Friday, June 23, 2017

Soft-Resetting and Necking

Ahem.

This is why I blog, perhaps in a much less profound manner. You should try it, too... even if it's in an old school journal, on a phone notes app or work newsletter. You'll be all the better for it.

Of course, if you are writing for the work newsletter, you might want to weigh the truth. Bosses sometimes frown upon memories of that last hot date you went on or your feelings about your last performance review.

I love Anne Lamott. If you haven't read any of her stuff, you might want to give it a try. If you hate it, consider yourself better for trying.

The wife has a pinched nerve or a bad wing or neck stigmata--er, I mean stenosis. She is an absolute hot mess. No matter what she does, she can't get comfortable. I haven't seen her like this since she had... lower back spinal stenosis, which led to surgery and permanent numbing in her foot. I'm hoping this is an injury from too much lawn mowing or lawn bag tossing or doing push ups when I'm not looking. From the looks on her face, it doesn't matter what caused it--it's misery. Ideas welcome. Ice, heat, that freezy stuff you rub into your skin, ibuprofen, tylenol don't touch the uncomfortableness in which she is currently swimming.

Going to the doctor is a novel idea, but that didn't help her with her spinal stenosis until it was almost too late--they kept pushing pills and telling her to rest. They didn't believe her...probably put her in a category of "another ass with back pain looking for meds." I told her if she goes to the doctor for her neck, she should take the MRI of her back and remind them how much they screwed up last time.

I'd post a photo so you could see I am not exaggerating one bit, but I'm on my Chromebook and don't have access to my photos. I'll post that photo as soon as I get to my "real" computer. (No offense to the Chromebook. I love it.)

It is a very helpless feeling to know someone is miserable and there is nothing you can truly do about it. Oh, I can take out the garbage and carry things and try not to leave a trail in the house and bring home take-out and pump out Reiki, but that doesn't really address the problem. I'm not kidding when I say ideas welcome. Chocolate and Norco don't touch the angst.

The body has a mind of its own. (That's a profound thought. Chew on that, please.) Her body's mind is definitely pissed off.

As for me, I have nary a complaint. Thank you, Universe! I pooped today, my legs are shaved and my phone is fixed. Dang, I forgot about the phone.... it gave me fits this week. I took it to the phone store and held it up, exclaiming, "I HATE THIS PHONE! (This is not an exaggeration. I really did this.) While holding it up in the customer service guy's face, I pointed out, "SEE? NOTHING! NOTHING ON THE SCREEN!" He looked a wee bit terrified. I have to say, they found me someone to help immediately. No waiting behind all those other people. He found me a 12 year old to help me.

Me: "This phone is only six months old! Look at it!"
12 year old phone lady: Looks at phone.
Me: "It's fully charged! I haven't dropped it. It's in an Otter Box. It's never been in water. I can't even power it off."
12 year old phone lady: Looks at me.
Me: "I HATE THIS PHONE! I SHOULD HAVE KEPT MY ANDROID!"
12 year old: politely takes the phone from me.
Me: glaring.
12 year old: politely hands the phone back to me.
Me: Look at screen. Everything is okay. WTF????
12 year old: "This is a common problem. It's happened all the time. I just did a soft reset."
Me: Blank stare.
12 year old: "Hold down the volume-down button, this button and the power button at the same time. Hold it down until the phone powers up."
Me: Blank stare.
12 year old: "It's a common problem."
Me: "I still hate this phone."
I turn around to leave and see the Customer Service guy. He'd been watching from afar. Chicken. He looks a quite relieved to see my phone is just fine and that I am no longer growling hate. He points out my Chromebook (I carry it everywhere--seriously) and asks what it is. I tell him, adding that I love it. Despite hearing me bitch about how much I hate my phone, he says, "We're having a sale on iPads today...."

I give him a "you have GOT to be kidding me" look, roll my eyes and walk out the door.

So, if you have an iPhone 7 and you get this blank, dark blue-ish looking screen, do a "soft reset." You'll be glad you did AND you'll save a trip to the phone store. You'll also lower the intensity of your hate for electronic devices.

