Friday, December 31, 2010

One! One! One! One!

The new year brings us one-one- one one. That has to be lucky, especially if you are a nerdy number lover like me or are a computer programmer who loves binary numbers. I like the sound of one one one one. Or, even one one eleven. I like the way it looks. I love the number eleven. It's gonna be a great year!

Speaking of a great year, 2010 wasn't too shabby. I thought it'd be fun to look back at 2010 in the Addiverse.......this diddy is from Book de la Face's "My Year in Status, 2010." You don't get to pick which status (stati?) they use, but I'm glad they managed to get Lady Gaga, the LLL gang, the new job, various family members, the wife and the sausages in there.

Top Five Things I said in 2010:
"I hate my phone."
"Have you seen my wallet?"
"I have to do my money."
"Where are my keys?"
"Have I told you how much I hate my phone?"

I do indeed hate my phone. Texting is almost impossible and I love to text. I push the "abc" button and the letter "w" pops up. It takes me three days to write a two sentence text. I hang up on almost everyone who calls me because when I push the answer button, it clicks on "done" and hangs up. I can never retrieve my messages because when I try to enter the passcode, the wrong numbers punch in, even though I'm punching in the correct numbers. Don't talk to me about calibrating it--you can't calibrate something that doesn't recognize that you are actually touching it. Hell-rizon is oh-so-helpful. Not. Well, it looks and sounds good, so that's a plus.

Best Accessory: Bling Bling! Class Ring.
Wore my high school class ring for almost a year in preparation for our 30th reunion. How can you have a bad year if you are wearing your high school class ring? You can't! It was a sad, sad moment when I finally took it off. At times, I look lovingly at my ring finger and get a warm, tingly glow....that was one good party and one rockin' ring.

Most likely to be seen wearing: My high school class reunion sweatshirt.
Wore it every day while on vacation. Wore it to walk, to work, to bed, to church. Why, here I am wearing it while in a Bobcat:Most consumed food: Chocolate.
By Far. For the 48th year in a row. Was there any doubt? I should buy stock in Dove Dark Chocolate. Those ten pounds I gained this year? They are surely a gift of all the chocolate I have consumed. For the record: I'm good with it. Chocolate makes it worth it. Besides, I got to buy all new pants again. I've moved on to "mom jeans." Can't be hangin' the muffin over my old, don't fit, low-riders. I'm embracing my perimenopausal-hood. Well, kind of. Okay, so I'm a bitch about the whole thing. I'm still good with all that chocolate.

Favorite dessert (third year in a row): The wife's home-made lemon cake. Oh my! I get a tear just thinking about it. Is it my birthday yet???

Best concert:
Lady Gaga.
I enjoyed many concerts this year, but being a little monster was the best by far. Here's a pretend gaga peeing in the hallway:
Okay, so she's not really peeing. (This photo demonstrates that my phone can actually do something: it can take photos. Hey, I'll take it!) I liked this concert so much that I am going again in February 2011. I am going by myself! I couldn't care less. I'm sure I can find one or two little monsters who will gladly dance with me. Side note: I went on line to see how much the seat next to me is selling for--it wasn't hard to find when you are searching for one seat in a particular section. Well, it's selling for $500. I bet he or she will dance with me if they just paid $500 to sit next to this dancing fool. No, I did NOT pay $500. I save that kind of foolish spending for Madonna. I got my ticket for $85. I will not be telling the person who buys the seat next to me that this is what I paid. I don't want them to cry. I want them to dance with me! (It IS worth $500 to be seated with me for Lady Gaga. Just sayin')

Best way to spend evenings after work: hanging out in the "Park" with the gaybors. Notice Lucy is not in the photo. That's because she's off to the left, having a nervous breakdown & being anti-social. She has a hard time with other dogs. Sigh. For us, this is a very stress free, low key kind of way to be. For Lucy, it's like water boarding. Maybe next summer she'll come to learn to love the "park" and Bitty Bichon......

Best place to show off tattoos: a wedding.Not only "a" wedding, but the absolute best wedding I have ever attended. That's saying a lot. You know it's a great wedding when people are removing clothes to show off their ink.

The wife's favorite 2010 investment: wood floors. The dogs aren't so keen on them, but the wife is VERY excited. As you can see, Freckles just isn't too sure about how she is going to get down these new wooden stairs.

I could go on and on, but I have to go look for my wallet, do my money and bitch about my phone.

Happy New Year! Get out there and shout, ONE ONE ONE ONE!
******************************************************************

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

An Ultra-Good Day in the Addiverse

When I came home from work today, the wife presented me with a package that had come in the mail. It had no return address...just my name & the postage. I pondered on the contents for about five milli-seconds:Being the "livin' on the edge" kind of girl that I am, I wasted no time on concerns related to safety--I ripped that puppy right open:

To my absolute delight, it was a present better than almost any other I could have ever received:

OB ULTRA TAMPONS!!!!!

SCORE!

I immediately broke out in an energetic version of the "OB Ultra tampon Dance of Joy:


Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talkin' about!

I have nothing more to say besides "thank you, oh great-gifter-of-the-tampons."

The photos say it the best.

I can't wait to menstruate!
******************************************************************







Friday, December 24, 2010

Yes, OB...there really IS a Santa Claus

Ah, Linus and the Christmas monologue. A classic, indeed. Thought I best start this irreverent blog with at least a smidgen of respect to this holiday. "But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see--I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people."

I swear to you that the event in this blog is true. I couldn't make this kind of stuff up, anyways.

Yesterday, while minding my own business, I received a message via Book de la Face. It was from a high school friend of whom I have not seen since high school....which was one or two years ago. Ha ha. Anyways, I got this message:

"Hi Addi Warrior Princess,
This is kind of a weird post, but I was just catching up on reading your blog and saw your dilemma about the OB ultra. I happen to have a box with just one missing. I don't like OB and would be happy to send the box to you if you want them.
"

I gasped!

As I couldn't believe my eyes, I read the message again. Yup, that's what it said!

A tear came to my eye and I let out a whoop and a holler, scaring the dogs and scaring the neighbors. Someone had OB ultra tampons and she was willing to share them.

OB TAMPONS ARE GOING TO COME TO ME IN THE MAIL!!!!

This is a Christmas miracle!!!!

Apologies to you who are mortified that I am associating the birth of Christ with a box of tampons.

I was overcome with joy. After I was able to stop hyperventilating, I realized I should offer this fabulous human being something for her generous offer. My car? My stash of chocolate? The wife?

Nothing is sacred when scoring OB Ultra tampons.

So, I offered to pay a premium price for both the actual tampons and the postage. Being the angel from above that this person is, she wrote back:

"Really, think of this as pay it forward. I am sure you share of things for people and wanting nothing in return. They are just sitting in the cabinet and I would rather give them to someone who will use them."

Yes, OB....there really IS a Santa Claus!

So, thank you, kind-no-be-liking-ob-ultras-lady. You are an unsuspecting angel in the perimenopausal world better known as the Addiverse.

To the rest of you beloved readers: I wish you a very Merry Christmas, indeed! Ho ho ho!

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Don't Fly Like an Eagle

Allow me one more minute on my soap box. Whenever I wonder why I can't forgive, I think of the dogs. I know I've written about this before, but now that the rumblings are that a certain Eagle will be the NFL's MVP, I can't NOT write about it.

What if Michael Vick is awarded MVP for this year's NFL season?

