tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32675234469277945042024-03-05T08:52:57.216-05:00My Thoughtful SpotIf Pooh can have one, why can't I?quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.comBlogger222125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-88382121289583394952017-06-21T14:43:00.000-04:002017-06-21T14:45:59.505-04:00Pharmaceuticals of the UndeadSo, I live near one of the (if not THE) counties in the country with an drug problem. Its opiates and it is a problem. In my opinion, not because it is killing people. I do believe that addiction is a mental health problem and that addictive personalities need help, but I also believe people need to not try drugs in the first place so they don't get addicted. I believe that while the second, third, or fourth time you use is not a choice, the first time is. People make bad choices I know and while people are born with tendencies, that initial exposure is indeed a bad choice. Anyway, the problem I have is Narcan. I have a real problem with this life saving drug. Not because it saves lives of people but because it is used so easily. Someone ODs, cops bring them back with Narcan. There are businesses in the urban area of the county next door who are having people OD in their parking lots numerous times a day because they know they will be found, the cops will be called, and they'll be saved thanks to Narcan. I'm not saying these people don't deserve to live. I am not God. It is not my place to judge. The problem I have is that if you have cancer and no insurance or limited finances to pay co-pays, cops don't show up at your house with cancer fighting meds. Little kids with peanut allergies and other allergies can't get Epi-pens because they are upwards of four hundred dollars but Narcan is free? What about inhalers and other medications that are required for life due to a disorder that someone is born with not a bad choice someone makes. It is almost like rewarding people for ODing. I just can't wrap my mind around it. And don't even get me started on zombies. Has no one noticed that these people OD and are brought back to life through the use of Narcan? People are BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!!! They are zombies people! ZOMBIES! How long before those who have been saved with Narcan start craving brains? AND NOBODY NOTICES THIS??? Whatever. Keep using your Narcan. I'll be stocking up on treadmills to surround my house with so the zombies won't get me. Nothing like watching zombies fly off the back of a treadmill instead of crashing through my windows to entertain the masses. So when the zombies, who are already living among us, come to get you, come to my house. We'll be safe. I even have an Epi-pen, an inhaler, HBP meds and psych meds - just no Narcan ;)quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-33307033743149139602016-02-11T09:50:00.000-05:002016-02-11T09:50:14.798-05:00Yo Ho, Yo Ho, No Pirate Patch for MeHoly Health Scare Batman! So here's the whole shebang in a nutshell. I was seeing a flash. Actually it was more like a glowing blob that would appear in my vision for about half a second and then be gone. It had been happening for months but it seemed to be getting more frequent so I went to the eye doctor. He said everything looked fine but had me come back in two weeks for a recheck. I went back and to be on the safe side he referred me to a retina specialist. "You'll be the youngest one there by 30 years." he said. "they'll check you out and laugh and say I was crazy for referring you," he said. "Well this will be a grand waste of time," I thought. But I went. I WAS the youngest person there and the triage portion was long and boring. I had the pleasure of being snapped at by a nurse with RBF big time. (That's Resting Bitch Face for those of you who don't know.) Come to find out throughout the visit that it wasn't just RBF. She was just a bitch. Anyway, I finally got in to see the doctor. He looked in my eye and blinded me with a bunch of shiny things. I was fully prepared for the "I don't know why he sent you here. You are fine." I waited to hear those words when he reclined me and began poking and prodding at my eye. I waited to hear those words when he said, "Give me a moment to make some notes and then we'll chat." I waited to hear those words as he made scribbles and marks on the eye diagram on his computer. I was still waiting to hear those words as he began to "chat" with me about my RETINAL DETACHMENT!!! What?!?!?! Did I just say retinal detachment? Yes I did! He started with that and then went on but all I heard was "wah, wah, wah wah wah wah." All of a sudden he was Charlie Brown's teacher. He said something about gel in the back of my eye and something about being prone to tears and something about a tear and a hole and surgery. My mouth was hanging open. My husband's mouth was hanging open. When he realized I was in shock, he slowed down and explained my treatment options. There were three. Number one: Do nothing which he said wasn't really an option. Number two: Have laser surgery to forma scar around the tear/hole to prevent it from expanding. This option does not stop the flashes but may prevent them from getting larger and more intrusive in my vision. Number three: Have traditional cutting surgery. It involves anesthesia and a band around your eye and then "wah, wah, wah wah wah wah." Risks include bleeding, infection, and a bunch of other things. "Ok," I'm thinking, "I really need to do some research and thinking about which I want to do." No such luck! The doctor slams me into a state of shock again with the news that the laser surgery would be done today and the traditional surgery would be done the day after tomorrow. Well there goes the research and the thinking. He ushers us into another room to decide and I want to burst into tears. My hubs who thought he would be back to work in an hour quickly cleared his meeting schedule. While he was doing that, I was left to decide my fate. The laser would be quick but not painless. The surgery was more invasive but may fix the flashes and they would knock me out for it. I had no idea what to do. My only bright spot (pun intended) was maybe I'd get a pirate-style eye patch to wear home. That intrigue was short lived as I imagined the laser zapping my vision away if I accidently looked in the wrong spot. I thought of the recovery period after the traditional surgery and wondered if they put stitches in your eye. There was no one to answer any of my questions. Everybody acted as though there was no decision to make. I ended up opting for the laser surgery which was scary as hell. It felt like I was getting a tattoo on my eyeball. Like someone was snapping the inside of my eye with a rubber band repeatedly. They finished the first portion and put me in the waiting room with juice and crackers to recover a bit. After about an hour, it was time for round two. My eyes were tired and uncooperative but the cod managed to do what he needed to do. Once I could see again, we made our way home. My eyeball was sore from all the drops and poking and prodding and zapping. It felt swollen and it ached. I now know what to look for as signs of retinal detachment but am totally paranoid about every little light or shadow I see. Eventually I'll get back to normal but knowing I am more vulnerable to going blind in the future - well, I kind of sucks. The most disappointing part was I didn't even get an eye patch. Ahoy, no pirate look for me matey. Arrrrr!!!<br />
