Friday, May 13, 2011

I've been unfaithful...

It's hard to say where it began. A little glimpse here, wandering thoughts there. Whispered seductions of an easier life, of happier times. Promises of no frustrations.

Other people have done it, and they're actually happy now.

I don't know why I've stayed here so long. It's been dull. Your meltdowns have been severe, and I've worried you wouldn't recover from some of your crashes. You need help. Honestly, the lack of interaction and the overwhelming sense of 'blah' exuding from you have about made me give up altogether.

But I'm not giving up. I'm just moving out and moving on.

So with these few words, I say adieu. Goodbye, blogspot. You've been... well... adequate. You were my first blog, but it's time we part.

I'm moving on to higher ground. New ventures await. New friends to be made, new posts waiting to be written and read.

Hello, Wordpress. I'm glad we can finally go public with our relationship.

(find my new blog located here-

Monday, May 9, 2011

Have I lost my marbles?

I have a fear of becoming senile.

I understand that eventually all of us will have some decline in our mental faculties, I just don't want to accept that as a fact. Even worse, I have anxiety issues based around this. See, I'm not only afraid of becoming senile, I'm afraid of it happening to me now, at my current age. Not that I'm anywhere close to gray haired (naturally, anyway. I always expect that I'm going to really screw up my hair and have grandma-blue color on my head).

Constantly I have moments occur in my life that make me question if I'm losing my grip on reality already. (Granted, this blog has enough to prove that I'm already gone, but that's a truth I choose to ignore.) I'm not talking the little things like losing keys, we all do that. Same with children. They show up eventually and all is okay.

I can rarely remember any details of movies I've just watched (with a few exceptions). And this can even be immediately after watching. I tell myself that I'm just being wise with my internal memory and not storing useless info. Perhaps saving room on my hard drive for something important.

But, to contradict this theory, I can remember almost every episode of certain sitcoms. Like all 10 seasons of Seinfeld. Or Arrested Development.

So I worry I may be slipping. And I continue to hope these are quirks, specific to me.

Then yesterday happened. Trying to get ready to leave, I had an outfit in mind that I wanted to wear. Nothing fancy, but it included my favorite jeans. Went to my dresser to get them, not there. Maybe I left them in the master bathroom? Nope.
Laundry? Nope.

I lost my pants. Gone. Missing. Lost. AWOL. Non-existent.

How can one lose a pair of pants?! Especially in a house that isn't very big, and doesn't look like it's had a hurricane come through recently. I take pride in keeping our home decent. Usually.

Enlisting the help of the family as a search party, we began to scour the house for my jeans. Running short on time, I decide to wear a different pair, but the hunt continues. Nowhere to be found. Todd checked his dresser, making sure they didn't get put away with his jeans. Not there. I checked my son Creed's dresser, just in case. Nope.

By this time I'm thinking in asterisks and ampersands (possibly even some pound symbols and dollar signs! at the stupidity of the situation. How could I have lost my pants?!

The day continues on. Life goes on. But the nagging thought of "Where are they?" still remained.

Finally, late afternoon-ish I thought of one place I hadn't checked. The only place I hadn't checked. My son Traben's pants drawer. He hates jeans, never wears them, doesn't own them. So there's no way I would've put a pair of jeans there, right? Right?!


There they were, in all their splendor, tucked neatly in his drawer.

So, here I sit at my table, wearing my wonderful jeans and wondering... have I lost my mind? No. No, I haven't. I hope I never lose it.

And I hope I never lose my pants again, either.

So, opinions? Am on the fast-track to becoming senile? Or do you have stories of embarrassment that make this story pale in comparison? Please tell me I'm not alone in this fear of youthful senility!

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

I just heard...

Are you one of those people that finds yourself listening to some absurd stories? I find that people feel the need to tell me anything and everything. Mostly, it's entertaining, sometimes disturbing. And I'm not just talking about people I know, but strangers as well. After years of this happening, I'm thinking maybe I should share some of these random moments. So here are a few recent stories...

Yesterday, I had a guy start telling me about how his friend has a 7 week old pot-bellied pig that is potty trained. When it needs to go potty, it goes to the back door and starts snorting. He said it even plays well with the persons dog, and their neighbor dog... but he assured me when all three are together, they keep a good eye on them. I asked him, "Is it because you're afraid the dogs are gonna realize they're playing with bacon?"

