Monday, June 30, 2008

Just Another Manic Monday

(Um, think Bangles, not psychosis when hearing that phrase.)

If you have found this blog entry because you were googling information on the most fabulous band of my fun years, I apologize. You are lost. That said, welcome. I've seen the Bangles in concert--with the Go-Go's. Great show. Great harmonies. Music history. You can stay or go but I'm glad you got lost for a millisecond.

Let's recap, shan't we? It's Monday, one job started and one job ended. As the wife will attest, I am not one to cry but there I was, crying like a baby when that job ended. Here's hoping I'm not crying like a baby while the new job gets started. (The wife's family would have been so proud. They cry over everything--from Packer touchdowns to good forecasts on the Weather Channel. Okay, that might be exaggerating JUST a bit, but only a wee bit....)

Father Taco Juan talked his way out of the hospital and is now home. Intestines of Steel! I'm not sure how someone has two feet of intestines removed and then goes home in just a very short few days. This is a man on a mission to recover! Now, ol' TJ wasn't willing to give the Addiverse any photos of his belly/insides/scars, so I have deemed it only fair to show a photo of him when he had those two feet of intestines still in tact. I'm sure he won't mind....ha ha! (Next time, just hand over the photos of the wounds and this type of publicity won't happen.)

The wife and Blue Eyes are in Milwaukee, enjoying Rascal Flatts and Taylor Swift in concert at Summerfest. I was supposed to go but the new job put a kibosh on that; Master Reiki couldn't go, either, as her mom had open heart surgery (when in doubt, always pick the mama over a concert). We purchased the tickets in January, so it's not like we could predict I would have a new job or that my schedule would change or that MReiki's mom would need heart surgery.

Summerfest, by the way, is near and dear to my heart as is the first place the wife and I ever had a true fight. I'm 100% sure I've told this story on the blog before (probably more than once) but I am going to indulge myself and reminisce about the event in 1983 where she didn't know her way around town (she grew up there, for Pete's sake, you'd think she'd know how to get around) and we almost ended up going on an off ramp--a very bad idea that led to very loud screaming--me at her.

I don't think the three zillion Jacob Best light beer had anything to do with the incident but it couldn't have helped.

Since then, we've gone to Summerfest a boatload of times. I am happy to report the wife STILL does not know her way around Milwaukee. The Marcus Amphitheater is a good place to catch a concert, as long as you have pavilion seats. That sitting out on the lawn is for young people who are drunk and don't care that they can't see the show or that it is pouring on them (not that I would know anything about that).

Here's Lucy giving a skeptical look about the wife driving Blue Eyes home from Summerfest tonight.

Speaking of Lucy, she has NOT given back the stolen squeaky and now that she has eaten the eyes off of it, I'm thinking we will just have to go out and by Cheeseball Neighbor's dog a new one. I"ll take it out of her allowance.

Speaking of speaking of Lucy, she threw up again after getting to my parents' house. It's either car sicknessness or my father---we're not sure. Ha ha. It IS really weird that she almost never, ever throws up except for when visiting there....

Update on the traveling sister: Lady Di, Chief Hubby and the three nieces are traveling the globe in a Trailblazer. (There goes the college tuition in gas prices.) She's been emailing reports from the road. Let me ask you this--would YOU want to be driving to Yellowstone in a Trailblazer with three teen girls?

I thought not.

As I haven't heard from her today, I am a bit concerned. I hope she didn't toss anyone in to Ol' Faithful....

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow...

I had started to write about leaving my job and how it is really a bittersweet thing and how parting really is such sweet sorrow....or, babbling about Madonna getting divorced (where parting will NOT be sweet sorry for Guy, as there is no pre-nup agreement and she's worth $600 million)....or, how it was really sweet sorrow parting with $195 dollars total on those Madonna tickets I don't have.....

....but, then I learned that my during my dad's surgery yesterday that they took out TWO FEET of his bowels and that distracted me from any maudlin dribble I might have actually published.

TWO FEET! I mean, come on, that's like ridiculous!

Now, I know that there are a lot of intestines in there, so two feet may not actually be all that big in the Overall Intestinal Universe, but I'm thinking that is a LOT of intestines to remove laproscopically.