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***If you see flashes, floaters, shadows, or black spots, please see your eye doctor right away***quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-3975065530787406992016-02-07T15:16:00.004-05:002016-02-07T15:18:32.265-05:00Shameless Self PromotionAfter a disrupted adoption, we are in the process of attempting to adopt again. If you would like to follow our trials and tribulations as we make our way through this process a second time, please see my other blog "The Butterfly Keepers" at <a href="http://www.wordpress.com/thebutterflykeepers">www.wordpress.com/thebutterflykeepers</a>. Thank you and I hope to see you there!quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-63504237258606397492016-02-05T09:17:00.000-05:002016-02-05T09:19:38.168-05:00Involuntary Nastics at the Gym<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well it finally happened. I dreaded it. I tried to avoid it. I even had nightmares about it. I actually fell off the treadmill at my gym. It happened simply enough. My phone was in the holder on the machine. I hit a button and went to move my hand back and caught the wire of the ear buds. My phone tumbled to the running belt. Of course, my instincts kick in and I try to grab it but since I am incapable of doing two things at once, my feet stopped walking. Within a half a second, I realized I needed to keep walking but it was too late. By that point I was flailing with one arm and holding onto the side of the machine with the other. I let go of the side, stopped flailing, and just let myself be ejected off the back of the machine. I must have kicked my phone at some point because it was still on the treadmill and was ejected after me. The entire time I was thinking "I can't believe this is happening." Luckily, or was it by divine intervention, I was able to stick the landing. I managed not to fall on my ass. My niece would have been proud of my "nastics" moves but I highly doubted anyone else in the gym would be appreciative of them. I looked around and saw everyone in the gym, ears plugged with ear buds, continuing on with their workouts. Even the folks at the desk didn't seem to notice. I was grateful for this but also a bit unnerved. I just wiped out on the treadmill in grand fashion and nobody noticed. What if I had been really hurt? Would someone have come to my aid? I was in the back so I guess that helped my anonymity. Still. I could have used a "poor baby." And as for not hurting myself, that train quickly left the station. I finished my workout but my arm was hurting a bit. As the evening went on, I became more sore in the realm of my right arm. Today, it hurts to type this and I can't lift my right arm without the fear of vomiting in pain. It'll be a trip to the urgent care tonight for me. Is it sad that I know the x-ray guy at the urgent care by name? And it's January so that means deductible time. So I'll be paying full price for my exam and x-rays. It'll cost more than the year long membership at my gym. So if I had never gone to the gym, I'd have my membership money, my x-ray money, and not be in constant pain? Sounds like the gym is the problem here. Or is it just my lack of coordination. Either way if I hadn't gone to the gym, like ever, I'd be a lot richer and a lot healthier. That doesn't quite seem right. But what's done is done and what's injured is injured. At least I don't have to come up with a disguise to go back to the gym. But I will be forever haunted by the idea that somewhere out there in interwebland there may be surveillance camera evidence of my treadmill dance with death.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-86113084424727614852016-01-22T15:01:00.000-05:002016-01-22T15:05:07.144-05:00My Office is for Pooping -or- Psychiatrist Wanted: Must Love BabiesToday sucks. Yup. I said it. Today sucks. It completely blows. I am just sitting here wallowing in self pity and I don't care who knows. I don't give a rat's ass. Why does today of all days suck. Because. My Gram died two weeks ago and I still haven't really accepted that, yesterday I found out that my psychiatrist of ten years will no longer be accepting my insurance in a month, a person who is supposed to remain impartial has proved to be totally and completely biased in my book, and my dogs pooped in the office. That last one is nothing new. They poop in the office on a daily basis. They think its their own person toilet. I included that one because having poop in your house that you have to clean up just kind of sums up my day. Oh, and we are apparently aren't going to see hide nor hair of a snowflake in the exciting Snowmaggedon of 2016. I wanted to stay tucked into my house as the snow fell down all around me sipping coffee and being productive. Instead I sit here with my eyes closed willing the world away. (Yes, I know I have depression.) I called the Hubs to tell him how upset I was about some of the days events and . . . nothing. No "awwww." No "poor baby." Nothing. That only added to my depression du jour. I want snow damn it! I have the weather channel on and they are talking all about snow in terms of feet, power outages, driving restrictions, and here - nothing but melting. It sucks. The only good thing about today is that I get to meet one of my bestie's offspring tomorrow. Hopefully this gloom and funk will be over by then but if not, I will hold that baby and sniff her head (Babies smell awesome. The head end that is. Not the other end) and experience a moment of pure peace. Because even if just for that moment, that little baby needs me. That may be it. I may just want to feel needed. The Kid (who is about to graduate from university) informed me that that's why they give people in nursing homes with diminished cognitive capacity baby dolls to care for. It gives them purpose. A reason for being. A connection to the universe. Maybe I need to dig out my old 80's Cabbage Patch Dolls and carry them around. I wonder if that would make me feel any better. I also wonder if I will end up back in the "special unit" on the fifth floor. Walking around with a doll all day. But if I go to the "special unit" I will get a referral to a new psych doc and an appointment without the normal waiting time. There, two birds with one stone. Now all I've got to do is keep the momentum going.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-90923723104515668162015-06-24T15:01:00.000-04:002015-06-24T15:04:00.216-04:00Sandy Toes, Salty Kisses, and Butt Support of the American RevolutionI suck. I suck, I suck, I suck. I really want to be better at this blogging regularly but blogging occasionally is a hell of a lot better than not blogging at all. Funny, I feel the same way about exercising as I do about blogging. I think about it a lot, but don't actually get around to it a lot. I saw something online today that said "I am fat because a tiny body couldn't hold all this awesomeness." I feel this way about 50% of the time. The other 50% of the time I wonder if chairs will hold me and if I will fit through certain places. This was especially true on our recent vacation to Virginia Beach and Colonial Williamsburg. The day we arrived I felt tremendously self-conscious and we didn't even put our swim suits on. Day two I warmed up to the beach and stopped worrying about what I looked like and enjoyed myself. I'm not very happy that there are pictures to prove this beach vacation but whatever. When we left the beach and headed to Colonial Williamsburg, I thought I was in the clear - no such luck. I forgot about one thing - the dreaded Colonial chair. Not only did many of the Colonial doors into the Colonial buildings open in the middle only giving you half the Colonial doorway to squeeze through, but there were these chairs - Colonial chairs - that are historically accurate to the Colonial time period in material and construction. Apparently, I am not historically accurate to the Colonial time period because these suckers hurt. They were about half the size of my butt with knobs that poked in some not-so-comfortable places. And that was just the design. The materials used to make said chairs would creak and snap and basically make you feel like its the soundtrack to your ass falling on the Colonial floor. But I survived and promised myself that I would get back in the gym as soon as the patella femoral tendonitis I had was healed. That and as soon as the gym we joined was back in business after THE TORNADO! That's right! We joined a gym down the street and within a month I had hurt myself and shortly thereafter the gym was hit by an EF1 tornado. Luckily, we were not there. Even though it was our usual day and time to go, we didn't. But I'm thinking there's no way more direct for God to say be happy with who you are first and if you then still want to change yourself - all the better - than with 100mph rotating winds. So as the gym heals and I heal, I tried to take stock of my self-worth and self-esteem and realize that I am fine. I like me. No, I love me. And I want to slowly but surely improve me - for my health and my family, not for vanity or appearances. And if I ever find a time machine or develop a means for time travel, I will omit the Colonial period as a destination option. quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-14829999255731560582015-02-24T16:06:00.000-05:002016-01-22T15:06:11.429-05:00Winter 2015 Sponsored by Disney -or- I wanna Have Oprah's ButtI need to do some soul searching. Somehow over the course of the last year, I have become overwhelmed. I have turned my hobby into an etsy shop, I have jumped into a new personal business, I have started doing vendor shows, I have volunteered as a lead for a major local charity event, I have a sick bird in my living room, I have a sick kid away at college, I have a dog now who has recently had surgery, I have a husband who is out of town at the moment, and I don't know how