There is huge potential this could happen....and, I don't think I can take it.

I love football. Love, love, love.

I do not love Michael Vick.

I thought I was all about redemption--after all, I am Xena's biggest fan and she's all about redemption--but, I just can't get there with him. For Pete's sake, I'm a counselor--if I thought people couldn't change, I wouldn't be in the field. My career is based on the fact that people can and do change.

So, what keeps me from believing that Michael Vick has changed?

Maybe it's because every time I look at my dogs and then look at him, I just do not understand. Of course, I love my dogs more than I like most people, so this isn't really fair to him. How do I know? Of course, I don't know. None of us knows. Hell, Michael Vick really doesn't know.

He's playing out of this world football. I can't--I won't cheer for him, I won't pick him for my fantasy team, I hate even writing about him. I don't want to give him one more milli-second of my time, but here I am, doing just that. He's gonna be MVP and the world will celebrate him.

Does that even matter in pro football if he is or is not a changed man? After all, the object is to knock the piss out of each other. There are all sorts of criminals playing in the NFL. From murderers to rapists, they are on the field making a zillion dollars each. I love football. I don't lose much sleep over those criminals. Why? Why is this so different for me?

Where is my spirit of redemption, of paying your debt? He has paid his debt to society. He completed his prison term. He has paid his fines. Yet, here I am, passionately angered that some guy who has nothing to do with me is going to get an award.

Here are my dogs. This explains a lot to me.

I am very disappointed in myself for not being able to let this go, but it is what it is.

I had originally posted a photo of why I cannot forgive him, how I cannot believe he has served his time and now should be forgiven. It was not an easy photo to look at, but it is what I think of when I think of him. 

I removed the photo but it still haunts me.  Google it if you want to see it, but be warned, it is disturbing beyond compare.  How can yet let a dog look like this and move on and then have the balls to see you'd like a dog for a pet?

I'm sorry, Michael.
I am sorry I judge you.
It's not my business.
No one left me in charge.
I would hope others would forgive me.
I would like to forgive you.
I really, really want to believe you have changed.
But, I don't.

THIS is the reason I have yet to let this go: the dogs.



If he ever does get a dog, I hope that dog bites his parts off and leaves him to bleed to death.

Not a very Christian thing to say at this time of year, eh?

I promise to be funny and irreverent and shallow next post. For today, this is where I am. This is who I am: a judgmental wench who can't let this image go....and, I'm all good with that.

I hope he doesn't win MVP. But, he will.

Mark my words: He will be this year's MVP because others can forgive him or because others don't care about what he did or because others actually think it's wrong he got in "trouble" for his dog fighting rings or because the NFL is full of all sorts of criminals--what's one more?

He will win because he had a kick-ass year, dead dogs be damned. That's all that matters in the long run. No one ever said you had to be a good person to win an award and get paid insane amounts of money.

Me? I am going to love my dogs like there is no tomorrow and for this moment cheer against a certain football player.

Like I said, I've written about this before. I hope I don't have to write about it again.
*****************************************************************

Friday, December 17, 2010

Just the scoop, poop

While driving to work this morning, I realized two things: one, that I had forgotten to post a blog last night; and, two, I am going to have to poop at work.

The blog part would is easy enough to address. Once done with work today, I knew I'd have time to write the blog.

The pooping thing, on the other hand, would NOT be easy.

I was driving along, smiling and humming in a most obnoxious way, now concentrating on blog topics and Christmas shopping (of which I really have tried to ignore). While zipping through the traffic, I scanned my brain for various topics. I came to the realization that I had nothing really on my mind, nothing bothering me, nothing profound floating around in the deep recesses of my subconscious. I'm a happily boring person right now (well, as boring as I can be). Besides a lack of O.B. tampons, I have nothing to whine about....

I chewed on that for a few seconds. What a wonderful place to be, I thought. Had I not been stuffed into winter regalia, I would have rubbed my gratitude tattoo in honor of this moment.

As I was driving and smiling and feeling grateful, I realized I was going to have to poop.

At work.

Some of you have no problem pooping anywhere---you can probably poop on the sidewalk if you had to. Pooping at work is no big deal. But, for me? It's not an option. Why?

Because the office bathroom is IN the office. Seriously.

You read that right: the bathroom is in the actual office, which means everyone can hear and smell you poop. There is no escaping. There is no pretending. There is no blaming others. I love talking about poop but I don't want to talk about my poop that I just made in the office bathroom, which is less than seven feet from my peer's desk and five feet from my own desk. I don't want to be sitting on the toilet thinking about how everyone knows what I am doing in there. Although I think my poop is like apple blossoms, I know that others don't find that to be true.

Why we have a bathroom in our office is beyond the scope of this blog. Just know that I am not exaggerating. It is what it is.

I'm the boss. Bosses don't poop seven feet away from their workers!

I knew there would be three staff in the office upon my arrival. At this time of day, there would be no chance of an empty office. My poop would be known to all.

I started to sweat. If this were a three stall bathroom down the hall, that'd be different. But, this! This is bathroom hell!

Lost in thought, I almost drove into the back of a stopped car. I began to sweat.....what the hell do I do if a fart squeaks out?

I thought about turning around and going home.

I'm not going to tell you how I resolved this issue, but I will tell you that I did NOT poop at work. I just couldn't do it. I could not not not not do it.

(No, I did not poop in my car or on the sidewalk.)

As I will be in this office setting for the tenure of this assignment, I am going to have to come up with a pooping plan. I'm going to have to have a system and it won't include pooping in that office/bathroom setting. I'll have to get back to you after I figure out a pooping plan.

Until then, I'm going to have to stay home until I poop or eat cheese all week to keep me from pooping at all.......

Aren't you glad I remembered to post a blog today?
**********************************************************************

Friday, December 10, 2010

Getting Civilized

Finally! Finally I shall speak of civil unions in the State of Illinois. Yes, the not-so-progressive, so-broke-it-can't-pay-its-bills State of Illinois passed legislation making civil unions legal in the state. While it has yet to be signed by the Governor (dunno what he's waiting for), the law is ready for action upon his John Hancock. Starting June 1st, same sex and opposite sex couples can get civilized in the State of Illinois.....

.....How awesome is that? You don't have to be gay to be civilized in the State of Illinois
. Ha ha!

If you are a nerd like me, you can read the actual legislation, found at Illinois General Assembly Civil Union Yadda Yadda. (Yes, you can ckick on that and get to the legal stuff. I find it quite interesting!) Basically, it says in order to get civilized, you have to be 18, you can't be related, you have to be single (not married and/or officially divorced--thank goodness I know where my divorce papers are!) and willing to follow a red tape trail similar to what people trying to get married swim through. I don't remember seeing anything about blood tests or such, but it's still early in the game. Details are soon to follow, I am sure.

Once signed into law by the Governor, we'll legally be able to visit each other in the hospital, live in the same nursing home room & get our grubby little hands on each other's retirement. Trust me, this works much more in my favor than the wife's favor. She can gladly have all $1.37 of my retirement fun.

If you are looking for lively banter about the pros and cons of civil unions vs. traditional marriage or an argument that civil unions aren't enough or spirited rantings about what Jesus would or would not have done in regards to same-sex couples getting together in a legal fashion or counter-arguments to concern that civil unions soil the sanctity of marriage, you won't find it here.

I am here to celebrate and party and boogie!