Yes, they did it without even opening his entire abdomen up. (Is this a great country or what?) The surgeon literally removed two friggin' feet of intestines via three small (relatively speaking) incisions.

Man, I so wish there were photos of all of this!

Alas, I do not think there are photos to be had and thus we will have to rely on our imagines and any other information the parents can glean out of the surgeon.

Two feet of intestines is SO blog-worthy!


Anyways, old Taco Juan is still unable to eat (since Monday night, dear god) and he certainly hasn't smoked yet (for crying out loud, he can't even pee yet) but he looks good and he hasn't hurt anyone yet (from lack of nicotine, that would be), and he can walk just fine with a catheter (well, from my point of view he can walk fine; I'm not sure he would agree) and he looks no worse for the wear without those two feet, so all is well in the Addiverse. I know he would prefer not to have all this posted on some blog but I have to do it because I am in total awe about this and he can't stop me, anyways, because I can outrun him as long as he has that catheter in there.

I highly doubt parting with two feet of intestines really is sweet sorrow but if there is anything wrong with that thing, it is indeed a very sweet thing.

I'll try and sneak some photos of his butt hanging out of his hospital gown--I have his cell phone and I know how to use it! Of course, I will do this ONLY while he has the catheter in so I can indeed make a quick getaway. Ha ha.

And so, I waste no space on work dribble but rather focus on my father's good health. If you're just sitting around (and you ARE just sitting around if you are reading this blog), feel free to send Taco Juan some healing vibes. In return, I'll try and get some more information--and photos!--so I can embarrassingly post more information on my father's parts......

Monday, June 23, 2008

Where ARE my undies?

This photo has nothing to do with anything except that it made me laugh and it's my FORE-ty sixth birthday week, so I can do as I please.

Where in the world is Addi Warrior Princess? Ending a job, starting a job, traveling to training, attending training, trying not to sneak out early from training, sitting in a hospital room with Father Taco Juan, driving back and forth to see Taco Juan, crying a tear in MJagger's beer, being on call, ad nauseum.

At this exact moment? Sitting using her parents computer, waiting for training, wondering where in the hell her undies are.

What do you mean, no undies? Well, she drove to training, went to training, went to her parents house, slept soundly, got up to get ready for training and to wave good luck to Taco Juan but when searching through the clothing, no underwear was to be found.

What's wrong with Taco Juan? Nothing that the removal of 18 inches of bowel can't cure.

Wait, what will Addi Warrior Princess do without undies? Going without underwear to a professional training seems like a bad idea and there is no time to go buy any undies and wearing dirty undies is out of the question, so this could pose as a problem. Now, don't laugh, but she keeps an extra pair in her car--for after those spontaneous work outs when she wants to feel fresh and pretty. Just so you know, there is an entire extra day's worth of clothes in her trunk--even a pair of shoes. She must have been a Boy Scout--"Be Prepared."

Is that normal? I think not but it sure comes in handy when you forget to bring your undies on a trip out of town.

What about tomorrow? HELLO! That's what Wal-mart is for. There will be brand new panties in the Addiverse.

What's the new job? Working with senior citizens in a day care setting. Big title, little paycheck, potential for big paycheck. Dress clothes. Trouser socks. Fiscal Viability.

What's the training? Addi Warrior Princess is learning all sorts of interesting things, like how many grains, veggies and cups of milk must be served during the day to the participating seniors.

You're kidding, right? No. Two grains, two veggies or one veggie, one fruit or two veggies, one milk, ad nauseum. The actual product doesn't matter--fat-filled processed food with no redeeming value is acceptable as long as it fits into the grain/veggie/fruit/milk pattern of being.

Does chocolate ice cream count as a food? No. It's not fluid milk, so it doesn't count. Neither does pudding, so don't ask.

Do the seniors have to wear undies? No, the food rules do not require undies.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

FORE-ty six!Well, look who got new golf clubs for her birthday? Complete with an "Addi Caddie!"

(You can click on the photos and you'll get a close up of the action and birthday gift. Yippee Skippee!)

The wife surprised me this morning by taking me on a mystery trip in honor of my birthday. (We have to celebrate a few days early because I won't be home for the "real" day of birth.) Coulda knocked me over with a feather when she pulled in to a golf course...and, then gave me a new set of clubs. Bonus was that ol' Blue Eyes was standing there, waiting to be the "Addi Caddie." (Much love to Master Reiki who couldn't be there with us, as she is with her recovering-from-heart-surgery-mama way down south.)

