I had tonsillitis a lot when I was a little kid.
A lot.
When I'd stay home from nursery school, they'd send a "Get Well" package that included a plastic cup with gummy bears inside.
I'd eat the gummy bears, and my sore throat would go away.
The magic of gummy bears!
So, I have a monster sore throat right now, and a huge shin-dig coming up this weekend. I cannot, will not be sick.
I bought gummy bears yesterday - they even have added Vitamin C! I downed 4 servings to ensure that my throat would get better.
I woke up this morning...
And my throat still hurts.
Fuck.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
I've never been so proud of a fake tan
The last three days have been full of hard work.
Once a year, the hubs and I plan something at our house that forces us to actually do the things we've been saying we should the rest of the year.
This year, the major project was to get our 10+ year old deck stained. It has seen better days. MUCH better days, I think. It was in sorry condition when we bought the place and subjected it to two 80 pound dog nails, salt/ice/rain, the fact that it takes me at least 4 trips in and out of the door before I can actually leave to go anywhere.
As with any project, this one had to be done in pieces. During naps, after bedtime, but not when it was too hot (or the stain would dry before it was absorbed) or too dark.
With the assistance of an extra set of hands (my best friend came and stayed with us), we got the damn thing finished last night!!
Between my fingers, my toes. Like I was drunk fake-tan-lotioning.
I have stain where stain should never be, and although it is latex and allegedly water-based...it is still sticking around.
But I'll happily wear my stain because I worked hard - and finished a big project.
Woohoo!!
Once a year, the hubs and I plan something at our house that forces us to actually do the things we've been saying we should the rest of the year.
This year, the major project was to get our 10+ year old deck stained. It has seen better days. MUCH better days, I think. It was in sorry condition when we bought the place and subjected it to two 80 pound dog nails, salt/ice/rain, the fact that it takes me at least 4 trips in and out of the door before I can actually leave to go anywhere.
As with any project, this one had to be done in pieces. During naps, after bedtime, but not when it was too hot (or the stain would dry before it was absorbed) or too dark.
With the assistance of an extra set of hands (my best friend came and stayed with us), we got the damn thing finished last night!!
Between my fingers, my toes. Like I was drunk fake-tan-lotioning.
I have stain where stain should never be, and although it is latex and allegedly water-based...it is still sticking around.
But I'll happily wear my stain because I worked hard - and finished a big project.
Woohoo!!
Monday, September 6, 2010
Labor Day - Not just a day to mark the end of white shoe weather
Happy Labor Day!
Originally created to celebrate trade and labor organizations in the late 1800s, Labor Day today commemorates the last long weekend until Thanksgiving.
To most, it is the day that marks the ending of summer, the beginning of fall. The return to school. The weekend to winterize the summer cabin and to get the boat pulled from the water. The last weekend to get a good tan. The last reason to eat too many brats and potato salad.
Yes, the labor organizations paved the way into 5 day, 40 hour work weeks. Compensation for long hours. Safety regulations. Workman's compensation.
For those of you that work much longer hours than you are paid - I salute you. I salute all of you out there that get up in the morning, and decide that - no matter what is handed to them in a day - they are going to face it head on. Chin up. Chest out.
I want to use this day to honor those women in my life that go above and beyond. Not only in their jobs, but in their lives. Several women very close to me are coming out of a rough couple of years. Those who know me personally know who they (or you) are.
In the face of adversity - when all they wanted to do was curl up and disappear - they made the choice. The decision to continue for their families. For others. They work their hours, they carry the burden of their children, their friends. They care when, at times, caring is the last thing that they want to do.
Keep on keepin' on, ladies. The world needs us. Every last one of us.
Now, go get you one last brat!!
Originally created to celebrate trade and labor organizations in the late 1800s, Labor Day today commemorates the last long weekend until Thanksgiving.
To most, it is the day that marks the ending of summer, the beginning of fall. The return to school. The weekend to winterize the summer cabin and to get the boat pulled from the water. The last weekend to get a good tan. The last reason to eat too many brats and potato salad.
Yes, the labor organizations paved the way into 5 day, 40 hour work weeks. Compensation for long hours. Safety regulations. Workman's compensation.
