All Over the Place

Maybe not really, but it sure feels like that today!

This morning, Callie had to go to the vet for her annual checkup. Being a big, nearly nine year old cat, she's in good health. It's always so hard to take Callie to the vet. And it's not about getting an 18 lbs cat into a tiny cage, but that she mews the whole way. And she mews in two pitiful syllables that sound rather distinctly like my name. But I was also able to find out that we've got the cats on a rather good food. We're feeding them a special Indoor formula Cat Chow, and the doctor said low in protein is good for older, less active cats. I could go lower in protein, but this is a pretty good number. Good! Changing a cat's food is a pain! And I think she's already forgiven me for her morning ordeal.

I do regret that one day I will move away and have to find another doctor for my kitties. We've been taking our animals to the Brandywine Animal Hospital for as long as we've had them. I even worked there my last year of high school. That was by far the best job I'd ever had.

The rest of the day was shopping and lots of it! I got a memory foam mattress topper for my bed (maybe it will help) and the Planet Earth series on DVD ($20 cheaper than their website, I might add).

This evening is not a home to myself night. VARF is over and dad will now be home most Saturdays while mom is visiting her mother. It's ok, tonight, I plan to sit at the table out back and start building my puppet. There's no threat of thunderstorms, so I don't have to worry about getting drenched mid-construction. I still need to find something to dye the fleece in, and some place to put it while it dries. Hmmm....

Well, better get to work. I hope everyone had a great, low-humidity Saturday!

And this concludes the 500th blog entry!

Something

Yesterday, I resolved an e-mail that came in to the box that I have to answer. The problem was that the checks had the wrong attention on them, they were going to C/O WPCA and they needed to go to the Finance Department. This is a simple, easy change to make in the database. The merchant who sent the e-mail said and I am copying right from the e-mail, "It is causing considerable angst for many here when addressed to WPCA." Do you see that, "considerable angst?" Angst, being a feeling of anxiety, apprehension, or insecurity. Calm down, people! It's ok, I can fix it! Take several deep breaths. It's not worth you getting all stressed out over!

That's it. Deep, calming breaths. Whew! Talk about drama! I'm so glad my office isn't that high strung that a little mistake causes "considerable angst." Wow!

Ok, so I know my Boise vacation is in less than a month, but I still have eighteen work days between now an then (including today because it's just getting started). Soon, soon.

I don't have much to talk about today. We haven't been kayaking this year as much as previous years. Oh, I get to buy tickets for Transformers tomorrow.

I think I don't have a lot so say because I'm feeling particularly tired. I guess I didn't sleep as well as I thought I did. Maybe I'll have more to talk about later!

The Irony

While I was out this weekend, I mentioned that my ankle still hurt. Remember when I injured it in the kayak on Memorial Day? It still causes pain. Quite a lot of pain. The longer I stand or walk on hard surfaces, or the harder I put my foot down, the more pain it is. It hurts if I lightly touch the still visibly bruised area. Fae observed that I might have actually broken something if it still hurts like that after a month.

After Saturday of walking all day on the hard festival pavement (PARF is paved, where all others I've been to are not), my ankle just throbbed. I'm starting to believe she may be right.

This is almost exactly what happened when I broke the fifth metatarsal in my right foot in 1991. The act of injury hurt, but after that, it only hurt when I pressed on it. I was young, and so I lied. I told everyone it hurt a lot, and my mother took me to a podiatrist. I remember thinking "uh-oh, they're going to find out I'm faking!" No one was more surprised than me to find it broken! This is just like that (except I'm not pretending that it hurts more than it does, I've long grown out of that common child affliction!).

I've been trying to get an appointment with a podiatrist or orthopedic doctor just to get checked out, make sure it's really not broken, that kind of thing. This is proving to be an impossible task. Every single office in my area is booked for some three weeks. By that time, if there actually was a fracture, it'd be pointless to go because it would have healed on its own by then.

It's ironic that I'm actually trying to see a doctor, she who avoids doctors as much as possible, and they are just not available. I guess I need to find a more rigid brace and hope it heals itself.

So, does anyone have any advice on how to deal with a month-old injury just above the medial malleolus that could be broken, but I'll never know?

Hazy, Hot, and Humid

While driving through Walney this morning, I looked down the hill towards the little creek, now totally obscured by the verdant canopy of lower leaves. The upper leaves of the towering trees were much thinner and I could see the sun glowing through them. The light of dawn illuminated the haze of humidity that hung above that lower canopy, making it sparkle like gold dust floating in the air.

Good morning!

Major Party Time!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

One of the things on the to-do list of our day at Celtic Fling was to let dad pick something to be his birthday present. It could be a decently large item, because mom would go halves with me on it. Dad decided he wanted a puppet. I have one of a similar style; it's a dragon that sits on your shoulder, and you can operate a cable that controls the movement of the head. They're extremely cute and as lifelike as a dragon puppet can be.

The dragon that dad picked out was a little on the pricey side, and dad got very depressed to learn this. So was I. I let him down. The thing he picked out was out of my range.

There were three puppet makers in this shop, and occasionally one of them asked if we needed help. I would explain that I was a little upset because what my dad wanted was out of my range, and we were waiting to see if he could pick something a little less expensive. The thing about these puppets, though, is that they really choose you. Substituting is not always easy or possible.

