I Haven't Been Able to Feel My Ass In Five Days

Weather is the big story with more of the winter nastiness on the way. Here are some pictures I stole from our local newspaper's site.

Still nothing on the microwave front. It's sitting on my dining room floor. (Where all good microwaves go to die?!)

Babysat my nephew tonight. He helped me make up my mind. While sitting around in our pajamas, he placed his hand on my foot and grimaced. That settled it; I'm getting a pedicure. (I was waffling about the expense. Clearly that is not an issue at this point.)

Y'all be well.

People Are Much More Interesting Than Headlines

I've stopped reading the news. I'd rather read other folks' blogs.

I'd like to blame tonight's sorry-ass post on two things: my sister not being home when I wanted to ask her for permission to post a picture of her dog (she's sensitive; trust me) and having spent the last hour being engrossed by this guy's site:

http://dirtyfloorsandfilthyjokes.blogspot.com/

A short no-microwave update: I melted butter THREE seperate times on the stove for this evening's Thanksgiving extravaganza. The first time I said, "sheesh." The second time I growled a bit. The third time I looked inward and realized that I could have melted all of it at once and then divided it up. Danger! Genius at work here people!

Everbody cross their fingers and parts and stuff that Spartacus doesn't kill himself fixing the white box of convenience tomorrrow.

Nasty cold sore update: there is finally no sign of "It." (Yep, it got named. By my coworkers. My brand new comrades. Does this mean I'm a part of the gang? I'm telling myself yes.)

Moral of the story: if you ever get a weird tingling ANYWHERE on your face, RUN - don't walk - to get your cold sore Rx filled. Cold sores on the nose ... WTF?!?!

Final thought: my girlfriend and I were driving to lunch the other day. "Hey!" she cried, reaching for my head, "you have a grey hair!"

I told her to leave it. I've earned it, damn it.

There's about an inch of ice right now over a couple of inches of snow, so I thought I'd post a nice picture. Sparkycus took this at the Grand Canyon summer before last.

Happy Monday!

The World is Coming to an End!

My microwave took a dump.

There is no other way to say it. I was making poop drops (named by my son.) The thingy dinged, so I took the bowl out to stir the chocolate & butterscotch chips together, put it back in, hit “add 30 seconds” and <bzap!>; ‘whole thing blacked out. Like a moron, I actually tried pushing a couple of different buttons. Nothing. I checked the phone. (plugged in to the same outlet) Nada. Spartacus looked and is pretty sure it’s an internal fuse.

Here’s the kicker: I’m making Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow!

Yes, we had “real” Thanksgiving with the in-laws on Thursday, but if I don’t have a full week of turkey sandwiches, I get angry. That and the meat-eater kid down the street was born into a family of vegetarians so I promised him a turkey. (mental wandering: I wonder what his parents think of me? Maybe they’re relieved someone feeds him stuff he likes … Come to think of it, I’m also the Mom who takes the kids to Taco Bell and the local nasty-ass all-you-can-eat buffet that their parents shun. Nutrition? Screw that! Are you full?)

OK, so the microwave … in my world, this is potential disaster. I’m going to prepare T’Day dinner sans nuker? I think not! Hell, I’m ready to balance my checkbook* and march to one of two 24-hour WalMarts, thank you very much. Spartacus, on the other hand, would prefer to invest three bucks in a special wrench and four bucks in a fuse. You can all guess what my first thought was to this solution. My second was, “is the life insurance policy paid up?” Just call me Practical Patty.

(* actually balancing the checkbook prior to running to WallyWorld was my stab at ensuring domestic calm)

I bet you’re wondering what in the world a poop ball is, huh? They’re something my friend Vicky introduced me to. It’s homemade candy, easy on the work. You mix crushed wavy potato chips (like Ruffles) and crushed salted peanuts (the cheap ones) with a bag each of melted butterscotch and chocolate chips. Drop by small spoonfuls onto waxed paper and refrigerate. Viola - candy!