What a kick-ass surprise! Kudos to the wife for such a wonderful gift.

Let me just say my last set of clubs were purchased in the mid 1980's and had seen a better day. I think I paid $79 for the whole set (bag included), so you know I wasn't carrying around a Big Bertha or anything. Those clubs were too embarrassing to even be seen with and thus I can't say I've golfed much in the past few years. (And, the last time I truly golfed with those supposed-to-be-golf-clubs was the day before I had my appendicitis. Another reason to get rid of those old, crusty things.)

Last year was supposed to be "Sporty-five" but that didn't go so well with the whole pleurisy thing. Blue Eyes says this will be the year of "FORE-ty six" in honor of the golf clubs. Here's hoping that is a more successful mantra.

Gotta stop blogging. There's golfing to be had!

(P.S. No, Lucy has not returned the stolen squeaky. She is still carrying it around. Sigh. A criminal in our home. Where did we go wrong?)

Saturday, June 21, 2008

It Takes a Thief....Uh oh. Puppy school drop-out turns to kleptomania....ransom note to follow.....

Dear Riley, the Cheeseball Neighbor's dog:

I HAVE YOUR SQUEAKY. I am holding it hostage until you turn over all your treats and some of that dog food you eat every day. No one will get hurt as long as you turn over the ransom. The squeaky will not be harmed, although I am not REALLY sure I want to return it to you. Yes, yes--I admit I stole it when we came over to let you out yesterday. I couldn't help it. It was the finest squeaky I have every seen and the squeaky was really loud and not broken and it's orange, which is one of my favorite colors. Freckles tried to horn in on the action but I told her to STEP AWAY FROM THE SQUEAKY! IT'S MINE! I haven't let it out of my site since stealing it from your house. Don't think that I'll give it up easily. And, don't try to bribe me with any of those cheeseballs--I'm not falling for that trick.

Sincerely,
Lucy, Bark of Poteidaia
Squeaky Thief

Thursday, June 19, 2008

What Not to Wear in the Addiverse

(Happy Birthday, Freckles Warrior Princess, 56 years young!)


You know the show "What Not to Wear?"
It's one of my favorite shows, which is kind of ironic since I am a fashion disaster. I often fear that they are secretly filming me with my "slob-on-the-job" look. Well, the unthinkable has transpired--I have accepted a job that requires business dress. Not business casual, not casual, not slob--business attire.

Um, I am SO not about "trouser socks." Even the words "trouser socks" sends nausea through my body. I must toughen up, mortify the flesh and make the plunge.

As I am queen of fashion faux paux-ness, I have sought the input of my business-world friends. After all, if you have to have a mentor, get one who has walked the walk. I am awaiting their words of wisdom so I can buy "business on the cheap." After all, I have a strict budget and an aversion to spending major money on any article of clothing besides shoes.

The other day, the wife and I were out shopping for some new business clothes. I put this rather foo foo (at least I thought it to be foo foo) blouse on and stood in front of the wife, wondering aloud if the shirt fit. She starts to laugh. I'm like, "what? Doesn't it fit? Is something wrong?" and she says, "I'm just not used to seeing you in things like that."

Great. Can't wait to hear what my friends have to say.

While in the stores, I try to remember things that Stacy and Clinton have said over the years. I know that:
  • PLEATED PANTS ARE EVIL. They are the DEVIL. (If I get nothing else right, I will get this one correct. No pleats!)
  • It's pant, not pants.
  • You don't have to match everything head to toe in the same color; in fact, this is probably a bad idea all around.
  • Get a nice business suit.
  • Use a tailor as needed. (Where the hell do you find a tailor? How much is that gonna cost me to hem those pants? Sheesh!)
  • Spend money on a few articles of really nice clothes (even if no one has handed you a credit card with $5000 on it).
  • Dark jeans, fancier in nature than not, are good for those casual occasions...as long as they fit correctly and not worn in business settings of my new employer.
  • T-shirts, gym shoes and sweatpants should not be worn in public except at the gym. (Not even during a trip to the local Wal-mart!)
  • Your hand bag does not have to match your outfit exactly. (That is, if you carry a handbag.)
You get the idea.