Now, I know we're getting all depressed over a toy, but birthdays are about what makes you happy. Toys make me happy, toys make my father happy. We're very similar people!

One of the puppet makers asked if I needed some help, and I said what I had been saying; hoping dad would find something more affordable. He asked which dragon dad was looking at and I showed him, while explaining it was to be a birthday present, but I just couldn't swing the price of the one he wanted. The puppet maker then offered to take 20% off the price, because it was to be a gift, and he could tell that dad was rather down about it. Even 20% was a little too high, but I agreed to it because he didn't have to do that, and dad got so happy at the prospect.

I didn't break the bank (but it came close), and dad (big kid that he is) got something he had been wanting that really made him happy. Happy birthday, dad!

Back to Work

Back to boredom. Back to....

I don't know. I'm tired. My ankle has been hurting a lot. It's been too hot to sleep. And I wish everyone would just go away.

It's days like this when I really hate being female.

So Good Being Home

The weather was great!

The traffic sucked greasy green canal water. But that's to be expected.

You know, it's very hard to find a place that serves breakfast in PA. It's equally hard to find a place that's open past 2300 for dinner too.

But the festival was fun! I don't go overboard on shopping. I got my dad a really fun birthday present. And we saw an awesome band of fiddlers, who could fiddle and step dance AT THE SAME TIME! It was amazing! You can check them out at www.celticspringband.com. I'm not that could with the violin, but I'm not even close to being able to dance and play. Wow! If they're ever in your area, they are definitely worth a show or more.

The day was long. We stayed to the bitter end. And then drove 30 miles starving to finally find a Friendly's that was open so we could eat and head back to the hotel.

Now, the cool thing about this hotel is that it featured the Sleep Number Bed. Oh, it was the best hotel sleep I've ever had. My sleep number is 25, by the way. I think I need a new mattress....

That's about it! The drive was long, but I got to take mom's CR-V, with cruise control. (purr).

I hope you all, dear blog readers, had a great weekend too!

Dashing

Hello, from the brotherly state of Pennsylvania! We're about to head out to the Celtic Fling and Highland Games. The weather is going to be great! Have a lovely day!

Uh-Oh, A Rant

I just read this article and I am appalled. I had heard of this happening, but frequently forgot to research further. I am just disgusted.

For those of you who don't feel like clicking my link, I'll give you the gist. The article discusses how people in the medical field will deny a patient certain medical care based on personal belief systems, and how there are groups for and against legislation that allows them to do this. We've heard about the pharmacists who won't fill prescriptions for the morning after pill or contraceptive, but we rarely hear about doctors refusing to prescribe them in the first place, and to add insult to injury, refusing to refer patients to someone who will.

You all should already know that I'm not very fond of doctors, especially the ones who refuse to treat me. I'm going to try to not sound too jumbled or repetitive here.

If I trusted doctors (in general), or perhaps I should say, when I find a physician I can trust, I will look to that person as an assistant in my health care. Assistant. Not in control of, not even with equal responsibility to myself. My personal health care assistant. How many of you out there have, or know someone who is, or are familiar with the position of a personal assistant? They mostly do things for you that you otherwise don't have the time to do, right? Keep track of appointments, lend their personal skills in things like typing or fielding phone calls. My doctor is like one of those people as it relates to my health care. I don't have the time or money to go through the vast amount of schooling myself, so I pay someone else to have that knowledge for me. I will listen to their expertise, after all, I pay them for it. I pay them so much, in fact, that I have to pay someone else to pay them for me because I can't do so out of pocket. My personal health care assistant is an employee of mine, someone hired by me to help me with those parts of my personal health that are not within my field of knowledge.

I do not, nor will I ever, go to a doctor for a lesson in morals or to have their religious views thrust upon me. And I don't sympathize for one minute the argument that the poor doctors should not be forced to provide care that they don't agree with. Wiccans, who's principal creed is also to do no harm, can and do still serve in the military (where, in case you're not on Planet Earth and don't know, an awful lot of harm is happening). Maybe they are compromising their beliefs, but I think it's justifiable for a greater cause. If you Wiccan's don't want your creed compromised, don't join the military. Consequently, if you anyone don't want to provide health care that you don't agree with but is otherwise legally acceptable, don't become a doctor.

The medical profession, to me, is one of those service positions (at least, I feel it should be). Service positions like teachers, police officers, fire fighters, politicians (don't get me started here!), and military. Positions that are, by their very nature, in service to other people. Really, most of us are in a job like that. I am at OBC. I think there's a problem when people get so caught up in their personal feelings that they stop doing their jobs.

I'm about ready to step down off my soap box, here. I'm going to part with my own little piece of advice. Take it as you will, because you know I still don't have a regular physician (one of the things that tends to happen when people are denied the care they seek). If you're in the market for a new doctor, or even are not sure of your current one, treat that first visit as a job interview. You interview the physician. You ask them questions that relate to how they will respond with your health needs. If you are not satisfied with their answers, take your insurance's money somewhere else. You are your own best advocate for your health. And if you are mistreated, or not treated, by the very people you trust to help keep you well, be vocal about it. All those people trying to make laws to protect the poor religious physicians need to hear from you.

That is all.

