Friday, November 27, 2009

Black (and blue?) Friday

The gratitude-giving is over, the left-overs are in full gear, the indigestion has cleared. What's left to do with a four day weekend?

If you're the wife, it's time to join a million crazed--er, I mean dedicated--shoppers...get up at some ungodly hour and throw yourself into the sea of consumer hell. It's like a sport.

I do not subscribe to the tenets or the sport of Black Friday, not that I find anything wrong with it. I'm just too lazy to get out of bed at 3 AM in search of the perfect Zhu Zhu or what-not....besides, I'm an on-line type of shopper, not a real-store kind of shopper. Give me a lap top and a credit card, and I'm good to go.

Here's a picture of a Zhu Zhu....I have no idea what it does or why anyone wants one, but they are the hot gift this year and you can now spend hundreds of dollars for this $8.00 toy. If you have any of these in your hot little hands, go immediately to eBay and let the bidding begin--my money says you'll make a couple hundred bucks in a matter of hours.

(Note to youngest niece: hey! here's a hamster that won't die on you ....well, you might need more batteries and you'll need to spend your college fund to get one but that's about it. No more dead hamsters.)

Midnight. You could begin your holiday shopping at Midnight. Or, 3 A.M. Or, 4 A.M. Who needs sleep when Zhu Zhus are calling your name?

The wife didn't go shopping at 3 A.M. but she did get up way before I was able to drag my sorry ass off the couch (I have a cold and needed to sleep sitting upright, hence the couch). She indicated that the crowds weren't too overwhelming but entries on Book de la Face suggest otherwise. I think my favorite status update came from the suburbs, regarding two women in Carsons fighting over the last blanket. Seems the younger women acquiesced in the long run: "If you need it that badly, you can have it, bitch!" It was reported that the crowd erupted in applause.

It sounds like things got a little wild in the Cheddarlands, too--the wife's sister was engrossed in a parking deck war. Seems the mall offered $15.00 vouchers to the first 300 persons to park in the deck. Um, hello! Did the mall think people wouldn't all try to squeeze in there? People were cutting each other off in a crazed attempt to get a voucher. To give you an idea of the madness, the wife's sister was in line to get a parking space at 4 A.M. If that's not bad enough, get this--the deck didn't open til 6 A.M. Two hours of sitting in a car for $15.00.

If you are wondering, the wife's sister did indeed get a parking space and a voucher. Was there a doubt?

I'm happy to report that the wife was successful in her Black Friday endeavor--she was on a mission to secure a 32" flat screen TV for her parents....the siblings pool their money together and this year the TV idea won out....she scored the TV of her choice. (Don't worry--they don't read my blog.) There is no way you could've paid me to go to Buy Best this morning, but the wife and her sciatica bravely faced the crowds. She reports that most people were flocked around the laptops, not the TVs. She did not come face-to-face with any Zhu Zhus at any point during her outings but she did come face-to-face with the reality that her sciatic nerve is still not cooperating with her shopping needs.

I did go on-line and check out some of the Black Friday deals. I ended up buying us a snowblower (hmmmm, that's not a gift and not a Black Friday special deal, but ours is leaking gas and the price was right), two Jillian Michaels DVD workouts (not a gift, either.....Jillian begged me to buy them despite how much my knee hates her) and, a book for someone of whom I shall not speak because what if he/she reads this blog and finds out I bought them a present?

This evening, we went out for dinner (feed a cold, feed a fever--that's my motto)....the place that is usually packed was dead. I mean, there were five tables in use in the entire restaurant. (What a bonus!)

I think everyone was at home taking naps.....

.....or, at home bidding on Zhu Zhus.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Pickled again

No, no--I'm not drunk in a gutter.....

Someone keeps throwing pickles on my car when I'm parked at work.

Seriously. I come out from work and find pickles on my windshield.

I took a photo of one of the pickles as seen from the inside of the car. It kinda looks like a UFO from this vantage point, but I assure you that it is just a pickle stuck solidly to the windshield. (A few onions also came along for the ride but you can't really see them.)

I don't think it's anything personal--after all, I work directly across the street from the Golden Arches and I'm not thrilled with their pickles, either. It's quite the McD's--lots of homeless people, mentally ill and drug using/drug selling types--so, it's really really not surprising that pickles are tossing through the air. I don't think I've pissed off any of the local drug dealers and I know all of the guys with mental illness, so I'm perplexed about the daily pickle shower.