As far as I can tell, the actual event of getting civilized really isn't very romantic; in fact, it is more like a business partnership. You fill out some papers, you go to the clerk, you pay some money, you become civilized, you get some rights. The wife likes to look at it as a business transaction.

Whatever works. I'm all good with it. I asked, she said yes--that's what really matters. Well, that and jewelry. I anticipate she will be watching for new jewelry to enter her life in the next months. I do not anticipate a white-dress-church-ceremony shin dig (sorry, Wild mama), so don't be digging out any old bride's maid dresses just quite yet.

As it is a legal partnership, it is public record, which to me is no big deal. Who cares if our names end up in the paper announcing our application for civil union or if we end up on some county record? I hope that public record business leads to oodles of civil union congratulation gifts. (Side note: When the wife and I get civilized, anyone wishing to give us gifts should feel free to do so. We've been shelling out tons of money & gifts for your weddings, anniversaries, holidays, showers and various kiddie events for over a quarter of a century. A toaster, blender, box of ultra OB tampons, money, year's supply of Dove Dark Chocolate, personal checks, Benjamins, Packer Gear, cold hard cash, Xena paraphernalia and gift cards will graciously be accepted. Place-settings of china should probably be reserved for traditional heterosexual weddings, as we have no use for china. That's why they invented paper plates, isn't it?)

Here's the thing: having a civil union as public record is a HUGE deal for many of our teacher friends....and, for this I am very sad. I'd say over half of our friends are teachers, so this has the potential to severely cut down the volume of "Just Civilized" parties next summer. See, many teachers around these parts aren't able to be/choose not to be openly gay at work. It's almost a "don't ask, don't tell" kind of world. Many of our teacher friends are "out" in their private lives, but in the educational work world, not so much. So, when we asked various friends if they were "getting civilized," many of our teacher friends said NO. The reason? They are fearful of losing their jobs due to the nature of the event--civil unions are public record.

"Oh come on!" you say. "They can't be fired for being gay--that's illegal!"

Please don't tell me you believe that. Please tell me you didn't say that!

One can always be fired for one thing or another despite the reason truly being sexual orientation. (Actually, one can be fired for anything in Illinois, but let's not argue the pros and cons of at-will employment until everyone has consumed at least a six pack of beer each.) Discrimination based on sexual orientation is alive and well....and strong. Those hate-mongers picket just about everything that moves, have political clout and can be very organized.; thus, I respect the concerns of our teacher friends. They have a point that I hadn't considered when flitting in glee about the actual passage of the civil union bill. Now, I'm not saying all gay teachers are worried about this and I'm not going to argue whether or not teachers who don't go through with civil unions are the exact people that need to do it and I know many of our teacher friends will indeed be getting civilized without a second thought, but.....

A few nights ago, we were out to dinner with a teacher friend who teaches in a small, conservative, rural district. Despite being in a four billion year committed relationship, there is no way in hell she will agree to a civil union--trust me, I believe her when she says the town would know quickly and she'd be unemployed faster than you can say "bridal registry." They would love to have a legal recognition of their long term relationship....but, it won't be happening any time soon.

Did someone say bridal registry??? Hmmmm......good idea. Write that down.

Oh my, this is getting way too gloomy for such a happy topic! Let's get back to the happier, shinier merits of getting civilized. A whole ton of us will get civilized at the same time. We will party. We will celebrate together like there is no tomorrow. We will dance to tacky wedding songs like "Celebration" and "We Are Family." We will do the "Chicken Dance." We will give a whole new meaning to getting civilized. Do you realize how many people we know that will literally be getting civilized within hours of each other? A whole ton of fabulous, loving people! From people we've known for over 25 years to people we've just met, we are going to party.

Hmmmmmm......I'm gonna need to recruit my straight friends to serve as the bridesmaids as (1) they have all the experience in this department; (2) they look good in dresses; (3) they have been uber-supportive over the years and thus have earned the honor; and, (4) all my gay friends will be busy in line getting their civil unions on. Hear that, MJagger and Culver Griffendoor? You've got work to do. Pressure's on!

You know what's really kinda funny?????

......We are all gonna end up with the same anniversary date!

Please tell me we are not all going on a honeymoon together. ;-)
*********************************************************************

Thursday, December 09, 2010

Oh No: OB No OB really No OB

Again, the civil union blogging must wait. I have heard from the company that makes OB tampons! The news is not good. And, I quote:

"Dear Addi Warrior Princess,

Thank you for contacting McNeil-PPC, Inc., makers of o.b.® Ultra Absorbency Tampons. It is always important to hear from our consumers, and we appreciate the time you have taken to contact us.

Unfortunately, our o.b.® Ultra Absorbency Tampons has been discontinued. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause for you. We assure you that your feedback will be shared with our marketing management. Please note that we do not sell our products on a direct basis, nor do we keep inventory of discontinued products on hand for distribution to consumers or retailers. All remaining inventory of this item has been shipped to our distributors.

We encourage you to try one of the other fine products we offer. Please do look for our products at pharmacies, grocery stores and mass merchandisers."

In other words, "You are so screwed. We ain't making this product anymore and stop asking if we have a hidden supply. We don't stockpile this stuff like squirrels. Your hemorrhaging is of no concern to us. Stuff a roll of paper towels between your legs. Stop whining and stop writing!"

Who has time to go Christmas shopping? I have tampons to find!

Sunday, December 05, 2010

o.b. no be

I really, really want to write about the whole civil union thing, but I keep getting distracted. First, it was the wife's altered check. Then, the wife received tenure at the college (yeah for my favorite pedagogist! Congrats!) and I was too busy updating my book de la Face status in celebration of her accomplishment to write about getting civilized. Then, I got my period.

That said (and, I know you wish I hadn't said it), I have been busy fretting about tampons instead of writing about civil unions.

I've been traveling the globe, looking for these:

o.b. Ultra Tampons.

Now, I KNOW you really don't want to read about "Aunt Flo being in town" or my need for tampons that have the word "ultra" in them, but I.AM.TRAUMATIZED!

I've been traveling store to store on a mission to find these little bullets of cotton, but have been stymied in the process. They are nowhere--not at Wally World, not at Walls of Green, not at Bull's Eye, not at any mart of any kind.

Why? Why can't I find them? It's not like I'm looking for the Holy Grail or Elvis or anything. I'm just looking for a box of ultra tampons.

I decided to try traveling the Amazon, as they seem to have connections to everything. Unfortunately, EVERY person/place/thing selling o.b. tampons are "currently unavailable," as illustrated in this photo I made:





















(I know, I know--who makes photos of trying to buy tampons? My photo is pretty funny. It's even funnier if you look at my bookmark toolbar...complete with button for quick Xena Warrior Princess quotes.)

I then tried the world's busiest on-line auction site, only to learn that a box of 40--ONE box--is up to $35.00 with more time to go. Yes, you read that correctly: one box of tampons for $35.00:














Trust me, I thought about bidding.


At this point, I realized something was very wrong. Then, I began to tremble. What....what.... what if they have stopped making these things? If people are willing to pay $35 for a box of tampons, it's a safe bet that something is terribly amiss in the world of feminine hygiene products.

So, I did a quick internet search.....and learned that they've stopped making these things.

Of course, I panicked.

I then breathed into a paper bag, wrote an email to the company, breathed into a paper bag and read some of the information out there from women who are on the same quest as me.