Finally Friday

Man, this day took forever to get here! Fox and Fae and dad and I are going to the Celtic Fling and Highland Games tomorrow. We're driving up to stay at a hotel tonight, and will head home on Sunday. It should be a nice day and two nights away. Don't worry, I'm not planning on spending a lot of money.

And I get to drive mom's CR-V. It might guzzle more gas than my Saturn, but it's good on long trips because of that cruise control thing. And the ton of room. And the 6-disk CD changer.

That's all I have in store. Nothing is special about today except that the time is just crawling! I'm so ready to get out of town for a weekend!

Yesterday, some strange man came to the house to inspect our air conditioning unit. Miss Luna hates strangers, so she bolted up the stairs and into her favorite hiding place, my closet. I finally heard her creeping down the stairs about an hour after the technician left. I followed her down, and when she noticed me coming, she tried to run back to the closet. I caught her and brought her all over the house. So she could see for herself that the stranger had gone, right? A little bit later, my dad had to go out to his car to get something. When he opened the door to come back in, Miss Luna high-tailed towards my closet again. Poor dad stood in the foyer saying "Luni, it's just me!" But Miss Luna wasn't hearing any of it. She had barricaded herself in the closet again. What a cat.

Callie's story for the day is not so interesting. She clawed the heck out of me for no reason. She was laying on the bed next to me, and I moved my hand, and she became attack kitty. I recovered the shreds of my fingers and calmed her down a bit. Maybe all the packing for the weekend made her nervous.

Happy Midsummer!

Or Summer Solstice, or Litha, or whatever you want to call it! Meteorologically, Summer's been in full swing for some weeks now, which is why I prefer to call this special day Midsummer, and also that A Midsummer Night's Dream was the first play I was ever in.

The director of that show was a wonderful, kind person. He gave people chances. He gave me a chance, having no previous acting experience when I got to high school. I played the part of Peaseblossom. I had wild ponytails and a high giggly voice.

I really don't have much to say about this production, other than that it was my first and what made this my favorite Shakespeare play, and the start of the reason I studied acting in college.

Get out and enjoy the sunshine, everyone!

I Would Like to Say a Few Words

Chalcedony, Thursday, Circadian, Anoraks, Fatuous, Estival

I am Boreder Than Bored!

I am so incredibly bored! Methinks my job is no longer mentally stimulating and has fallen to the point of annoying. Some every thirty seconds or so, I go searching for an interesting article to read or something. I'm just so bored.

It's not like there isn't enough work to

-- We interrupt this blog for breaking news (kinda)--
Oh, holy crap! I just got a call from my dad; his boss² is offering us free tickets to Cirque du Soleil in the Verizon Corporate box for this Saturday's 1500 performance of Delirium. Oh, that so totally sucks! We are already committed to Celtic Fling in PA this weekend (committed to the level of hotel rooms already secured). That sucks greasy green canal water!
-- We now return to our regularly scheduled blog, already in progress --

very worried. That's actually just the sound they make, but it sounded like a worried sound. On Sunday, though, the three alpacas they had brought were rather lively. In the morning anyway. There was a pretty brown one, and a white one, and a brown one with a white face. At one point, the white faced guy was busy gumming the plastic fencing. Did you know alpacas don't have any upper teeth? It's just a hard palate that they mash food against with their lower teeth. So, it probably felt good against his gums. Anyway, I held my hand out for him (gently with palm down) and he sniffed and licked my hand! And I got close enough to pet him! Alpacas tend to prefer to be rubbed on their long necks rather than the tops of their heads, though that little puff of hair looks very soft. For the record, they are very soft creatures. I want one!

Later, they were all laying down, chewing on hay. It was kind of cool, you could follow the swallow all the way down their neck. These guys are so cute!

Well, that's all I have for today. I'm still bored!

For Turtle

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

You're getting old, girl!

Happy Father's Day

I spent today at the last running day of the Virginia Renaissance Faire with Fox. We got to see the shows that my dad was in that we previously missed. He was holding the flag in the queen's entrance parade, and she walked by this magic show we were watching. I knew the performer from the MD festival, and told him before the show that my dad was part of the cast. So, since the parade runs by his show, he knew it would be interrupted. We all got up to bow to the parade, and as they approached, the magician said, "On the count of three, everyone say 'Hi, dad!' One, two, three." And and entire audience yelled "Hi, dad!" as he walked by with his flag. He tried not to laugh.

Later, he got me back by pointing me out to some of the people he works with: I got to play the fair maiden (in pirate costume and all!) in their Saint George and the Dragon masque for the queen. I was actually anticipating that, so it doesn't really count as a 'hi, dad' counter. But my dad did introduce me to the queen. And I was remembered by the queen a bit later in the day. Yup, I'm special!

The thing about my dad, and I've always known this really, is that he's very personable. He makes an impression on the people he comes across. He was quick to show me off to the people he was working with, and everyone would tell me what a wonderful guy he was. Of course, I knew that already. He's my dad. He annoys me quite a bit, probably because I still live with him. But I love my dad.

Happy Father's Day, dad! And thanks, Fox, for taking me all the way to Spotsylvania to see him.