I did recently fire someone, so I suppose the pickle patrol might be thanks to a disgruntled employee but that seems pretty far fetched. I mean, who flings pickles at their ex-bosses?

I think I'll keep a photo journal of pickles I have known. As long as "The Pickler" keeps flinging the green globs onto the glass and not onto the paint, I'm all good with it.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Class Ring Bling

This morning, I find my head spinning with all sorts of things from our visit to the suburbs. It was a busy few days--we were out of town not on vacation with Donny and Marie but rather with the wife's thousands of P.E. friends at a state conference--and, thus there is so much I could talk about. (The vacation is on hold for the moment. I spent my vacation money on new clothes. I'm tired of being in pain when I wear my pants. Two days off and new pants are well worth the spent money. We can keep looking for the perfect vacation while I enjoy my new pants and save up some money.) The past 48 hours have brought me much to contemplate:

***Oprah's pending retirement (the poor wife!);

***my sister's dog peeing on my new gym shoes (while I was wearing them, of course);

***Lucy puking in the car while we were driving down the tollway last night (that's always fun);

***Eldest niece locking her keys in her running car last night while we were out to eat (we tried to re-assure her we both have done that more than we care to admit--here's a photo of her leaning on the poor car while she waited for her sisters to go get the extra set of keys);

***MJagger's ankle injury prohibiting us from looking like Jillian Michaels and Fergie--MJagger is on the disabled list and can't walk/run/work out;

***P.E. professionals wearing swishy-sounding sweat-pant outfits (don't even get me started on views from the parking lot!);

***that I really am going to wear my high school class ring until my reunion this summer (as illustrated in the photo--POW POW!);

***how surprisingly fun it turned out to be meeting with people I haven't seen in 30 years (with many of whom I didn't know when I was 30 years younger).

I'll focus on my pending high school class ring. Side note: I get confused--I've been talking about this ring bling non-stop on Book de la Face but not in the blog. It took me til this morning to realize that--in fact, I was really surprised I hadn't been blogging about this. So, if you read both this blog and my Book de la Face comments (god love you for reading both), humor me. If you are not my friend on Book de la Face, learn of the ring bling here. Then, ask yourself why you are not my friend on Book de la Face. What's up with that?

In honor of this summer's 30 year high school class reunion, I have decided to wear my class ring from now until then. There is something quite humorous seeing a 47 year old lady sporting class ring bling. Isn't it funny--you pay all sorts of money for the ring, you can't live without having a class ring when you are in high school, you wear the ring through college....and, then all of a sudden one day you no longer wear it, your friends aren't wearing theirs and you put it in some box, never to be seen again.

Well, I am here to change that.

I dug that puppy out of the dark, dusty corner of the jewelry box, stuffed it on my finger and have proudly displayed it for the past week. I have no intention of taking it off until July 12, 2010 (and, even then I might not take it off because that thing is on their snug as a bug in a rug--I'm not sure I'll be able to pry it off). I haven't really had any comments to my face about it. Every time I look at my hand, it makes me laugh--I mean, come on! I'm wearing my high school class ring!

I love my class ring. Always have. I wonder why we stop wearing them?

I was surprised to see that I had a softball player on my ring, not a band symbol of sorts. While I loved softball, I loved band much more--I spent most of my free time in the band room, I was better at band than sports, the majority 0f my friends were in the band, I was a band officer and the head of the goon squad (don't ask), I ate lunch in the band room every day, the only bathroom I ever peed in during high school was in the band room....band was incredibly important to me; so, why the softball player instead of a band geek? If I remember correctly, I chose the softball lady because it looked a lot better than the band thing for the ring. It's about aesthetics, people!

My ring is made of ultrium. I have no idea what ultrium is but I know it's much cheaper than gold and it's held up very well over the years. I am really, really hard on jewelry and I am here to tell you that this stuff has held up to the challenge. I believe my ring cost $79.00, which was hundreds of dollars cheaper than the gold version. Again, this was the right decision. I'm sure I would have ruined or lost the ring had it been made of actual gold.

A bunch of high school alums--via Book de la Face--decided to meet at a sports bar & grill in the suburbs. (This reunion thing has us all sentimental, I guess.) Since we were already going to be in town for the wife's convention and since I am already wearing my high school class ring, this seemed to be the perfect thing to do. The wife and I went to the bar, only to be the first ones to arrive--well, we weren't sure if we were first or not, as I hadn't seen these people in 30 years and wasn't sure who I was looking for. Because I am terminally punctual, we were there at exactly the time specified; this means we got to stand around and look stupid for 20 or more minutes until someone else showed up. Thankfully, I recognized them and we were able to start our evening.

