In service to my country....

So, my place of employment is facing what may or may not turn out to be devastating budget cuts. This places a bit of a damper on the whole holiday spirit thing. Especially since I have plans to spend money. In light of the economic crisis, I was hoping to do my part to revive the economy through conspicuous consumption. I bought a 40in Sony Bravia television for the spouse for Christmas with the intention of reworking the entire dining room into an entertainment room in January. This will involve paint, new curtains, and masses of new furniture. Because of course, that is just the sort of patriot that I am! How am I supposed to complete my plan to save America if I may be facing an economic downturn myself? This is ridiculous.
I would expect that my employer strongly consider the damage my loss of spending power could bring to the local and national economy. Instead, this should be the opportunity to encourage the early retirement of some of the dross currently not earning their ridiculous paychecks. Please hear me oh gods of budget and planning!

Dream Drama

My spouse has been advocating that I enter psychotherapy for several years now. To be clear, not to study the field, but to be a patient in it. I admit I have some issues, but I am working them out through avoidance right now (and the occasional alcohol misuse). Maybe once I have some other things fixed in my life, I will again explore the benefits of therapy. Anyway, one of the triggers for me hearing about how I need psychotherapy is when I relay one of my dreams to him. I have some pretty out there dreams that a Jungian or Freudian therapist could have some real fun with. Case in point: last night's dream. I was death. In my dream, I was the official ender of life. I was hunting down two women (no one I actually knew). These were magical women by the way - think fairies or elvin people. I recall grabbing their souls, but not actually killing them. They were marked for death without being dead. I let them continue to live out of the goodness of my heart. Only not really. They had escaped me and I found them both in Australia working as maids at a resort. Their one joy was sunning themselves on the beach during their off time. I let them go to continue to enjoy the simple things in their menial lives. So, psychotherapy..... any recommendations out there?

Encouraging Retirement

As a feminist I understand the need to reclaim and celebrate the "crone" in terms of her wisdom and years of experience. However. Sometime the "crone" refers to a self-important, socially retarded animated corpse. This is such am instance. The crone needs to retire or die peacefully in her sleep tonight (so, how wrong is that, really, if the (read: my) world would be a better place free from her?).
This story involves the crone messing with the wrong gal (me). I told her I would not send her a copy of what I already to sent to someone else so that she could make sure it gets done. Gasp! Oh no, she didn't... hell yes, she did. The crone had the temerity to imply that I had not done something that I had a record of doing, because when she checked up on me (double gasp) the person in question did not recall receiving it. So, no crone, I will not allow you to tell me how to do my job, imply that I somehow am incompetent, and then assume I would defer to you. Who do you think you are and more importantly, don't you know who I think I am?!
Obviously since she has time to do a portion of my job, I will chat with her superior about giving her more work to do. We would not want the crone to feel that her vast knowledge is going underutilized. Oh, and bite me.

The Only Good Ant is a Dead One

One morning just prior to the Thanksgiving holiday, I came in that Monday to find that my entire workspace had been overrun by ants. They had made a new home in one of my plants. After squishing a couple hundred by hand (yum!) I called my dear friend in Facilities to save me from the invasion. (I watched Ants! as a child.... I know what they are capable of.)They decided not to spray, but to place two bait boxes strategically in my area. The next day, my desk looked like a mini Pompeii. The poison stopped many ants in their tracks. I felt like the gods in Clash of the Titans... looking down at the poor mortals from above. So I joyfully swept up the carnage. Since then I have seen signs of ant life, but it has been fairly minimal and is trumped by continued piles ant corpses. So far I am winning this battle... but only time will tell.

Progress

Another seven sessions will be behind me, and at least another seven are ahead. I have been going to see a personal trainer once a week at the rec center. This involves me and a just twenty-something young woman who exercises professionally on top of her just twenty-something metabolism in a room of mirrors. It is a form of hell. I exercise while watching sweat pour out of every wrinkle and roll of fat. Yes, I can watch my chins perspire. I both hate myself and feel great satisfaction with me simultaneously. I like that I can see progress not in terms of the actual reduction in said fat rolls, but in the incremental changes taking place. I can lunge across the room holding 8 lb weights in each hand twice then do squats without crying. I can balance on the bose and do push up after push up. One day I will see these incremental changes translate into fitting in my old clothes. In the meantime, I am taking my sessions seven at a time.... and moving to twice a week.

Oh you evil you....

So, somehow my computer magically moved within the Active Directory to an improper OU. As there are only a select few who have access to do such a thing, I am busy contemplating a painful revenge. "Why?" you ask. It is not that I particularly care where my PC is housed within AD. The problem is that we have a lovely policy geared toward enforcing compliance. This means I am looking at the worst color combination ever. I will get the codes so you can see for yourself.... R128-G55-B155 and R231-G230-B0. Yes, my background image on both screens is now this color combination and I cannot get rid of it. I had someone move me back then used the cmd prompt to update my group policy (I sound like a total geek, huh?), but apparently, the fix must actually be manually forced by someone that is not here right now. I am pretty sure he did it on purpose and must pay the consequences......