I heard a really horrible and angering statistic today. If you are guilty of this, you should be ashamed. Today, I heard that the day upon which Father's Day falls is the one day of the entire year that sees the most collect calls above all other days. You people can't even spend money on a phone call for dad? If you're worried about cost, go get a card at the $1 store and mail it. Gees. If you're guilty of being a part of that statistic, hang your head in shame. You are a horrible person. You can't even foot the bill for one day to call up your dad and tell him you love and appreciate him, why bother at all? I'm appalled at each one of you guilty people. 'My gift to dad is to make him pay for my phone call.' It's disgusting.

I'm getting off the soap box now. It's way past my bedtime!

Not Much Today

Today saw a little bit of shopping (for vitamins and a mouse for mom's new laptop), yummy lunch at the Dutch Market, groceries at Trader Joe's, and a nap. My mother and I were going to try to see Fantastic Four today, but we napped a long time. I need to run by the craft store and the hardware store, so we'll head down there for that and dinner, and save the movie for next week.

I'm sorry I'm such a bore today!

Oh! Maybe you can help me!

I bought an instruction-less kit on e-Bay for building a hand puppet. Don't be alarmed, I knew there were no instructions. With my previous creative skills in doll-making and sculpture, and the numerous websites with blogs and tips on the Internet, I'm not concerned. It looks pretty intuitive anyway. My problem is that I have absolutely no idea what color to dye the Antron fleece (commonly called Muppet fleece) that will serve as the 'skin' of my figure.

See, they recommend using a figure that is very unlike yourself. This guideline doesn't work for everyone, which is why it's not a rule. I already know my figure will be a little monster. Last week at the fabric store, I bought a yard of really need electric blue 'fur' and some brown 'fur.' It would be nice to get a skin color that I could use with this fur fabric, or I could skip the fleece altogether and cover the foam in fur. Or I could hold on to the fur for a later project, so I don't have to be bound by those colors.

Right, about the colors. Purple is my favorite, so I could make it purple. But would it be light like lavender or dark like royal. But then, I also like green. And blue. But I know I don't want to use yellow or red. Oh, the choices!

Maybe I can post some pictures and take you through my learning to build process! I've got a little time before I need to dye the fleece.

Gotta Say it Somewhere

I just wrote two checks. As soon as these two checks arrive at their destination and get processed, I will be 100% totally and completely credit debt free!

And there was much rejoicing.

There's also a new chapter up in the Secret Bookcase for those of you who've been wondering what happened!

I CANNOT Concentrate Today!

Nothing further happened with WAM and the lights yesterday. Boss² told Pat to try not to be confrontational and just feel sorry for her because she's wacko. Pat said if WAM came in early enough to mess with the lights again, he would pull rank (something he's never done) and tell her to leave until her 0700 start time. Then he said "What is she going to do, beat me up? Call her mother and tell on me again?" I was laughing so hard!

But that's not why I'm finding it impossible to concentrate today. I just learned, first think in the morning too, that my very dear and best friends might be visiting me at the end of October! Hold your ears...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Oh, I haven't done that in forever!

Ok, so if that is when they decide to come, I'll have to use every single free minute to clean up the house (it needs it) and then we can get a nicer bed, and use that closet and....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Sorry, another one!

And then I can take them to Luray, and down town, and kayaking, and to Annapolis, and Baltimore, and maybe there will be time to head to Salem or visit another friend in PA or....

No, I'm not going to girly scream again. Yet.

Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! My friends are going to visit me!!

So, I really want to be home right now, cleaning my little heart out. This is going to be the tough part, because there's a lot to clean up: years and years of left over and unnecessary crap lying around in boxes, in bags, on floors. I'm not proud of my home right now, but I'm way to busy to do anything about it.

My mother said my friends visiting is incentive to get moving. OK! I'm on it! As soon as I get home from work. We're going to have to get rid of a lot of things (that's alright). I usually start with the easy jobs (that assumes there is one) but I think I'll try to reverse that somewhat.

I think I will start with what is currently serving as the computer room. It's got not only my computer, but a chest of drawers that I would like, and a ton of craft stuff and left over college stuff. The stuff on the floor is mine, the stuff on the makeshift shelf is dad's and he hasn't really cared about it in 20 years. This room used to be my old bedroom, and we want to make this the official guest room. So, I'll start in on that today, I think.

After that room is straight, cleaning out the rest of it should be easy. The closet will be used for my costumes and house supplies that I'll be taking with me when I move out. And that would get started on my bedroom. (I know, for shame!)

Oh, I'm so exited! I don't want to be at work at all!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

The Joys of Corporate Offices

I've got this great story to tell you! We all know that I've been getting along with WAM recently. I like this, I'd much rather get along with WAM than not. However, I have evidence that WAM is still the same old crazy WAM we all have grown to know and love.

A friend of mine here in the office, with whom I've gone shopping and to dinner and to beaches and amusement parks on occasion, is the originator of this story. We're going to call this person Pat. Not to be confused with any previous person I've called Pat, and I'll probably keep calling this person Pat for here on out.

Pat is more essential than any other employee in my department. Pat has been here for some eight years, and had the most amazing memory of anyone I have ever known. Boss² relies on Pat above all others to keep the office running, to make sure that things get done. Pat makes more money on overtime than regular salary, and is often the only one approved for overtime. Pat is essential.