I'm going to do it all. All of this without one of my medications because thanks to my "new, improved" health insurance plan, it costs $800. They are trying to force us to use their ridiculous mail order pharmacy (because sending drugs through the mail is so safe.) When I called and talked to them, they said that yes it is $800 for a month's worth of the drug. However, they could provide me with 3 months of the drug for <drumroll please> $800. Yes, I'm not kidding. Plus the plan which last year was a no deductible plan, is a high deductible plan so not only am I paying more for prescriptions, I am also paying full price for every doctor visit I have. I have no idea where this money will come from. I wish I was like Oprah and could just pull it out my ass. Being upper middle class sucks. But we were poor when we first got married and that sucked too. Maybe life just sucks in general for everyone no matter how much you have or how much you make. I was happy. Through much of 2013 and 2014 I was happy. But 2015 seems to want to break me. So I think I need to do some serious soul searching. I need to figure out what is important to me and what I can let go. Where my focus should lie and what I can afford to let fall by the wayside. I just feel like I have way too many balls in the air and the fact that I take everything personally doesn't help that. Someone honks their horn in traffic, I think they are honking at me. Someone opposes my viewpoint and I think they just don't like me. I doubt everything I do. It takes an effort for me just to appear as though I'm a normal person. I'm exhausted and I am avoiding it all by sitting here and writing this blog. I need my medication - obviously. I need that little pink pill to help me be like Elsa and let it go. I can't wait till April when the generic is scheduled to come out. Damn insurance. Damn illnesses. Damn expenses. Damn people. Damn, damn, damn. Maybe I should just hermit away till April for everyone's damn sake. Look out world! Here comes unmedicated Elsa! Maybe that's why its so damn cold and snowy around here lately.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-58141214881176004082013-07-15T19:50:00.000-04:002013-07-15T19:53:55.180-04:00It Ain't AlcatrazFirst off, let me say that I in no way feel any dislike toward the people of Oklahoma but WTH? Are your prisons made of nerf? Ever heard of bars or guards or locks? I ask this because on my social media feed, I receive updates from an Oklahoma news channel. Having lived in Oklahoma for a couple of years, I found it interesting to get the local low-down on the what's up in Okie Dokie Land. Anyway, daily, ok maybe weekly, it seems that the police in OKC have surrounded a house containing a suspect believed to have escaped from so-and-so prison. I guess I was young and naive when I lived there because I don't remember Oklahoma being one of our more dangerous states unless your talking tornadic terror. I just don't get how all of these people keep escaping. Hubby says that they are most likely on a work detail but don't they still have guards with them. And we all know that Oklahoma guards like their guns. Why don't they just shoot them? Then Hubby reminded me that its not the guards in Oklahoma that like their guns, its the police. See when we lived there, an elderly man with dementia on his front lawn weilding a weed-eater was shot several times to his death when he charged police with said weed-eater. Now, man charged with assault trying to escape prison or elderly man with a weed-eater - which one would you shoot? And they aren't just escaping prison. They are doing it with flair. I recall a posting from a few weeks ago about a young man who escaped prison and went to a local fire department and stole a fire truck. The posting told anyone seeing a man in prison garb driving around in a fire truck that "well, you know what to do". At first I thought this was a very nonchalent treatment of the situation but upon further consideration, I think it was an invitation for the gun-toting populace. I think it was Oklahoma code for shoot him yourself. This may not be a bad idea because I have often wondered what would happen if one of those major Oklahoma twisters hit a large penitentiary. But maybe that's why so many Oklahomans have guns. They are just waiting to hear that secret code. So take caution who is around next time you say "you know what to do". You may just open a whole can of worms - worms with guns who are ready to take you down.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-2445863989213269882013-07-07T12:48:00.001-04:002013-07-07T12:49:55.520-04:00Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better -or- How Delusional Thou ArtI have a problem. See, I see things on etsy (the online craft emporium) and I think - huh, I could make that. I mean, it looks easy enough. So I secretly yearn for the supplies. I go to the craft supply store and look longingly at the materials I would need and price out the cost of each project. I wrestle internally with rationalizing my need for this new creative outlet. I feel held back by my lack of supplies. I am tethered to the world of the uncreative by my inability to finance my artistic dreams. But then, one day, I go for it. I decide to try my hand at this new craft. Usually I justify my purchase of materials under the guise of "I'm making it as a gift for a friend" and "It is much cheaper than buying the finished project." The former is typically true. I have all intentions of giving this as a gift. The latter is also true. If I had the talent, the project would be much cheaper than purchasing a final product. The problem is that I know better than to believe both of these "excuses." So today, I sit down with my clay and my sculpting tools to make a wedding gift for a friend. It takes all of ten minutes for me to realize that this craft is going the same way as many of the other crafts I have attempted over the course of my life. See when it comes to crafts, I am either a natural or I totally and completely suck. There is no in between. No grey area where the project turns out "good enough." Its either awesome or crap and todays experiment was a big stinking pile of crap. So I pass on the clay to my daughter to play with. The tools will probably make it to a yard sale ten years or so in the future after living in a closet or the basement until then. My ideas of sculpting the perfect gift are quickly thrown by the wayside. They join the ranks of the pottery wheel, the handmade drapes, the quilt, the afghan, the cake decorating, the painting, the ceramics and all the others in my ever-growing unfinished craft project graveyard. I should probably just stick with jewelry, card making, scrapbooking and drawing - things I know I can do. But even as I type this, I think of the faux stained glass and the mosaic tile creations I have seen. Surely they can't be THAT hard??? Hi, my name is quirky and I'm a delusional crafter . . . quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-55622533115804223022013-06-25T13:41:00.000-04:002013-06-25T18:12:48.430-04:00If Only I was You're-a-peein'I was pondering what to write as a blog entry today. Numerous ideas crossed my mind such as my latest tangle with my local pharmacy ("No I will not pay you $322 because you keep pushing the wrong button") but I settled on a topic that I'm sure we are all interested in - the bidet.<br />
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WARNING: This blog post contains juvenile wording for natural human processes and parts. If this will offend you, please stop reading here. If you're ok with words like pooh and tinkle, please proceed but comments saying how offended you are will not be tolerated. You've been warned.<br />
