Moving on

I have been absent from the blogger world for awhile, experiences of life keeping me at bay. My mom-in-law died August 18th at a Hospice house, she left quietly when no one was looking. We all said goodbye to her as she lay in bed, tears streaking our faces as we said our final thoughts to her. This was very hard for me as I don't do well with sickness or dead bodies, I avoid visitations with open caskets at all costs.
She was Catholic and the family proceeded to have a long, drawn out catholic visititation, rosary, funeral, grave side, and luncheon. I now think that catholics may be masochists, I mean how many times can you say goodbye and go through the sorrow.
During all this I started a job and another sememster at school. My time is filled with working 40+ hours a week, two classes at night, and an endless supply of homework. Toss in my best friends wedding in September, a suprise 50th anniversary party for my parents in October, and you have one girl who is busier than a one legged man in a butt kicking contest.
One day I will finish these quests and take time to myself, for now I hope to have time to sneak peeks at those blogs I miss reading.

Life can change so fast...

It really amazes me how life can throw a curve ball. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of changes and emotional rollercoasters. My mom-in-law went to the hospital with pain in her leg only to discover she has advanced bone cancer with spots in her lung and kidney. While in the hospital she fell and broke her pelvis because of the drugs she was on. Watching this woman go from a vibrant grandmother to a frail little old lady has been very hard. She is dying, there is no denying it and she is not strong enough to make it through chemo. Keeping her comfortable is the best they can do now, so very sad.

I finished out my summer classes with A's amidst all the commotion to my suprise. I received a job offer from a previous employer that suprised me. They are creating a new position and called me to ask if I was interested, I was very flattered by this. We had a meeting and I accepted the offer and start next week, I took a couple weeks off to finish school and deal with the mom-in-law situation.

So, while I try to wrap my head around starting a new job, the sadness of watching someone die, signing up for fall night classes because I am so close to graduating, I wonder how people handle it all. This emotional roller coaster of sadness, anxiety, and anger. I am starting to understand the concept of Prozac now even though I have never had it. Being strong for my husband and his family is first on my list, the rest will fall into place, I hope.

Catching Up

So I have been busy, apparently for at least a month since my last post. I finished the last semester on a good note of making the Dean’s List. I had a few weeks in between semesters I thought would be slow, not! Between doing favors for everyone and volunteering a couple days a week the last few weeks flew by, I was looking forward to school starting again so I could slow back down.

Yesterday was my first class, government. Boring. The class is three hours long twice a week and most of it is the professor talking and he doesn’t exactly have a captivating voice. I will now take coffee to class to keep awake.

My other class is on-line through the college, Marketing. Again, boring. I have never done an on-line class so this will at least be interesting in that aspect. He has something due every day so there will be no slacking in this class, I just hope I understand it.

Along with all the other my hubby and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary yesterday. We stayed home and grilled a yummy filet mignon, asparagus, and crab cake meal. He even bought me roses, what a sweetie! It is funny to think of how much has changed in the past year and how fast it went. We really are late-bloomers, lol.

I am hoping to get back on track for the next few months, I have also missed reading my favorite other bloggers and need to catch up on their stuff, especially Hunter, The Vegetable Assassin, and Nooter. See you guys in a bit.

Library

So here I am, sitting in the beautiful library I have come to know and love the past few months, pondering how much I will actually get here this summer. I will have to make time to visit occasionally, I don’t want it to forget me after spending so much time here. I am taking classes this summer, but only one will be at the school. This library has become a dear friend and kept me company with seemingly limitless books and quiet time to work, I shall miss our daily visits.

Will it know when I visit my other library, will it be jealous? No worries, I will be back soon good friend.

Distractions

Ok, here we go, I am ready to read this chapter for accounting. The full

disclosure principle calls for financial reporting (another hangnail?) of any

financial facts significant (that girl’s shoes are cute) enough to influence the

judgment of an informed reader. (Fat boys in shirts on the beach, ha ha, damn

you Hunter) In some situations, the benefits of disclosure (I wonder what the

best beach is to find shells?) not as apparent. (I wonder if anyone is on

Facebook?) For example, recently the SEC (to hell with this, I will do it later)

Swimming in work

Busy. That would describe me lately. The last few weeks of the semester is looming and all the teachers like to see just how much crap they can load on you before the end. I feel like I am either studying at home, the library, or in my sleep. You would think I would be brilliant by now, but not so much. I did sign up for a couple summer classes though, might as well keep going until my brain disolves.