Pat is so essential that he is expected to be here at 0300 every day. 0300 to 1300 or so is a typical day for him (better he than I!). WAM starts at 0700 like I do.

So, today being the typical day, Pat got here at 0300 and started working. He doesn't turn on the lights when he gets here, because he doesn't really need them. His team usually comes in between 0500 and 0600 daily, and they don't care for the big bright florescent overhead lights either. They have to be on during regular operating hours (0700 to 1900 or so), but certainly not at 0300 or 0600 for that matter.

For reasons unknown, WAM arrived today before 0630. That's way early! And the first thing WAM does upon arrival? You guessed it, turn on the lights. Pat got up and turned them off. WAM got up and turned them on. Pat told someone on his team to turn them off, and so he did. WAM intercepted him.

"Why did you turn those off?"
"Because Pat told me to." he said.
WAM nearly yelled, "Do you always do what Pat tells you?"
"Pat is my senior, so yes." He said.
"Well, he's going to be in so much trouble!"

And WAM goes back to the desk and calls her mother. She talks about a meeting that we had some three and a half years ago that the lights have to be on (during working hours, I remember that meeting), how Pat crossed the line, and how WAM was certain that Boss² would agree with her on this. We're talking about lights, dear blog readers, WAM is arguing that she was right in turning on the lights. WHO CARES!?!

Remember how Boss² relies on Pat? Yeah, I don't really think the boss will care at all about the lights, in fact, I'm willing to bet that WAM might get told just the opposite of what she's expecting. After all, it's even more important that Pat and his team get the early work done, and if the lights off help them to do that, WAM is probably going to find herself in a battle with no allies.

Now, why am I taking Pat's story without hearing WAM's side? Simple, because it's WAM we're talking about. Every bit of that story is 100% believable in the bizarre context that is WAM's world. I'll let you know what Boss² has to say about this 'confrontation!'

Why I'm Often Tired

When people ask how I am, my response is almost always tired. Sometimes it's not true, most days it is.

Find ye a whistle, and blow into it very softly, so that you produce a nice soft constant sound. Get a partner to sound it right next to your ear (gently!). How does it sound? Imagine one by each ear, and then imagine that ALL THE TIME. Everything you hear has to get through that light constant whistle. The whistle is louder when there are no other sound around, right? Welcome to my world.

The sound is the worst when I'm laying down to go to bed. Because there are no other sounds for my ears and brain to focus on. All I get from both sides is a nice high pitched reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee sound. Every night. All night long.

It doesn't make for easily falling asleep. It's hard to meditate. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a little bit of silence.

It wasn't always like this. I think it started five or six months ago. I would really like to be rid of it, but all the things I've tried haven't helped. During the day it isn't so bad, but I notice it if I focus. But really, sleep suffers. Then I get headaches. Then it gets louder. Then I can't sleep some more. This is why I'm always tired.

I thought of this today because a coworker was talking about having some trouble with his hearing in one hear. I explained my trouble. It's not in my hearing, mind you, I still hear very very well. One of these days I'm going to scream or cry or do some other thing that's also going to make it louder. And now, I get to go listen to sounds that just aren't there while I wish I was sleeping. Good night!

What They Think of Me

This is going to sound like an egotistical blog entry, but it's really not. Well...how many personal blogs are not about the person who writes them anyway?

I usually don't care about what other people think of me. I don't care about their opinions (unless they're false), or how they perceive me. The opinion that matters is my own. Of course, there are friends who's opinions matter, but they matter in a different way.

So, I've been thinking about how other people perceive me. And I've been thinking about it because two people in particular said the exact same thing to me in the past 24 hours, and I've heard it before, and I'm starting to discover that I both believe them, AND I knew it all along.

Excepting last weeks super-depressed near swear-fest (oops, but I still won't apologize for it), which everyone is entitled to and I haven't had one of those since high school anyway, I'm a generally happy person. Most of the people in my life notice this, let me have my down days, all that jazz. I think they all expect me to be happy, and when I'm not, they expect it will return sooner rather than later.

I can't argue that point, really.

I've learned that people think I'm observant, I see things and hear things that most others would miss. They see me as someone who will listen without judging and will offer advice without beating around a bush. Unless you ask my boss, people see me as dependable and reliable, street smart and (mostly) practical. People believe I am a generous person: with money, things, and time. They know I am kind and caring and loving and not stingy with any of those. Did I miss anything? Perhaps the most important point, as it relates to living my life the way I want, is the aforementioned one that two people have said about me over the past day (several over the past really crappy week, and several before that). I am resourceful.

They didn't use that exact word. What they did say was (paraphrased, because they both said the exact same thing a little differently), "when you want something, you find a way of getting it." They're right, I can't disagree with that at all. The things that don't really involve a huge agreement on the part of another person tend to be doable, and if they're not, I can make them.

Consider: last year's trip to Idaho. It was planned, set-up, and executed in less than two weeks. Or any of the major purchases I've made over the past couple years; two kayaks, an elliptical machine, laser vision correction surgery. And here I am four days from being credit debt-free (including this year's ID trip). I can go back earlier than that too, to a week in Daytona, two trips to London, kick boxing classes, or the super brand new laptop of my dreams for half the regular price. I often joke about my ability to research, "if it's out there to be found, I can find it." This is true here as well, "if I really want it, I will find a way to have it." It will all work out, because it has to. And if there's a time frame, it happens without delay. I am a 'make the plan right the first time, then execute the plan' kind of gal.