For those of you that work much longer hours than you are paid - I salute you. I salute all of you out there that get up in the morning, and decide that - no matter what is handed to them in a day - they are going to face it head on. Chin up. Chest out.
I want to use this day to honor those women in my life that go above and beyond. Not only in their jobs, but in their lives. Several women very close to me are coming out of a rough couple of years. Those who know me personally know who they (or you) are.
In the face of adversity - when all they wanted to do was curl up and disappear - they made the choice. The decision to continue for their families. For others. They work their hours, they carry the burden of their children, their friends. They care when, at times, caring is the last thing that they want to do.
Keep on keepin' on, ladies. The world needs us. Every last one of us.
Now, go get you one last brat!!
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Marked for life
I was leaving my counselor's office the other day, and as I turned to walk through her office door - she said, "Oh, you have a birthmark on the back of your neck. I've always found those [uncomfortable pause] interesting."
Damn.
Yes, I have a birthmark on the back of my neck. It's about the size of a finger nail or license plate or somewhere in between - depending on my age, hair style, mood, and sense of self-worth.
It is so strategically placed on my body, that I cannot physically see it unless two mirrors are involved. When I was a kid, I would try to turn my head fast enough to catch a glimpse in the mirror - like I could out run my image or something. I ended up like I was trying to bite my ear. Der!
In high school, people would tease me by saying that I
had a hickey on my neck. (It actually looks more in the bruise strain rather than hickey-esque, but high schoolers are assholes. All of them.) I hated that I had something that stuck out. A target. The one good thing that came of it (shitting rainbow alert:) I was cautious to NOT get a hickey because I knew people would blow me shit over it.
My strapless dress and funky up-do at my wedding exposed the birthmark for all to see. I didn't care. Just like the prairie grass, mums, Teva sandals, and the intentional lack of veil or word "obey" in the vows, the wedding was very personalized. Exposed. And I dared anyone to question my decision to show my neck.
Now, there are weeks - even months - when I go without even thinking about my birthmark. I have gone through phases where I care to cover it up with a bob haircut, but I inevitably get hot (read: lazy) and throw my hair in a ponytail. My hair is very short in back now - and I don't care who sees it. To the point that I NEVER think about it, unless I'm double-mirroring to see if I fucked up my haircut or something.
So there I was - leaving a productive, yet tear-free session (fuckin' A!) and she kicks me in the Achilles heel.
She continued, "My cousin had one like that on his neck. It was interesting too."
Interesting? Would it sprout a head and recite Shakespeare? Could it name the state capitals in alphabetical order?
Mine is the source of my superpowers. All 23 of them.
So there.
Damn.
Yes, I have a birthmark on the back of my neck. It's about the size of a finger nail or license plate or somewhere in between - depending on my age, hair style, mood, and sense of self-worth.
It is so strategically placed on my body, that I cannot physically see it unless two mirrors are involved. When I was a kid, I would try to turn my head fast enough to catch a glimpse in the mirror - like I could out run my image or something. I ended up like I was trying to bite my ear. Der!
In high school, people would tease me by saying that I
had a hickey on my neck. (It actually looks more in the bruise strain rather than hickey-esque, but high schoolers are assholes. All of them.) I hated that I had something that stuck out. A target. The one good thing that came of it (shitting rainbow alert:) I was cautious to NOT get a hickey because I knew people would blow me shit over it.My strapless dress and funky up-do at my wedding exposed the birthmark for all to see. I didn't care. Just like the prairie grass, mums, Teva sandals, and the intentional lack of veil or word "obey" in the vows, the wedding was very personalized. Exposed. And I dared anyone to question my decision to show my neck.
Now, there are weeks - even months - when I go without even thinking about my birthmark. I have gone through phases where I care to cover it up with a bob haircut, but I inevitably get hot (read: lazy) and throw my hair in a ponytail. My hair is very short in back now - and I don't care who sees it. To the point that I NEVER think about it, unless I'm double-mirroring to see if I fucked up my haircut or something.
So there I was - leaving a productive, yet tear-free session (fuckin' A!) and she kicks me in the Achilles heel.
She continued, "My cousin had one like that on his neck. It was interesting too."
Interesting? Would it sprout a head and recite Shakespeare? Could it name the state capitals in alphabetical order?
Mine is the source of my superpowers. All 23 of them.