The best website I found was http://writethecompany.com/sizing-up-o-b-tampons

Trust me, it is worth the visit to this website, so if you are just sitting there, give it a whirl. There are some really hilarious posts AND I felt like I found my kindred spirits. For what it's worth, o.b. tampons are still available in Germany....but, they will not (cannot?) ship to the good ol' U.S. of A.

Road trip, anyone??
**********************************************************************

Friday, December 03, 2010

Check.Mate

Here's to Ron Santo. Dude, you are so in my Hall of Fame. Here's hoping you get that World Series win now that you have gone to the great ball field in the sky. Santo, Kissinger, Beckert, Jenkins, Banks. Awesome childhood memories.


I'm sure most of you think I am going to write about Illinois passing the Civil Union bill....and, you would've been right.........but, it has to wait. I must harass the wife for writing me a bad check.

I was minding my own bee's wax yesterday morning when I decided to check my on-line bank account. I like to do this occasionally--mostly because I forget to record what I've spent, but also because I don't trust my bank as far as I can throw them--ever since the take-over, I have been less than impressed. So, imagine my surprise when I see a withdrawal for $500 that I have no recollection of making. For some of you, $500 is chump change. For me, it's the lotto. After I calm down and stop swearing about how much I hate my bank (almost as much as I hate my cell phone, and that is saying a lot), I look to see what the withdrawal was for--an "ATM adjustment." What the hell does that mean?

I don't have time--or money!--for unknown ATM adjustments!

I started to write some hate e-mail, but that seemed too slow--I needed immediate answers. I started to make some calls, but the dang bank wasn't open in the early hours. I am LIVID! How can one check clear and the other not clear? I HATE THAT BANK!

I re-gain my composure, focus on all the things for which I am grateful (mantras like, "I'm grateful I even have a bank account, I am thankful I had $500 in the first place, I am grateful I learned of this before bouncing checks across the nation") and decide to wait until I talk to an actual person at the bank before taking my bank's name in vain. It is when I finally speak to a very patient, calm customer service person who tells me I will be getting the rejected check back as, "ma'am, the check was altered. For your safety, the check cannot be cashed. Your account has been adjusted, as we could not cash the altered check."

Altered check? I stop and tip my head, quizzically.

Altered check?

Then, I remember: THAT'S the check the wife re-wrote the sum....and, THAT'S the check I literally said to her, when she handed it to me: "They aren't going to take a check like that."

She assured me they would most certainly accept the check. "I wrote the words right there. I initialed the changes."

And, even though my first response was "they aren't gonna accept that," and even though I looked at that check three or four times and thought, "they aren't gonna accept that check," I didn't ask for a new check, I didn't argue, I didn't do anything but shrug my shoulders, deposit the check and think nothing more of it.

Until this morning.

That customer service rep took the sails right out of my "I hate my bank" sails. I thanked her for her time and then added mention of being grateful that the bank actually pays attention to that kind of thing.

I can't complain too badly, as this is a perfect "I told you so" opportunity. As nothing managed to bounce, I can make even more fun of this. Had checks started bouncing across the nation, I'm not sure how entertained I would have been.

I apologize to my bank for all those evil thoughts I had about them. (For the record: I do not apologize to my phone for how much I hate it. But, that's a whole 'nuther story.)
************************************************************
We'll talk about "getting civilized" next post. Until then, I have to go run to the bank. I have to deposit that new check the wife just handed me....
*************************************************************

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Paper.Friggin'.cut.

Yesterday, I went to a local hospital to visit a client who was medically hospitalized. As I'm walking in the front door, I give myself a paper cut (actually, a cardboard cut in this case) while opening my package of Trident Cinnamon gum (surely the gum of the gods). I mutter a curse word, look at the wound (wow, it's "smiling" at me--those cardboard cuts are deep!), but it's not bleeding, so I keep walking and forget about it. After all, it's just a stupid paper cut.

Well, I forget about it until I was waiting for the elevator. I'm standing there, minding my own business, alone in this little elevator area, very much removed from the hustle and bustle of the hospital. There is nothing or no one else around--just me and the three closed elevator doors. For some reason, I look down......

.....and see a big blop of very red blood on their clean, shiny floor.

Oh dear. Seems my paper cut is bleeding.

I immediately raise my hand above my head in an effort to stop the blood. As I'm standing there like the Statue of Liberty, I realize that I don't have a kleenex or paper towel or napkin or even a scrap of paper to use so I can wipe this blop of blood. It's me and the blood on the floor.

I look around. No security cameras. Good.

Suffice it to say, I left my blop of blood on the floor. It was the wrong thing to do but really, there wasn't nothing in the vicinity I could use. I guess I could have used my coat or my pant leg but that didn't seem like a good option. I figured they are a hospital--they'll know what to do when seeing a blop of blood. They have policy and procedure about these things. Someone will run and get a spill kit; someone else will get a bio hazard bag. Well, that or the janitor will smear it around next time he mops.

So, now I have a new problem--I am bleeding and it's not stopping. I don't have a band-aid. It looks ridiculous. I am trying to walk without letting the blood drip but walking this way means everyone can see my now bloody finger/hand. When I get to the person's hospital room, I stop at the sink and rinse off my hand. (Great, now I've contaminated her sink as well as the public floor.) I grab a paper towel and wrap it around my finger, keeping it up in the air as to stop the bleeding.

As the client was sleeping when I arrived, I decided to write her a note and leave her to snoring. Unfortunately, this means I have to take off the paper towel. I do this and start writing, but now I've gotten blood all over her pen. Dear God. I stop writing, take me and the pen to the sink and wash both thoroughly. For good measure, a little dab of hand sanitizer was employed. Just as I'm returning the pen, the nurse comes in and wakes her, so I am indeed able to visit with her as planned.

Here's the funny thing: I'm in a friggin' hospital and I can't get a band aid. They won't (or can't) give me one. I suppose they are like $127.95 each and have be doctor-ordered. All I want is a band-aid. Not a sling. Not stitches. Not even gauze. No medical attention. Just a band-aid!

For the record: it is impossible to get a band-aid in a hospital. I might have been able to glean a piece of scotch tape or maybe a kleenex, but not a band aid.

Made me kinda glad I left my blop of blood on the floor.
*******************************************************************

Friday, November 26, 2010

Food Coma

It is a miracle that I can even type, considering I am still in a food coma. As usual, the wife's family outdid themselves in the Thankgsiving food department and I find myself in a food coma.

I'm pretty sure I have a food injury from all that I ate yesterday.
Anyone who worries a vegetarian won't have enough to eat on Thanksgiving is sadly mistaken. All those tasty side dishes and desserts make up for any missed turkey, gravy or meat-laden stuffing....

.....Mashed potatoes. Sweet potatoes. Candied yam potatoes. Butter-drenched hot biscuits. Corn. Truly, a carbohydrate nightmare. Green beans swimming in a sea of love. There was so much more but my food coma prohibits me from recalling the actual food consumed. It is a gustatory hallucination at this point.

Oh, and the desserts! Homemade apple pie. Homemade pumpkin pie. Vats of ice cream and lots of naughty whipped cream to top the pie. Coffee to wash down the ice cream and pie. I'm lucky I didn't take an eye out with the button on my pants.

For the record: I had Hershey kisses safely stashed in my car for the ride home, just in case....in case of what, I am not sure. I certainly wasn't starving during the drive home. Perhaps I was worried I was going to go into a diabetic coma from my blood sugar suddenly taking a carbohydrate crash.....