Jack Made Me Do It

I was reading through my beloved's blog posts from this month. He had included a really emotional piece about war and loss. As this is the month of Veteran's Day and the anniversary of my friend's death in Iraq, I am adding two poems:

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Wystan Hugh Auden (1907-1973)

©Copyright. The Estate of W. H. Auden, 1976, 1991.All Rights Reserved.
----------------------------------------------------

THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER
ARMISTICE DAY AT ARLINGTON

THE wind to-day is full of ghosts with ghostly bugles blowing,
Where shadows steal across the world, as silent as the dew.
Where golden youth is yellow dust, by haunted rivers flowing
Through valleys where the crosses grow, as harvest wheat is growing,
And only dead men see the line that passes in review.

The gripping clay once more gives way before the Mighty Mother
Who waits with everlasting arms to guard her sleeping sons.
And lonely mates in silent fields call out to one another
The story of an empty grave, where each has lost a brother,
Who takes the long, long trail at last beyond the rusting guns.

Gently the east wind brought him home to meet the south wind sighing.
Softly the north wind breathes his name that none of us may know.
For only those who fell with him, out in the darkness lying,
Can tell his company or rank, and they are unreplying,
As each dreams on through summer dawns or winter's mantling snow.

Nameless--and yet how gallantly he faced the roaring thunder
Where names were less than star-dust as the crashing steel swept by
To take its endless toll of those the night squad spaded under,
Clod upon clod, beneath the sod that time alone may sunder,
Held where the wind--blown grasses stir beneath an alien sky.

He'll miss, perhaps, the poppy blooms that sway above the clover,
But rose-red wreaths of Arlington bend low above his dreams.
The reveille at dawn is done, the slogging hikes are over,
Where out the friendly lanes of home, a gay and careless rover,
His wild, free spirit seeks the hills and haunts the singing streams.

No more he moves by Meuse or Aisne, some shell-swept river wading,
No marching orders call him from his rough-hewn granite grave.
And when at dusk we hear far off the eerie drum-taps fading,
What hallowed spot holds more than this, with spectral lines parading
Blood of our blood, dust of our dust, "the ashes of our brave''?

There will be tears from watching eyes, where rain and mist are blended,
There will be heartache in the lines where gold-starred mothers wait.
But where the great shells fall no more, what vision is more splendid
Than peace along the once--scarred fields, the last red battle ended,
Peace that he helped to bring again above the twilight gate?

Let valor's minstrel voices sing his fame for future pages,
But when the starless darkness comes and the long silence creeps,
When blossom mists of spring return or winter torrent rages,
Write this above his nameless dust, to last beyond the ages,
"Safe in the Mighty Mother's arms an Unknown Soldier sleeps."

from Great Poems of the World War: Electronic Edition, W. D. Eaton

In loving memory of former CPT Sean Patrick Sims (August 27, 1972 – November 13, 2004

Do You Laugh or Do You Cry?

My approach on life is really healthy right now. I laugh when others would cry. I had two rather hilarious things happen yesterday... at least I thought they were funny as hell and if you had seen it happen, you would have laughed too. First, I am working out with my trainer. This inevitably involves me balancing precariously on some sort of object while I lift weights and hold my core (read fat tummy) in. While nothing happened while exercising, I decided to sit down on the exercise ball for a second. I was sitting there minding my own business when I suddenly slipped off. Fell smack on my ass. Needless to say, I laughed for a good two minutes. This was soon followed by having my gym bag peed on by a dachshund named Rainier (how appropriate). I think if you can fall on your ass and get peed on without spending the rest of your day hiding from the world, that you are doing well mentally. Yay me!

Marriage... has its limits

I don't understand why people remain in unsuccessful relationships. Yes, marriage involves work, but it should not be corrosive. It should not limit you in terms of your growth as a professional or a person. In fact, your relationship should enhance these things - otherwise get out.
I do not understand why someone would get hitched, then stand by as she was made a virtual prisoner in the relationship: all other friends cut off, living in an untenable housing situation, and unable to work. All of the warning sign are there.
Of course, someone looking in may not understand my marriage. But, I don't understand how one's sense of reality could be so askew as to think I would put up with infidelity or that I would be oblivious to it should it exist. Marriage is not about succumbing to crazy.

Oh the insanity!

My nephew is 3 years old and at an important stage in his psycho-social development. He is learning key concepts like right and wrong, actions and consequences, and who he is as an individual. Some people do not make it through this stage, and their lives are a series of failures. I have observed three distinct flavors of this type of crazy:
1. The schemer: Someone that is always looking for the quick and easy and will not put effort into anything. They believe that their next get rich plan will pay off. They never take responsibility for their own failings.
2. The martyr: The victim of life, who finds him or herself making poor choices and ending up in problematic situations. Life happens to them, and again they cannot reflect and take responsibility for the decisions they made. The concept of real consequences is lost on them.
3. The torcher: One who is so full of self-loathing, that s/he has to burn every bridge and sabotage every relationship and good thing that happens to him or her in order 1) to feel in control and 2) to prove their unworthiness.
All three personalities have a warped sense of reality, are unable to adequately self-reflect and grow, and live terrible lives.
I think in part that these personalities are from bad wiring to begin with, but also something going wrong during their ego development at age 3. I have great hopes for my nephew.