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I don't know how it came up. I think we were watching an episode of House Hunters on HGTV and the house the people were looking at had a bidet. The potential occupants were surprised and in their uncomfortable way made some borderline inappropriate jokes. But my daughter asked why they had two toilets. I responded that one was a bidet. She had no idea what that was so I explained to her that you use it after the toilet and it shoots water on your lady bits to clean you and then blow dries your private zone. I explained that they are very popular in Europe but nobody uses them in the United States and I got to thinking - why not? Why are we as Americans not blessed with possibly one of the greatest forms of hygenic cleansing ever invented? I mean, what are we afraid of? A little water? A little air flow? We pride ourselves in having technology out the whazoo but when it comes to our whazoo we skimp. I did however have three questions for my European followers who are veteran bidet users. First off, does water do the job? I mean the full job. Let's face it. We've all had those moments where we need to use more toilet paper than an overzealous three year old. Does the stream of water have some force behind it to force our behind into clean territory? Second, same question basically but this time it involves the dryer. Do you end up feeling like you just sat in a puddle? And latestly, how does one get from the toilet to the bidet without making a mess or leaving a trail? I mean they are typically positioned close to each other but not THAT close. Now, given that I have zero patience to wait for my European friends to comment. I did what any normal American does when they don't know anything about something. They Google it. This is where I discovered the Swash 1000 Bidet Toilet Seat. With an installation time of less than 20 minutes, you too can feel as though you are poohing abroad. The review was good (Well I guess it was good. I don't read many bidet reviews so I don't have a standard against which to measure this one.) It even answered some of my questions. Yes, the water does the job. Yes, you still may need a minimal amount of toilet paper. And with this particular model, there is no messy transfer from seat to seat. Its an all in one deal. It even has a smell elimination feature! The only real downside is that you will hate poohing anywhere else once you've experience it. You will become one spoiled tinkler. But I say, bring it on. Look out toilet paper industry. Here comes the Swash 1000. It will put you out of business. Maybe that's it. Maybe the supression of the bidet has been formulated by the toilet paper industry to protect their profits. Like a toilet paper mafia! See - good things come from waching cable TV and frequent Googling. Without these, I never could have warned you about the toilet paper mafia. Feel free to leave your thanks in the comments and remember this is America - it is your right to bidet. United we Swash!quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-7184767179382838912013-06-18T16:09:00.001-04:002013-06-18T16:10:56.602-04:00Oh Yeah, Its Confirmed. I am a Genius!So my hubby just got home and shared a conversation that he overheard at work today. He was passing by the "watercooler" and was intrigued by the talk of cell phone signals. See, we do not get a good cell phone signal here in our house. Even though we pay our bill on time and our house is located in their "green zone", we get an average of zero bars. One if we are lucky. I have found a solution to this that has made my hubby chuckle on more than one occasion. I hold the cell phone on my head. Yup. You heard me right. I hold the phone on my head which, to me, seems to work. My hubby insisted that this was a coincidence and not an actual effective method of signal reception. But today, in the midst of a human systems engineer (I'm not even smart enough to know what that is) my hubby was told that the human skull can actually amplify cell signals! Who knew? Apparently I did! Boo-ya! In your face guy who almost has his master's degree! I - am a genius! When people are walking around holding their phones on their heads everywhere, I can say I was doing that long before it was the "thing to do." And that my friends makes me a GENIUS!!! So next time you can't get a cell signal, hold that phone proudly on your head and say "My friend quirky does this all the time and she's a genius." If contacted, I will confirm your affiliation with me and your cranial/mobile combination. Oh, but please note, if you too find out that you have been a genius all along and just didn't know it, do not ask said husband how to spell genius. It kind of ruins the illusion of intelligence.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-43121984354463951532013-06-06T20:30:00.000-04:002013-06-06T20:31:35.691-04:00Guess Who's Back. Back again. Quirky's back. Tell a Friend.Well, its been months upon months since I've posted a new blog entry so I figured why not. I guess I should catch you up a little on whats been happening and what life has taught me over the last three-fourths of a year. I think the most efficient way to do that would be in the beloved Top Ten form. So, here goes.<br />
<br />
10. Hugh Jackman is real. Woverine is not. I will never have a shot at either of them.<br />
9. Disney is the happiest place on earth.<br />
8. Projects help you focus and keep your sanity.<br />
7. Moleskin is a lifesaving invention.<br />
6. It is possible to be so manipulative that you unknowingly manipulate yourself.<br />
5. Everyone needs dreams and goals in life.<br />
4. Turning 40 isn't hard. Its the "being 40" that's hard.<br />
3. You can't save everyone but more importantly you can't feel responsible for saving anyone.<br />
2. Life is fragile and shouldn't be taken for granted.<br />
1. Helping young birds learn to fly hurts in the moment but is the right thing to do. <br />
<br />
So, I guess I'm back. Not everyday but back nonetheless.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-23441276685741654132012-10-22T11:07:00.000-04:002012-10-22T11:07:34.195-04:00If I Wrote Fortune CookiesI'm trying - really, I'm trying. I just can't seem to make this work. I have tons of opinions about everything that is happening around me, I just feel like I can't voice those opinions. I tried to come up with some small annoyance to rant on or some great accomplishment to share but I got nothin'. With all the major stuff that is happening, I just can't be bothered by the little things. So stay with me peeps. I am trying to come up with a way to share my opinions. I guess the best way to sum up all that is happening is with one of my favorite things - a top ten.<br />
<br />
My Top Ten Words of Wisdom<br />
<br />
10) Money can buy happiness - or at least everything else you need.<br />
9) It doesn't matter if the glass is half full or half empty if you spill it.<br />
8) There always comes a point where you need to move on.<br />
7) Secrets are meant to be kept.<br />
6) Fake it till you make it can be exhausting if you never make it.<br />
5) You can't always kill them with kindness. <br />
4) Whether you like it or not, things change.<br />
3) Take it one day at a time - sometimes one hour at a time.<br />
2) Listen to yourself. You know more than you think.<br />
1) Drama will happen, you don't need to create it.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-24509212722791370322012-10-14T20:43:00.000-04:002012-10-14T20:45:30.469-04:00We Interrupt Your Day for this Not So Important MessageAccording to my husband, I have been neglecting my blog. I have to admit that this is true. I want to say there is good reason for this but there really is not. Since my daughter left for college, I have been through a sort of depression. It wasn't my normal depression. I didn't sleep all day and spend my waking hours crying and staring at the television. No. This time it totally caught me off guard because it manifested itself differently. I became obsessed with my online shop and could think of nor do much of anything else. I made lots of jewelry and marketed a lot. I even sold my first piece that didn't go to a friend or family member. But the catch here is I closed out the entire world and secluded myself away. I didn't care about much else. I did the minimum to get by. I missed my baby girl. And now I am aware of that and trying my best to change that. I am trying my best to figure out just how life is supposed to be now. Things are changing. Things HAVE changed. And they just keep changing. Things have happened that I'm not sure I want to talk about here in public. I mean, don't get my wrong. I love all my blog readers but there are things that have been happened that are not mine to divulge yet they affect me in a major way. Because of that, I am not sure what to do. Do I break confidence or risk betrayal just to include everything honestly in my writing or do I stick to what is happening to me directly and keep what is happening to those around me and who are important in my life the secret I am sure it should be? I am trying to get back to normal. I have been reading again as well as posting in my book review blog. I have written a few letters. I should call some people that I promised to call and do lunch with but I'm just not up to it yet. I was going to volunteer but that didn't work out. I tried to tell one place that I was interested in volunteering. They gave me a pamphlet and told me to call a phone number. What do you mean here's a pamphlet, call the number? I'm standing right here in your facility. So I kind of gave up on that. I am feeling a little worthless right now. Mostly because I am not bringing in any money. For some reason that makes me feel worthless. That and the rental house that we own but can't live in because of me is sitting empty and sucking our bank account dry. Another thing that I feel is my fault. My hubby says its nobody's fault but then why do I feel like crap about everything. I am hoping to be able to figure out how to continue my blog while being depressed and maintaining confidentiality. So please forgive me for neglecting you and I hope that you will hear from me again soon.