I’m planning on taking them to work. It’s my way of rolling my eyes at the skinny folks. Three weeks ago, somebody started a group weight-loss initiative. In my rush to be “one of the gang,” I signed up. When I realized what I’d done, I had to go to the organizer and tell her that I’ve been fat for six and a half years; six more weeks wasn’t going to kill me. Man, there is something about skinny people hearing an overweight person talk about being fat that makes them very, very scared. I don’t know it is. Maybe it's yet another one of those things nobody told me we're not supposed to talk about? ‘Reminds me of people whispering the “cancer” word. Anyway, the point of all of this is that a) I’m not going to diet during my favorite time of year. Favorite because of the food; screw the Yule tidings and all of that crap. Bring on the calories! and b) skinny people are weird.

I am currently very enamored by Big & Rich. I’ll save you the psycho soapbox, click on the link to visit their site. I usually steal my music of the 'net, (hey - it's only piracy if you're wearing an eye patch!) but actually went out and bought BOTH of their CD's in the last ten days.

I know I had other stuff to blog about but am drawing a blank. More later, I guess!

Y'all be patient with one another; remember - we're all stressed out!

Cold Sores the Size of Columbus ... OHIO

I didn’t even know it was possible. I knew I was prone. That’s no secret. Every time I get super-stressed or really sick, I break out in cold sores. I have a prescription from my doctor and as soon as I’m feeling tingly, I pop a couple of horse pills and magic ensues.

Remember how I said I was sick? Lots of nose blowing involved, right? So imagine my surprise when the tingling feeling I was experiencing in the rubbed-raw-by-tissue area under my left nostril turned out to be a cold sore!! I didn’t even know it was possible to grow something this nasty on a non-lip area. And it’s big. It’s huge. In the words of Will Ferrell in “Elf,” it’s gi-NORMOUS. We’re talking somewhere between a dime and a nickel and well, (gross moment coming!) chock FULL of gunk. It’s so big, it’s now under my right nostril as well. And a little bit up my nose. It looks like I’m growing cauliflower out of my nose. My Mom used to say if I didn’t clean out my ears I’d grow corn in there; you’d think she would have warned me about THIS!

Have I grossed you out? Good. I want everybody to be as miserable as I am. You know how if you injure any part of your nose it makes your eyes water? Yeah - my eyes are watering all of the time, man!

OK, enough for now.

Sparkycus turns thirteen next Friday! Pictured here with his panther cat, Jackson, he is growing into quite the cool young man. Sensitive to other people and quite possibly as funny as his mother, he seems to be well-liked and sought out by his peers. We had parent- teacher torture conferences last week and every single one of his eight teachers gushed about how great he is. One guy was so effusive we showed him the child’s picture to be sure we were talking about the same kid. (I’m kidding, but come on - you laughed, didn’t you?)

Work continues to go well. I work with some of the greatest people. After leaving the video production company, I was convinced I would never work with that caliber of human beings again. Imagine my well, joy, at finding more of these folks! The guys immediately surrounding my desk are all very, very funny and two of them are pretty informed when it comes to pop culture, which makes them aces in my book. There are a couple of women there who somehow manage to speak to my soul. We have in depth, meaningful conversations almost daily and I can feel myself healing and growing. Uh, oh … getting misty-eyed. Better insert some funny …

So I was supposed to meet my boss at a breakfast seminar this morning at 7:30, then give her a ride to work after the class.

I wake up, yawn and stretch, turn to the clock. “7:35,” I grin to myself, “I actually slept!” My pleasure was short-lived. Reality bitch-slaps me in the form of realization as I shoot out of bed yelling, “shit, shit, shit!” and high-tail it to the shower. Once there, I calm down. There’s nothing I can do about it now: I’m late. Then it hits me <blam!> Dawn needs a ride to work! Now I have to break the news to the child that he has to ride the bus and I head for the seminar site. On the way there, I work on my reasons and excuses. I don’t have a single one, so I settle on honesty: I’m a dumb-ass and forgot. Satisfied with my very grown-up acceptance of my own stupidity, I head into the auditorium.

