.

Where Does My Time Go??

2009-01-13T09:27:00.001-08:00

When I started this blog, my plan was to post my random, profound thoughts a few times a week. Well, it's been over a week since my last entry, and it's not due to lack of profundity, but lack of time. I have no idea where my time goes!

I get up most days between 6 and 7:30, depending on how many times I hit "snooze". If I get up before 7:30, I have a standing appointment with my couch, a warm blankie, a cup of coffee, and "Morning Joe". (I hate Joe Scarborough. I watch the show because it gets me fired up for the day). A funny thing about me and mornings .... I always, always, always THINK I am going to get up at 6 and exercise. Something happens to me while I sleep -- I loose all resolve, all will-power. I seldom -- if ever -- get up at first alarm, and I almost always wake up with a paralyzing lack of motivation to do anything more physically strenuous than lift the coffee cup.

But no matter when the morning starts, at 7:30 here's what happens without fail: I say "Oh Shit! It's 7:30" and get in the shower. From there, I spend 50 minutes scrambling around to get dressed, and I rush out the door, frazzled and late, at 8:20 to be at work at 8:30. And then my job begins it's function of totally interfering with my real life.

But what of the evening hours? I'm home by 5:30. My nest is empty, except for my dog and cat. I have few outside commitments. Sometimes I try to walk the dog after work. (My dog has developed an aversion to walking. I love that dog) My husband, often as not, cooks dinner, and he willingly and ably does his share of the housework. (did I say that I love that man??) So my responsibilities after work are few. Most nights, I sit and feed my bizarre addiction to reality TV.
Weekends seem to evaporate. Most of the time, my only accomplishment is a trip to the grocery store. Other than occasional church attendance, paying bills, farting around on Facebook and watching all the stuff I recorded on the DVR while I was watching something else, little else of substance fills the weekend, yet those 2 free days seem to just disappear. What the hell do I do with my time?

It is especially perplexing because I recall when my life was so much busier and yet I accomplished so much more. When my son was young, he had baseball, and soccer, and karate, and myriad after school activities. I worked full time, and worked out 3 days a week after work. My commute was much longer and so was my workday. My husband worked unpredictable hours so had less time to help with meals or housework. I even remember taking a class at the local community college. What the heck happened??

Sadly, I know the answer, I just don't like it. I got old, fat, lazy, and I watch too damn much television. And I can't seem to stop! (getting old, fat, lazy OR watching too much TV) I am not sure when it got so out of control, but I blame the DVR. Technology is suppose to give us more control of our time, but I think it controls US instead.

So I'm gonna try to do better. Watch less TV. Blog more. Walk that crazy dog. Get out and do stuff on the weekends. Just as soon as I watch everything on the recorded list ....

Oh Happy Day

2009-01-05T17:05:00.001-08:00

It started out as a craptacular Monday. I had to get a purportedly dead car to the shop (based on the "expert" analysis of the guy at Auto-Parts-R-Us, I had a dead alternator), only to find out that there was nothing wrong with the car at all. So, all that juggling and arranging rides to work, etc. was for nothing and I am out $71 for the privilege of confirming that.

But then, I got news.

Back story to news: Last year -- 13 months ago, to be exact -- I was in a fairly minor car accident. Well, minor to me. To the kid on the motorcycle, who ran into me, maybe not so minor. He flew over the handlebar, taking a good solid smack in the crotch, landing on the hood of my car. Now, I don't deny that this accident was my "fault", but I would swear to my dying day that I don't know what I would have done differently. I saw nothing coming, pulled into traffic, and suddenly Mr. Motorcycle Dude appeared out of nowhere. It was scary but thankfully he proclaimed he was fine, except for the fact that, and I quote, his nuts were killing him.

Four months later, I got served. The little shit was suing me. Apparently his nuts were still killing him. I don't mean to make fun, but, really??

But today I find out that the case has been settled! His sperm count was fine, and apparently in discovery, it was "discovered" that the cause of his pain was lacerations to said "nuts" -- caused by his zipper, because -- wait for it --

he wasn't wearing any underwear.

I don't know why that news makes me feel better. Oh, but it does! And the "being sued for all I'm worth" phase of my life is thankfully over.

Are We There Yet??

2009-01-02T15:28:00.000-08:00

I like a new year. I really don't much like New Year's. For one thing, there's that whole "resolution" thing, but I've said all I have to say about that. For another thing, there's that artificial pressure to have "plans". Not just, "a nice dinner and movie at home" plans, but big, fancy, expensive, capital-letter"Plans". And of course, you're expected to stay lively until the stroke of midnight, which is approximately 1.2 hours past my bedtime, and 3.6 hours or more past my dear hubby's "bed" time. (I use "Bed" loosely here. He normally falls asleep in his recliner) So as the magic hour approaches, we're grumpy and tired. And what am I supposed to wear? Don't even get me started. After all, I've been eating my way through the holidays and I have picked up a festive 15 pounds or so. Deck the halls, deck my butt, etc. And NOTHING FITS!! At least, nothing that looks remotely celebratory.

But the thing that makes me crazy is the fireworks. For those of you who aren't lucky enough to live in SC (and I mostly am not being sarcastic) it is perfectly legally for anyone who can reach the counter to purchase actual, gun-powder-infused FIREWORKS in SC. Now I've lived here most of my life, and I love my fellow South Carolinians, and I mean no harm when I say this, but ... (lean in close while I whisper) ....we ain't the sharpest knives in the drawer. So it kind of gives me pause that just any of my neighbors can go buy explosive devices for their amusement. And the good stuff isn't cheap, so mostly, my neighbors just buy stuff that is REALLY LOUD.

I could even get past that, except that for some reason, my explosive neighbors like to drag out the celebration. So here I sit, 2 days after the big night, listening to random, loud explosions. This scares the crap out of my dog. Literally. I've cleaned up 2 piles since New Year's Eve.

So Happy New Year. Yay, 2009. Can we stop celebrating yet?

Resolution Rumination

2009-01-01T10:15:00.001-08:00

Having reached the ripe old age of almost 50, I have become a bit opposed to the notion of resolutions. I understand the need to turn the page, change for the better, start anew -- in fact, I embrace it. It's just that it never seems to take! Every year, I vow (aloud or in secret) to lose weight, get organized, get out of debt, treat people better. And every year, I end up just about the same as I started -- fat, unorganized, in debt, and pissing people off without meaning to. Thus far, the only successful resolution I've ever kept was to floss.

Last year, I made no resolutions at all. And oddly enough, I did better towards achieving those recurring goals in '08 than in any year I can remember. I lost a few pounds and paid off some bills. I cleared out a lot of clutter in preparation for selling my house (which never happened, but that's another blog) But I managed to officially lose a friend last year, and I have no idea how that happened. We had drifted apart, to be sure, but I don't recall saying or doing anything offensive or friendship-ending. She, however, seems to recall otherwise. I've been equal parts sad, perplexed, and just plain pissed since this discovery. However, it has made me think that I need to be more mindful in tending to the relationships I have with the people that matter in my life.

My son will be getting married this year. There will be photos. I will be in them. That knowledge inspires me to lose weight more than any resolution ever will.

I want to sell my house this year, and buy a new one. That desire will inspire the debt-free and organized states of being I so crave yet never seem to quite attain.

And I turn 50 this year. I need all the friends I can get to get me through THAT, so hopefully I won't -- knowingly or unknowingly -- piss off any more friends.

Yeah, I know, those SOUND alot like resolutions, don't they? Oh well. Happy 2009!