Fridge Wars....

i received this memo today....
I am taking back my offer to clean out one of the refrigerators in the lunchroom on a weekly basis. I have just had two phone calls berating me for doing the good deed today of disposing of food that was obviously well past the time that it could be eaten and/or was not dated. The rules have been posted on the bulletin board in the lunchroom for years. It is each employee’s responsibility to follow the rules and to label and date their food and to remove food and containers on a timely basis.

In the future, I won’t be touching any food in the refrigerator but my own. I will not be cleaning up the messes in the refrigerators left by other persons and disposing of the excess ice cubes and wiping clean the refrigerator surfaces and buying baking soda for the refrigerators . When the refrigerators get packed, dirty, smelly and intolerable, I will have to find an alternative location for my food that I bring on a daily basis.

Fighting for Fridge Freshness

I am in the midst of a fight for fridge freshness. Don't ask me how or why. I do not know. All I know is that I am the go to girl for folks interested in fridge freshness. I think I am about to call for a committee on fridge freshness and other related policies. Gowain has taken leadership in keeping one of our three fridges fresh. Every Friday he cleans it out. Now the other two fridges are frightening. Katie has asked that she commandeer the second fridge - leaving only one unmanaged. The fridge of fright it will be called.
Gowain's Fresh Fridge campaign has been very successful. One supporter wrote,
"Gowain's relentless pursuit of fridgidaire freshness has spared many of us from the pitfalls of a potentially putrid pot pie.I don't know if I will ever be comfortable knowing that unchecked odors are able to comingle with my carefully planned and packaged lunch delights.Please empower sir Gowain to remain at the reigns of refrigerator righteousness and keep the foul funk of fridge fermentation from our friends."
So, two down - and then there was one.

Ah simplicity

I enjoy my life, but I missed Halloween. I spent last week at a conference, and therefore with people I like from work. It was nice to get to know people after there are a couple of drinks in them.

Halloween was spent traveling (read: long hours in airports)instead of dressed up and high on sugar. I really missed getting dressed up. Once I got home exhausted, I just did not have the energy to be creative. I attended the party (at my house) as a travel weary me. Not much of a get-up.

I met lots of interesting folks in the Outback bar at the Orlando airport. I even met a couple of rockers who stepped out of 1983 - Night Ranger t-shirt included! It was not a costume, but an ironic lifestyle choice. These two guys were with Eddie Money - one was the keyboard player (his picture is above) the other was the stage manager. The two gentlemen wear a costume all the time. I guess I do too. I wear makeup and dress for work - though I would rather be in a tee and sweats. I will try to think of it as Halloween every day instead of just being bummed that I have to wait a year.

BTW, Robert has herpes!!!!!! Ha Ha!

Studpidity

When stupid just does not cut it.... Yes, I am hereby adding this term to my mental dictionary. Studpidity refers to the type of stupidity that breeds. Much like the mucus that is slowly invading my lungs now (Santa, I want pneumonia for Christmas), studpinity has overtaken our televisions (yes, I am talking about you, Glen Beck - you are not a thinker!)and is swallowing whole our nation. Case in point: the CEOs that don't understand basic finance but collect $40M, Harvard MBAs that don't understand anything substantive - like running our nation or a baseball team, college students that despite a pretty decent education refuse to think critically, and the idealistic who are morphing quickly into do-nothing cynics. Studpinity is a hella fine word.

Will Wonders Never Cease

I have been struggling with a mucus attack of late. I have gross stuff coming out of all of my face holes. It majorly sucks. I think my head has decided to bog itself down in the literal morass of our current administration. My head is a metaphor for our struggling economy and embarrassing foreign policy. The painful cough that won't go away and hurts whenever it rears its ugly head? That is our military actions in Afghanistan and Iraq. The sniffles in my nose? That is our market sloughing off into nothing and infecting our neighbors. I blow away the value of our dollar with every sneeze. The drip drip into my ears? That is bipartisan bickering over a solution. Unlike the country, my cold is getting better and will likely pass in the next couple of days. I simply need to continue to flush my system with tons of water.... hmm.... I won't go there.