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-26846877867944156532012-08-31T14:53:00.002-04:002012-08-31T14:56:45.910-04:00When I Grow Up, I Want to be an Insurance AgencyMan what a week! I thought "Oh this week is gonna go so slow with the kid gone off to college" but it was anything but slow. I wanted a distraction and boy did I get one. The main focus of the week was Monday when I was innocently sitting at a red light and WHAM! got hit hard from behind. I got out of my only-a-year-old SUV yelling "What the hell?" to find a very apologetic and scared high school boy. He was so young he still had braces! I took one look at him and thought of my daughter. How would I want someone to treat my daughter if this happened to her. So I calmed down and told him to follow me to a nearby parking lot where we could exchange information. He was standing in the rain trying to write his name and address. It was sad. So I invited him to come sit in my car. He just kept repeating "Oh my God!" It was actually kind of humorous. (The panic not the damage to my vehicle) He tells me how his tires are so bald and didn't work and he can't believe how nice I was being about the whole thing. I assured him that things happen and what's done is done, no use being mad over something you can't go back in time and change. He had to call his mom to get the policy number. He was just so young. Once we had exchanged information. He went on his way and so did I. I went on my way to the Kroger. This seemed to upset my hubby a little bit. Apparently when you have an accident you are not supposed to carry on with your life. You are to immediately report home, call insurance and stay put. Until what? I don't know. But as with every other accident I have had I continued on to where I was going. I needed tape. Having an accident didn't change that fact. (Oh, and it was lunch time so I grabbed some lunch at a local fast food window) Once home I immediately called my insurance. I tried to do that from my cell phone but it was a touch tone menu and apparently my cell phone doesn't have touch tone. It can play Ke$ha when my daughter calls me but it can't beep so that I choose number 1. Go figure. Anyway, the insurance tells me that I have two options. I can 1) call the other driver's insurance and do everything myself, or 2) pay a $500 deductible to have them handle it for me. What?!?!? They said they will try to get that money back from the other driver's insurance and reimburse me for the $500 but I thought a deductible was what you paid when it was your fault that there was an accident. I have had three previous accidents. Two weren't reported due to circumstances beyond my control and one was a "no fault" in a parking lot fender bender. I had to pay my deductible then but my insurance was paying for the repairs. I guess I just don't understand why I have to front the deductible when the other driver fully admits fault. What if I didn't have that money to spare? I'd be screwed. I'd be stuck handling everything myself. In which case, what the hell do I have insurance for? I pay them a hefty sum every six months to do potentially nothing? I don't get it. I'm thinking maybe I need to go into the insurance business. Collect a couple hundred twice a year and tell people they have to pay me more when they are hit or I won't do anything. Sounds like a nice free ride to me. The adjuster even had a fancy name for it. Subjegation or something like that. Just in case you were wondering that is actually pronounced "bull-shit". Maybe I don't have enough accidents to know that this is the way insurance works all the time but seems rather fishy to me whether its just my company or the industry as a whole. I won't name names or point fingers here but if this sounds a bit off to you and you want to know the name of my company, feel free to comment and I will share the name of this entity which is performing questionable procedures with you. I'm nice like that. Just ask the boy who hit me.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-32646683567472032822012-08-22T19:54:00.003-04:002012-08-22T20:00:14.997-04:00And Then, There Were TwoI did it. I drove my daughter to University and left her there. omg! I can't believe that I actually did this. I am a bit numb at this point. I have to admit that I cried but I was lucky enough to be able to hold that in until we got to the car. I wanted to turn around and go back the entire way home. But I didn't. I did it. She texted numerous times while we were returning to Suburbia saying how she missed us and I just couldn't express with words just how much I missed her too. I had to be strong. I didn't want to be. I wanted to say "Do you want mommy to come back and get you?" But I didn't. I assured her that she will do well, she will succeed and she will be okay. It feels like someone has ripped my heart out and tossed it aside. I am spent. I didn't sleep at all last night and with good reason. I didn't want to sleep. I just wanted to sit and watch my baby sleep. Creepy, yes. Sappy, yes. Did I do it, no. But I wanted to. We spent the day with her - setting up her room, picking up her books, getting her post box set up, but when it came time to leave - we left. There were parents who didn't. There were parents who lingered and stayed simply because the college can't kick them out. But we did what was right. We left. It was what we were supposed to do as parents. We weren't supposed to hang out and make it harder on her. We weren't supposed to stay and get in the way. We weren't supposed to make other students sad that their parents had left and jealous that we had stayed as some did. We left. And now we are here. Here at home. And it just isn't the same. It will never be the same again. She will always be my baby girl but now she is an adult. I am the parent of an adult child. Wow. So that leads me to - me. Now what? It will be hard tomorrow when Hubby returns to work and I am here all alone. No kid to drive to work or pick up from work. No child centered errands to run. No evening of hearing about the perils of the daycare toddler-keeper. It will be hard when I come across things - a book left here, a water bottle left there - all reminding me that she's no longer here. I will probably cry more. But then I will smile because I know that she is doing what needs to be done. She is going for her goal. She is making me proud.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-23825773927420332082012-08-08T21:39:00.001-04:002012-08-08T21:44:30.381-04:00I'm QuirkyMe and I Approve This MessageI can't believe what transpired this afternoon. I was just sitting around on facebook looking at my newsfeed when another bit of political "humor" appeared. The person (at the time, a friend) who posted the picture had been posting things similar to this for days if not weeks. It was bashing the candidate that they are against. Not my cup of tea but if that's the way you want to express yourself, who am I to judge. The problem arose when a friend of mine made a comment stating her opposing opinion. Said person immediately began an argument with her. She continued bashing the opposition calling the candidate an "idiot". I agreed with the commenter so I "liked" her comment. They went back and forth again. I "liked" the commenter's comment again. She had valid points. The conversation quickly took a nasty turn but only on one side. The person who posted the picture was belittling and accusing and many other not-so-nice things. I was appalled. This person who I thought was a friend, was verbally attacking another friend - a friend I agreed with. I have never seen cyber-bullying before but I definitely witnessed it today. The attacker's friend joined in and together they tag teamed my friend until she was at a loss for words. She stood her ground as best she could but the harassment was just too much. She tried numerous times to politely end the conversation but those two mocked her until she felt compelled to speak up for herself again. Eventually it ended and my friend (the commenter) realized that the attacker had blocked her and deleted her as a friend. Then I realized that she had done the same to me. Guilty by association I guess. I don't know. All I know is these were grown women. When I think of cyber-bullying, I tend to think teens but now I know better. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and agreeing to disagree (as my friend had suggested) is a means not of backing down and admitting you are wrong but respecting another's opinion. These people had their opinion and everyone else was wrong. What happened to freedom of speech and freedom of choice. There are other opinions than yours out there and it is rude to think otherwise. I am still in shock as to what happened. To unfriend someone over their political opinions. Hello, I was reading your political crap for weeks before this whole incident. And what happened to supporting the candidate that you want to win instead of just bashing the one you don't like. I just don't understand hate. I will not hate this woman because of what she did. It confuses me and baffles me but I will not hate her. Judgement is something I leave to my God. It is God's place to be the one to judge not me. All I know is I won't hate her but I won't tolerate her bullying either. Bullying has no place in this world. Find another way to feed your desire for power. If its this bad with grown adults, I can't even begin to know what teens and children deal with. And for them there is often no way to unfriend someone. They often have to deal with their bullies every day, day after day. So if you are being bullied know that it is not right. Speak up and speak out. Tell someone. Even adults bully and get bullied. You are not alone.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-42849591298009535642012-08-08T14:44:00.000-04:002012-08-08T14:46:08.503-04:00On My Own, Pretending You're Beside MeSo, its two weeks until The Kid moves into her new dorm and her new life at University. I know that this is about her, but I also need to be concious that it is about me too. Yes, it is a big change in her life but it is a big change in mine also. We have been best buds, partners in crime, twinsies for the last 18 years. All of that is gonna change in two weeks. I know that I have to let her go. I will let her go. It will pain me and sadden me but I will let her go. The moving her in and the leaving her there will be hard but I can numb myself through that process. What will be hard is the coming home. There will be no more kid in the house. It'll just be me and Hubby. That is a strange concept. See, Hubby and I started dating and were married within a year. About a month before our first anniversary, The Kid came along. We barely had time to ever be a couple. What if we don't function well that way? What if The Kid is the glue that holds us together? What if everything begins to unravel? What am I going to do with myself now that I'm no longer at 24/7 active presence mom? The last time I went through a major life change if you don't count quitting two jobs was when we bought the house. We all remember what happened when we bought the house. I had a nervous breakdown. I ended up in the psych. ward at the hospital. I don't want that to happen again. I especially don't want it to happen this time as The Kid will think it is her fault when its not. Its just me. I can't deal with major change that easily. It has already started happening. I've noticed I am crankier. I've noticed that I'm not sleeping as well. I've noticed that I am taking more and more of my tranquilizing meds. This is not good. My therapist seems to think that I am doing well and that I am handling things in my life very well. I put on a good show don't I? She doesn't know the true me. I find myself telling her what I think she wants to hear when I am there. We never really talk about problems. We talk about what is going on in my life and I emphasize the good and don't bring up the bad. I don't tell her that I've taken to gagging a lot due to the stress. Almost throwing up seems to be my body's way of dealing with this impending doom. See just the fact that I referred to it as impending doom just goes to show how I am viewing this whole thing. So if there are any empty-nesters out there who have gone through this and are willing to share some advice, I am open to listening. And for the record, my therapist has already told me the I may want to get another job or start volunteering once The Kid leaves but I just don't feel like that is going to fill the void her leaving will cause. It would be like taking an empty can of coke and filling it with water. You've filled it. Its full. Its just not right though. The water just doesn't fit in the place of the coke. I know it has to happen. I know I will live through it. I just don't know how.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-16808995344322106442012-08-03T13:49:00.002-04:002012-08-03T14:03:39.673-04:00Insert Jeopardy Theme Music HereI am sitting and waiting. God I hate waiting. I am waiting for some woman to call me back. Waiting for a phone call. Quite possibly the worst kind of waiting. I also hate health insurance red tape and snooty doctor's office employees. I would say that I hate health insurance but they keep things from costing like a million dollars so I don't hate them, I just hate their red tape. Let me start at the beginning. My daughter went to see a specialist who wanted to refer her to another specialist. So after much schedule juggling (they told me initially that they couldn't get her in before she left for school), we went to see this other specialist on Wednesday. We sat in the office for about 45 minutes just to have a woman come out and tell us that she couldn't be seen because they didn't have a referral. Even though when I scheduled the appointment, I asked the person if they had the referral and she said yes. Then the woman changed her story and said well we didn't have the right kind of referral and that it had to be from her PCP anyway. So we drove to the PCP's office and stood there while they made the referral. I also asked them to call and make me another appointment to avoid being told again that they couldn't get her in before she left for school. They made the appointment for the next day because like the other specialist, the PCP thought she should see the new specialist right away. So, Thursday we go to the new specialist again. When I get there to check in and give my daughter's name, the same woman from the day before jumps up and literally runs over with our file to state that we still don't have the right kind of referral. I said that we got one from the PCP and she said it still wasn't right. I stated that we stood there while they did it and I didn't know what more to do. Then this nice lady offered to call the PCP's office and explain to them what was needed. She came back and assured me that Lori at the PCP's office would be calling me but that we couldn't see the new specialist until after Lori had called because then it would be covered by our insurance. I asked if I would have trouble rescheduling before my daughter left for school and she said that her name was Kathy and I was to ask for her when I called if there was any trouble. So I waited all day yesterday for this Lori to call. I waited all through this morning for Lori to call. Lori never called. So at 11 am I took it upon myself to call insurance. They said that the referral was good as of Thursday afternoon and that we were good to go see the new specialist. So I called the new specialist's office and was told she can't have an appointment until the end of September. I told the woman on the phone that I was told to ask for Kathy if there was a problem with the scheduling. She said maybe I meant Chris and I said no, I mean Kathy and she said well Kathy is out to lunch right now but can I take your name and number and have her call you back? I gave her my name and number. Its 1 pm. Apparently they take really long lunches at that office because she still hasn't called me back. Oh and did I mention that the PCP is on vacation next week so its not like his office will be able to help me get an appointment. This whole thing is just one big mess. My hubby already called his HR department to find out if we could switch to a PPO (where you choose your doctors and specialists, it just costs more) instead of our HMO especially since our daughter will be going away to college and won't have access to her PCP to get referrals and such. They said that moving to college was not a life change so we would have to wait until the next calendar year to switch to the PPO. They said that if she were a spouse who was going from part-time emplyment to full-time employment or vice-versa that those circumstances are considered a life change but not moving to another