Saturday, February 20, 2010
This is what my house usually looks like. Right this moment, I wouldn't even recognize it.
We have contractors working to replace some dry rotted boards on the front porch.
The contractors have torn out the front porch. There is a ladder in front of my window going up to the roof where they have raised a portion of the roof.
I'm shaking all over. I hate chaos! I hate mess! I hate men climbing up ladders! I hate anything that makes my house look scary to me. I hate my husband because he thinks this is fun.
The guys (plus my husband Alex) have gone off to Home Depot for "stuff". They told me to watch the tools so they don't get stolen. I'm looking out my window and seeing a huge mess.
I may call my vet and tell them that Harry or Honey is having an anxiety attack and needs valium. (Harry and Honey are fine, but I need some valium.) Hopefully, it won't make me start barking.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
I got this wonderful award from Greg, a darling handsome sweet and smart man at livingmylife. His blog is witty, fun, and a tad irreverent!
Okay, now trying to remember, I'm supposed to say 7 things about myself is one the deals.
1. I'm only 5 pounds over-weight now.
2. I talk in my sleep.
3. I love reality tv (but am ashamed of it).
4. I love red wine.
5. I eat peanut butter with a spoon.
6. My dogs are my favorite people
7. I can be opinionated (and charming, and sexy and oh so wise).
These are my choices for beautiful bloggers:
7. whatcha ona bout girl
10. Square peg in a round hole
Okay there are other things I'm supposed to do, but it takes me a while. Also, I know it said 7, but I really can't choose just 7. I'm not good at reading directions.
Here's what we have to do to own the award:
1. Thank, then link to the person that gave you the award
2. Pass this award on to
3. Contact said Blogs to let them know they've won.
4. State 7 Things about yourself!
If you steal from me, I'll forgive you. If you cheat me, I'll probably forgive you (but I won't forget). If you hit me, I'll probably not be your friend any more. If you kick my dog, well, you really don't want to go there.
The only time I have felt true blood lust is when I have been sleep deprived. I feel a slathering beast within myself saying "KILL KILL KILL".
Now, when I was younger, I was much more tolerant and I have two un-maimed, alive, and healthy adult children to prove it. For the last twenty years or so, I have lost most of my tolerance for being awakened for no good reason. Okay, I'm lying. Even if there is a good reason, don't wake me.
Several years ago, I was staying at my mom's because she had surgery on her wrist. I was going to sleep on the torture rack sofa in her small one bedroom apartment in a senior housing development located about an hour from my home. My husband and I had gotten her to the surgery center at 4 AM, for her surgery. She was released to go home about 6 PM that evening. (Point being, it had been a long day.)
We got mom to her apartment and Alex left as there really was no place to sleep except the torture rack. I got her settled into bed with a dinner tray and the television on. Right after dinner, she started saying that the pain was horrid so I called her doctor. He ordered her a stronger medication, and I walked the 6 blocks to the pharmacy to get her pills. By this time, it was nearly 10 PM. I was getting shaking tired.
I finally drugged mom, and lay down on the couch. I was just getting that wonderful tingly feeling that comes over me when I'm just about to fall asleep. The overhead light came on and mom is searching for papers on the coffee table next to where I am trying to sleep. My mother is talking to me too. Prattling about something she had seen on television. I was fighting hard not to strangle her.
She went back to bed for about 15 minutes and came back in. Same scenario. My heart was racing and I truly thought about committing a capital crime. Somehow, we both made it through the night alive. I'm sure she never knew how close she came to getting murdered.
My husband Alex sets his alarm for 5:45 AM. The alarm rings every morning and he hits the snooze button, not once, not twice, but 4 or 5 times. By that time, I am awake. I do not need to get up at 5:45 in the morning. I much prefer to sleep until 9 AM and he knows this. But that frigging alarm thing makes me see images of him in a coffin and feel like that's a happy solution for me.
Is it too much to ask to let me sleep?
"This latest incarnation of Barbie is intended to appease hairy-legged feminists, who incesantly decry Barbie as a sexist icon. In reality, a miniscule number of female technical professionals look like this; the vast majority are overweight and dowdy, and utterly lack sex appeal."
I copied this comment from a publication because it sort of made me gasp. I did remove the name of the commenter and I won't name the publication.
"Hairy legged feminists?" Dear God! What an angry man this one is. "Overweight, dowdy and utterly lack sex appeal"? I gather he means that a female in an industry where she works on a computer and/or wears glasses, cannot be an attractive woman.