Not for the Squeamish

So I was walking back from lunch when there on the ground was a bloody tampon. It was in the middle of the sidewalk not far from my campus building. I am not so amazed that it was there, but rather affixed on how it got there. Did it fall out? Was some young co-ed walking down the street and it just slid out? Did she have it in her purse or pocket and it fell out?
I fortunately do not have to deal with the monthly vagaries of womanhood right now - thank you Depo Provera! But I remember the days of tampon usage. I cannot think of a single time when I would remove it and carry it around. Bathrooms have garbage cans as well as toilets... (though I never recommend flushing them - nothing worse than clogging someone's toilet.) This is not to say that I have not had to pick up the errant used sanitary device. I have both dogs and cats that think going through the garbage for toys and/or snacks is a great idea. (The only thing my dogs like better than a nice used tampon, is a dirty baby diaper). I cannot see one of them leaving the house (successfully) with one of them "en mouth" and then dropping it on a walk.
Anyway, I simply do not understand the how and this mystery boggles my mind. Suggestions?

Not just the Roof

So, I had the contractor come over and take measurements and assess damage. He thinks I am going to need an entirely new ceiling in the living room, but that State Farm will probably not pay for a new ceiling in the other rooms where I have water damage. Sigh. So far both the FEMA inspector and the contractor have made it to my house. Still have to wait on good ol' State Farm. Double sigh.

Isn't That Special?

I walk a very fine line in my professional world. I like (read insist) on getting my own way, but I don't want be seen as difficult. I speak my mind but don't want to be seen as a complainer or overly negative. These conflicts cause quite a bit of anxiety on my part. Case in point: I was offered the chance to meet with one of my lesser favorite colleagues. He is one of those people that I refer to as an idiot, and meetings with him as a massive waste of time (I often can hear my brain cells crashing and burning out of exposure to this level of banality). So, I gently inquire of this person's supervisor something to the effect of "Why am I wasting my time meeting with this person?" So the next day, he does not show up to the meeting. At first I am delighted. I feel like I have won some sort of prize. Then I get a little paranoid. I wonder - "What, so I am not good enough to meet with? not worthy of your time, you f%*ing idiot?!" Perhaps he did not want to meet with me. (Unthinkable, I know - but I have been feeling a bit insecure lately). As he was (I think) actually called into a meeting with his supervisor, I am merely grateful. So, I am trying to work on my game face and at least appear a bit more professional even when dealing with idiots.

My letter to State Farm

Dear State Farm:
I am writing to express my deep disappointment in our relationship as it currently stands. We have been a State Farm family for generations. Immediately family members have worked and continue to work for you. My husband's big wheel as a toddler had a State Farm bumper sticker on it. We have State Farm life insurance, auto insurance, and home insurance. We consider our business relationship to be a very personal one. You, however, clearly do not and this saddens me.
I understand we need to pay a whopping hurricane deductible of 2% of the value of our home. I am fine with that. You need to keep the shareholders happy and make a profit - which is hard to do in this state. I even understand that I have to wait for the insurance adjuster to visit my property before I can get repairs that you will no doubt have to pay a good portion of. What I don't understand is why it will take so damn long for the adjuster to visit?! I performed my due diligence, notifying you of the damage to my home as the winds of Gustav were still whirling by on September 1. The adjuster did not call until today, and cannot see me until October 9.
My roof, while tarped, is still seeping water every time it rains. I will certainly have mold growing that will need to be dealt with after such a length of time. I note that there is a mold exclusion in my home owner's agreement. I sincerely hope you do not plan to play that card since it will be your fault I have not been able to schedule the mold-avoiding repairs necessary for my home. I would be way too pissed for words should that happen. Thought you should know.

Your number one fan

Stumped

Kurzweil seems to be growing, but not actually getting any bigger. I'll literally wake up one morning (last week for example) and notice that his head is no longer in the same proportion to his body or his body is no longer in the same proportion to his legs. So, he seems to be growing. He is supposed to be growing - he is still a puppy. However, he does not seems to be getting any bigger when compared to the other dogs. They are not growing. In fact, they should be shrinking since I placed them on diet dog food. I wonder if he is going to completely ignore his potential for hugeness and be a medium sized dog? I certainly hope not. I want him to be gigantic - like Clifford. It is a good thing he is still cute. Please get bigger!

OMG

This is too much

Things that Make Me Happy

As a woman in her mid-thirties, there are a few simple pleasures that happen rarely and when they happen leave you happy for days. Topping the list: getting carded and getting hit on. I got carded this past weekend at Whole Foods by a young female cashier. I got hit on in traffic last night on the way home.But there is more to this list so I will share:

Things that make me happy:
5. watching my puppy bound across the yard to me
4. new shoes (though the last two new purchases were eaten by above puppy)
3. electricity
2. getting carded
1. my husband telling my I look hot

Losing the Will to Write

It must be the hurricane, post-traumatic stress, and the fact that I was without Internet for so very long because I no longer have the desire to pour my thoughts out onto the Web. I definitely did not want to chat away about life after Gustav and the importance of clean towels or the price mark-up of gas cans. I'll just say that I like my life to be fully powered (thank you to Entergy and the fine engineers from Edmonton, Illinois). Maybe when things calm down, I will return to my normal pattern of gab.

From Gustav to Ike....