About 20 people showed up for the event, half of whom I had never spoke to during high school, which is fine because now that we are not in high school, we are nice to each other. It was a fun evening, showing off the ring, talking about this or that, having a few good laughs. Here is a photo of someone trying to steal my class ring right off my hand....of course, he couldn't get it off because it is stuck on that finger, but it was fun seeing him try.....thank you to Clara Net for taking this (and other) photos of the event....

There was only one guy who "acted" in a way I was afraid many might act. He was an athlete who never once uttered a word to me during my entire tenure during high school. Mr. Jock would not be the type to know any band geeks and I certainly wasn't cute/pretty/cheerleaderish, so there was no need for him to waste his time talking to me--or, even knowing someone like me might exist. At the end of the night, he walked up to me & the wife.....he said, "I thought this was for (insert name of high school here) alums." I think he was trying to be funny, but he had this weird look on his face and he wasn't very funny to me. I assured him I was from our class. He asked, "Do you know who I am?" I wanted to say, "of course I know who you are--you were a basketball star who had no time for band geeks and persons who graduated in the top two percent of the class!" but, instead acknowledged knowing who he was, politely assuring him that he would not have known me. I grabbed my year book, opened the page to him, pointed him out. A few of us milling about had a laugh about this (he had a good photo, lucky dog). As he still looked confused, I opened the page to my picture and pointed myself out. He had a blank look on his face, then muttered, "Nope. I don't know who you are." Mr. Jock looked at the wife, looked at me, looked at the wife and looked very, very confused. He thankfully walked away at this point, uttering not another word.

I should have punched him with my class ring bling.

This 30-second event in no way tarnished a very fun evening. I am happy to report that 30 years has a happy way of addressing the stupidity of youth--everyone is normal and nice and no longer cliquish. It's okay for the cheerleaders to talk to the band people who are talking to the athletes who are talking to nerds...because we are no longer these things in real life. We are people that have one thing in common: we are alums of our beloved high school.

Well.....we have TWO things in common: we are alums AND we we have class rings.

May I suggest we all wear our class rings and be proud. POW POW! Go ahead, dig your class ring out and wear it for a week. See what happens......
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Sunday, November 15, 2009

Rockford Rage Really Rolling Now

Put on your ripped fishnets and stuff in your mouth guard--roller derby is the perfect double date on a Saturday night.

I wasn't kidding when I said the wife, Three Hawk, Argo WP and I were going to roller derby bout. We put on our best (in my case this means: clean & kinda still fit) jeans and found our way out to the sports center not far up the road. Shout out to Patti Party Pecs & gal pal "what-nickname-did-we-give-her-I-don't need-my-gallbladder-Sue," as they were in the audience for this big, blessed bout.

Let's start with the bout: it's called a BOUT, not a match, not a game, not an event. The bout has rules--most of which confused me. The bout consists of two thirty-five minute halves, with a 20 minute intermission/half time. All this bouting got me thinking about my preconcevied notions of roller derby.....

....I dunno about you, but when I hear the words "roller" and "derby" used in the same breath, I think of roller derby from the really early'70's. It was an "on-TV-are-you-kidding-me?" type of happening. When asked what she first thought of when hearing the words "roller derby, "the wife indicated she thought of "Kansas City Bombers" with Raquel Welch. (Time for a rental movie???)


If you were around back in those early 1970's, you probably remember women violently throwing each other over banisters, beating the crap out of each other--kind of like professional wrestling, only on wheels. How can you not love something like that?

Flash forward thirty five or more years and find yourself in the world of flat-track, always-turning-to-your-left fun. (The whole "only skate to the left" thing really bothered the wife: "Don't get they get shin splints? Shouldn't they turn around at half time?) There's even an official association: The Women's Flat Track Derby Association (www.wftda.com). The beauty of the new, improved derby is the fact that bouts can be held just about anywhere that has room to "make" a rink: a flat surface in a gym will do just fine, thank you. Naughty names, naughty uniforms (if you can call them that), naughty moves, naughty refs--it's all good, clean naughty fun.....

Well, it's really not THAT naughty; after all, an entire group of Red Hat Society ladies were in attendance and they looked like they were enjoying the festivities without incident. (There were some naughty words spewing out of a few players' mouths, but they were pretty tough to hear over the non-stop babbling of the M.C.--so, the kids were safe...as long as they didn't start to ask questions about all those skater names.)