During a recent trip to the grocery store, the cashier had to remark that she likes otter pops. I replied with a not rude, but a mildly unenthusiastic, "Yeah, they're good(?)." She must've interpreted it that I needed reassurance of their grandeur, instead of me sounding like I was confused why she needed to tell me this. She then proceeded to tell me how she wants to always buy them by the case. They're good! They're good! "I like to get up in the middle of the night and have one, you know if I get too hot or something? And my husband will wake up sometimes and come out for some water or something and I'll be sitting in my chair eating one. He's wondering what I'm doing, but they're good!"

And all I could think is, "Since when did they lace those things with crack?".

Today, a woman in her 70's had to ask me how I had my shoes laced. So I held out my foot and told her, "Very messily!". She proceeded to tell me about how her husband only wore Converse (what I was wearing today) until a couple years ago, but he had to lace them a certain way. The right way. Not the way I had done it. She was wishing he was with her so he could show me.

These are my shoes and how I had them laced-

These are how she thought they should be laced, "Straight across is good!"-

Maybe next time I get new Chucks, I'll lace them like this, and hope my path crosses with this kind, talkative grandma so she can inspect my shoes and have a story to tell her husband.

So talk to strangers people, let them talk to you, too! You never know when you're going to hear a hysterical story, and odd story or a story with way too much information.

You never know when you'll finally meet the person who can teach you to tie your shoes correctly!

So, have any stories you want to share with me? Feel free to leave them in my comments section!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

yeah, but....

I live in a typical suburban neighborhood.

For the first three years I lived here, I never met some of our neighbors in a particular house. We called them "The grinders", as they were always busy welding or using an angle grinder on random pieces of metal.

There's the neighbors that don't mow their lawn because they only come home for two hours on the weekend. And only every other weekend, at that.

I have other neighbors who are landscaping neat-freaks. I fear leaving a footprint in their lawn, though they're too nice to complain. I imagine if I did, they would come out at night before bed and comfort the grass where I had tread. Probably giving it kind words and some luke-warm, fertilized water, carefully administered with a dropper as you would give medicine to a sick child.

I have neighbors who only call me by my middle name. I still don't understand why.

See? Typical suburban neighborhood. Almost.

Then there's the backyard neighbors. They are super friendly, not too intrusive. Sometimes the conversations drag on, but I know I should be thankful. At least they aren't selling drugs out of their house, just ugly dogs that I can't stand.

She was single until about two years ago when she found herself a nice husband who happens to manages a local grocery store that I frequent. Outside of the occasional over-the fence chat, I sometimes see him at the store. He's a talker. He talks just to talk. What's great is, I know he still can't remember my name, yet he seems comfortable in holding me hostage in conversations. Sometimes he makes me want to have a signal to give my kids so they'll know to throw a fit and I can have an out.

Don't get me wrong, I like people. Sometimes I wish I could interact with people more than I currently do. But never in this instance, and with good reason (at least in my book, which isn't a book based on logic, or reason).

Maybe I need to roll with the punches a little more, but this is getting old. Every conversation is the same. And today's conversation is the prime example, so I'll share it with you here;

Neighbor- "Hey! How are ya?"

Me- "Good, thanks. How are you?"

Neighbor- "Great, hey we're thinking of doing an addition and my wife said you guys had added on to your house."

Me- "Yes, we added the back section."

Neighbor- "Oh, and I heard your husband playing music the other night again. We were saying how good it sounds, is he in a band?"

Me- "Well, he and I play music together."

Neighbor- "But it sounded good, who was he playing with?"

Me- "He and I were playing, we play a lot. We'd like to have a band, but don't have a drummer so just he and I play together."

Neighbor- "Yeah, but it sounded good, who was he playing with??"

Me-(trying to suppress visions of smacking him with one of my drumsticks)"Me!"

Neighbor- "What? Well, what do you even play??"

Me- "I play the bass and the drums, but it's usually drums lately."

Neighbor- "Yeah, but... it sounded good. (looking confused) He's not in a band?"