So, remember this resourcefulness for me. I might need to be reminded when little bits of doubt come my way. In fact, one such instance is what prompted person #2 to say such a thing to me this morning. But I'm not ready to tell you what is in the works just yet. I still need some more details. What I will say is that if I got that job that I really wanted that I was so upset to not get, the plan I'm working on now wouldn't even be a suggestion, let alone a possibility.

Funny how the world works sometimes, isn't it?

Fooled Me

I was having a pretty good day, up until just now.

I got another talking to about coming to work late.

This has got to stop! I am not a late person, but I'm late almost every day. Sometimes it's dad, sometimes it's me, sometimes it's the 50 miles between here and there.

So, to avoid getting fired, I have to get here on time or early every day. The office doesn't bend on this. They don't care about rain, they don't care about traffic, and they don't care about accidents.

I don't want to do what one of my coworkers does: leaves the house at 0530 to drive 60 miles and be sure to get here by 0800. Well, I'm supposed to be here by 0700. I don't want to have to leave the house at 0530, but if that's what it takes.

What I wouldn't give to live 3 miles away like some people.

Nothing Doing Today

Happy birthday, sis-in-law!

Since we couldn't go grocery shopping yesterday, that's what's on the agenda for today. And a little bit of sitting around. I'm trying to learn how to make puppets, so I'll play with that during this evening's few hours of alone time.

It's nice to get a break every now and then.

Perfect Day for a Drive

Today, my mother and I got in the shiny new CR-V and drove (and drove and drove) to Harrisonburg, where my brother and his wife are living with her sister's family. It was a long drive, but that's what cruise control is for! They live right off the highway so it was very easy to find. The purpose of this trip was to take them out to lunch for my sister-in-law's birthday.

Apparently, this is a good time to visit the historic little city. James Madison University is right in the middle of town, but the main school session is over for the summer. We went to this cute little tea house for lunch, then my brother drove us to a Mennonite flea market, then past the place where he works and through historic Staunton (don't pronounce the 'u' or they'll have a fit) and up to another flea market and then to this little Asian place for dinner. Whew!

I always love spending time with my brother. I suppose it helps that we were close in age and so could grow up relatively together, and manage to be friends at the end. We talked about our aunt moving, how we wish my grandmother would move also (just out of the unsafe neighborhood she is in), and they told us about the house they want to buy and their plans for four children. (Yikes!)

My brother is a very practical guy, a trait of his that I greatly admire and wish I had. His wife is just the same; not frivolous, able to tell what is needed from what is wanted. I met her in middle school, we were in the same violin class. She is a wonderful lady and I love her dearly.

I have a limited exposure to their relationship, because we all live so far away from each other, but from what I see, they have an ideal. They talk to each other and listen to each other and make plans together. My brother's marriage is a partnership, exactly as I expect a marriage to be. I am happy that they found each other. We should all be so lucky.

I'm Tired of Hating my Life

I hate that I'm never alone. I hate that everyone always wants to spend time with me and guilt trips me until I say yes. I hate that I'm a slob. I hate being fat. I hate that the closest job that I can do is 50 miles away. I hate that they don't pay enough to be able to live closer. I hate that I can't seem to save anything. I hate that everyone around me has the things that I want. I hate believing that I'll never get them.

But, I do believe that. Unless something falls into my lap (and we all know that's not going to happen) how can I believe otherwise? Maybe there's not enough happiness in the world to spare a little for me. Maybe I did something once and so don't deserve it. This is my purgatory.

I'm really tired of the if's. If I only had more money, I'd buy a house. If I only had more time, I'd clean up the junk. If I only had more understanding friends who will stop pressuring me to say yes when I really want to say no.

Don't you love those days when you can sit around the house and do nothing? Or watch movies, play video games, garden, whatever you please? I rarely get those days. I have two days a week that could possibly be for me, but they hardly ever are. Even this weekend is booked solid. I had to cancel something and I'm still not getting any time for me. The only me-days I get are when I take random days off of work (and we all know how easy that is to do).

Why is living the way you want to so damn hard?

Why I've Given up on Men

And before any of you even think it: I'm not turning to women in their place.

The last relationship I had ended in 1999. Sure, there were a few dates here and there in the eight years hence, but nothing that lasted. None of whom I would consider a boyfriend. Things ended before they began.

It has to be me. Whatever it is, it has to be something about me that makes me unappealing as a potential mate. Maybe it is because I'm looking for a partner, not a fuck buddy. Maybe it's because I can't bring anyone home for coffee, lest they're prepared to meet mom and dad and therefore have no privacy. Maybe they think I'm too busy and don't have time for them. This one isn't true at all, if I'm interested in you, I will make time, cancel previous plans, whatever. Yes, this means that I can't be relied on to make the plans, because my days fill up faster than I care them to. Maybe that's it. Maybe it's because I don't spend my nights watching football, hockey, or NASCAR (but I do enjoy a good baseball or soccer game). Is it because I'm pretty, they think I'm not smart? Or they think I'm too smart, too independent (excepting that little live with parents bit)? Maybe it's because they want me to do the chasing, and I just can't (don't know how, for one, and don't have the time, for two.)