With summer looming around the corner I have been having this urge to go swimming. Unfortunately the lakes are still nut shriveling cold, or in my case ovary shriveling cold. For now I will have to suffice with a short backstroke in the bathtub.

I could go to the hotel in town and pay to use their pool, but I am not a fan of chlorine. One summer when I was a kid I swam at a community pool, my hair had green streaks by August from the chlorine. So if you are blonde and want green hair, go swim in a heavely chlorined pool daily, or use hair dye, your choice.

Samson is still limping, which makes me think he tore his ACL instead of just straining it, poor puppy. He misses his walks, but I keep telling him he needs more rest, and he stares at me with those big, brown, full-of-hope eyes and I feel like such a jerk for saying no. The perils of parenting a puppy.

So I am off to the usual, kissing the dog and petting my hubby before more homework.

Stay Gold

I was watching an incredibly gold sunset earlier and all I could think was "stay gold Ponyboy".

For those of you who remember that movie or like Robert Frost, I thought I would post the poem.


Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

A poet I'm not

I read on Hunter's blog that April is poetry month. I am no where near being the writer he is, so I thought I would be silly instead. Enjoy.

A prance
is a dance
done by a guy named Lance
in very tight pants

Mr. Hop-A-Long

So, Samson being the big "puppy" he is, strained his ACL a couple days ago. We took him to the vet and decided no x-rays were needed yet and she gave us some pain killer/anti-inflamitory pills for him to take. She also told us we need to keep his activity limited, has she met our dog?

Samson is recovering well, even putting weight on his injured hind leg now and then. I find it amazing how fast he can move on three legs. Today, being nice and sunny, was very hard to keep him from running around like a mad dog.

His big brown eyes look like they want to explode from pent up excitement. Whenever we walk near the door he dances on his three good legs in anticipation of a good romp. How do you make a dog understand that he needs to rest? If anyone knows, please fill me in. I guess I should have also asked for a prescription of doggie valium for the next two weeks.

Therapy Rant

Do you ever just want to freak out? I sometimes feel like that, or maybe it is just PMS. I usually don’t hold grudges against people and eventually just let it go, but lately I find myself holding my ground. I believe that I am one of those people who are always reliable and would do whatever for a friend. When you needed something I was the person to call, even if you hadn’t called me for months, I let is slide.

Back in June we had a sort of wedding reception/party at our house for our friends. We supplied all the food and asked for no presents. A couple who I have known for years was invited and said they would come. This same couple had notoriety for moving a couple hours away and didn’t inform anyone, and also she had a riff with another common friend. They also expect all of us to call them when we visit their town and “look them up”, even though they never do the same when they come back.

The day of the party she calls saying they can’t make it, her husband has to work, she doesn’t. Well, she can still come right? Wrong. I hear excuse after excuse knowing full well she is afraid to face the other friend, that he may start something. I found it highly selfish of her to think he would ruin my party just to confront her. I let it go, but it ground on me in a bad way.

When this couple was married we went and did everything we were asked to make it great. Rented a tux to stand in the wedding, even though we were broke. Picking out a thoughtful wedding gift and generally giving them support and help where needed. This is what friends do, right? So I sent her an email saying how I was disappointed, but should not have been surprised because of their history, and that my feelings were hurt that she couldn’t give me any support in return.

She emails back, calling me selfish and giving more excuses. I finally end the emails saying she is right and fighting about it is stupid, just to end it. Again I apologized for something I had no reason to apologize for.

We went and saw our friend’s band play last night and she showed up. Couldn’t come to my wedding reception, but could come to the bar? Almost everybody welcomes her with open arms, rewarding her for something she should have done a long time ago. She didn’t approach me and I did not approach her, for once I will not apologize for someone else’s misgivings.

Some people don’t understand it and call it petty, I call it standing up for me. I finally decided I am tired of it and am not taking it anymore. Why be treated like second class by your own friends? Not me, not anymore, even if they think I am the bad guy.