I think all those gym shoes I own (of which I lust) will have to stay home and not go to the office. Besides, I can't wear trouser socks with gym shoes. (Can I?)

Some of you are saying, "Wait, wait, wait! A new job? What new job?"

And, I will tell you I don't have time for nonsense like talking about a new job when there are dress clothes to be had. Maybe later. Until then, donations to the "Save-the-Addi-Wardrobe- Fund" are gladly being accepted.....

......Unless, of course, you want to send money for a Madonna ticket, who by the way, has had her concert set list sneaked out by some naughty but resourceful tidbit. I have no idea if this is real or fake but it is fun to get a peek at what might be performed at the concert. It looks like she will once again be including "Las Isla Bonita" which she includes in EVERY concert and which I do NOT like. What is UP with her love of that song? If this set list is correct, she'll have a lot of "oldies" included in the show--we're talking old school, first album oldies. While I do not have a ticket, I have faith that I will have sooner than later and that I will be able to confirm or deny the validity of the leaked concert set list.

Let it be known that when I go to that concert, I will NOT be wearing a business suit or trouser socks.....

Monday, June 16, 2008

Just Desserts

Now that it's June, it's time for me to return to the doctor for a check of the ol' cholesterol level....last December or so, I was given 6 months to get my cholesterol numbers down or I'd be looking at medication. You would think a vegetarian would not have elevated cholesterol levels, but I am living proof that it is possible. I did great for awhile, even implemented my Jillian Michaels/Less-is-More intensive workouts; in fact, I am still working out at least 5 out of 7 days a week. In fact, here is a photo of what I now look like:



















Ha ha!

No, really, I am still working out lots. I think--if you look REALLY REALLY closely and if I stand in JUST the right way in JUST the right light and I SQUEEZE my stomach in a certain way--you can see that I now have ab muscles. Not exactly a six-pack but there is a teeny bit of definition there. While most of you would be thinking, "she's kidding, right?" I am here to say that it's the first time in my 46 years on the planet that I can make a statement such as that (meaning: oh my gosh, I almost have ab definition.)

No, I am not going to lift my shirt up and show you.

Back to the cholesterol. In addition to my Jillian torture routines, I was really worked on what I was eating.....

....then, I went on that cruise.

I'm not sure eating ice cream at EVERY meal qualifies as a cholesterol-lowering measure. (Nothing much qualifies as cholesterol-lowering on a cruise except for the wife's oatmeal and I was NOT wasting my time eating oatmeal.) Tasty, but bad for the heart. Today's consumption of a donut and bowl of ice cream is probably NOT going to do me any favors during tomorrow's cholesterol blood test. A donut! I haven't eaten a donut in months.


I eat a donut and then the doctor calls about lab work. Coincidence? I think not.
What a cruel universe we live in! (Or, should I say what a cruel, cruller universe)

I've spent the afternoon trying to convince myself that all that working out has made a difference in my health and blood work and thus my exercising will have led to improved cholesterol levels, donut or not. Only time and the lab results will tell.

On a side note, I would like to add that I purchased Jillian Michael's "30 day shred DVD" this weekend. I have done the level one workout twice and I am here to tell you that my thighs have some words for Jillian and they are not thank you. I've been mixing it up a bit, but still on a beginner level for all intensive purposes. I do sweat a lot, so that should count for something (besides smelly clothes).

Since we're talking about unhealthy food products, I am drawn to an email recently sent to me by my 13 year old niece, who (much like her aunt) is baking- impaired. The wife and I have been laughing out loud about the various emails she has been sending since the arrival of summer vacation. (One email proclaimed that she loved how her new bowling ball smelled.) This week, she was assigned a mission to bake some brownies (which, by the way, if made with apple sauce & egg beaters, are really not that bad for your cholesterol), as evidenced by this email below. I did not edit it because the way it is written is exactly perfect. Niece DS Grrrl writes:

"I am NOT a baker! You need to remember that.