It's naughty with a purpose: the local ladies spend a lot of time raising money and awareness for various charitable causes. Is life great or what? This night's proceeds went toward the local VFW and "recognized the dead by helping the living." In honor of this, one team was dressed (kinda sorta) in camouflage.

BTW, for those of you naughty-in-your-own-assuming ways thinking that this is a big gay (or worse word) event, you have assumed wrong. (Not that there would be anything wrong with roller derby if it WERE a big gay grrrl event.) I'd say this is a bunch of straight grrrlz working out their frustrations while their very manly boyfriends stand around and suck beer down like there's no tomorrow. Now, I'm not saying there wasn't a roller-queer or two around; I'm just saying you might be surprised--it's not like the softball leagues of the 1980's. ha ha!

BTW-squared: there is no way I could ever roller derby; I'd never get out of bed the next day. Any visions of grandeur of roller derby participation were quickly squelched by reality: maybe 25 years ago, but not now--I get hurt walking into open frig doors and when walking in business dress shoes. I'd have to hire My Beloved Lady Chiropractor to come live with us, and even then I wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a week. (It's almost as bad as Brett Favre thinking he can play pro football at 40.....0h wait, he IS doing that.....how the hell does he get up on Monday morning?)

BTW-cubed: the local team is a WFTDA apprentice team, not that that matters. Just a factoid for all you nerds.

BTW times Four: I don't usually include anything brand-specific information in my blogs, but in this case I thought it'd be oaky to use the name's real team and location. They deserve a little free press, don't you think?

Okay, okay--the actual event. Lots of fun names, lots of scoring of which I did not understand, lots of refs (geez, there were as many refs as were skaters), lots of bruises (the ref had a horrific bruise on her thigh--yikes!). Pivot, Blockers, Jammer--five women on each team, five women trying to keep each other from scoring points, five women skating counter-clockwise. Usually, there were always several women in the penalty box at the same time--what they did to land there, I do not know. I have no idea who won and I have no idea if the score of the bout was good, bad, usual, unusual or what.

We had a close up view of one skater take quite the tumble--took her awhile and the team doctor to get her up and back on the track. Being the tough grrrrrl that she was, she got her back cracked back into place and a few minutes later she was back to jamming. I later learned that she is 29 years old--no wonder she was able to get back up. I would have been in traction after such a hit.

If you have a choice to see roller derby or get an enema, go with the roller derby. If you have a choice to see roller derby or watch a Lifetime TV movie, go with roller derby. If you have the chance to go see roller derby or meet Jillian Michaels, go with Jillian Michaels TO the roller derby. It's fun, it's cheap, it's interesting....and, it supports a good cause.

Before going....may I suggest you try and come up with your own roller derby name. Names with sexual connotation work well. Play on word names also work handsomely. Real names must be avoided, so don't just take your given name and add a word to it--Addi-tude might work but Awesome Addi would not. The wife might be opt for something like Cy Attica or Hotfer Teacher.

You might also work on your derby attire--something ripped & black will always fit in. A pre-game dinner, a padded bleacher seat thingy, a loud voice and a sense of humor will go a long way.

I give roller derby four out of five wheels; if asked face to face by one of the participants, I will say five out of five wheels. It's not like I can outrun them, they've got all that protective equipment on and they are used to inflicting pain.

Don't just sit there--go to a roller derby bout. If you can't find one in your area, go rent Raquel Welch's movie and enjoy a little roller derby of your own. Growl!
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Friday, November 13, 2009

Friday Night Lite

It's a quite Friday night at home. No major plans.....saving our energy for tomorrow night's roller derby outing...fake crops already harvested....pajamas on since 6:30 pm...dogs enjoying those wives of Orange County on T.V. Is life good or what?

This photo of Freckles sums up our evening.....

No news on the vacation front, but not for a lack of trying. My eyes are blurry from searching all those travel sites. I haven't found us the perfect cheap-short trip but I have learned that the prices fluctuate--what costs one thing on a Tuesday evening costs a very different thing on a Saturday afternoon. At first I thought I was crazy; then, I saw the pattern. All I have to say is that if you want to get the best prices on line, stick with looking on a Tuesday and stay away from the weekend. Thanks to the peeps who have made some awesome ideas. I'm not sure we'll end up in Vegas 'cuz it looks like the Donny & Marie show is already sold out for the dates I can go. (I am sure I can get tickets for a price...but, what price? Won't the price go up if Donny wins on Dancing with the Stars?!!) If we don't end up going anywhere, I'm going to go out and buy some new glasses.....