For those of you following at home, we survived Gustav. Our roof was not so lucky. Neither was the power that comes to our house. Entergy says we are in the "red" zone meaning we have up to 21 days before we will have power. I have started a countdown clock: am at 19. At this rate, I don't expect to have power back before we lose it again for Ike - which is hurdling towards us. Sigh! I want my power back now, please!!!!

Holy Shit! The Web site is down

As unbelievable as it ay seem, the University's hub of IT went dark a little after 11 this evening. This means everything IT: email, phones, web sites - the whole shebang. This is up there as pretty catastrophic. Apparently Facility Services personnel failed to top off the generator for any of its visits - thanks to a busted fuel gauge and a lack of comon sense. Way to go guys!
For those of you playing at home, we now need a new roof thanks to Gustav and I am sweating the pounds away thanks to no power. All is well.

Living La Vida White Trash

My brother Joey the Butcher passed his bailbond license exam. Now he is a certified bounty hunter. I am very proud of him for accomplishing this. He set out to get it done and did it. Way to go, Joe!
But I had to harass him for his white trash lifestyle. I think the litmus test for this is - could my life be an episode of Jerry Springer? He lives in the garage of a home he co-owns with our mother. (Check!) He works as a bail bondsman (Double Check!). He loaned his aunt $5K to cover his cousin's legal fees because the cousin went AWOL. Ding, ding, ding! We have a white trash winner.
I must laugh. His life has become a basis for a fabulous sitcom - especially since his house will also be the home of his grandma and maybe his aunt (the one that owes him money still).
Run, Joey, Run! Having unhealthy meals cooked for you and getting free laundry service simply is not a fair trade off. Get a lovely apartment as far away as possible.

Zombie Love

This is for my bubby....
http://www.boingboing.net/2008/08/21/claymation-zombie-fi.html

Discover This

Our state, thanks to our religiously wonky governor (yes, I voted for him anyway), is now the only state in the Union to include "intelligent design" in its science curricula. Sigh. God, I hate the religious right! The Discovery Institute - a right wing creationism center that wraps itself in the preservation of "academic freedom" has apparently led the charge on Louisiana Schools. Of course, these are Louisiana schools which according to their own tests fails regularly to teach the vast majority of their students anything substantive anyway - why not teach them mythology as fact and call it science? But I digress. The Discover Institute has as one of its highlights the "fact" that Hitler believed in Darwinism ergo Darwinism is intrinsically evil. Okay. I'll go along with that only if they accept the premise that the Bible was used to sanction slavery so the Bible must then be evil.

Monday Blues

It is another Monday. Bleh. My darling sister's baby shower was well attended - our beloved sister and her family showed up for the fun to the delight of all. No mother anywhere. And the entire event was drama free. Thanks sister for posting the pics on FB so I know what I missed.
I had an interesting conversation today with Jill over lunch. (Yummy chicken shawerma and fatoush salad.) We were talking about the words that we tend to overuse. I happen to say, "Um," "K," "Yeah" and "fabulous" all the frigging time. They are all mostly positive terms. Yay me. With the exception of "um" which I hope to obviate from my vocabulary, I am not ashamed of the the things I say or oversay as the case may be. Most of my phrases are markers for me to affirm what has been said and then to think before I speak. Perfectly reasonable actions on my part. Fabulous just marks an overall positive outlook. Jill on the other hand says "vicious" a lot. She would much rather use a positive phrase and (rightly in my mind) thinks that the terms we use reflect if not impact our outlooks on life. I want my life to be yummy, fuzzy, beautiful, and most of all fabulous. I don't care if I sound like an idiot.

Why So Serious?

My beloved sister did something she never ever does - called me out of the blue just to check in. I missed the call and it went to voicemail. She sounded very chipper and I am glad to hear from her. But the paranoid me got worried. Maybe she read my blog accusing her of being an instigator?! Then I thought, but she does have a diabolical streak and she ought to be girl enough to cop to that. So I worried less. I know that two of my sisters read this - since they have told me. I don't believe that anyone else in my family reads this. (Attention Family: if you are reading this and your name is neither Mo nor Kat, please give me a head's up now - just leave a comment in the comment section below). If they do read this, I may have to temper some of the things I write about... simply because one of them might take what I am saying seriously. Normally I am only 40% serious in these blogs. I write for the therapy.

High Drama

My darling sister is having her baby shower this weekend. Alas, I cannot make it - as my sister took my advice and lives two plane rides away. For those of you following along at home, I live two plane rides from all of my family (except Billy's family who are in town and I enjoy seeing on a regular basis - Milo is the cutest!). Of course, I could probably live close to my sisters as well, but I think it is probably for the best that they remain two plane rides away.... unless they want to move here! I digress. My sister's baby shower.... Jack and I were invited of course. We sent a gift but will not be there ourselves. We are instead planning a trip to see the baby once it emerges from my sister's hooha and has a name. One of the high points of traveling to see family: you get to visit different places as well. My darling sister lives in Philadelphia - a city Jack and I have yet to explore. We'll stay three nights, see our favorite band AT3, wander through the museums and cityscape, eat and drink our way across Center City, and coo and hold the baby. I will try to remember to coo at my sister a couple of times as well - since she will be exhausted and have a new baby and all.
However, none of this has to do with the title of my blog. The drama. High drama. Must return to the shower.... our mother is not invited. Gasp! Will she show up anyway? Will a certain sister drag her up to Philadelphia just to stir things up? Only time will tell.