Ok, so my mom asked me to make brownies. I thought I could do that but it turns out I can't. This is what happened: I was trying to open the brownie mix and I couldn't find any siccers, sizzers, scizzers. (How do you spell sizzors????) I was opening the bag when all of a sudden KABOOM! The bag opened on the side which made about half the mix go all over the counter, in the sink and on the floor. (Eldest Sister cleaned up after me.) After that problem was fixed I went to put the mix in the pan but I forgot to greese it. (Eldest sister fixed that too!) When I was done putting the mix in the pan I realized that I forgot to preheat the oven. While I was waiting for the oven to heat up I was getting an oven mit out of the cabinet. I dropped it into the browines. What could possibly go wrong when I take them out of the oven? I can cook not bake.

There is a huge difference.

Even with all my screw ups my brownies are still pretty good.

Even though I forgot about them like twice."

She can't bake but she can tell a funny story. Definitely a relative of mine. The wife has forbidden me to bake. Really. I wrote back to my niece, "that's why they invented McDonald's Chocolate Chip cookies--so we don't have to bake."

Oh, man! I forgot about those. I've eaten a truckload of those puppies over the past few weeks and they are dripping in cholesterol.

Um, I can't write more--I have to go consume a vat of oatmeal and do seven hours of Jillian Michaels work-outs before tomorrow's lab work....

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Period.

The Madonna mega-million tickets have FINALLY been confirmed as being received by the eBay stalker girl. You have no idea how much this relieves me as I had visions of our uber-expensive tickets floating in the lost world of postal hell. Enough of that. Don't talk to me about Madonna for at least a month. Period.

Here is a photo of the new wood floor. I know, I know, that is not very exciting for you, dear blog reader, but it is exciting to me. Boy, the room looks teeny tiny from this view. It looks bigger now that the wife has put back some of the furniture (she hasn't put it all back in the room as Floor Man has to return and put the transition piece and the quarter round in). The wife wants this finished NOW as she does not like to have things left undone. Floor man is doing this as a side job and thus can only come over when his other jobs are canceled due to the weather. This means the wife has to wait and fret and obsess. I just look at the floor and smile because it is so beautiful. I remain amazed that a floor can make me smile. The wife is not smiling and won't be until the floor is done. I tell her that patience is a virtue, which is REALLY funny coming from me because I have no patience of my own. She wants it done. Period!

Speaking of periods (and you SHOULD have seen where this was going), we went to "Game Night" last night our friends' house. This is an event where we go to Chick-a-hello and Dizzy's abode, eat ridiculous amounts of food and don't ever play any games. There is so much food you want to vomit. (It's like being on that cruise ship but only you are on land, but there is that much food, all home made. Chick-a-hello gets crazed when it comes to having food for company.) Anyways, Chick-a-hello's daughter turned 16 this week, so we had Game Night in her honor. As you can imagine, it is probably pretty embarrassing to have a bunch of your mom's friends over for your 16th birthday, but that's what happened and that's what "I-want-a-car-Katydids" had to endure. She's known all of us her entire life; in fact, many of us were present for her actual birth, so she should be used to this behavior from her mother by now. IWAC-Katydid is also used to us yipping about embarrassing (to her) discussion topics and so it should have been no surprise to her that last night--during her birthday-game night party--the conversation somehow turned to having your period.

Can you imagine how mortifying this is for some poor 16 year old? Grown women sitting around a table full of food talking about menstruation. I'm sure IWAC-Katydid wanted to DIE right there and then.

We, of course, were hooting and hollering during this stroll down memory lane. We're talking "Do you remember the sanitary napkin belt?" kind of laughing. It all started because Chick-a-hello mentioned that she still has her high school gym class gym suit. (Why she has this when she is 50 years old, we do not know.) This somehow tangentially led to talking about getting your period, learning that this event that was going to eventually happen, memories of what happened when the blessed event arrived. There were stories of going to "the lecture" in 5th grade where the school nurse took all the girls to talk about menstruation and not knowing what the hell this lady was talking about to initial tampon triumphs. There was talk of the problems associated with sanitary napkin belts to the problems with winged maxi-pads. But, my absolute favorite story of the night was when Chick-a-hello talked about her first attempt at using a tampon.

This was a very in-depth story, of which I shall not recall here, as the details are too much for you delicate blog devotees. But, I cannot leave out SOME of the details, as the story was so funny the wife was turning red and trying not to snort while laughing. Poor Chick-a-hello. She had to figure out the whole tampon thing on her own, without verbal or written direction. Seems she was somewhere not near home and got her period. The only thing the person she was with had was a tampon.