....speaking of which....

May I whine for a minute about my glasses being all befuckled? Thanks. Yesterday I walked into the open refrigerator door at work. It's one of those big, commercial, restaurant grade behemoth frigs, so it's a serious door to walk into. There isn't much worse than crooked, can't get 'em straight, don't feel right pair of glasses. I'm pretty particular about how my specs sit on my face--with my eyesight, it's important they fit just right. I spend more time trying to adjust my nose pieces than I do getting ready for work start to finish. (Are you still wondering how one walks into an open refrigerator door?) So far, I haven't un-befuckled them and it's getting old. If I get the nose piece feeling better, the right arm hurts. If I get the arm to feel better, the frames are crooked. If I make the frames straight, the nose pieces dig into my nose. You get the idea.

No, I can't explain how the hell I walk into things, so don't ask. Let's just say I have terrible (non-existent) peripheral vision and thus things tend to jump out at me.

Tonight, I learned that I like Thai food WAAAAAAAAY more than Vietnamese food (no offense to Vietnamese readers or cooks). I adore Thai food. A.D.O.R.E. We've sorely missed the now-closed-due-to retirement Thai restaurant and have been looking for a little something to take its place. So, instead of regular old fast food, we tried the new Vietnamese take out place down the road for dinner tonight--fancier fast food, I suppose. Here's a stock photo of some Vietnamese food. Ours didn't quite look like this, but you get the idea. Picture this type of food in Styrofoam.

Who'da thunk that Vietnamese restaurants (well, at least this one) might not have vegetarian choices on the menu? Not me. I pictured delicious vegetarian options. Not so much. The cook was very accommodating but it was still a pretty tough sell. I mean, I know those noodles came from some bath of broth.....

I'm sad to say it wasn't my favorite meal. Oh, I ate it but it wasn't the most delish thing I've ever put my lips on. I liked the idea of fresh lettuce, cilantro, cucumber....but, let's face it: I miss my Thai and I shouldn't be trying to replace one Asian cuisine with another.

Today's Friday adventure was to take the grrrrlz for their annual physical exams. It's a pretty mundane event... no blood, no tests, no shots--just a nervous poop on the front lawn of the vet's office (Freckles, not me), a quick look in the ears, a few comments about the tar tar on Lucy's teeth, a quick listen to the heart, a quick swipe of the charge card. I suppose we could skip this event, but it seems the right thing to do--after all, I feed these critters organic food, I make them walk every day, we put little covers on them when they go to bed. For some reason, the dogs LOVE going to the vet--they literally run in the door. I think it's all the treats that shower down upon them. Maybe it's because they love going to a place that is all about cats. Maybe it's because the vet is always so happy to see them. (I wish she wouldn't shove her face in Freckles' face--some day, the ol' Fatty Patty may take a nip out of her nose.) The Pee Wees got, of course, a clean bill of health. Lucy could use a little dental work and best not gain any more weight; Freckles was deemed fabulous--goopy eyes, lack of teeth, smelly, oily skin and all. Bad news is that the Warrior Princess is developing bald spots to go along with her smelly, oily skin. Worse news is that the vet indicates that is very normal for dogs like her. So much for all that organic food--it ain't gonna save her hair.....

Don't worry, Frecks--we'll still love you--bald, smelly, eye-boogered and all......

......as long as you don't want to eat Vietnamese food for dinner every night.
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Thursday, November 12, 2009

Is it Thursday already?

Sheesh! I am so far behind schedule. I woke up and thought it was Tuesday. Suffice it to say, my "real" blogging will have to wait until tomorrow. And, I can't wait to blog about the roller derby event the wife, Argo WP, Three Hawk and I will be in attendance at on Saturday night. How fun is that?

Until I can write a proper blog, I leave you with a little Green Bay humor. The Wife is CONVINCED that Ted Thompson (owner of the GB Packers) is purposefully ruining the team. Them Packer Backers take the game very seriously....they are having a really tough time with this stinky season. I am thinking the wife is gonna needs lots of therapy by the time the end of December rolls around.

It doesn't help that Brett Favre is having a killer year.

Don't worry, his reign will end....I picked him to be my quarterback this weekend for my fantasy football team. I am the kiss of death for any player I pick, so Brett will throw five interceptions this weekend. You read it here.

'Nuf Said. I have to go get my Thursday groove on.....