So that is my rant for today. “Good riddance to bad rubbish” as they say. This is my way of putting it to rest. Call it drama or whatever you want, I call it therapy.

Dogs and Roses

You never have to tell a dog to stop and smell the roses because they stop and smell everything.

I like my critters

So, I made through my third speech this morning. I felt awful about it because I did not have as much time to prepare so I was nervous, but people in class said it was really good. How strange. I did the usual “tug at your heartstrings” speech about the abuse of traveling circus animals and why those circuses should be banned.

I find it strange that we can have more compassion for animals than other humans, not that there is anything wrong with that. If you want to turn me into a snarling maniac who will whoop your ass up one side and down the other, just purposely hurt my dog or cat.

I like people, but we can be real assholes towards animals, and I don’t always understand why. My cat likes to mutilate birds on the bedroom carpet and leave us a gift of guts and feathers to clean up. Sometimes this pisses me off, but I can’t hurt her as it is in her nature to hunt. I can tell her no and hope she gets the hint we love her without the presents.

My dog likes to do what my husband calls “crop dusting”, meaning he will come in from outside, walk in front of us while silently farting, and then go back outside leaving us with his butt fragrance. I don’t know if he does this on purpose, I swear that sometimes I see him smile when he slips back out the dog door. It could be revenge for baby talking to him, or putting the wig on him at Halloween and proceeding to point and laugh hysterically. It is just something he does and we accept it as part of the dog he is, maybe adding a little probiotics to his dinner to settle the tummy.

So I beg people to be nice to animals, what have they really ever done to you? And if they did do something to you, are you sure you didn’t deserve it? We should never underestimate the intelligence or compassion of an animal. I have seen animals that act more of what we consider human than some humans themselves.

Spring Fever

Spring fever has taken over. My mind is on cleanup of the yard, should we fertilize? Are those bulbs I moved last fall going to come up or did I kill them? What should I plant in the garden this year? Should I expand the garden again?

While I sit in my economics class, watching the teacher talk and make gestures to the class, my mind meanders back to those thoughts, blotting out his voice. I think to myself that I should be listening to what he says because it will probably be on a test, I wonder what color the flowers will be?

Every spring I have this same problem, whether in a class or at my job. My eyes glaze over as I stare out the window, my thoughts dancing around the joys of spring and summer. How do I defy the magic of the two best seasons around here? I don’t want to, that is where the problem lies. I let them awaken my senses that have been dormant all winter. The colors and smells tantalizing my surroundings, making them new again.

So I may miss a question on the test, it is nothing compared to missing the evolution of spring and summer.

Not a kid hater

I have been enjoying the nice spring we are getting, something we haven’t gotten around here in years. This afternoon I did poop patrol, going around the whole yard and scooping up Samson’s winter droppings, sounds glamorous doesn’t it? At least he stays to the edges of the yard.

I have also been contemplating ideas for a persuasive speech I need to write this weekend. One of my ideas is being pro for kid-free zones. The idea came to me when I was trying to do work on a computer at the library and this lady had her 3-4 year old son on a computer next to me playing games while she worked on the next one. His game started messing up or something and he started whining and talking loud, eventually breaking out into crying. It was so distracting I finally grabbed my stuff and found another computer elsewhere.

The reason I love the library is the quiet and I don’t think it is the appropriate place for little kids to hang out when they are not old enough to read. There are so many other places kids don’t belong either, and I guess that is my idea for a speech. Some places, other than bars, should be adults only.

Ok, now you are thinking I hate kids. I don’t, I think most little kids are really cute and babies are adorable. I never had any, but I guess I never got around to it and I am ok with that.

So now I decide whether I can write a worthwhile speech on a touchy topic, or find something easier.

No Title Yet

The blood dripped into the sink with a light “plunk…..plunk”, each drip bursting into pink against the white porcelain. I watched the drips for a moment, caught up in the rhythm they created. Sighing to myself, I reached for a garbage bag so I could start cleaning up the mess I had made.