The sweet, sweet smell of biscuits, coffee and sausage embrace me as I walk in the door. My God, did they have this sucker catered by Denny’s? Man, it smelled good … like turkey & pumpkin pie smell after a three hour car-ride to Grandma’s good … like the wall of beer and cinnamon-roasted almond scent when you walk in to the ball game good … like smacking those women in the Yoplait commercials and shoving their spoons up their noses good …

I survey the auditorium exits and decide which door to stand near in order to optimize my chances of catching Dawn before she made it to a phone to call the office and ask where I was. As I stand waiting, I realize I can hear every word the speaker is saying. She’s handing out prizes! Amused, I listen as she trumpets, “… and to the first one here this morning …” and proceeds to announce Dawn’s name. Not only have I established myself as a complete nincompoop, but my boss gets the prize for arriving first. Cool, Laura, very cool.

Luckily, Dawn just laughed when she saw me. I’m not sure why, but she thinks I’m cool. I’m not sure who spread that rumor, but if whomever did could just spread it a little more, that would be great.

Time for a shout-out: LISA!!! How long have you been reading this? Do you have ANY idea how many incorrect and possibly inappropriate uses of commas, colons and semi-colons I’ve got goin’ in this thing? Man, I have GOT to get that stupid sitemeter thing fixed.

Here’s a great site for wasting time; http://www.worth1000.com/ I probably won’t post for a while; Sparkycus’ friend birthday party is tomorrow night complete with sleep-over, so I’m sure I’ll be busy. Keep yourselves amused whilst I’m gone. (

Have I Mentioned I'm Whiny When I'm Sick?

Hi, remember me? I know, I know, it's been for FREAKING ever. I have a reason, though ... really! Spartacus has us rigged up all wireless, but apparently one (or more?) of the neighbors have recently begun using other wireless devices which interfere with our connection. It ... is ... kicking ... my ... ass. Three computers (five if you throw in our work laptops) and only one with a semi-decent connection. Ni-ice. Needless to say, the order has been given to fix it or ditch it. 'Times like these that induce me to pine for my days in the trailer. (single wide, thank you very much.) Lots less to clean, wouldn't have been a problem to "pull" cable the entire length of the structure if need be, and nobody expected anything of me. No neighbors peering into my dining room as they take their walks wondering when on Earth I was planning on finishing painting my hallway. (uh, yeah ... NEVER!), no do-gooding neighbors offering to help take down that poor dead tree in the middle of my back patio ... (Look here, damn it; that TREE is the REASON I bought this place. It is not going ANYWHERE until I'm READY for it to go! Did I already say "damn it"? ... ) Come to think of it, here's a picture of that glorious, hope-inspiring tree before I killed it. (or whatever happened ... given my not so great horticultural reputation, it could very well have been me.)

And have I mentioned that I can not for the LIFE of me comprehend what it is sitemeter wants me to do to fix my little "counter ain't working" issue? And I don't understand my iPod, which for me is akin to a cardiothorasic surgeon asking what "that pulsing thingy is." PLUS I'm sick. 'Have been for a week. I've missed a total of three days in six and, while I'm assured it's okay, I don't feel like it is. There's more, but nothing I'm allowed to go into here because of the lawsuit. (yup; LAWSUIT)

Good times, man. Good times.

Lyrical Inspiration

you can go through life with the greatest intentions
but you do what you do - what you just gotta do
your blue might be gray
your less might be more
your window to the world
might be your own front door
your shiniest day might come in the middle of the night
that's just about right

And thus the power of music once again engages reflection:

Why is it we feel the need to be like "everyone else?" Remember the comic strip frame of the penguin standing in a group of identical-looking penguins singing, "I just gotta be me"? I think we all feel that pull to just be ourselves and yet we get sucked back into bending, stretching and sometimes even breaking to conform to the norm.

This is not acceptable.

In a quote I've posted before, Marianne Williamson said, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

I post this quote again because we all need to read it. We need to hear it. We need to feel it. We need to know that there is NOTHING wrong with us. Not a damned thing. We are perfect in our imperfections, and downright brilliant when we allow ourselves to think beyond the self-perceived flaws and just ... be ... ourselves.

Regardless of what you believe ... in God, an unnamed higher power, the energy of Mother Earth or nothing at all, you must believe in yourself.

That thing that scares the ever-living crap out of you? That thing that creates an image you only acknowledge when you're all alone? The one in your mind's eye of you doing something really, really well? Believe it. It's not your ego. It's you. It's your own soul telling you that you are indeed capable.

Think it over. And believe.