Then I'm thinking of all the people I know who some might consider less of a catch than me, and yet I'm being invited to their weddings or otherwise asked for advice on their relationship. That's like asking a blind person to tell you the color of pansies.

I've tried online dating sites. The ones that are most talked about that cost a fee and all of that. People on those sites ignore what you say you're looking for. If I say I'm looking for someone 26-37 years old, why are all the men who contact me 45? And, I had so many divorced with kids 45 year olds contacting me all the time, I just couldn't keep up. Busy life, you know, I don't have the time to sit around telling three hundred 45 year olds a day no. Does that mean I need to stop living to find someone to live with?

Some of those people in those eight years had potential. Two out of four to be precise. One of them fed me the "I don't think I fit into your plans" line. How did he know? We'd never talked about them, he never asked me about them. Sure, I may have mentioned 'I'd like to do this and this with my life' but he assumed that meant that was all I was going to do, or all I wanted, or that there was no room for change there. Idiot. And the other one, well, I'm not sure what happened there. Maybe he's one of the ones who thinks I'm too busy. Or too eager. Maybe he thinks he's too busy. I don't know.

The other side of this is that I've probably created an impossible ideal. I have a rather clear mental picture of what I feel like a good man is, but it's a standard that precious few achieve, and most of them whom I've met were married or otherwise spoken for (and if they weren't married or otherwise spoken for, they were the aforementioned two who just didn't want me). Or will have all points except for one or two that I can't get around. Lowering my standards isn't an option, because that would not make me happy.

The right guy won't come along, because I have every reason to believe he doesn't exist. I've had some truly great guys in my life. But no one's been great enough to tell me what it is in me that they don't want. Nothing is going to change if no one tells me what the problem is. And since no one is telling me what's wrong with me, nothing will change. I will be relying on myself forever.

Wasting Time

"I'm not going to be fooled into wasting my time hoping again." I wrote yesterday. Now I'm wondering just what time I'm wasting.

Is it time better spent exercising? Kayaking? Cleaning up my current living space? But to what purpose is any of it? I don't have anyone to impress, so why do I care if I keep myself healthy? Being on the water certainly isn't for solitude, it's not safe to do that alone so I'm always in a group. Then again, with no one to depend on me, why do I care about my safety? And tidying up my living space doesn't matter, I'm going to be there forever, it's not like I have to keep things orderly for other people who will use that space. I can't use my time any better by working, as I seem to have this crippling inability to save money so it doesn't really do me any good to try to make any.

If I can't put a worth on any of my time, then what does it matter if I waste it? Oh, maybe because it's my time to waste. It's my space to take up. It's my hot air to blow out.

What I really don't understand, the secret that I'd really like to know, is how there can be stories of people who have nothing and they somehow end up with whatever it was they were wanting. It can't just be hard work and perseverance, because the harder I work and the more I persevere, the further away my goals become.

Maybe I need a new goal. Something simpler than the career of my dreams. And something simpler than a fulfilling relationship. And something simpler than living under my own (or even my own rented) roof. Any ideas? It has to be really simple, remember that even getting to my shit job on time is too complicated for me.

What's the Point of Dreams?

I've talked about my grandmother's friend (who is practically a grandmother herself to my brother and I) and how she is reluctantly moving to New Mexico. She told my mother that, when the sale of her house is completed and she gathers the few things from it that she is taking, I can have my pick of whatever furniture and things that she is not taking. My mother says this is wonderful, it will save me a lot of money when I have a home of my own to furnish. It is great, don't get me wrong, and I am so grateful for the offer, but what am I going to do with the stuff until then? I don't have a place to put it or store it (being without said home to furnish), which means I'll have to find some money to pay for storing it. Sure, it will save me money someday, and I'm so thankful that she is giving those things to me, but I can't help but feel like they'll be in some storage place forever.

Last night I had a dream that I had a house. It wasn't in the best neighborhood and was on a busy street corner, but it was mine. There were three bedroom type rooms on the ground floor and a living/dining area and the kitchen and another bedroom upstairs. I was taking some friend (random dream person who didn't resemble anyone I know in life) through my house and showing her what I planned to do with each room. She was helping me decide which one was going to be the master bedroom, and the remaining rooms would be for the computer, a closet for my costumes, a guest room. And there was plenty of space for all the furniture I got from my aunt.

When I woke up from that dream in the early morning hours (as I always do because sleeping through the night is strange and foreign to me) I wanted nothing more to be back in that dream. In that little dream house because that's all the house I'll ever have. I was halfway up the stairs to see the rest of it when I woke up. My dreams did not go back to that house.

So, what was the point? I suppose some of you are thinking "that's the Universe trying to tell you to keep hoping." Sure. That's great. You know how some people do tests on rats? The rodents push a button to get food but get shocked instead? They eventually stop pushing the buttons. They stop expecting food to come out. They stop trying because starving is better than getting shocked again. It's like "the boy who cried wolf" story. The Universe keeps telling me, 'yeah, you'll get this. OH! Fooled you!' then 'yeah, you'll get this. Look! Fooled you again!' then 'this time for real. Nope! Joke's on you!' Why expect anything to change now?

How many analogies can I draw today?