I admired the smooth slice along his neck, opening up his jugulars for all to see. As he bent over the kitchen sink to check for a clog, I reached around and sliced him like he was cattle in a slaughterhouse. The blood had gushed forth in one side of the sink while he struggled. When he went limp I shoved him over to the other side so I could get bleach going on the first side.

When the kitchen was clean and the body bagged up, I took a hot shower so the blood didn’t dry in my hair, I hate when that happens.

Season of the Chickens*

In the spring when I was ten years old, Mom came home with a box of twenty- five chicks and surprised us kids. Dad built a coop, and said we were eventually going to have fresh chicken. At the time I did not, or could not, comprehend the fresh chicken quote.

The chicken coop was an A-frame made from old boards that were gray from the elements. Inside there was a long trough for food and enough room for all the chickens. A square opening, big enough for a chicken to pass through, was in the front of the coop and led to a lawn surrounded by chicken wire. Another larger opening with a door was also on the front of the coop. I would often let the chickens out through the door so they could walk freely around the unfenced yard, much to my parent’s objection. My excuse was the chickens needed the exercise, and it gave me the chance to more closely observe them.

The chicks were kept in the house under a heating lamp until strong enough to survive in the coop. They were so ridiculously cute that I could not leave them alone. The softness of their yellow downy feathers and the little chirps they made were too much for me to resist. I spent enough time with the chickens to see them as pets. I had no problems picking them up like they were a cat and petting their feathers. Every day I was at the coop, watching them grow and interacting as much as you can with a chicken. The end of summer came, and Dad said the chickens were ready. I did not have the courage to ask what they were ready for, already suspecting when the axe was brought out and sharpened.

In the end we had seventeen chickens out of twenty five due to problems with raccoons and other animals getting into the coop. One chicken in particular survived an attack and managed the rest of his life with one leg. He was the only chicken that I gave a name to, Mr. Hop-a-long.

Butchering chickens is definitely not for the faint hearted. I stayed away when I saw the axe and piece of log. I had to help pluck the feathers after their heads were off and they had been dunked into the big cast iron pot of boiling water.

It was a messy project with feathers sticking everywhere, and I was not happy to help. Plucking feathers is not easy. Reminds me of plucking eyebrows; you just have to give them one good yank in the right direction. As the feathers came out I apologized to each chicken, letting them know this was not what I wanted.

It is a wonder I still eat chicken. I went without for quite awhile after that experience. It was such a mess and hassle killing and cleaning the chickens that Mom never did bring home chicks again, and I am thankful.

So why do I bring this up? I found some pictures of me as a kid and there it was, a picture of me grinning and holding a chicken in my arms like a cat, being the tomboy I was. Another picture shows me with the door to the coop open and the chickens filing out. That summer was my season of the chickens, my own learning experience in the circle of life.

*Edited Re-post

My First Car

Today I was reminded of my first car. It was an ocean blue 1977 Ford Maverick, which was an automatic with a six cylinder engine and could go up to 100 mph. I do remember testing that once (maybe twice). I had bought it for $450 from a little old lady who had barely drove it resulting in very low miles.

The thing that made me think of it was talking about the bright headlights switch on cars. My Maverick had the switch on the floor that you pushed on and off with your left foot. I don’t recall when they switched over to the levers on the steering column, but it is definitely easier.

My Maverick also had the bench seat, not seen in cars anymore that I know of, except the back seat. My taller passengers had to deal with knees rubbing the dash due to me being vertically challenged.

The only thing power on the car was the power steering. The air conditioning was 2/60, two windows down going 60 mph. The radio was standard am/fm with the push buttons that shot the little red line back and forth in the display, I eventually replaced it with one that had a cassette player.

When I was sixteen this was a great car and carried me around for two years. It had around 66000 miles on it when I bought it, about 115000 when I finally let it go to junk yard heaven.

The car was ten years old when I purchased it, (I see you doing the math), and was very rusted out when I quit driving it. I remember a blinker light that hung by the wire because the quarter panel had rusted out in that spot.

My Maverick was a great first car and it is hard to remember all the events it took me to or all the good times it provided. I feel lucky to have had such a good first car, even if it wasn't the coolest.