Girls of the world, I swear this is true. Chick-a-hello took that tampon out of the wrapper, stared at it, took the plunge (literally and figuratively) and put that puppy in where the sun don't shine.

Problem was that she didn't know you weren't supposed to leave the cardboard applicator in.

Chick-a-hello couldn't figure out why, wow, this whole tampon thing wasn't very comfortable. In fact, it pretty much was painful. So much for all the girls saying how comfortable tampons were to use.

Thankfully, her pained expression and inability to walk normally clued in someone and they explained to her that you don't leave the cardboard applicator in. Too bad someone didn't explain to her how long a tampon might actually "work," as her next problem was that she thought she could just leave it in there and it would magically work all day. You can imagine the result of THAT misunderstanding.....

I think I saw IWAC-Katydid crawl under the table at this point.

If you were 16 years old and your mother was talking about tampons and having your period .....wouldn't you crawl under the table, too?

Ah well, that's what being a teenager is all about--being mortified by your parents. Period.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

I am in Madonna hell. You know those stupid Madonna tickets I sold because MJagger figured out we couldn't afford them? Talk about losing money. I ended up paying eBay costs (which I knew about and thought was fine), PayPal costs ("Ma'am, you should have read the agreement") and the insurance for mail delivery (which cost me $25.00 because the stupid tickets are worth so much money). I should have just driven the tickets to the lady and exchanged the tickets for a wad of cash. Simpler, easier, cheaper--even with today's gas prices. It's my fault for selling them that way--not asking for more. I just wanted to make sure the tickets sold for what we paid so MJagger and I could break even.

Break even, my ass!

All that and I am back to not having a ticket and having a bill for tickets we don't have.

WILL SOMEONE PLEASE POKE MY EYES OUT WITH HOT STICKS!!!!!

On a different note, I am in wood floor heaven. The new floor is absolutely beautiful. It is very fabulous and I am so grateful to the wife for bringing this beautious thing into our home. The wife says she has never seen me so excited about a house project. Actually, I have never been excited about a house project. The dogs don't like it much but I sure do. It actually makes me smile whenever I look at it. Who woulda thunk a new wood floor could make me smile? You know, I am happy to point out that I have a wooden floor included on my Vision Board, so two down, a bunch to go!

Guess I should have put some fabulous paid-for Madonna tickets on the Vision Board......

Don't worry. I'll get over my Madonna pity party sooner than not.
I feel entitled to being pissy right now but promise to get over it as soon as humanly possible. Sometimes it helps to publicly bitch and then get it over with.....

... So, you dear blog reader, are my version of cheap therapy and for that I thank you.

Just don't send me a bill. :-)


Monday, June 09, 2008

Update: Madonna Roller Coaster Ride from Hell

Well, it has transpired....

I am despondent to report that I did indeed successfully sell the second row Madonna tickets on eBay. The Madonna Roller Coaster Ride from Hell has stopped at the Paypal train station and isn't coming back my way for a long time.

Thank god for chocolate and anti-depressants.

It was one of the things where it was really good (the tickets sold) and really sad (the tickets sold). I mean, the glory of second row seats was overwhelmingly incredible and filled with giddy-goodness. The price tag attached to the glory was overwhelmingly incredible and filled with large credit card fees.

So, I'm back to being ticket-less for the Madonna concert in October. I'm sure I'll get a ticket and I'll go, but it's too soon. Right now is the time to grieve and to have a pity party.....

....well, and time to mail off the Madonna tickets to some chick in Chicago.....

....who, by the way, is my newest cyber stalker. I'm not sure who has been more nervous through this whole eBay ordeal--her or me. We emailed back and forth all day yesterday--she wasn't sure I wasn't some schmuck trying to scam her and I wasn't sure she was a real person who was trying to screw me. I mean, how do you prove to a bidder you are a real person with real tickets and you are real honest? How do you know the bidder's requests (like for more close up photos) aren't some funky way of screwing you? I wrote to her that I did not want any bad Madonna karma and thus I wasn't being dishonest in any capacity. She, in turn, did indeed bid. Now we are working out the mailing details. Talk about anxiety. If gas prices weren't so ridiculous, I'd drive the stupid tickets directly to her.