But I Really Don't Care

CNN just reported that John Edwards has admitted to an extramarital affair. I am not his wife. Baton Rouge's mayor has been at the end of smear campaign alleging an affair with a married woman. I don't care. I don't mind when hypocrites are exposed for their philandering ways - you know the moralists who try to legislate what I do or do not do in my bedroom. I am firm believer that hypocrisy should be stomped. But marital infidelity is only the business of the people directly involved and their lawyers.

Yesterday Was So Much Better than Today

I totally do not understand people of my generation who wish life was less complicated like back in the 50s or 60s. First of all, our memories of that time do not exist. We only have film reals and stories told by our parents and grandparents. Based on those two items, we think we were just so innocent then. No we weren't. And if you get passed the tales of Jimmy Stewart movies you have two generations that spent time in the killing fields of the Pacific, children practicing duck and cover just in case the bomb drops, and a lack of true global understanding. You still had people doing all of the naughty things that people do. My grandma tells of being kidnapped by a neighbor and rolling out of a moving car. She also tells of losing a sister to a botched illegal abortion - and how she was never mentioned in public. So you had silences and secrets - that is not innocence. These do not make for a safer, better world for our children. I would much rather explain why Jenny has two mommys than have a child who shies away from differences and continues the cycle of prejudice.
Exposure to differences and open conversations about issues like sexuality even on the playground are not evils to be feared. Instead, let's be more open with our children. Let's cultivate a generation of adults who value honesty and live openly.

Sno-fight

Time spent waiting on FedEx delivery = 2 business days
Time to open box = 1min
Time for Milo to discover shipping popcorn= 30 sec
Time spent throwing shipping popcorn= 30 min
Time spent picking up shipping popcorn= 7 days and counting
Memories of a day of fun= timeless

Heebee-Jeebees

http://www.laweekly.com/news/features/palisades-rathouse-unchallenged-by-health-officials-elderly-twins-fed-local-vermin-population/19342/?page=all

I have to agree....

http://www.boingboing.net/2008/07/31/why-america-is-fcked.html
Only, I think it is just a symptom.

Story Idea Based on Truth

I am just writing this here as a place holder for my mind... and to "call" this idea mine before someone steal it. And of course, it really is not mine as my friend is living it and therefore inspired the idea so I guess it is hers. So, if she writes it as an autobiography I guess that will be okay. One of my all time favorite books is Margaret Atwood's Edible Woman. I really admire the quirky quality of her characters and this idea harkens to her.
I think it would be either called The Shut-In or Geographically Challenged. My friend is a sexy, flirty woman (through whom I live vicariously from time to time - thank you!) and she dates and she sleeps with a good number of men. She is a bit of a guy. Anyway, there are certain places that she now avoids because she does not want to run in to an old flame or flirt. I could not help be think that her world is shrinking. I joked at lunch that she would soon find herself confined to a single room. I think it would make a good story. There. I called it!

Weight Issues

My second favorite sister called yesterday for advice on gaining weight. She is way pregnant and has not been gaining sufficient weight, so of course, she comes to me.... for advice on gaining weight. After all I have successfully done it. She should probably just follow my food journal and she would do fine. She is lucky she is my second favorite sister so I can forgive her (and she reads my blogs... she was my favorite sis until the phone call).
Now I agree she needs to gain some weight. I would say 15-20 pounds based on her pre-pregnancy voluptuosity. Then she will be very svelte once the baby pops out. She can borrow clothes from our favorite sister. She is the skinny one (her secret? she runs and avoids yeast).
I have been detailing all of my food intake diligently for the passed couple of weeks. I have also been exercising at the Rec Center two to three times a week. I am not trying to actively lose weight (though I would love to!) but trying to be more healthy overall and definitely not chunk up any more than I have. That said, I ate way too much Indian food today...... (the secret I shared with my sister for weight gain)

Spreadsheet Hell

Relationships (fortunately not mine) are complicated. As I have ears that hear everything... I now know a colleague of mine is trying to negotiate the finances of her child vis a vis a spreadsheet. That is one complicated relationship. It involves college tuition, child support and an ex. She has exclaimed, "I am in spreadsheet hell." Who isn't? I thought this was a fairly good analogy for complicated relationships--- trying to resolve emotional conflicts through logical steps, efficiently and fairly. Does not work out well.
My spouse is dealing with the conflict of a friend that is no more and a friend that soon shall no longer exist. Friend A has simply grown into a person that Jack no longer has anything in common with. Friend B is dying. The (d)evolution of friendship A is logically expected --- people change (or don't) and expectations are no longer in sync. It sucks but it is logical. Friendship B involves a smart person stupidly deciding (consciously or subconsciously) that a diabetes diagnosis should result in a death sentence - due to gross negligence. This is far more difficult to deal with. We are talking major spreadsheet hell. You feel shitty because your friend will be dead soon and angry because it could have been avoided but it is too late now for could haves. It does not logically follow. Someone's inability to care for himself -- decisions made emotionally are wreaking havoc on the physical and metaphysical realms. The anger, frustration, and helplessness are waging battle with feelings of affection and sorrow.