My husband has been a software engineer and developer for many years. I have met many of his female colleagues and none of them were hairy legged, particularly over-weight, or dowdy that I could tell. I'll leave the sex appeal part to the eye of the beholder.
Barbie has been around almost as long as I have. Little girls love her. I think making her look like a pretty engineer is a great idea. It's a new world, kids. Even when we laugh at her because of her impossible physical perfection, we can still applaud her for getting an education and a job.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
I have been a rebel since my teens. My entire family has big hair.
My mother had big blond hair up until the time of her death. My aunt (mom's sister) at age 87 still has big blond hair. I have three sisters (all natural brunets) with varying shades of highlighted big blond hair. My daughter has big blond hair. My grandchildren all have big blond hair, save one. (She has big brunet hair.)
Mom hailed from Oklahoma. I think I have never seen an Oklahoma woman with small hair. (For that matter, I'm not sure I've seen any small-haired Texas women either.)
For a lot of years, I too had big hair. Then about 20 years ago, I decided "enough"! I got my hair cut short enough to be almost called a crew cut. My family was outraged. Every one of these woman said "What have you done, Linda?" "What were you thinking?" They were dismayed at my choice to go to small hair.
Okay, it's been twenty years. Maybe I'll grow my hair out for the last chapters in my life. I kind of like the deathbed scene with the big blond hair spilling gently out on the pillow. Oh, and the nightgown with the built in bra. Must not forget that!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
I was 40.
I had some ex-husbands from those previous years and I wasn't really in the market for another one. My girlfriends who were about the same age and single were looking hard for "the one". I was more inclined to meet my considerable "right now" needs and not looking for the long term at all.
My friends had a whole list of requirements that "the one" would have to possess. He would have to be tall, have at least a 6 figure income, have no children under 18, be educated and handsome and of course, kind and generous. Hmm. In our teens and twenties, we had no such requirements.
I met a young sailor the night before he was leaving on a 6 month Navy cruise. He and I talked the evening away. Alex was 25 and had another two years in the Navy. He was Navajo, short, and completely delightful.
We wrote for the next six months and became close friends. He and I spoke by telephone when he got back to shore. After a couple of years, Alex and his friend Todd came up to San Francisco for a visit. We had a fantastic time showing them the City.
Several weeks later, Alex came back by himself. We married a year later. My friends were horrified! What was I thinking marrying a poor sailor so much younger than me! Was I insane? Uh, no, I was in love.
My poor sailor worked as an aircraft mechanic and went to college at night and got a degree in computer science. My poor sailor today has an income that is about 5 times what I ever earned. We have a great life! He's my best friend and my lover and the person I trust most in the world.
My girlfriends are still waiting for their 6'2", wealthy, intelligent, kind and generous "the one". I'll settle for my short poor sailor!
Monday, February 15, 2010
I have very few hard fast rules in life, outside of the obvious "don't put that rat poison next to the cornstarch" and "don't mix up the olive oil with the castor oil".
One hard and fast rule I have is to never date a guy named Slick. I would strongly suggest that none of you do either. I taught my daughter from the time she was eleven that was a rule to live by. Sheila did go out with a loser named Tad in high school, but even dull Tad was a far cry from Slick.
I don't care if Slick is an ex-priest or a mega-millionaire philanthropist, you should still steer clear of him. Now, you may ask, what if Slick is the name his mother gave him? How can we penalize him for using his given name?
Think about it Ladies. Do you want that woman as your Mother-In- Law?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Okay, I agree it's a Hallmark Holiday! I agree that it's commercial. But since I was a young child, I have loved Valentine's Day!
In school, valentines were handed out by the nuns and put on each child's desk while the kids were out of the classroom at recess. When we came back, there they were!
Now, far from being a romantic experience, it was just a fun experience! These magical little cheap cards were to both boys and girls, and signed usually "from your friend Sally" or "from your friend Rodney". They weren't even really your friends! It was just so fun to get these cards!
As a grown woman, I stared spending a large amount of money every year on Valentines Day. I bought them for all of my friends, my neighbors, the checkers at the corner market, the groomer at the pet store, the guy at the liquor store, my gardener, my mailman, and just about anybody else I could think of! These were my little pieces of sunshine just to spread around! Nothing made me happier on Valentines Day than to get a valentine! In my opinion, everyone should have the experience!
It can be the "I love you truly" with flowers and lace on the card, (although the mailman might take that one the wrong way!), or the "You make me smile, Valentine" message; it really doesn't matter. It's one day when I can return to the 8 year old girl sitting in a classroom feeling the joy of cards with my name on them!