The Viewing

Like a buffet, the people were lined up waiting their turn. I stood next to a fake plant across the room and quietly watched, absorbing the experience. I listened to the comments on how “peaceful” he looked or that he “looked good”. I wanted to tell them he’s dead, and no one looks good when they are dead, but remained mute.

A nearby bench was filled with old women with their permed hair and large purses, some even had canes. The smell of their perfume mixing into a pungent distortion that almost made you feel light headed as you passed by. They spoke to one another in quiet whispers about their current health ailments, eyes searching for sympathy. It almost seemed to be a contest of who was in more pain.

I watched my husband across the room talking with others and shaking hands, feeling a bit guilty for being a pansy. I patiently waited and smiled a nod at those who came near me while keeping my eye on my husband and a place I couldn’t bring myself to go, near the casket.

I had never met my husband’s uncle and felt no malice towards him alive or dead, but I did have problems with dead bodies in general. They creep me out and make me horribly sad at the same time; I found it is better just to stay away from them completely.

More hands shaken and back pats as my husband made his way through the clusters of well wishers, eventually ending next to me. Condolences had been given, he had shaken the right hands, and we could now go home.

Spring

Spring is in the air. The sun has been shining for a few days, the temperature creeping up a little further each day, and the bird songs are returning. I fired up the grill yesterday and cooked some chicken for dinner, the smell of fire cooked meat tantalizing my nose.

While it was cooking I sat on the warm wood of the deck steps, surrounded by snow piles. The sun heated my skin, no jacket was needed, the first for the year. My two cats wandered out to join me in my basking and we listened to the birds and watched them flitter from tree to tree. The dog was lying in the snow happily chewing on a bone while the sun warmed his back.

I would have been disappointed when the chicken was done if I had not been so hungry, as it ended my first glimpse of spring. But it is on its way and there will be more to see tomorrow.

Stinky Butt McPutin? by Samson

Samson found out Nooter had a blog and was jealous, so I decided to let him do a post on mine.

You know when you find something on the side of the road with such an interesting aroma you have to taste it? I found one of those and took a bite even though mom told me no, I couldn't resist. I can tell ya it did not taste as good as it smelled, but it was no biggie at the time.

Later I was lying in front of the couch watching tv, mom and dad were on the couch. My tummy felt a little funny, but I farted a few times and felt better. All of a sudden mom and dad started saying that wierd name again, Stinky Butt McPutin. I don't know who Stinky Butt McPutin is, maybe one of those moving pictures on the tv?

If anyone knows who this Stinky Butt McPutin is, let me know, because when mom and dad say it they look at me. Maybe I look like him?

"Charge of the Light Brigade"

Today I heard a poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, titled “The Charge of the Light Brigade”, about the Battle of Balaclava in 1854. It was recorded in the late 1800’s. It is a fascinating poem, what you could hear of it, but very creepy. The recording is very crackly and sounds like something out of a horror movie, like hearing a dead man talking from his grave. It can be found on the internet and I recommend giving it a listen for the plain creepiness, and for the poem itself.

Here is a link:
http://charon.sfsu.edu/tennyson/lightbrigadewax.html

The Fireworks and the Russian

I had a dream where I woke up wrapped in a cushy comforter outside and there were fireworks going off. There was also some large Russian guy keeping an eye on me. I don’t remember the rest of the dream, just that feeling of awe at seeing the fireworks while being warm and cozy. What the fireworks and Russian guy have to do with it is beyond me.

It doesn’t surprise me that I dream of sleep, I am good at it. One of my favorite things is lazing in bed wrapped in a soft, puffy comforter. I like to do this on weekends instead of jumping out of bed, these are the times I am most content. I think I picked it up from my cats as they are usually right there to join me after they have had their breakfast. I like to watch my cats sleep and wonder how they can get comfortable just about anywhere they lay down. Sometimes watching them makes me tired like they cast a sleep spell when they snooze.

Back to the dream, the Russian guy still has me confused. I only know he was Russian is because of his accent, but I don’t remember what he said. The fireworks were amazing, coming from all sides. It was like I was somewhere in the middle of three different places shooting them off.