It's Complicated

A few years ago I started thinking of myself as fairly simple but existing in a complicated world. I even wrote in the "About Me" section of my FB profile, "It's complicated. I'm not. It is." A few months back I started watching the E! series Denise Richards: It's Complicated. I was only slightly miffed that they were using what was clearly my line, but how can I argue with what I know to be a true statement? Now, I never really gave two figs about Denise and the entire Charlie marriage drama. Obviously she made a really interesting choice in her marriage partner (can't throw any stones there!) and has two adorable girls as a result. Good for her. Whatever. But it was a Sunday and I was lazing around - so I started watching the show. It was a marathon. I still don't particularly care about her life and she whines a bit too much for me but her show is interesting and relatable television. I do not see the complicated bit though. She lives her life with a useless assistant, a good natured father, way too many animals (yes, I threw that stone), her sister and family, and her girls. The entire Charlie thing is never mentioned, except when she has to respond to press and then she really does not go into any details. She has "taken the high road." Unlike my wonderful marriage, hers was apparently seriously f-ed up. Mine is merely amusing occassionally. She obviously lived through something entirely different -- drugs, hookers, hookers, drugs and two pregancies. Ugh! Anyway, I watched the season finale last night and hope to see more of Ms. Richards soon.
BTW, WTF is up with Matt Lauer giving her a hard time about including the girls in her show? They are the children of celebrities so being known faces is a given. The show itself enables her to be a stay at home Mom and is then about her life as a stay at home mom - of course the kids will be included. So stupid. I just wish the DR had been a bit more thoughtful in her responses. I blame her people for not better preparing her.

Shenanigans

My struggle with puppy pee continues on. Kurzweil has lately been allowing himself to be distracted by shenanigans and not concentrating on his housebreaking. Instead of running outside when he has the option and taking care of business, he prefers to run after a cat or bite Austin. His priorities are not in order! This morning he stopped mid-bite/snarl in my hallway and peed. This is not acceptable behavior. Austin has really slacked on his job in that he is not going outside every time -- especially in the morning. He barks so that I open the door and head downstairs. He stays upstairs and humps my pillow. The puppy has stopped following me in order to see what Austin is up to. I must find a way to break this vicious cycle of inappropriate peeing and pillow assault.

Doing What I Believe is Best

Many of you may know that I had an employee several years ago who drove me crazy. She to this day believes that she could do my job better than I. She is high strung, talkative, and knows best. I get the heebie-geebies whenever I see her. So why am I now recommending her for a position? Simply, I think she would be a good fit. I can dislike a person intensely, but still advocate on behalf of his/her finer points when appropriate. Now, don't go thinking that I have somehow transcended normal human frailty. I am not so much concerned with the greater good as I am with my ability to succeed as a career matchmaker. It is one skill in which I take great pride. I counsel my friends and people I don't even particularly like because I like to take credit for good job matches and career choices. I treat these opportunities like puzzles to be solved. I enjoy the process of identifyng skills and personality types and figuring out who will succeed. I also love having my friends happy, so when their jobs become tedious or they complain that they don't have time or money to do things with me---I get to work.
So I am currently matching two people (neither of whom do I particularly like) because I honestly think they will get along well and the individual could perform the job functions really well.

Move On's Latest

https://pol.moveon.org/donate/inyourhead.html?id=13273-8294195-I3l_fDx&t=1

Recovery

I need to first say a huge "Thank you" to Jim for being such an awesome chef. He cooked for Jack's b-day party and it was divine. I need to also thank Tammy for bringing me the best ever bottle of almond flavored sparkling wine from Sonoma. I drank most of the bottle myself and look forward to hunting it down and keeping a bottle on regular supply. It was delish.
We had a very social weekend. Spent Friday night at a BBQ and met some interesting folks. Had a great party on Saturday night followed by a trip to a local night club for some dancing. Good time had by all. Spent Sunday recovering and eating leftovers....
Jacks's brother and his significant other were in town briefly - for the party. It was good to catch up with them for a bit.

Los Gatos

Three Tonkinese (two of whom are rescues), one angry gray cat, and one missing black cat who likes to hang out with the dogs. I think he is an adrenaline junkie.