state away from your family (and PCP). That's not a life change at all. Whatever. So I wait. I hate waiting. She's not going to call is she? She is never going to call and I am going to have to call them back again and go through the whole process over again. Have a nice vacation PCP. I'll just be here waiting. Have a great three hour lunch Kathy. I'll just be here waiting. Have control over my life health insurance company. I'll just be here waiting. No. I'm not waiting anymore. I'm calling again because if you want something done, you have to be forceful and push or people just walk all over you or forget about you. That's it. I'm calling again. No more waiting for me. . . . Ok, I'm back. I got an appointment and she said that I needed to call my insurance to have them fax the referral approval to the new specialist's office. I called insurance. They don't do that. They said they do things electronically and that I would have to call the PCP's office to get that done. I called the PCP's office and they said they are doing it. I will call back to the new specialist's office to confirm that they have it on Monday. Good Lord! Finally, all my ducks are in a row. Thank you ducks. Thank you for finally lining up even though getting you there was more difficult than herding cats. Don't ask where I got that comparison from. It's been a long week. At least I'm done waiting :)quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-90198811024051141922012-08-01T09:16:00.000-04:002012-08-01T09:16:40.483-04:00Score Another Point for InsanityIts Olympic time - that time once every two or four years (depending on if you watch both the summer and the winter games) when everyone bonds as Americans over living vicariously through people who are much more dedicated, talented and fit then most of us will ever be. When I watch the Olympics, I experience something that I'm pretty sure most of you, if not all of you, do not experience. I wait for someone to possibly mention my name. I don't know why. I don't know any of the athletes remotely let alone personally. They have no reason to mention my name. But when they are thanking people that have had an impact on their lives, I wonder if somehow, without realizing it, it may have been me. Silly I know but I do the same thing with the Oscars and the Tonys. Its a little different there though. See when they say "and the winner is . . . " I have a flash that "hey, it could be me". I'm not nominated or even an actress but yet there is a part of me that thinks - eh, stranger things. Then, when I don't win, I wonder if the person who did win will thank me. Not even thank me as much as mention me. Ludicris, I know, but that's the way my brain works. Its not self-centered as you might think. It is actually, I believe, my OCD. See when you have OCD you are often convinced that something has happened or could have happened even though you know it hasn't and didn't. Like take driving for instance. Sometimes I think I may have run over something. Then instantly my brain thinks it may have been an animal and now it is hurt and needs my help. So I loop the block to check. No animal in the road. Then I am convinced that it may have crawled off injured and be alongside of the road. So I loop the block again. This can continue on for an unlimited number of times. I draw the line at getting out of my car to search for the animal but it takes a lot of effort to draw that line. I am very proud of that line. It lets me know that there is a chance that I have control and may some day with lots of therapy and meds be a semi-normal person. But the point here is, I didn't hit anything but I think that it may have happened and I may have missed it. Just like I think I may have had some encounter with an athlete or actor in the grocery store or somewhere just as mundane and that that moment has somehow stuck with this person enough that they can't forget to mention me with all of their coaches, families and God. I actually do know some people who are actors and maybe someday one of them will win an award and I will have an actual shot at being mentioned but the odds are against it. Unless they happed to be reading this in which case you now know what it would mean to me and you should add me to your list of people to thank or I will be pissed. Anyway, the Olympics are fun to watch even if nobody mentions me. Go USA!quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-34406333973999969132012-07-29T12:28:00.000-04:002012-07-29T12:33:34.594-04:00Sam's Club, Celtic Tradition and Malfunctioning PantsYesterday I went to the celtic festival in Downtown and it was pretty fun. At first I didn't want to go, my mind being all "there will be a million people there all out to get you by judging you to death." But I stifled that internal voice and went anyway - after taking some wonderful calming drugs. With the drugs I was all "I like their knots so why not." Then I laughed for about five minutes because of my punny use of the word knot/not and because of those wonderful drugs. So anyway, we went and walked around and I purchased a nice pair of earrings that I won't be able to wear for like 6 months because I just got my ears repierced and I'm a rule follower. We were about to leave when I spotted the chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick booth. I'm pretty sure a light shone down from heaven onto it while choirs of angels began to sing. I indulged and now I know that the celtic people are out to make me fat. I didn't enter the calories for it on my lose weight app. In fact, I haven't entered anything since our mini-vacation to Hometown. I also haven't ventured onto a scale since before that event. There was way too much eating without thinking while we were on our mini-vaca so I abandoned my fat tracking for wanton eating. Which is similar to wonton eating because both are delicious and not so good for your waistline. But I think my waistline may be shrinking because my pants are loose and falling down. I'm serious. I feel like a teenage boy who thinks they are cool but not really because I believe in belts as opposed to showing the world my undies. But I don't really believe that I am losing that much weight that my pants are loose and falling down. I am convinced that this is a malfunction of said pants. How pants go from fitting to magically malfunctioning is beyond me but mine are totally malfunctioning. All of my pants. How can I be expected to function like a normal person with malfunctioning pants. I would go shopping for new pants but that would just be because I love shopping and find that it gives meaning to my life rather than actually buying new fitting pants that will no longer fit once I eat another chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick and one fourth of a half gallon of ice cream. It was called Skinny Minty and is supposed to be low calorie ice cream but I doubt that means you are supposed to eat it in bulk straight out of the carton. I have also been consuming large amounts of Combos as of late. That is not my fault either. It is the fault of Sam's Club. Actually, it is the fault of my dad for taking me to Sam's Club but that totally cannot be true because my daddy can do no wrong. He's my daddy. I am such a daddy's girl. Sometimes I think my mom gets upset that I call myself a daddy's girl but that's just the way it is. Maybe my daddy can take me to Sam's Club for some new pants. Ooooo and then we could get that yummy ice cream on the way out! Sounds like a plan :) <br />