Sunday, November 08, 2009

Vacation a-where to go-go, Part 37

How can you have a bad day when you start your blog off with thoughts of Donny and Marie? You can't! I'll get to why I've posted the Dynamic Duo on the top of the blog, but you'll have to sing, "I'm a little bit country, I'm a little bit rock and roll" before I tell you anything.

Besides putting out positive vibes that the wife's back gets better (healing light healing light healing light), how do you think I've spent the last 48 hours of my life? Let me give you a guess--last time it landed us in Mexi-Louis.

Now that my three program inspections at the place of which I do not speak (one on the State level, two on the Federal level, all three stressful in their own delicious, special ways) have come and gone, my boss (of which I do not have but if I did would give direction at the place of which I do not speak) has indicated it is time for me to take some deserved time off.

I concur.

The good thing is that the wife's Christmas Vacation (of which is like seven months long for college professors) coincides with my newly-suggested vacation plan. The not so good thing is that the wife is very, very limited in what she will be able to do during her between-semester time off, as she can basically walk a half mile and sit for maybe 20 minutes at a time. Soooooo....

....I've spent the last 48 hours looking for a simple, fun, short-in-duration, easy-on-the-wallet, not-too-long-in-a-seat, some-new-adventure for us to do, at a place the wife has never been. A Warm weather site is non-negotiable--although there are many wonderful destinations in our great country, I want warm. I don't want snow, I don't want freezing cold. I can do cold at home. Door county, New England, the great Northwest all sound fabulous....in summer.

My first thought was to try Riviera Maya again, but we're still pretty gun shy after the ol Swine-flu-drug-cartel-Apple-canceled trip this past spring. Besides, the prices are not cheap--they are more than they were back in May. What's up with that? I am blurry-eyed from looking at all the Mexico-related options we have and I am here to tell you that we are most likely not going to Mexico, no offense to the Mayans.

My next thought was "DISNEY!" but that doesn't fit the affordable category and I'm not sure the wife would enjoy time at the Magic Kingdom. Disney's basically all about me. I may be self centered but I'm not incorrigible, so Disney's out.

My Next thought was, "what about an island found in the Bahamas or Key West-ish?" Those options got complicated and for some reason they didn't seem to captivate the wife's attention. She wants to spend a week on an island, not a day or two. Scratch the beach off the list.

I thought about Branson for about 1.5 seconds. 'Nuf said about that; ain't gonna happen.

My next thought was, "Vegas, baby!" The wife's never been there, it's cheap, it's easy, there is tons to do. We could easily do a four day stint in Sin City and only have to drop about $400 each...total--hotel, air, food, tips for show girls. She's never seen the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam, the Strip at night or a quality drag queen shows, nor has she ever eaten at an infamous Vegas buffet at 2 A.M. How could I not spend hour upon hour searching for the best Vegas deal?

The great news is that we have lots of options if we go to Vegas: we can fly out of the local airport (of which I am still skeptical but checking out--I hear their planes are dirty and smelly and that they tend to run like seven hours behind when at airports like Vegas); we can get awesome, affordable packages, we can walk around a lot (which is helpful to the wife); we can do something where it is warm but not steaming hot; we can eat at buffets (of which we both love to do). It's not exactly the Caribbean but it's all good with me.

And, if we go to Vegas, we can go to the Donny and Marie show, of which I know the wife would absolutely, positively love!

(Okay, so I'd like it, too. Just don't tell anyone.)

Donny & Marie ticket prices look quite reasonable (that's because I'm used to Madonna-concert ticket prices) and I'm pretty sure we could scrounge up some good ones. What a great way to spend a few days-- buffets, sin, sunshine and Donny & Marie.

The problem? I'm not sure the wife can manage the trip. If it's four hours on a plane and she can't sit for more than 20 minutes at a time, that's gonna be a problem. That's not counting the time on a bus to get to O'Hare or the time waiting at the gate. If her pain doesn't change by then, there is no way I can in good conscious put her on a bus for a billion hours so she can see the Grand Canyon.....

Of course, she could be miraculously recovered by then and none of these considerations will matter. That is the thinking I have chosen to think, but I have to make sure she is thinking the same thing. If she's improved, she'll be able to flit on the strip, hang over the edge of the Grand Canyon and jump on stage to dance with Donny....

Decisions, decisions.

Today, I will spend time outside (because this is the best Indian Summer day I can ever remember--it IS November, isn't it?), I will talk to the wife (who is unfortunately in pain as I type--not from my writing but rather from her sciatica) and we will consider our vacation break options. We could certainly do a regionally-located bed and breakfast; we could stay home; or, we could party with Donny and Marie.