If only I could take the wife to the phone store and get a "soft reset" for her neck issue.

Sale on iPads, my ass. Thank god for 12 year old sales people who have never lived a moment without cell phones and computers.

Prayers for the wife and prayers for that ass. I'll be eternally grateful.


Saturday, June 17, 2017

Fits & Sticks

My Steetch Feeks arrived as scheduled. (I hate to use the actual name of any company, as it is possible unsuspecting people will arrive in the Addiverse and wonder what the hell just happened.) As promised, I took photos during the unboxing (that's what it's officially called) and shall share them as promised.

Before we go any further, I have to make a confession: I'm kind of disappointed. The pricing was funny (did they think I'd ever pay $98.00 for a pair of pants?) but there wasn't as much hilarity as anticipated. I only hooted and hollered once or twice. I planned on peeing on myself with laughter. Suffice it to say: no piddling ensued. Dang.

The first surprise? How small the box was. I mean, there are five articles of clothing in there. I couldn't figure out how five items could be smooshed in there.

The second surprise? Everything actually fit in the box. Secure, unwrinkled, waiting. Not smooshed. It was packed cute as a button.

The third surprise? Everything fit me. I'm getting ahead of myself telling you this so early in the game but it's only fair to acknowledge my surprise. Fit in the box and fit on me. Big points for the company

The fourth surprise? Everything was machine washable. You may not care about this but I sure do.

My first complaint? I said NO JEWELRY. So, what did they send me? A necklace. A necklace I would never wear unless paid large sums of money and told specifically when I should wear such an item. I've seen friends with style wear this type of necklace and they look amazing on my friends but I'm certainly NOT gonna wear such decoration. People would burst into laughter or flames if I were to put this thing on. I'm sure I would have been more fashionable the moment I donned such a trinket but not today. If I'm going to wear jewelry, it's going to be made of precious metal, it's going to be understated and it's not going to dangle to my belly button. For the record, the wife liked the necklace a lot but agreed it was not for me. So, lose points for sending the necklace. Score: 0-1.

My second complaint? NO ANKLE LENGTH PANTS. So, what did they send? Ankle length pants. To be fair, they were awesome pants, albeit linen. I should NOT ever wear anything linen. All I become is a wrinkled mess. (It's my fault about the material. I never said I don't wear linen. I apologize to my stylist for that oversight.) The pants were well made, were very comfortable and of a color I loved. I know "what not to wear" would approve. But, ankle length! I don't do toes, I don't wear sandals very often at all and I am not a fan of this length on anyone. So, lose points for sending ankle length anything. Score: 0-2.

Side note: I am disappointed they didn't send me capris. I indicated several times on my profile that I wanted capris. SEND ME SOME CAPRIS!

Then came the tops. My stylist obviously listened to my need for loose-fitting tops. He got the colors right. The clothes were very comfortable. I wanted something different because I need some new stuff to wear and I need to have a few items that aren't made of t-shirt or sport-themed material. I hate shopping so having clothes come to me is the perfect way to go. But...


....let's face it. You can't picture me in these clothes, can you? I loved the color of the blue top. LOVED. Big points for the color. But, a sheer flowing top? The wife said, "when would you EVER wear that?" Okay, so she answered the question if I should keep it. (Ignore the fact that I put the blue flowing blouse over my T-shirt. We can't all be fashionistas.)

The next top--a sleeveless diddy with a fun print--was an acceptable "match" with my profile. (I would have preferred blue or a dark brown but what do I know? I'm not a fashion consultant.) I would have kept this summer item had I kept the other four products. I liked it a lot but....

....I already knew I wasn't keeping the first two items, which meant I'd be paying full price for anything I kept and I didn't think the price of this shirt was acceptable. (That's part of the game: keep all five items and get 25% off the cost of the order. Makes the cost much more palatable.) I couldn't justify paying full prices for something I'd never wear it more than twice a year. (I think the wife gave this one a "thumb's down." I can't verify this but I'm pretty sure it was rejected by my fashion consulting wife.) Since I would have considered keeping it, I have to say the score is 1-4..