This year, the wife's family annual "Grateful Overload Fest" took less than an hour and no one burst into flames. That HAS to be a record. Oh, there was still crying and professing of love, but no one was sobbing and no one looked like they weren't going to make it through the ordeal. Each person spoke only a few minutes and then moved along. It was almost disappointing; after all, I wait all year to watch this love fest. I have no idea why this year was so succinct. Everyone had just as much to be grateful for this year as compared to any other year. Maybe it was that someone was video taping the event--that seemed to throw people off track.
A few refused to speak unless the camera was 0ff--good for them! (Hell if I was saying anything on camera.) I was quite surprised that the wife didn't prepare a speech, poem or powerpoint this year: she spoke off the cuff, kept it short & simple, didn't drop a tear. The two of us were queens of semi-superficial. I don't know what the hell that was all about. I just talked about my gratitude tattoo & how I am thankful to Dave Ramsey & for the wife's brother Tom. E. Hilfiger introducing me to Dave.

As for this day after, the wife is on a mission,
somewhere in Wisconsin, throwing herself among the crazed shoppers in the wee hours of the morning. Me? I stayed home, ate ice cream for breakfast and then went grocery shopping.

May I say that no one goes grocery shopping the morning after Thanksgiving? It was pure genius on my part.

My successful grocery-ing was followed by a quick trip to SmartPet to get the dogs a new toy/treat/thing (an indestructible chew-thing with some chemical-laden treat in the middle), as Lucy really seemed to enjoy chewing on Bitty Bichon's toy last night. I'm always looking for something for the Bark of Poteidaia to chew on, as she's not a big fan of bones. I was very surprised to see her chomping all over Bitty's treat, so I thought I'd get Lucy one of her own.

Of course, the $20-a-pop treat was promptly ignored by both dogs. 


This pissed me off royally--after all, I made a special trip and dropped a ridiculous amount of money on these things--so, I covered them with peanut butter and tried it again. Thankfully--for both me and them--they seemed to enjoy them much better and have since taken a semi-kinda-sorta-liking to them.

Kinda-sorta being the operative words.

I have spent the rest of my morning listening to Lucy cry/whine/squeak and fighting with my computer. I think the dog has a belly ache....probably because I gave them some cheap, non-organic, parts-is-parts filled dog food as celebration of the holiday. (I know better than to do that, but everyone should have some junk food at the holidays.) I've tried everything to get her to stop, but she is still "talking" to me. I have taken her outside, sat with her, given her a new squeaky toy, taken her outside again, taken her on a walk, offered her ice cream (that would help me, so why not her?), talked to her, yelled at her, petted her, ignored her, begged her to stop. Suffice it to say, I will be staying home for the rest of the afternoon until she stops OR I determine what is the matter with her.

No, it's not the new everlasting ball of joy. She didn't eat enough of that to do anything besides give her bad breath.

Staying home to watch the dog means I will be able to "go" shopping via the Internet, which I am all about. Well, that is if I can get my computer to cooperate. Something is up with how my computer is connecting (or, in this case, NOT connecting) with the wireless. This has happened before--the solution is to use an Ethernet cable for awhile and wait for the problem to resolve itself. It is my computer, not the router, as the wife's various equipment is working just fine. As long as the Internet shopping can commence, I will gladly sit on the floor next to the router.

Staying home doesn't help me burn off any of those four bazillion calories I consumed yesterday but it sure beats being in the crowds and fighting for parking spaces......

Oh great, I see a pile of puke. Seriously! Because I'm tethered to the router by a VERY short Ethernet cord, I have to sit somewhere I usually wouldn't sit....and, being seated at this "new" angle has put me in direct line with someone's puke....

Definitely not mine. Definitely not new. A gift from yesterday, I'm guessing. I'm thinking today's doggy gastrointestinal distress might be "older" than the cheap food. Lucy and I better go eat some more ice cream before taking care of this problem.

And so, I end here, doomed to wallow in my own food coma, doomed to wonder what the heck is wrong with Lucy, doomed to clean old puke from the carpeting. I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving and that you are ready for the onslaught of the holiday season. Until then, don't weigh yourself until after the New Year. Hope you were lucky enough to get that front row parking space.

Namaste, oh great turkey-filled friends!
***************************************************

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Grat.tat.tooed

Before I get to the point of this particular blog, I have to say yeah, I went and saw Harry Potter 7, Part I this week. It was good, not as dark as I thought it would be. I loved the last book the most of all, so I was a wee bit nervous about this movie. The actors did an awesome job carrying the story, which is a good thing cuz that's basically what the story is about--them. Glad to say they ended the movie just at the right moment. with the perfect scene. I am way excited about 7 Part II. That should be the darkest, most graphic movie of the series. It's not a pretty site in the book; I can't imagine it will be fresh and pretty on screen. Is it July yet?

Since it's the week of Thanksgiving, everyone seems to be focused on the word "gratitude," as well they should be. It's almost a buzz word--of which I hope it never truly becomes, because buzz words are all hype and lost meaning and I do not want gratitude to lose it's meaning. I am all about gratitude; after all, I do have it tattooed on my chest. I ooze gratitude right now. I am a big, glowing ball of thanks. I should wear a name tag that says, "Hi, my name is Gratitude." I am sure there are people who would like to slap the gratitude right outta me.

It is a wonderful thing to have gratitude, to experience gratitude, to ooze gratitude, to be grat-tat-tooed, to know gratitude is not a buzz word.

Every morning, I take a moment to acknowledge something for which I am grateful. How do I remember to do this when I can barely remember to put on my underwear? After I take a shower, I put lotion on my gratitude tattoo...while I am rubbing the lotion in on the tattoo, I think of one thing for which I am grateful. Works like a charm.

See? Not ALL my tattoos are tacky cartoons. (Just most of 'em.)

While I get nervous about the wife's "Annual Family Thanksgiving Gratitude Fest" (the giving thanks that literally goes for hours and requires box after box of kleenex), I do appreciate their effort to verbalize their gratitude for all the wonderfulness in their lives. Having daily practice about the grateful thing comes in handy when Thanksgiving at the in-laws rolls around. For the record: I still won't say much, though. I just can't bring myself to truly "let go" in front of a bunch of in-laws. Last year I teetered on a tear. I know I'll burst into flames if I try to display all that gratitude that swims inside of me. I'll stick with surface thanks for the event.

Speaking of gratitude, here is a random blog entry about "super-gratitude." http://super-mom.com/super-gratitude I don't know this lady, haven't read her blog until about 14 minutes ago, but I liked what Super Mom had to say about super gratitude, so I thought I'd give her some free press. She seems like a positive kind of grrrrl. And, since she ends her entry with "namaste," you know I give her two thumbs up. (Many of you may remember I recently had the word "namaste" tattooed on my wrist. Here is the photo of the wrist I've been promising. The font is Courier, which is just what I wanted--simple, clean, throw back to the world of the typewriter.)

I've written about gratitude many a time before in the Addiverse, but I don't think I've ever said why I had the gratitude tattoo placed permanently where I put it; meaning, you can figure out that I have gratitude, but why not on my arm where I can see it every waking minute or where others can share in my thanks? The placement (for once) was very thought out:

I wanted it close to my heart.

When I put my hand over the tattoo, my hand is over my heart, kind of like I'm saying the pledge of Allegiance. I had so much gratitude when the wife was okay way back in December 2008 that I needed her near and dear to my heart every waking day. There she is!