I'd like to say I'm not so shallow that Madonna ticket traumas can get me down....

....but, I'm down.

Well, when the Universe shuts one door, it usually opens a window. So, I will have faith in Madonna, the Universe and myself.

Until then, it's chocolate and anti-depressants.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

You want cheese with that whine?

Holy Cow! Is it Saturday already? And, hasn't it been about three years since my last blog posting? (Okay, maybe like a week.)

I've been busy with many an unrelated thing, including but not limited to:
  • fretting about Hillary's loss (dang that Bill),
  • chasing the various tufts of hairs sticking out on the dogs (dang that bad groom job) ,
  • helping the wife choose the color & type of wood for a new floor (dang that Freckles Warrior Princess peeing all over the rug), and
  • fretting about the Madonna tickets (of which I really do not wish to speak, kind of like the way you are not supposed to speak Lord Voldemort's name in Harry Potter stories).
Before I begin the whine fest, let me just say "Godspeed, Lilypad." (Please refer to my Texas Roadtrip blog entries in Mid-May for more information on Lilypad.) Lily pad died after recent hip surgery. Condolences to her family. (I never did talk about Opus Dei, did I? I'll have to do that someday.) I'm so glad I got to go on that road trip and meet her.

As predicted many a blog ago, Hillary lost because I voted for her. My record stays 100% in tact for NEVER voting for the winner in a presidential-related election. Thank god I was out of town when the vote for Bill Clinton came around--he should probably send me a thank you note. This loss leads me to my next quandary: vote for Obama and make him lose (which is not what I want to happen); vote for McCain and watch him lose (which is not what I want to do because what if it is the time my track record fails me); or, stay home and not vote at all (which is what happened the second time Bill Clinton ran and won). At least I have until November to make a decision.

As for the floor, the wife continues the home improvement process. I am much more excited about a new wood floor than I am about a new kitchen faucet. The wood is going in our front room and will be replacing the gross, pee/poop/puke-stained 13 year old carpeting now growing there. While I would have been happy with just about any kind/color of wood, may I say the Hickory chosen by the wife is especially delightful. She chose it for its hardness as well as color--she wants to get the most durable wood for the price, because she knows me and the dogs and if there is a way to scratch or dent the wood, we'll do it. (At least she doesn't have to worry about me putting dents in the floor from my high heels. I don't wear high heels.) The wife did the "dog toe-nail scratch" to samples of wood, literally dragging their little paws across the samples. She also had me do the "Addi Spaz Test" where I did things like drag my keys across the samples. The ten cartons of wood are sitting in our kitchen, acclimating to the atmosphere in the house and awaiting the arrival of the installer dude (who has yet to show up for any of the projects the wife has hired him to do but it's all good because she hasn't paid him a penny).

Last night, I groomed the dogs faces and I am here to tell you I did a good job of it.
Much better than I did with their poor little bodies. I did remove the giant tuft of hair on Lucy's butt, so she does look less scruffy than prior to the re-shaping. She unfortunately moved while I was straightening out a bit of chest hair and ZZZZZTTTT! A new bald spot was created. Ah well, it grows back and she can't see it....

Finally, Madonna. I am really not at liberty to say much about it and I really don't want to say much about it, but suffice it to say that MJagger is having a moment of sheer terror now that she has reflected on what we paid for the tickets and she has deemed that we should now SELL our tickets. Is this like the Madonna-ticket-roller coaster-from-hell or what? She does have a point about the cost--the floor will cost less than the ticket--but, all I can think is SECOND ROW! We'll see what happens next week, as you know that things related to Madonna in the Addiverse change more than the weather does in northern Illinois. I have the tickets in hand, so I could always refuse to do anything but that wouldn't be the right thing to do and god knows, I want to do the right thing when it comes to Madonna in concert.....

....I....must....preserve.....good.....Madonna.....Karma!

I have listed the tickets on eBay. I'm leaving it up to the Universe. If no one bids, great. If someone buys them, great. I am letting it go.....go.....go.....

.....You do know what will happen, don't you? The tickets will sell and MJagger will change her mind and want them back.

....I have to go eat some chocolate now. (Better than going out and downing a six pack.) I can't think about the Madonna thing any more....I think I'll go shave the dogs' bellies to take my mind off all this.....