The wife's favorite pick was a striped shirt. Very loose. Some unknown material that was comfortable, not scratchy although it looked like it would be scratchy. Here's a photo of said shirt. (Ignore the checkered pants with the striped shorts, although I don't mind the look.) The wife wasn't very thrilled with the "peeking tattoos" but not much I can do about that besides wear a shirt under the shirt and that defeats the purpose of wearing the shirt. This was probably the "closest" to something I'd wear. It didn't do much for my girlish figure but it sure was comfy and "normal" and a good color. The stylist suggested pairing this with some casual jeans and a sweater or coat or something like that, which made sense.  But....

....I decided not to keep this one, either. Since this would have potentially made the cut, the final score: 2-5.

I'm glad to say returning things is super easy. Big points for that. They provide a pre-paid, pre-addressed mailing bag. I stuffed the clothes in the bag and sent everything back.

You're probably thinking this experiment is over. I'm pleased to report it is not. I'm giving them one more chance. Heck, they earned the opportunity. I'm a tough cookie. It's hard for me to consider such clothing. They have the right idea. In a month, I will receive Round Two of the Feeks. Of courses I will take photos and I'll review the items. For Round Two, I won't count on hilarity. I'll expect a small box. I'll expect things that fit. I'll expect not to find jewelry or ankle pants. I'll expect surprises. I'll expect to be steeched and feeks. I'll expect to like something enough to buy it...

...AND, I'LL EXPECT SOME CAPRIS. There better be some capris in that tiny box.

T-shirts, beware. T-shirts, be warned. A steech and a feeks might dull your full glory.....
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Monday, June 12, 2017

How DOES Your Garden Grow?

I was hoping my "clothes in a box" would have arrived by now, as the fodder for this blog will be OFF.THE.CHARTS! Yes, I am awaiting my first order from a company that takes your measurements, asks you about your style and then sends you five articles of clothing that you will supposedly love. Well, I want YOU to be part of this fun... I guarantee we will be hooting and hollering about what is in that box. It's called "unboxing" and I plan on documenting the entire thing. I told them no skinny jeans, no high waist jeans, no foo-foo jeans. I warned them not to send me shoes, jewelry or accessories. I was clear that I am not the dress clothes wearing type.

On-line-probably-a-computer-program Stylist: Heeled Shoes?
Me: No.
Stylist: Sun Dress?
Me: No.
Stylist: Dangling earrings?
Me: No.
Stylist: How about a brown peasant blouse?
Me: How about no?
Stylist: Is it the brown or the peasant part that is wrong?
Me: Yes.
Stylist: What do you usually wear?
Me: Jeans and a t-shirt.
Stylist: What do you wear to work?
Me: Jeans and a t-shirt.
Stylist: What do you wear when you are out on the town?
Me: Jeans and a t-shirt.
Stylist: Why are you using our service?
Me: Because it'll get my sister-in-law 25% off her next order.
Stylist: What on earth do you actually want?
Me: Some of those short pants.
Stylist: Short pants?
Me: Yeah. Jean kind.
Stylist: You mean capris?
Me: Yeah! That's what I'm talking about.
Stylist: What kind of top would you like with your capris?
Me: A t-shirt?
Stylist: [blank stare]
Me: Maybe I should've ordered from the men's department.
Stylist: I'll add a little lace to the...
Me: No lace. No frill. No nothing.
Stylist: Sparkles on the pockets?
Me: No sparkles.
Stylist: Glitter?
Me: NOW YOU'RE TALKING!

The clothes are supposed to arrive in two days. I'm following the package... right now it is in Indiana. I'm warming up the camera and am ready to share the fun with YOU.
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Summer is here, as evidenced by the 90+ degree weather and the long days. June is by far my favorite month of the year. The lawn is still lush and green (as opposed to brown and straw-like in August), the days are long, the allergies are settling down, the winds are warm and the lightening bugs are sure to surface. The yucca plants are busy yucca-ing. The bugs aren't too buggy. The weather gives me opportunity to share my tattoos with the world. June can also be cold and soggy but this year we're off to a warm, sunny start. Bring on the tattoos.