(December 2008: you are on your own to search the Addiverse archives about that. You can look for the gratitude tattoo photo while you're at it.)

One of my favorite authors is Jack Canfield, the guy who did the Chicken Soup for the Soul books and the guy who is in "The Secret." Think what you will of either of those two things; I like what he has to say. Ol' Jack sends me emails now and then (okay, okay--he personally doesn't send them, but you know what I mean) and one of the most recent was about gratitude. I will include his email article about gratitude below (he says I can do that as long as I give him proper credit).

Until then, I will practice how I will be grateful if Bristol Palin wins DWTS tonight. I won't actually be grateful, but I'll have to find some good in it (like, I'm grateful this is a reality TV dance show, not the presidency).

So, here's to you, dear visitor of the Addiverse. For today, let gratitude transform you and not just be something you profess once a year.....

....and, when you eat that piece of chocolate for breakfast, give thanks to the Mayans & Aztecs for coming up with such a great product.

Namaste.
******************************************************************
Gratitude and Appreciation as a Secret for Success by Jack Canfield
Jack Canfield, America's #1 Success Coach, is founder of the billion-dollar book brand Chicken Soup for the Soul© and a leading authority on Peak Performance and Life Success.

The best attitude you can possibly aspire to express year-round is one of gratitude and appreciation.
Being truly grateful for what is already present in your life will automatically and effortlessly attract more good into your life.
Make a conscious decision to appreciate and acknowledge all that you have already been blessed with. These emotions are of the highest vibrational frequency, and through the Law of Attraction they will attract even more to be thankful for.
Try to be grateful for even the difficult and challenging situations that arise in your life.
It is often through these situations, that we experience the most profound spiritual and emotional growth. You can learn to view each apparent obstacle as an opportunity to develop a new quality, strength, skill, insight or wisdom and be grateful for the lessons. Each challenge is an opportunity for growth and expansion.
Rise to these occasions, and appreciate all that you are learning in the process. Keeping your attitude positive and appreciative through these times will not only help to avoid attracting more of these difficult situations into your life - it will also create a field of positive energy that will attract more of what you do want.
"Of all the attitudes we can acquire, surely
the attitude of gratitude is the most important,
and by far the most life-changing."

- Zig Ziglar
A Token of Gratitude
Try carrying a small token, stone, crystal, or some other meaningful object with you each day in your pocket. Throughout the day, each time you reach into your pocket for your money or keys it will serve as a tangible reminder to stop and think of something you have to be grateful for. This is a great way to increase your awareness of all that you have to be appreciative of.
Take a moment to breathe, and really feel the emotion of gratitude. This simple mindfulness technique helps to raise your vibrational frequency and keep you in a state of constant gratitude.
Your Gratitude Journal
Start keeping a daily Gratitude and Acknowledgement journal. This is a necessary and valuable tool in the development of your growth and awareness. This book is not intended to be a long, drawn out “diary” sort of thing, just a short, simple list of things you are grateful for on that particular day. This is a place to honor and appreciate the good in your life.
Gratitude:
Each evening, before going to bed, take a few minutes to review your day. Think about the day’s events. Become aware of how many good things actually happened on that day, and remember to appreciate even the challenges that you encountered. Select the five things, or people, or events that you are most grateful for. There is no right or wrong here, just whatever, or whoever you are sincerely grateful for on that particular day. It may be the warm sun on your face, a cool breeze, a kind word, a friend, or just feeling good about what you got accomplished that day. It may be the way you handled a particular situation that would have thrown you into a tailspin in the past.
Anything you are grateful for. As you write them in your journal, feel the gratitude and appreciation. Give thanks.
Acknowledgement:
Take a moment to acknowledge the changes that are occurring for you personally. Write them down. Acknowledge just how well the Law of Attraction is working in your life. Write down any specific event where the Law of Attraction was at work- the parking space you envisioned, the meeting you wanted to schedule, the bonus check you received, the grade you wanted, the person who said yes when you asked them out.
Miracles can and do occur on a daily basis. They are happening all around you. Honor them, and notice them. Through acknowledgement, you will become more and more aware of the amazing synchronicity that is already at work in your life.
Make the time you spend in contemplation and writing in your Gratitude and Acknowledgement journal a sacred part of your daily routine.
Your continued expressions of joy and gratitude will draw even greater joy, love and abundance into your life.
You will begin to notice a change in your perception of each day‘s events. You will become more aware of the positive things that happen all around you every single day. Your focus will shift, your energy will shift, and you will begin to appreciate how blessed you already are. And … the Law of Attraction will respond to the higher vibration you are creating.
Enjoy the journey.
Live each day in joy and gratitude.
* * *
In our desire to make this easier for you we have created a beautiful Gratitude journal that you can utilize for this purpose. It contains pages for daily entries of what you are grateful for and weekly inspirational quotes. It also has blank pages for you to record any personal acknowledgements of how the Law of Attraction is working in your life. You can order a copy from www.jackcanfield.com
© 2010 The Canfield Training Group
All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

A New Kind of Shock and Awe

Sorry about the posting delay. Between my computer woes and both dogs puking, it's put me behind schedule. I must have been booted off my computer at least thirty times last night. I finally waved the white flag and did something more productive: I watched the semi-finals of Dancing with the Stars.

Here is a warning, a LOUD warning to all you readers who happen to align with Democrats, the ones who tend to be liberal or at least somewhat left-leaning in their political thinking:

The Republicans have a new kind of shock and awe: Bristol Palin.

This is a two-fold smarty pants use of the phrase so deliciously tied to Dubya: One, it is shocking and leaves me in awe that a mediocre dancer is in the finals of DWTS....a non-star whose claim to fame isn't really that she is an unwed mother professing the merits of abstinence, but rather that she has a conservative, Republican-darling of a mother who has captivated more people than I would like to admit; secondly, Democrats are about to get a whole 'nother level of shock and awe come 2012 if things don't change.

People, THIS IS YOUR WAKE UP CALL.


The Republicans have taken over the House and they have taken over Dancing with the Stars.

There is power in voting
.


If you didn't believe that before, maybe this will slap you in the head.

Bristol obviously didn't win because of her dancing; she won because the "Right" has been voting like there is no tomorrow. And, there won't be a tomorrow if the "Left" doesn't get off its sorry ass and do something.

I am not here to trash a young women. I am not here to trash "She-who-must-not-be-named." I am here to trash us. If you are a Republican who voted for Bristol BECAUSE she is Sarah's daughter and because you want to send a message, I applaud you.

Of course, the thought that I am writing about a reality TV show as related to politics scares me, but it's true. We are a shallow bunch of people. We sit around and are consumed by TV, especially the reality time. I am guilty as the rest. We have become a cartoon of ourselves. Like it or not, the Tea Party is mighty smart. They may be divisive, they might be way out there, they may be scaring even their own party, but they have mobilized and they know how to vote. The "Right" is rising up and they have the power, the momentum.

Why do I care? Why do the results of a TV show have me all befuckled?

Because I like my civil rights. I like not having to worry I am going to be fired or denied my housing because whom I love. I may not be able to get married or have a civil union, but at least I can keep my job in the state of Illinois.