Sunday, June 01, 2008

Paint, Groom, Eat, Weed


This has been my mantra for the weekend: Paint, Groom, Eat, Weed. Paint, Groom, eat, weed. The mantra is of my own doing and should not be blamed on the wife. Since we had a bit of glorious free time this weekend, I found myself with energy to do all sorts of domestic things.....

....a very foreign feeling, I might add.

Let's start with the painting. For some unknown reason, I decided that THIS weekend was the time to fix/finish/touch up the paint on one of the walls....a paint job that I started painting about eight years ago. I'm serious. I have no idea what prompted this unusual burst of home-improvement-ness (maybe it was that new kitchen faucet or fear that going out of the house may lead to expenditure of money), but there I was, staring at the wall, thinking, "I really need to fix that paint job." I don't know why I wasn't thinking, "Gosh, I need to eat more ice cream" or "I wonder if Denise Richard's show is any good?" but I was thinking about the wall and how it's bothered me since its painting inception. It's hard to explain why something eight years in the making finally makes it to the front of my mind but it did.

The problem? I had painted one of our walls a dark, rich maroon color like eight years ago. (Side note: May I suggest that NO ONE EVER paint their walls maroon? It took us FOUR COATS of paint--after priming with a colored primer--to get the wall to even look semi-acceptable. I was suicidal.) The problem was that I back then I hadn't painted a lot and thus lacked a steady hand to make the corners of the walls look like someone other than a drunk painted them. When you "butt" a white-ish wall up to a dark maroon wall, all errors stand out like a blinking neon sign.

I had left the walls as is because fixing corners of walls is like cutting bangs--you should probably just leave well enough alone, because the more you try to straighten things out, the worse things look. But, like a mom on a mission to fix those bangs just a little bit more, I couldn't leave it alone. I HAD to fix it. I'd bitched about it for eight years, for pete's sake.

Of course, this is a multi-faceted project. You can't just slap on some white paint, and slap on some maroon paint and call it a day. (Don't I wish?) I first had to use KILZ to cover the maroon errors from beyond. I then had to paint the white-ish paint after the KILZ dried. I then had to paint the maroon over the white-ish paint.

This meant I had a lot of time between coats and thus I decided to groom the dogs.

No, I do not know how to groom dogs but I do know how to use YouTube. I watched a bunch of videos and decided that it looked pretty simple (no offense to any professional dog groomers). I figured if I could at least extend time between professional dog grooming appointments, I could save money. If I save money, I can pay for my Madonna ticket. If I pay off my Madonna ticket, I will win big points. Armed with video illustration, I purchased some grooming clippers and prayed to St. Francis of Assisi.

The dogs were good sports about it, although Lucy wanted nothing to do with having her front paws touched. Freckles stood there and had a look like, "Screw you but get it over with" the entire time. I am proud to report that their bellies look smooth and clean.....

....but, the rest of them look pretty rough, scruffy and patchy. I have a LONG way to go before taking grooming to the next level. Don't look at Lucy's front legs. They are giant puffs of gnarly hair. I gave up. Don't look at Freckles right thigh, as I shaved a giant bald spot right there....

....I can't wait until tomorrow, when I can try my hand at some more grooming. (Maybe on the wife's hair while she is sleeping.)

As for the eating, there was plenty of time to eat between episodes of painting and grooming. As for the weeding, I had to find something to do while the paint was drying, the dogs were hiding and the I was full from all the eating. I like to weed. I find it very relaxing, almost zen-like. This does not mean you should email me with requests to weed your yard. I like weeding my OWN yard. I can weed for hours at a time....if only I didn't need to paint, groom and eat, I could weed the entire weekend........

The wall? Well, it looks better to me and I'm glad I took my time to do it correctly (meaning: waiting between coats), but it still has "the slightly crooked bangs effect" and I still want to work on it but I will have to keep telling myself to step away from the paint and leave it alone.

Well, I can always wait eight years and try again......

P.S. Madonna Whore Update: My mother sent me an email indicating that my name is most certainly Madonna. Well, kind of. She writes, "Did you ever tell you how Grandma insisted you'd be baptized "Madonna" as the priest (or the church) wouldn't recognize your name as a catholic name? Hmmm Can I say I named you after her?"