I spend a whole lot of time outside in June. Yesterday, I broke every single fingernail I had while digging in the dirt and creating a "new" area for some ground cover. (No, I don't wear gardening gloves. What is the point of that? I want to feel the dirt--experience the earth. Broken finger nails are a small price to pay when gardening.) I thought the wife might not agree with my vision of filling the "grass isn't going to grow here" area with some mulch and ground cover, but she found it appropriate and the project was approved. Score!

Okay, maybe I employed the "better to ask for forgiveness than permission" mode of being during this project. I started digging when she wasn't looking and by the time she got out there to ask what I was up to, I had already laid out the design. Since she has difficulty picturing things, this illustration of the plan worked to my advantage. Not a peep of dissension.

She did poo-poo my idea of putting hostas in that area but she did go along with the pachysandra idea. The wife tends not to be a hosta person. I don't understand this, as they are perfect for the shady areas of the lawn. Maybe they are too boring for her taste. Maybe she's sick of them. Maybe it's because the bunnies keep eating them and they end up looking like green sticks instead of plants. Maybe she was killed by a hosta in a previous life. Hard to say.

Pachysandra rocks because it's low maintenance, it spreads like wildfire, it doesn't need a whole lot of sun, it doesn't need maintenance and it looks great once it takes root. I'm sure the newbie sprigs will look like poop this year but that's okay. They will be out of control by the time next summer arrives. (I did some research on this ground cover... who knew it was Japanese and that there are different types? I thought pachysandra was pachysandra was pachysandra. Bad gardener.)

The wife spends oodles of time outside because she is watering all the hanging baskets and planters she has strategically placed around the yard. Everywhere you look, there are hanging baskets. That's a lot of watering, especially when it's so warm and sunny out. If I can't find her, I just look at the planters. Or, I listen for the squishing sound of her Crocs. All that water gets her shoes squishy and they make a very distinct sound as she walks. I can hear her anywhere on the property. Her goal, besides being aesthetically pleasing, is to attract hummingbirds. (Oh sure, my obsession with Baltimore Orioles is ridiculous but her hunt for hummingbirds is just fine.) She's already been successful, as a hummingbird was flitting around the back yard yesterday. Bitter, party of one.

There is one big difference in my gardening efforts in comparison to my gardening prowess of ten years ago: now I stay in the shade whenever possible. When I have areas of which need to be weeded that are always in the sun, I do those areas before or after the sun is at its full glory. Before, I would have used that as an opportunity to get a tan. Now, I'd rather poke my eyes out than weed in the full blast of the sun. It's not that I don't like being tan... it's because I don't like being miserable and weeding in the full heat tends to be miserable. I'm done with misery. I can get a tan when I'm not working like a dog, thank you very much.

I hear it's supposed to be in the high 90's today. That's a bit much for being so early in the year, not that I mind. I will gladly sit out side when it's that warm, just not in the sun. It's been windy the past few days, so sitting outside borders on overwhelmingly delightful....

....maybe there will be some shorts in that "clothes in a box." Even some of those "short pants." That'd brighten my day, keep me cool and certainly fancy up my wardrobe game. But if I see one frill, one piece of lace, one accessory... that stylist of mine is gonna hear from me and you.

...She COULD make it up by sending me some glitter on a t-shirt.....

...or, by sending me something from the men's department. I do wish I could just wear the manly man's obligatory blue shirt with khakis and call it a day. Maybe she'll send me a blue t-shirt with khaki pants.

Oh, the fun we are about to have........
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Friday, June 02, 2017

Old Cold, Orioles Bold

Something is messing with my "attract Orioles" set up on the deck. Something is eating the oranges and drinking the grape jelly and it is NOT an Oriole. In fact, something is STEALING the oranges and dragging them out to the middle of the yard.