Beloved blog reader, I say to you: "Aspiring travel agents and opinionated travel-loving friends, let the suggesting begin!" Don't wait too long, as I'm time-limited on securing tickets. Do I hear a "Paper Roses" or "Puppy Love" in the house? Do I stay home and harvest my crops on Book de la Face, saving my vacation time for next summer? Operators are standing by......
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Tuesday, November 03, 2009

I have ice on my Achilles tendon right now. Don't you want to know why? I bet you do.

Before I begin--and, I swear to you every word of what I am about to write is true--I'd like to say the wife is doing better, albeit still in pain, still unable to do much of anything. She tried to drive her beloved Mustang today but she is unable to drive the stick shift without causing herself considerable pain. This is a problem as she loves that car. She survived the Packer loss, too. It's tough to be the wife right now.

But, back to me. It's my blog, after all.

It had been a hellish day, complete with full moon and ridiculously unexplainable behavior at the place of which I do not speak. I noticed that moon last night when walking with MJagger....and, although it was very beautiful, I knew it was not a good omen. A full moon is a full moon. As it's audit time at the place of which I do not speak, I was dressed up in a business suit (the last one that I can still squeeze into--the others are relegated to the back of the closet, screaming for smaller hips), wearing my new dress shoes--with heels. I figured if you're gonna be stressed, you might as well look nice.

Remember the heel part, because it comes into play in just a few short minutes. Also note that these shoes don't fit very well--I bought them because they were five dollars and for that amount, I figured they didn't have to fit perfectly. They are wides and I don't have a wide foot, so there was plenty of room to "swim." Combine that with those dress socks you wear with dress shoes and it's like a swimming pool party in there.

I'd had just about enough of today. At 3 PM, I took a vote and determined that my work day was officially over (I voted in favor of being done) and thought, "hey! why don't I go buy the wife some flowers on the way home from work?" Being the cheap ass that I am and because I am all about convenience, I decided that a trip to Wally World would suffice. I figured I could also pick up some things like half & half, Milo, candy, dog bones, the niece's birthday present as well as get some flowers.

Picture this: Me, standing outside my car in the Wally World parking lot, in my brown business suit and dress shoes. Picture it about 40 degrees, partly cloudy, windy but not too bitter. Picture me tired and not paying much attention. Picture me deciding that I don't wanna carry all these stupid keys because I don't have belt loops. (NOTE TO SELF: Buy NO pants without belt loops.) Envision me unhooking my car keys from my work keys, tossing the work keys into the car. Picture me deciding not to carry my stupid cell phone because I don't have any pants pockets and I forgot my purse at work and I just don't have the oomph to carry one extra thing. Picture me slamming the car door shut.....

....picture me standing there in my business suit and dress shoes, holding my work keys, not my car keys.

Yup, just locked my car keys and cell phone in the car.

I didn't get mad. I didn't get upset. I didn't do much of anything but stand there and laugh. At first, I didn't realize what I had truly done....I just thought I'd use my cell phone and call someone to come get me.

.....Of course, if my cell phone weren't locked in the car, this might have been easier.

I then decided that Wally World is nice enough and that they'll let me use a phone to call someone....

.....but, every single phone number I know is IN the cell phone, which is in my locked car.

Who the hell knows people's phone numbers any more? They are in your friggin' cell phone! Who needs to memorize anything? (We have so many dang friends and not for one of them do I know their cell phone numbers.)

I had a few choices: I could call the wife (wrong answer!) or work (hell if I'm calling them) or just go shopping and figure it out after that. I knew MJagger was unavailable, so that wasn't an option. I figured shopping was the way to go. I went in, purchased the flowers and four bags of Dove Dark Chocolate (I'm serious), some awful tasting gum and the niece's birthday gift. I was sure I would see someone I'd know--after all, this is Wally World and I always see someone I know....

...except for on today. Today, I see no one I know.

I am now left with two options: I find a phone and call the wife and wait for her to finish work (about 1.5 hours away) or I walk home. I chew on this as Wally World is about 2.5 or three miles from home and there are no sidewalks--it's basically a three mile walk on grass/mud/garbage along a four lane highway. I'm in good shape so the walk itself is not daunting at all; in fact, it seems downright easy (well, besides the terrain and traffic--but, what's life without a few challenges?).....

It's the shoes.