Don't be rolling your eyes at me. There are plenty of States where it is perfectly legal to fire someone if they are gay. It wasn't that long ago that employers in the Illinois could do the same thing. Remember me being told I was "too gay" at a previous job (whatever the hell that means)? That was perfectly legal. I don't want to go back to those days. I don't want to go backwards at all. I like basic, human rights. The Tea Party has a whole different view on this.

And so, we have a new kind of shock and awe: shock that someone who can't dance and who isn't a star is in the finals of a TV show; awe at the prospect that a group of people has such power to accomplish this.

Come 2012, don't make me say, "I told you so." Take heed. The future is now and the future is speaking.

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

E....F...P....T....O....Z

I went for an eye exam today. As I have been wearing glasses since first grade, this is not traumatic, exciting, novel, foreign, fun, not fun. It is what it is. It's an eye exam.

Getting an eye exam was a HUGE event when I was a kid. First off, it was always awesome to get new lenses. I would always exclaim, "I can see to CHINA!" when I'd don that new pair. Secondly, it meant a special trip to see the 15o year old eye guy who looked like Tim Conway. How could you not love that? Third, it meant I could pick out new frames. New glasses were always a good thing. Since I was usually breaking or bending or chipping or warping my glasses, new ones were quite the treat. Finally, going for an eye exam meant we would get to walk through Goldblatt's to get back to the car--I always loved that because I could see all the sale signs with my new glasses--it WAS like being able to see to China!

Being as I am blind as a bat, I literally cannot see the chart, let alone the biggest letter on the chart. The doctor, always thinking this is funny, says "read me the letters you can see" and then laughs. He always waits a beat....laughs....then adds, "I know you can't see the chart!"

As if I didn't know he didn't know that.

Now that I've become more mature (read: older), I also have to do the reading glasses test. The doctor puts the contraption in front of my face, chuckles, and delightfully squeaks out, "read me what you can." I can't read those letters, either--although, I can see the letter "E" so I suppose I should be happy I can at least see the chart. He knows I can't read them and thus he has another laugh.

Somehow, his eyeball humor is always lost on me. Maybe it's because I've had glasses for so long. Maybe it's because I've heard his same "jokes" since 1987.

While I was seated in the waiting room, in the landing pattern waiting my turn, I got to overhear senior after senior ask for "those Sarah Palin Glasses." I kid you not. The place was hopping with seniors who all wanted those Sarah Palin Glasses. I'm not sure if she should be tickled pink or insulted.

I was surprised to learn that my eyesight has worsened, both my nearsightedness and my reading ability. (It's a cruel world where you can't see close OR far.) I didn't think things had changed until he demonstrated my current prescription with the one I chose ("one......or, two.......one.......or, two"). I was rather stunned.....

.....but, not as stunned as I was when I got the bill for the new glasses. Woof!


Alas, glasses are something I wear everyday and certainly cannot live without; so, once I got past the sticker shock, I was all good with it.

To pick out glasses and actually see what I might look like while wearing said glasses is impossible for me--I have to pick out the frames I like, have other people give their opinion and then go with what I figure is the best fit. Kinda sucks. I do try and get an idea--I put the frames on and put my face up to the mirror--sometimes, I end up leaving a nose print on the mirror because that's how close I basically have to get to see what is going on with the frames. This time, I employed the wife's help. Between her comments and my knowledge of what I need in a pair of glasses (the smallest lens I can get, the sturdiest frame, the comfortable fit, the in-style factor), I picked out a frame without too much fanfare. If I didn't have to get small lenses, I would have picked out something much more wild. With my prescription, I have to stay small. My face is already distorted enough with the little frames--I look like a blind bug with anything bigger.

Of course, I can't go too small or they can't fit the whole tri-focal thing in the frame. Oh, my achin' myopia!

It'll take a few days, if not a week or more, to get my new glasses as they have to special order the lenses. I'm all good with that, too. After all, when I do finally get to pick them up, I'll be able to see to China from the parking lot....

.....just like Sarah can see Russia out her back door.

No wonder all those seniors want Sarah Palin glasses......
***********************************************************************

Thursday, November 04, 2010

Voting: It's Snot Funny

I rely on Feedblitz to email me my posts (yeah, i read my own blog. Pathetic, isn't it?). I didn't receive my last two entries...the ones about the jury duty antics & the new furnace. I would HATE you to miss one billionth of a second of the Addiverse, so, if you too rely on Feedblitz, please go to the blog, directly to the blog. Of course, if there is something wrong with Feedblitz, you won't be reading this, either.

I don't have much profundity today because I have a cold and thus my brain cells are filled with snot, which makes it hard to think. The watery eyes make it hard to see the screen and taking time to hack all those fur balls distracts me from staying on task. I feel great, though--just sound terrible. I have gone through a gallon of Germ-X, so I am doing my civic duty in keeping my germs to myself.

Speaking of civic duty, have I ever posted this illustration before? It makes me laugh every time I look at it. I suppose I shouldn't be laughing, considering the outcome of this week's elections. Republicans, I bow to you. Good luck with fixing everything. My words of wisdom to you are: "be careful for what you ask." They are now the proud owner of all those problems they've been bitching about.

Our neighbor is Republican--gasp! we live in a mixed neighborhood--so she's gloating. I will gladly taunt her when the Republicans can't do any better (and, they can't--people, we need to work together!). Ms. Gay Republican (almost an oxymoron, isn't it?) has a liberal, Democrat of a partner. As you can imagine, Ms. Gay Dem is not entertained by Ms. Gay Rep. (a mixed marriage in a mixed neighborhood--the horror!) and has made it clear to this partner that when we as gay people lose our basic rights--which Ms. Gay Dem is sure will happen with the onslaught of Righties--we will all remind her that she voted for this and did this to "us."

Could get mighty entertaining in our neck of the woods.

Remember: "I like my beer cold, my TV loud and my homosexuals flaming."

I wish I could say I got all excited and fired up about this election, but I didn't. Maybe it is because I have a cold. Maybe it's because I knew it the country would swing way right no matter what I voted. Maybe I just got sick and tired of all those robo-mated phone calls we got inundated with every night. No matter. I didn't get passionate about much of anything with this time around.

I did have an unsettling "voting experience" where my little voter card thingy was gone by the time I got at the polling place to vote. That made me really nervous--who the hell voted for me before I got there? I was able to vote provisionally. The experience went like this:

Me: Hand driver's license to the Electioneer.

Crusty old Electioneer #1 (to Crusty old Electioneer #2): "I dunno where her card is. She is on this list and is at the right polling place." (Electioneer points to the book where everyone's voting doohickey is supposed to be.)

Crusty old Electioneer #2 (to me): "Are you at the right polling place?" (Studies my driver's license.)

Me: (Politely point after snorting a fur ball.) "My name is right there, at the top of your list." (It pays to have a last name with the letter "A." I am always at the top of every list. I can easily see my name and address. Score!)

Crusty old Electioneer #3: (eyeballing my license, then eyeballing the list, then eyeballing me) "Yes, there she is."

Crusty old Electioneer #1: "Well, her card isn't here. Have you already voted?"

A big groan is heard from the line behind me. I am holding up traffic.

Me: "No, I haven't voted yet." (In the background a cell phone rings. Thankfully, it is not mine.)

Crusty old Electioneer #2: (yelling) "NO CELL PHONES AT THE POLLING PLACE! TURN OFF THAT CELL PHONE! SOMEONE'S PHONE IS RINGING!"

Crusty old Electioneer #3: "I don't know what to do. What do we do?"

More groans.