I noticed something was amiss when I peered out onto the deck and noticed my grape jelly container was gone. I had filled it the day before so I know it was there. My investigation led to me finding a very empty jelly container--like, licked clean empty. I thought this might be the wind or some weird phenomenon... but, the next day, the re-filled jelly container was gone AGAIN. Once found, it was very clearly consumed by some grape-jelly loving being.

I decided not to put out the grape jelly and but left the oranges, as it appeared an Oriole (or some other bird) was pecking away at it. The first no-jelly-day...the oranges were gone. Stolen right off the bird feeder.

It took me awhile but I finally found the rinds in the yard. Empty, orange rinds.

Now, those are some pretty big oranges I've been using and they were stuck onto these large metal screws, so whatever took those oranges was bigger than an Oriole. Perhaps something raccoon size... although, we haven't seen any raccoons milling about. We have a chipmunk causing havoc but there is no way that little thing could carry an orange. I suppose a bionic squirrel would be close to big enough but I'd think they'd be puking grape jelly after eating a whole bowlful.

Whatever it is, it REALLY seems to like oranges and grape jelly, it is bigger than an Oriole and it is PISSING ME OFF.

Perhaps I'm more pissy about it than usual because I caught a cold and I've been crabby about everything. It's hard not to be crabby when having a snot-filled, throat-scratching, crabby-making hot mess of a time in the Addiverse.

I probably got the cold flying on the plane or from not getting enough sleep on vacation or from drinking out of a tainted hotel glass. No matter. I noticed the scratchy throat the last day of vacation. It hit me hard and without warning. The sore throat is a dead give-a-way that the cold is on the way. I wanted to ignore the scratchiness but it was quickly followed by the low grade fever and the feeling of exhaustion.

I thought I was safe! I thought I had made it through the winter and spring without a cold or flu. I was pretty damn proud of that accomplishment. Then, BAM! End of spring cold.

Never count your colds before the summer hatches.

Now that my eyes aren't watering as much and I'm no longer going through a box of kleenex per hour, I can sit back, reflect and blog.

I've decided that the older you get, the tougher it is to fight a cold. Case in point: thirty five years ago, I wouldn't have even noticed I had a cold besides feeling shitty and sneezy for a bunch of days. I would've sucked down some throat lozenges and been done with it. Twenty five years ago, a cold would slow me down and I'd feel pretty crappy, but it was no reason to miss work or an event. I'd just chug a bunch of cold tablets, carry kleenex at all times and try not to touch anything.

Now.... now a cold kicks my sorry ass from here to eternity. This particular cold left me exhausted to the point I missed two days of work. For me to sleep all day on the couch on a work day is something to write home about. I didn't want to be at home. I wanted to be at work. That said, there was no way in hell I could be at work... unless it was so I could sleep under my desk.

It truly was only a cold--a good, old-fashioned, run of the mill cold. A sneezing, wheezing, coughing, eye watering case of rhinitis. I've had mono and the flu and food poisoning and even"walking" pneumonia (do they even use that diagnosis any more?), so I know what it's like to feel really bad. But, I'm telling ya, this "aging cold: thing...

...It.Kicked. My. Ass. Even my boss commented, and this is a direct quote: "That cold is kicking your ass." At least she knew I was actually sick.

I'm pleased to say that I'm at the point of still being a wee bit snotty but am no worse for the wear. I do have some pretty epic nose-blows and some pain-in-the ass post-nasal drip, but otherwise--I am doing fine. It's allergy season here, so the sneezing might actually be allergy related. No matter. I feel a bazillion percent better and that is what matters....

....No. No, what really matters is what the hell is messing with my Orioles. Now that I'm feeling much better, I may have to stay up all night and stare out the window. Perhaps I should set up a video camera in order to catch the culprit. (Wouldn't it be funny if it were the neighbor playing a joke on me? Stealing my jelly and hollowing out the oranges. THAT would make for a great video.) I've got lots of grape jelly and a whole lot of kleenex. I'm ready to solve the mystery. If I get video or photos, you know I'll post them. If I want to see more Orioles, I need to kick this up a notch.

Kleenex and grape jelly. I'm armed and dangerous. No one messes with my Orioles. Game on, non-bird friend. Game on.