P.S. I am surprised they let me into the Sam's Club but I will save that for my next post.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-77889221679925653482012-07-15T15:21:00.002-04:002012-07-15T15:24:05.879-04:00"Meat" Me at the SteakhouseI was once a vegetarian. I was for many, many years. I was the girl at the family reunion that was stuck eating sauerkraut on a bun because the hot dogs and the fried chicken grossed her out. Even though now I am not a vegetarian, I think I am still quite sensitive to the subject. See, I want to know what great interior designer thought "Hmmmm . . . steakhouse . . . let's put the animals they are serving up on the wall." I know that some people . . . mostly hunters would be my guess . . . think that taxidermy is an acceptable form of art. I'm not going to be the one to argue that. Whatever you want to put in your home is your prerogative. I'm the daughter of an avid hunter so Iaccept that some people enjoy hunting. I personally don't understand it. I know there are arguements about keeping populations under control and I understand that but that doesn't mean I have to like it. That said, I just don't get the appeal of having cows and such stare at you as you eat their distant cousins. Kind of gross if you ask me. And why is the poor cow the only one that seems to be acceptable. There are never taxidermy specimins of pigs or chickens at these restaurants. It's not like we hunt cows. They meet (lol! I accidentally spelled that as "meat" at first) their end the same way the chickens and pigs do. There is a place where we go to eat that has pictures of pigs and chickens on the shirts of the waiters and waitresses. I still find that disgusting. Its a tad more tolerable but not much. When I eat meat, I prefer not to think about where it comes from. I wish I could go vegetarian again but with all my food allergies and such, it would be so hard. I don't need to become anemic again. I don't want to feel like I'm offending the hostess when I don't eat at a party. Its just too hard. So in the meantime, I will avoid chicken and fish because they blatently state the name of the animal and that can be too tough for me. I will ask to be seated away from the offended glare of the taxidermy cow at the steakhouse. I will do my best to be animal friendly. Except for beef. And turkey on Thanksgiving. Oooo and bacon. Everything is better with bacon.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-19862457242165075742012-07-13T15:44:00.001-04:002012-07-13T15:45:32.858-04:00Six Pounds of HappinessI'm here again to keep everyone updated on . . . well . . . everything. The girl that went missing from Far Away has been found. I don't know much beyond that she is back home and says she is fine. The man she was with, whether voluntarily or not, has been arrested. He wasn't dumb. He didn't take her across state lines so that it wouldn't be a federal issue. But she's home and that's what is important. Now hopefully child services in Far Away will get on the ball and put her someplace where she will be monitored and supervised better than she has been before. As for the home business, I am learning tons. See apparently the site I am using to sell my wares is kind of like a cult for some people. These are the people who have thousands of views of their items. They join teams and promote each others work whether they like it or not. I'm not really down with that. I've join a few teams to promote my stuff and to help others promote their items that I like but I'm not going to blindly promote someone just because they are in my group. They also have these, for lack of a better term, buying trains. They make groups within the teams and all buy off of each other. Good because you sell stuff but bad because it is going someplace where it may not be appreciated. I would rather know that my stuff is going to a good home than to sell just for the sake of selling. There are codes and names for stuff and cliques and all kinds of stuff. Its a little scary to be honest. Some people really get into it. I have benefited from learning about these games, clubs and abbreviations but I have to draw the line somehwere or I will go crazy and be on the computer all the time. Not something that I really desire. Something I do desire however at the moment is dinner. Yeah, its only 3:30 but I am soooooo hungry. Hubby and I have been doing this calorie counting app and it seems to be working. After three weeks of doing it, I got on the scale and was 6 pounds lighter. Yay me! The problem now is that I am convinced it was a fluke and I am afraid to get on the scale again and see that I am right back where I started. Don't think I could handle that. Oh, and the lady who took over for me at my old job called me twice yesterday to ask me basic beginner office type questions that she should have been able to figure out on her own. Oh well, maybe they'll realize what they had now that its gone. I will no longer be answering the phone when private caller numbers call. It could be her asking me what to do when her pen runs out of ink. Lol! Really. They were that level of question. I swear. So, to recap - one girl home, one girl skinnier, and one girl lost in officeland. Got to go. Hubby is home and that means I can eat dinner. Yes, I know that dinner at 4 p.m. means I should be over the age of 70 but I don't care. See ya later!quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-40519175828212563402012-07-06T10:36:00.002-04:002012-07-06T10:38:06.829-04:00Teleportation - Oh, How I Long for TheeYay! We are getting visitors! My cousin and his wife are coming out near Suburbia for a concert and he contacted me to ask if we wanted to have breakfast on Monday. Of course we want to have breakfast on Monday. We love having people come out here to visit us especially from Hometown. See, in case you haven't been along for the whole big blog ride, Suburbia and Hometown are about five to five and a half hours apart. Apparently this is a vast travel nightmare to most people. My parents come out about once a year and Hubby's parents come out a few times a year but that's about it (with the exception on major life events like a graduation or something). Meanwhile we are expected to visit Hometown four or five times a year. I understand that we do not have a spare room for people to stay in if they come but when we come to Hometown we don't have anywhere to stay either. Due to allergies, we have to stay in a hotel which adds up quickly. All I know is that the road isn't any shorter coming from Suburbia to Hometown than it is from Hometown to Suburbia. But Monday morning we will visit with family on our own turf and it feels awesome! I'm proud of where I live. I want my family and friends to see it. The area has a lot to offer with museums, amusement parks, concerts and other performances, etc. It'll be interesting to see what will happen this Thanksgiving. See my daughter will be two to three hours away at University and we will have to drive out there and back Tuesday or Wednesday before Thanksgiving on Thursday. She has to be back the following Monday. The dilemma lies in that University and Hometown are in opposite directions from Suburbia. The Kid has a late class on Tuesday evening so we most likely won't be able to pick her up until Wednesday which would leave us driving somewhere around ten hours on Wednesday to get to University and then Hometown. There also would be no time for The Kid to spend even a moment at home in Suburbia. Call me selfish but that is just too much to ask of me. We are going to have to stay home this Thanksgiving which is not going to go over well with anyone back in Hometown. Maybe I should have Thanksgiving out here in Suburbia. I could invite my parents and my brother and his family but I doubt they would come. Where would I put everyone anyway. So it looks like it will be a Thanksgiving for three here at Casa de Us. We have done it before. Once when I had my gallbladder removed and once when we had the copper pipes stolen from the house we own/rent out. We'll live. I just need some ideas of new traditions we can start to do with just us. I'll make it work. I always do. If not, I wouldn't be a mom.quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3267523446927794504.post-85672249597074284182012-07-02T10:00:00.000-04:002012-07-02T10:06:45.777-04:00What a Weekend!Things I have learned this weekend:<br />
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10) My daughter is addicted to reruns of Grey's Anatomy.<br />
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9) I don't wish that I was young again. I just wish I posessed the same potential I did when I was younger.<br />
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8) Getting healthy isn't a punishment - its a wonderful, hopefully achievable, goal.<br />
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7) I like walking downtown in major cities - even though they can sometimes smell like poo.<br />
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6) I am severely addicted to Powerade Zero. <br />
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5) It is possible to sleep without the air cleaner, fan, air conditioner, night light and television on. Not well, but possible.<br />
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4) Don't read Dean Koontz when the power goes out.<br />
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3) Cirque du Soliel is even more amazing in person. Everyone should see it at some point in their lives and now I can cross it off my bucket list.<br />
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2) Skateboarding dogs are even funnier in person. I can also cross this off my bucket list.<br />
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1) I am obsessed with death. Big time!quirky mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06543317065254592535noreply@blogger.com0