The whole thing was like remembering a small part of some weird movie that you find during the day on TV, something that you only see bits and pieces of so you are never really able to put the story together, then you keep waiting for it to come back on so you can watch the whole thing but it never shows up again. So I am stuck wondering what happened, why I can only remember that one little segment, and who is the Russian guy?

Killing Time

So here I sit in the library, killing time before my next class, listening to the clickety clicks of the keyboards around me. A glance through the window sends my thoughts to spring and how I wish winter would end soon. There is an angry typist across from me, his fingers pounding the poor keys as if hitting them harder will make his point better known. Makes me curious about what he is typing. I snack on crackers carefully hidden in my bag as the library has a no food or drink policy, am I a rebel or what?

I enjoy libraries, one of the few places I can feel totally at ease in. I love that there can be a group of people all together and be quiet at the same time, can’t think of anywhere else public that happens except church and funerals, and I am not fond of those.

It is my opinion more people should take time to be quiet and listen to their thoughts once in awhile. I see too many people constantly plugged in to their electronic doohickeys. I like my mp3 player, but don’t use it every day. I don’t text because the spelling issue annoys the crap out of me.

In the end I guess that even though I am not old, sometimes I feel outdated.

The science teacher, basket, and hotel room

The science teacher walked in to the hotel with a large wicker basket in his arms. The basket was covered with a red tablecloth so no one could see inside. At the registration desk he gave his name and a credit card for a room. The hotel clerk eyed the basket with open curiosity, asking the science teacher if that was something special. The science teacher laughed and said that it was just a small project he was working on and nothing more. That made the clerk even more curious, but could not ask again as the science teacher had grabbed the room key and was off to the elevator.

My Dog

Samson is my dog. Not because I own him, I took him in for a friend, no money was given. He has been with me for almost 8 years and stayed by my side through the good and the bad, that is what makes him my dog.

When we go for a walk he reads my body language and knows when to run or when to stay close. We have a mutual appreciation and love for each other that has grown into an indestructible bond. He sometimes loves me a little less during his bath, and I sometimes love him a little less when he pukes on the bed.

We have consoled and kept each other company through the good and the bad. He accepted my husband happily into our little family, but our bond remains strong. I fear the day when I have to say goodbye, it will be very hard.

Samson is my dog, just as much as I am his human.

Lovely Pages

I love to read books. The smell of the pages, the sound they make when you turn to the next, the words that tickle my imagination. I love being transferred into other worlds, sometimes other dimensions. The story can be fast and furious or slow and drawn out, as long as it captures my imagination. A fun tale can ease the nerves after a long day when you disappear into it. Movies are great, but nothing can replace a book, and hopefully never will.


Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life. - Mark Twain

Anybody out there?

It occurred to me that I have no followers. Not one. Is that pathetic or what?

Learning Curve

I paused at the door and checked the room number again, then hesitantly walked through. I picked a desk close to the door, an easy escape route I guess. Unzipping my backpack and pulling out the required books and writing utensils, I watch the rest of my classmates file in and take seats. Eventually the teacher comes in, checks the time, and closes the door indicating class has begun. The door swings open to admit a young girl who smiles guiltily and rushes to find a seat. Again the teacher closes the door and begins class by introducing themselves and summarizing the class while we watch, listen, and wonder what we got ourselves into.


This is what I experienced many times this week as I started school full time. I have not taken a class in eight years and have not gone full time since high school, which was twenty years ago. Ugh, that makes me sound old.

As I learned what was expected in each class I felt a little doubt enter my brain questioning my ability. When the assignments started, that doubt gained leverage in a couple classes. Let’s face it, school can be scary.

While I continue on next week I can only hope that my brain will adjust to getting this overabundance of information and start absorbing it into memory. Originally I said my goal would be to make the Dean's list (a 3.5 or higher gpa). Now my goal is to try for the Dean's list, but be happy with a passing grade. Wish me luck!

Letting Go

Do you ever have a conversation you wish you could take back? Yeah, I have had a few good ones. I recently minced words with a close family member, trying to make her think about her decisions, which basically resulted in a shouting match. She is officially an adult now at 18, but I try to remind her that although being 18 makes you an adult, it doesn’t necessarily make you mature. That went over like a turd in a punch bowl. My main concern is that she doesn’t seem to show much respect and hides behind text messages and emails. I wonder what will happen when she actually has to face someone in real life.

