Sandy Toes, Salty Kisses, and Butt Support of the American Revolution

I 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. 

Winter 2015 Sponsored by Disney -or- I wanna Have Oprah's Butt

I 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.

It Ain't Alcatraz

First 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.

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better -or- How Delusional Thou Art

I 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 . . .

If 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.

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.

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!

Oh 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.

Guess 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.

10. Hugh Jackman is real.  Woverine is not.  I will never have a shot at either of them.
9.   Disney is the happiest place on earth.
8.   Projects help you focus and keep your sanity.
7.   Moleskin is a lifesaving invention.
6.   It is possible to be so manipulative that you unknowingly manipulate yourself.
5.   Everyone needs dreams and goals in life.
4.   Turning 40 isn't hard. Its the "being 40" that's hard.
3.   You can't save everyone but more importantly you can't feel responsible for saving anyone.
2.   Life is fragile and shouldn't be taken for granted.
1.   Helping young birds learn to fly hurts in the moment but is the right thing to do. 

So, I guess I'm back.  Not everyday but back nonetheless.