I'm not sure about walking three miles in dress shoes, especially because the shoes don't fit very well. As if it will help, I stand in the parking lot and look east, kinda sorta toward our house. I don't want to call the wife. I grab my little white plastic Wally World bags and head toward home.

Picture me walking down a four-lane road, carrying flowers from Wally World. Picture me shoveling Dove Dark Chocolate into my mouth as I am walking.

You would think I would see someone as I walked home, but no. You would think someone would see a lady in a business suit and dress shoes and think she might need a ride, but no. No one even honked. (Sucks to be old and in a business suit. No one honks for that.) I was careful to take it slow and steady--the unevenness of the ground made walking in dress shoes even that more challenging and I was not about to get hurt walking home from Wally World.

I start out just fine, although the shoes do hurt. They are slipping around and the heel is not my walking shoe of choice. My Achilles heel doesn't feel right but I persevere. I can't stop now. I look east and keep moving. I step over garbage, dead animals (aka road kill that has somehow made its way up the curb), mud piles, dog poop piles, rocks and various piles of unidentified objects. It's getting colder and I'm getting colder and the wind is whipping and my little plastic Wally World bags are catching the breeze and flying away from me. My dress socks aren't helping anything and for a dot, I contemplate taking them off so I slip around less in my shoes. I decide this might lead to blistering and so I leave my slippery socks in place.

My hands started getting numb about half way home. I'm not sure if it was the wind chill or the plastic bags cutting off the circulation to my hands. I held on to those damned flowers, tho--they weren't gonna get away.

I finally get to the gas station, of which I know is literally a half mile away from our house. I stand in the parking lot and scan the cars--for pete's sake, you'd think I'd see one of our neighbors gassing up. Not. I sigh and start walking again, feet now in agony, Achilles screaming in pain, blisters building like there is no tomorrow, knee freaking out and no longer cured. I contemplate taking off my shoes and socks and just walking bare foot for the last 1/2 mile but decide it's too cold for that.

Did I mention the last 1/2 mile is completely uphill? You can verify this with the wife. Uphill. Up. Up. Up. Uphill in the shoes that don't fit.

It took me almost an hour to get home, but I made it. Feet in pain but pride in tact, I have made it home.

Did I mention I threw away the shoes when I got home?

I never want to see them again because there is NO WAY IN HELL I'm ever going to wear them again. EVER. So, out they must go.

To the wife's credit, she didn't give me too hard a time once she got home and saw me but not my car. To the wife's credit, she didn't give me too long a lecture about my repeated keys-locked-in-car problems. To the wife's credit, she noticed the flowers and was appreciative of them.

Hope she likes them. Think she'd like a pair of shoes to go with them?

Sunday, November 01, 2009

Implosion of the Cheddarlands

By the time most of you are reading this, Wisconsin will or will not have imploded....and, we will know the fate of the wife's sciatic readings of Green Bay football. Yes, today is the day that that evil, two-faced, no-good, traitorous man of no honor returns to the hallowed halls of Lambeau Field. In deference to the wife, I shall not speak his name but note that his number FOUR has been soiled by his cataclysmic decision to play for the most-hated, purple-covered, low-life rival.

I could have waited til after the game to write this blog, but waiting til the lands north of the Cheddar Curtain have faced their glory or doom seemed a bit dangerous--after all, we DO live quite close to the Wisconsin border and thus I must be prepared for anything.

The wife is shopping at Wally World right now--probably in a lame attempt to stay distracted from the game this afternoon. We'll also be going to church, where I know many people will vent/talk/fret/lament over this afternoon's scheduled happening. Her sciatica has flared up this morning, no doubt in response to the flair up of her Cheese-filled soul.

At this moment, it sucks to be a Packer fan. As they say in Apocalypse Now: "The horror, the horror!"

Packers fans, as you Addiverse readers know, are another breed. It's not just A game--it's THEIR game, THEIR team, THEIR field, THEIR life. They talk in "we" when speaking of the football team. They were completely devastated when Number Four left. They were completed blind-sided when Number Four joined ranks with the biggest rival. They took it completely and totally personally, the wife included.

Today is the day Number Four returns to the Mecca. How he will do remains to be seen. I am much more worried about the fans than the man. I am fearful that the wife's bulging disks may blow out all over the living room. I am terrified that the entire State of Wisconsin (save the upper northwest corner) will totally implode. Beer, brats, cheese will all be swallowed into the earth, never to be seen again.

As a Book de la Face friend says, "the state of Wisconsin will be closed between 3-6 PM." Indeed it will be. The issue is....

....will it open back up at 6 PM???