So there.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Riding on E
Have you ever driven home trying to estimate how empty "E" really is on your gas tank?
Looking at where the pin is compared to the "E" line - and saying "well, it's at the top of "E" so I'm definitely not going to get stranded and have my dismembered body tossed into the corn to not be found until the vultures are picking at my bones.
(If no, you've probably judged me on my lack of foresight in previous posts. Turn on your judgey cap, because you'll need it!)
Yea, I was doing that today.
I also had an argument with Last Night Me. It was kind of like having a magic mailbox but without Keanu's squintiness, less romance, and more profanity.
Last Night Me
(time: last night as I pass the final station before delving into rural nowhere toward my home)
Sorry, Morning Me, I know I'm being an ass by not getting gas. The tank is close to empty, but the gas light hasn't turned on yet, so you'll be able to make it into town tomorrow.
Morning Me
(time: as I turn on the car and the gas light turns on)
Fuck. You're a dick, Last Night Me! Come on, I need to get the baby to daycare because you KNOW how much I hate doing the gas station thing getting her all riled up in the car and then try to leave her at daycare. Go to HELL, Last Night Me!
Minutes Later Morning Me:
(time: as I approach the gas station nearest to my house - which requires me to GO IN and pay because the pumps are older than sin, and I live in the country, and that's how things are)
GODDAMMIT, Morning Me! You left our fucking purse in the house! How about you pull your head out of your ass and grab the purse you KNEW you needed today. Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuck.
Returning From Daycare Drop-off Me:
(time: passing the gas station nearest my house after driving the 10 miles round trip to daycare, on the way back home with my tail between my legs)
Ok, so I don't have my cell phone, my wallet, the credit card I had in my back pocket that I put back in my purse because if I left it IN the pocket it would get lost - except that I have those pants on again today (thanks, Last Night Me, for your infinite wisdom). At least the baby is safe at daycare for when I'm stranded and get dismembered and tossed into the corn. But the pin is ONLY on the top of "E" maybe I'll be ok...
I made it home. The hubs is taking the car to town next.
Yes, I believe in full gas tank disclosure and told him how fumy the situation is.
He'll probably need to use lawn mower gas to make it out of our driveway.
Looking at where the pin is compared to the "E" line - and saying "well, it's at the top of "E" so I'm definitely not going to get stranded and have my dismembered body tossed into the corn to not be found until the vultures are picking at my bones.
(If no, you've probably judged me on my lack of foresight in previous posts. Turn on your judgey cap, because you'll need it!)
Yea, I was doing that today.
I also had an argument with Last Night Me. It was kind of like having a magic mailbox but without Keanu's squintiness, less romance, and more profanity.
Last Night Me
(time: last night as I pass the final station before delving into rural nowhere toward my home)
Sorry, Morning Me, I know I'm being an ass by not getting gas. The tank is close to empty, but the gas light hasn't turned on yet, so you'll be able to make it into town tomorrow.
Morning Me
(time: as I turn on the car and the gas light turns on)
Fuck. You're a dick, Last Night Me! Come on, I need to get the baby to daycare because you KNOW how much I hate doing the gas station thing getting her all riled up in the car and then try to leave her at daycare. Go to HELL, Last Night Me!
Minutes Later Morning Me:
(time: as I approach the gas station nearest to my house - which requires me to GO IN and pay because the pumps are older than sin, and I live in the country, and that's how things are)
GODDAMMIT, Morning Me! You left our fucking purse in the house! How about you pull your head out of your ass and grab the purse you KNEW you needed today. Shitfuckshitfuckshitfuck.
Returning From Daycare Drop-off Me:
(time: passing the gas station nearest my house after driving the 10 miles round trip to daycare, on the way back home with my tail between my legs)
Ok, so I don't have my cell phone, my wallet, the credit card I had in my back pocket that I put back in my purse because if I left it IN the pocket it would get lost - except that I have those pants on again today (thanks, Last Night Me, for your infinite wisdom). At least the baby is safe at daycare for when I'm stranded and get dismembered and tossed into the corn. But the pin is ONLY on the top of "E" maybe I'll be ok...
I made it home. The hubs is taking the car to town next.
Yes, I believe in full gas tank disclosure and told him how fumy the situation is.
He'll probably need to use lawn mower gas to make it out of our driveway.
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