I kid you not, this is the actual conversation. And it was the last time, and the time before. Next time I may record it with my phone for kicks (and for all you doubters who think I make stuff up, solely to have a blog topic).

I mean, seriously??? I want to know what makes it so unbelievable to this man that I could actually play music. Because I have been for twenty-something years. And not just in my music room, thank you. Maybe I should take it as a compliment that he thinks it's good, whether or not he believes it's me? Maybe I shouldn't let people's obvious lack of tact bother me?

Maybe I should find a new place to purchase my groceries...

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

looking for opportunities...

I've been highly desiring to find a way to let my creativity flow again, and yet I keep neglecting to write. Hopefully that will change.

I just need new inspiration. Or maybe to just realize that my writings don't always have to be lengthy, grand and/or thought provoking. That even just a minute detail from my life could be enough to brighten a day, or spark a thought.

Or if nothing else give you ammo for harassing me later.

So, here's my little piece of life I'd like to share with you...

I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up. Yeah, old topic I've talked about before on here. It's just that, I tend to be a dreamer. I want to run with lots of ideas, just not sure which one is the right fit. So, when a good looking job becomes available, sometimes I feel the need to apply. Though, I usually don't. I do have a lot of 'home work' to keep up with, at the moment.

I recently came across a possible employment opportunity that could possibly be a 'dream job', or at the least a step in the right direction. There weren't a lot of specifics listed as to what the qualifications were they were looking for, but I know I could be the right fit. I've already worked in multiple jobs that could relate to this specific one.

So I wrote up and sent out a resumé that morning. I wanted to share with you a few of the finer points I listed in it, in case you may know of any other job openings I'm unaware of.

-Order & organization are important to me, but I try not to be OCD about it.

-I keep a very professional, tattooed and pierced appearance. Poor tattoo quality is a pet peeve of mine.

-I enjoy writing and editing.

-I know how to fold an origami Darth Vader.

To me, it's extremely important to cover all the bases and give possible future employers as much info about yourself as possible.

I hope I hear back about the job soon.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

asterisks & ampersands

A random observation I had today was that, I've come to a point in my life where I really don't notice many four letter words. It's not that I like them, or even really use them. I'm just not irked by them. It hasn't always been this way though. I remember being really bothered by any thought of cussing, especially when I was a child.

I have a grand memory of when I was about five years old, sitting in the backseat of my parents car. I was running my mouth, as was typical. Blah, blah, blah, yap, yap, yap... My mouth never stopped. I know this because, my parents once told me they used to get me little ice cream cones from DQ just so I'd quiet down for a few miles on road trips. I think I kept talking, their plan ruined. Anyway, I remember this instance so vividly. I was rhyming random words.

"Sit. Hit. Lit. Bit. Get. Knit..."

I remember pausing in the middle of this, from having a particular word come to mind that I knew I definately didn't want to say. I tell myself I'm not gonna say it, and then continue. This time, I was going for speed.

"Kit. Hit. Dit. Fit. (faster, I tell myself) Bit. Wit. Quit. Sh!t."


I said the word I didn't want to say. How did I say that? Why? Instant tears. I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble. I had visions of soap, time-outs, and worst of all my parents being upset. I decided to punish myself. And it's not as though I'd ever been disciplined this way, it was just how my five year old mind reacted. I slapped my own cheek. And cried more.

And my parents barely reacted to the word, more worried by my reaction. They told me they knew it was an accident, I wasn't in trouble.

Damn those four letter words. Er, I mean... Excuse me while I go slap myself.

But here I am a few year later, and I still try not to use very many four letter words. I like words with many letters. I love to use considerably large words that have a grandiose presence and imply that within me lies a greater intelligence level than actually is.

If people drop the F-bomb around me, I probably won't flinch (though I might react a little differently if my kids are with me). You can say any number of words, and I'm not going to throw a fit at you for using improper words in front of me. I may laugh at you, openly even, if you use excessive curses to the point that your sentences are no longer coherent. Flunked on vocabulary, did you?

But there is one word that, no matter how you incorporate it into a sentence, it will bring about a bad reaction from me. I will most likely cringe if it comes into conversation, and even possibly rebuke you for using that type of language in front of me. I will only utter it once on here, and we must never speak of it again.