So I have come to realize that I just have to quit trying and let her go with her life. All my knowledge from years of trials and tribulations holds no sway; she wants to do it herself. I myself was a bit rebellious at that age too, but I knew when to listen to someone and trust my instincts, which kept me out of a lot of trouble. Things change, generations change, the world changes. I tend to think this generation of teens is spoiled and would have gotten their butt kicked back in my day, as I am sure someone thought that about me.

I bid her adieu and good luck while she starts her own life now. A day will come in the future when I am sure I will get to tell her “I told you so.”

Just cause you got the monkey off your back doesn't mean the circus has left town.
- George Carlin

Good Day

Do you ever just have a good day? I am having one of those, nothing spectacular or exciting, just a plain good day. I admit I am excited to be going back to school next week, I checked and it has been 8 years since I last took a college course. I made contact with a friend I haven’t seen in almost 15 years, that is pretty neat. That actually happened a few days ago but we have been conversing back and forth since. Hopefully we will get together soon and catch up.

Samson and I went for a walk being a balmy 35 degrees out. I also gave him a bath. Ok, so the bathing process is not fun and I usually get soaked, but his reaction afterward is fun. He rolls around on his bed trying to dry off and being silly. I treat him with a biscuit and he lets me trim his nails, then the brushing commences. At present time he is snoozing next to me on the couch, wore out from the activity.

So none of this sounds exciting, right? I know, but I have a smile on my face anyway and am in a really good mood. It is a shame to have such a good mood and no one to share it with, except Samson and the cats. I am in such a good mood I think I will pass on the cleaning chores today and enjoy a good book instead. Good things are coming, I can feel it.

May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house. – George Carlin

Public Speaking

I tried to be witty but ended up being silly.
I tried to be coy but ended up being a bore.
I tried to be cool but ended up being a fool.
I tried to be myself but ended up being like everyone else.

Yes, it is a silly poem. What it wrong with being like everyone else? Who said I wanted to be on stage and in the spotlight? I prefer to be in the background writing the script and pulling the strings, that is where the real action is at.

I am taking a required speech class this semester and it scares the crap out of me. I do not like being in front of a group of strangers and having to speak to all of them at once. One or two at a time I can handle, but a whole class? Excuse me while I grab the smelling salts. Ok, I have never actually fainted before and I am sure it will be fine if they can hear my squeaks in the back row.

Do we ever grow out of shyness? I believe that we do overcome it as we age. I have improved immensely since high school. I tried to blend into the walls back then, God forbid a teacher should call on me. It wasn’t that I did not know the answer; I was too scared to talk. Speaking in public probably never will be one of my strong suits, well maybe by the time I am seventy I will be ok with it.

The butterflies will come, my palms will sweat, and hopefully I won’t get the hiccups when I give my first speech. Maybe I will even learn something along the way.

The New Year

The New Year has begun and things are starting to look better already. We went to dinner and then spent a quiet night at home New Years Eve as hubby had to work the next day. This was perfectly acceptable by me.

I was looking at this New Year as a fresh start; I mean it has to get better than the last six months, right? The only really good thing I remember about 2009 was our wedding in Las Vegas, which was great. Otherwise the economy dumped, the winter lasted forever, the summer weather was cold and rainy, I was laid off and turned down by all the aid programs for school, and there was extra stress in my family.

But things are looking up. I was able to get a student loan at the last minute and squeeze into classes for the next semester. Our TV in the bedroom went kaput and by chance someone in his family had purchased a new one and we got the old one for free, timing is everything sometimes.

These are small things to get excited about, but when you have had some bad luck you take what you can get. My outlook for the coming year has brightened with newly resuscitated hope.

In a couple weeks I will be buried by schoolwork, which is a bit scary since I have been out of school for so long. But it is doing something that will hopefully help with our future, something useful. I am ready to do this now and it feels right at this point in my life, guess I really am a late bloomer.

So I make a toast to the New Year, this was an old friend’s favorite:
“Here’s to you, here’s to me, and if you would rather disagree, to hell with you and here’s to me.”