Fooled once, shame on you, fooled twice, shame on me. I'm not going to be fooled into wasting my time hoping again.

Aren't You All Proud of Me?

And how I can be so upset that I can no longer process intelligent words and don't even apologize for it?

I'm really here today to let you all know that The Secret, the popular movie and book that talks about using the law of attraction to get what you want, is a sham. It doesn't work, so don't waste your money, don't hold your breath, don't deplete your energy. There is no Universal Catalogue, and operators are not standing by. You are on your own, and no amount of positive thinking is going to get you what you want. You will still wake up in the same dung heap that you fell asleep in. Polish a turd, it's still a turd.

I bet all of you faithful blog readers are going to start missing the happy girl who used to post here. I'm sorry to report that she's been killed for the last time. There is nothing to hope for and no reason to bounce back. Yes, every ! from this weekend was a complete lie. (except for the bit about having a destructive storm named after me.)

I'm a simple person. I try not to make impossible goals. Be a successful actor: nope. Get married/have kids: nope. Move out of parents home: nope. I'm really not that complex, but everything I ever wanted in life is just unattainable. I wish someone would tell me what I'm doing wrong. And don't you dare tell me I'm not thinking positive. I tried that, remember? Mierda all around.

Look, I can swear in another language too.

The Atlantic Hurricane Season

What's left of Tropical Depression Barry brought us a lot of light rain. It's kind of funny that the first named storm of the season started before the season. My name is on the list this year! I hope I become a hurricane and do some damage! I don't want to kill anyone, just some general havoc. It'd be neat if I make it up to the Chesapeake like Hurricane Isabel did in 2003. I'll have to keep an eye out for me!

In any event, rain means that we wouldn't be walking to brunch today. So we drove.

There was a good group who came out in the rain for brunch this morning. Eight of us were there, where there is normally four or five. Believe it or not, in a world of bread, meat, and mayonnaise, I was actually able to find something to eat and stick mostly to my diet.

Rain didn't leave for much shopping either, though we did have to run to the hardware store to get another cork for mom's kayak. We like to plug the scuppers to keep the decks as dry as possible. And there's a lot of sediment in the waters where we kayak, so water doesn't come up through he scuppers, but some totally grody brown foam stuff. Yuck. So, a plug to stop that from happening!

Mom and I did a tiny bit of shopping; groceries at Trader Joe's and some new paddling gloves at EMS. I also found one of those backpacks that can carry water. Then it was off to home, and some movies.

I've been doing a lot of su doku lately. Rain tends to make many people not want to do much but sit around, I guess. Not sure what yesterday's excuse was, then.

Ladies and Boats

My mom and Fox's wife (who will someday have her own alias here, I've got it, I'm going to call her Fae.) and I went kayaking at that really fun spot that has a lot of obstacles. Fae and I both have kayaks with the foot pedal system, but Fox and I broke our pedals last week (we think). That's because they add a few inches to the keel, and this area of the Patuxent is filled with branches and things just under the surface of the water to avoid. So, now we know, and won't bring the pedals again, lest we have to replace another set. I'm not really looking forward to doing that, so I hope they can be repaired.

This area is a floating dock, it's not so easy to launch from, we would all much prefer a beach (for you non-kayakers, there is a HUGE difference). Poor Fae is particularly not good with dock launching, and she discovered that the water of the river was rather cold. But we were able to move her closer to land where she was only in water up to her knees and could get in fine.

The river in this area runs through a town (if you can call it a town) called Queen Anne. There used to be a well-used bridge here know as (*gasp*) Queen Anne's Bridge. Queen Anne's Bridge is fenced off and decaying and one day might fall into the river, but it is still there. When we first kayaked this part of the river, our goal was to reach Queen Anne's Bridge. We could do it, if we got out and climbed over a log. In preparation for the week long sojourn on the river (that we're not going to make it to this year), they've cleared that log. But there are two more trees a bit further up river that impede our path to Queen Anne's Bridge. (The new goal, by the way, is to get to the bridge that carries Central Avenue, a major state route, over the river. We haven't made it that far yet, too many big trees to climb over.)

We've actually had a very dry month, and those two trees that take some work to pass were impassable today. That was a little disappointing. But we had a very nice, relaxing float back down the river to the dock. What a perfect way to spend a Saturday morning.

Next is a little bit of shopping, and I'll get some alone-time in the house tonight. That's nice!

Shit Colored Glasses

Have you ever hit a time in your life where you knew without a doubt that you were doing everything perfectly right to a certain end, only to not meet that end? Remember when I was so excited to tell you about the job I applied for in February? Well, there's really no point in keeping it a secret now. It was the CIA, and they didn't want me.

I was really really hoping to be out of this shit job by the end of the Summer. And into something that I am fucking good at, where I make an actual difference in the world. What really sucks big floppy donkey dick about this is that I was starting to like my job, when I thought I only had to put up with all that shit for a few more fucking months. Now that I know I'm stuck here, it's just going to be more hellish. More idiot customers, more damned work, no asses to help out, and more days spent with equally stupid coworkers who think that asking the same questions over and over makes them better at their jobs. It doesn't, assholes! You know the answer to those fucking questions, leave me the hell alone!

This just means that I'm never going to get anywhere if I don't get the hell out of this damned town where the slave drivers can't even pay you enough to live here.