Crusty old Electioneer #4: (looking very annoyed and disgusted) "COME OVER HERE."

I shuffle toward the end of the table.

Crusty old Electioneer #4: "Have you already voted?"

I want to say something smarty pants like, "Well, we DO live in the state where the motto is vote early and vote often," but I politely answer, "No."

I also want to ask what the hell happened to my little voter doohickey thing but decide to remain mute. I sneeze on Electioneer #4.

Crusty old Electioneer #4: (growls.) "FILL THIS OUT."

And, so I did. I am not sure they gave me a "real" ballot, but they did hand me something, so I am hopeful that my non-tea party-based ballot did indeed count for something.

It is my hope that we know who the governor of Illinois is going to be by the end of my cold......

.....knowing the ways of Illinois politics, we probably won't know until the end of Cold and Flu season.

Snotty? Yes. I vote someone hand me a Kleenex.
*********************************************************

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Heat Wave

Before I get to how hot it is in here (not like the Nelly song, but in our house, thanks to our new appliance), I state: Anyone who tells you that tattoos are not addictive is probably tattoo-free. While I am sure there are a few people out there who have been able to stop after one tattoo, I do not understand this. It's on the same par as someone telling me to only eat one M&M. Are you kidding me?

Thus, when the call of the tattoo is heard, I answer.

We'll get back to that calling in a bit. First, I must apologize to the wife AND then profess my love for....

....our new furnace.

The wife wanted to get a new furnace while all those rebates were available. I wanted nothing of the sort--I wanted to be sitting on a beach during a tropical getaway. Both cost the same. She was worried that our 16 year old furnace would die at any moment; most likely it would die on the coldest day of this winter and no one would be able to help us for a week and the rebates would have ended thirty-seven seconds right before the furnace died. I am of the school "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." That means I'd be the one who had to explain why we didn't get a new furnace while we had a chance at oodles of money in rebates and while we were still warm and happy.

Suffice it to say, I was VERY wrong about this whole furnace thing. (Sometimes it is awesome to be wrong. This is one of those times. I totally own my wrongness. I am all good with it.) It was installed last week and has been running ever since--really. It's one of those new-fangled ones that runs all the time, supposedly in an efficient, wonderful way. I am here to tell you: it IS in a wonderful way.

How do I know?

We live in a tri-level. Anyone who lives in a tri-level (or has visited someone who owns a tri-level in the middle of winter) knows that the lower level is always freezing cold in comparison to the other levels; in fact, we do not spend any time down stairs at all in the winter months EXCEPT on Christmas Day when we make my family sit down there (no offense to the family--it's just where the presents are). It's just too cold. The heat doesn't get there or stay there. If we want it warm down there, we have to crank the heat to miserable-hot for the rest of the house. When we've inquired from various professionals how to address this, we've heard all kinds of things, such as "get electric heating vents installed in this room so it's warmer--the furnace will never heat this lower level." Well, the wife has been studying and learned otherwise. She schooled me on the merits of the new furnaces and told me that the new furnaces would be able to heat the whole house evenly and comfortably.

I thought she had been listening to too many sales pitches.

People of the Addiverse, she was right. The new, efficient furnace (which sadly looks LITERALLY the same as our last furnace--for that much money I was hoping it would look at least a little bit different) is heating that lower level; in fact, it is so noticeable that I can barely stand it! Used to be as you walked down the steps, you could feel the temperature dropping. Seriously. I would guess--and, I am not exaggerating here--it was five-10 degrees cooler on that level....and, since we keep our house at 67 degrees, that's a chilly 58-60 degrees down there. Now, it's the same as the rest of the house. Both of us stare incredulously at each other, oooohing and ahhhhing at the amazing transformation from this little hunk of expensive love. It's something about how the air is always moving cuz the little furnace fan is on. When I asked the wife about that this morning, she said: "It's something about how the air is always circulating. I don't get it." She then walked away, toasty warm and smiling.

The furnace is so nice that I anticipate we will be turning down the thermostat, as for some reason 67 degrees at this point is too warm. I'm not sure if it's us hot-flashing, the new thermostat being wrong, a better system making the house warmer or what-not. It doesn't matter as long as we are warm and our gas bill doesn't quadruple.

Word to my family: you won't have to wear long underwear this year when you visit on Christmas Day!

As far as tattoos.....you know I've been wanting one.....aren't I always wanting one? If I weren't with the wife, I'd have a full sleeve of a tattoo on my arm. Yum. (See? Just another reason to love the wife. She has common sense and keeps me semi-grounded...semi being the operative word). I've been wanting to get a "word" tattoo in a simple font: meaning, I wanted to look like someone took a typewriter to my arm. I am all about typewriters. The manual kind, not the electric kind. Showing my age, to be sure. Anyways, being that I remain ever-so-respectful of the wife, I need to keep it simple and not turn it into a sleeve of ink. This means I had to keep it simple & relatively small. Of course, the bonus of such a tattoo is that it is cheap.

Well, cheap in comparison to the big cartoon mess on my back.

Have we ever talked about the tattoos on my back?? Here's a photo of one of the earlier additions to my back piece--my three nieces.

I walked around for a week thinking about the word I might want permanently plastered on my arm. It had to have personal meaning. Not trendy. Unusual, perhaps. A reminder. A message. I engaged the wife in the process (after all, she has to look at it, too), inquiring what word might fit the bill. The words "I love the furnace" didn't make too much sense, albeit true. Although we both loved the idea of the word "believe," but decided against it in the last minutes. I loved the idea of just putting the word "now." on my wrist--stay in there here and now, live in the now, there is only now, do it now, now is the time, now. Get ungrounded--focus back on the "now." I then thought of "SERENITY NOW!" because it makes me laugh, reminds me of a great Seinfeld episode and fits me well. I could have gotten, "THE WIFE," but she didn't seem amused.

In the end, I went with "namaste."

I am very surprised at how many people have not heard of this word or have any idea of what the word might mean. I don't know why I thought otherwise.....it's a very familiar term to me and the wife and we don't belong to a cult or anything (not that we know of). No offense to anyone for not knowing--after all, I didn't know you didn't know. Since getting tattooed, I've learned that namaste is a very difficult term to explain in one sentence. I suppose it'd be easiest to say, "it's a yoga term for when you end class," but that's not why I got it at all. I don't need a "good bye, yoga class" on my arm.

Namaste. True that it is a salutation, a greeting (both for howdy and see ya), originally Hindu in nature. Technically, I've heard it means "I bow to you," which is nice. It comes from the heart. It means, "I honor the place in you in which the entire Universe dwells, I honor the place in you which is of Love, of Integrity, of Wisdom and of Peace. When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are One."

It is about respect, humility, equality, gratitude, honor, love, spirit, oneness. It's about seeing the good in others--when wanting to slap someone in the head, thinking "namaste" keeps me from doing it, as I focus on the good in that person.

Did you see the movie Avatar? It's like saying, "I see you." (If you didn't see the movie or didn't like the movie or didn't understand the movie, forget about that last comment. Just look at the Additar--along with the Additar-ed Xena--and laugh.) I see the good in you. I see the God in you. I respect you. I honor you. I am grateful to/for you. I am humbled in front of you. I see the Universe within both of us. I will not slap you in the head when I am pissed off at you. I SEE you.

It also means, "I will share the produce of our furnace with you."

Bet you didn't know that meaning. Trust me, that's the best one.
**************************************************************************