My zoo - the puppies

I often talk about the zoo in which I live. Cixous, or Su, is our 7 yr old rottie mix. I was taking a lot of fem crit classes so she was named after Helene Cixous.

Austin is our 4 yr old yellow lab. He wandered into our yard one MLK day and Jack decided to keep him. He was supposed to be gone by the time Jack's annual pilgrimage to SXSW came.... that is how he was named.

Kurzweil (the infamous puppy) is named after Ray Kurzweil since my spouse and I are geeks and we work in IT.

Things that Gross Me out at Work

I am becoming increasingly disgusted by aspects of my work bathroom. These include:
1. mystery puddles
2. poop on the floor
3. poop on the toilet seat
4. blood on the toilet seat
5. people who do not wash hands
6. cell phone usage in the stall
7. bringing of beverages and food into room
YUCK!!!!!!

Kurzweil the Puppy

Our 5 month old puppy has become a vital part of our family life. What would I do without his 4am puppy breath kisses? How would I fall asleep without the sound of him fighting with Austin? When he does finally settle down, he curls up on me very sweetly. Sometimes by my stomach, other times across my head. The across my head may turn problematic when he reaches adult size....

A Dream that Never Dies

So, I have some bizarre dreams and often I remember at least pieces of them. I figured I would share part of last night's with you, dear reader. Jack and I were working at the library, and were in the stacks doing some sort of sorting or inventory. I look over at a check out desk and there is long line of angry faculty members. It is 2:30 and apparently faculty can only check out items from 2pm to 4:30pm. No one from our group is staffing the desk. I start checking people out - but only those with an ID. Apparently the VC decided that people without IDs could check out too. I had a problem with this since I am uptight that way. While Jack and I were supposed to leave at 4pm, we wound up staying until after 5. Then I returned at 5:30 because I realized that I did not see my replacement. The desk could be unstaffed again. The horror!!!! It was. Now there is a room of student staff checking people out. I stand in line with a few items to renew. The students walk out because it is their break time. I call Stacey to alert her to the disaster that is unfolding. We wind up in a minivan together. Stacey is driving backwards, the wrong way down a busy highway. She was distracted my the recorded sound of someone groaning. I kid you not. I am brushing my pink hair and it is falling out and making a mess in the van. Stacey turns the vehicle around and begins driving correctly, only now the other drivers on the road are doing bizzare things. We get run off the road several times. We get to our destination in the middle of nowhere to someone's house for a party. A baby Milo is on my lap dressed as pirate and he says, "Argh, matey."
And scene.

That was not a pet

So apparently I am the only person who sees a connection between the rash of alligator sitings in Iowa (7/8) and Illinois (6/30 and 7/16) and the floods that have hit the Midwest. Every newscaster asserts, "Well, it must have been someone's pet." Why? I think it makes more sense that the gator that was in University Lakes is now in Illinois. We are not talking about giant gators, but adolescents who are looking for hunting grounds and areas where they will not have competition. Makes sense that they would try out areas up north since the floods have conveniently provided new waterways for travel from the South. The largest gator was 5ft while the other two are tiny. One newscaster explained, "It must have been a pet since it could not have survived an Iowa winter." It was only a foot long.... it was not alive in the winter. It was not a pet!

I Told You So

I decided to make a list of the valuable advice I have given--that has gone ignored. No particular order. This is a work in progress and does not reflect the vast amount of wise words I have imparted. I will add to it as I think of new ones.
1. You won't like it
2. Don't eat that.
3. Buy Febreze
4. Don't move there
5. Don't fly with messed up ears
6. You should get a dog first
7. You should hire----

Pet Therapy Continues

The cats have been getting used to one another (we have two new cats... 13yr old ladies) and are adjusting to life with the puppy. I asked them to share their feelings but writing anonymous notes on scraps of paper. This did not work as I could not read them since they could not write them. Who knew the cats would be illiterate? They seem so gosh darn competent.
We decided art therapy would be fine alternative. I never realized how angry Calisto is. The pictures she drew were disturbing to say the least. Scrapping that, as I lack the credentials to properly deal with the emotions that came to the forefront, we agreed to ignore that which upset us and continue with our day. It is best for everyone. My only advice to the puppy... you had better stop peeing in the house and quick!

is funny

http://dwbrown.livejournal.com/5550.html

Organizations Should Encourage Play Time at Work

Researcher establishes relationship between success of creative companies and encouragement of play at work.

read more | digg story

Gasp!

So, Facebook has become even more important as a part of my life of late. I now have several games that I play regularly (I love Scrabulous!) and I have found a way to incorporate my professional life with Facebook to an even greater degree. Not only do I manage the FB profile of Tad, but I now manage the ITS page in FB. Yes, that is right, when I FB at 10pm at night... I may in fact be "working"-- how great is that?
Of course, the FB world is not without its potential pitfalls. My FB profile is personal. I keep it marked private and support politicians through it (Obama '08!) and have things that I would not want just anyone to see necessarily. Last night I received a FB friend request from a certain individual whose name just happens to be the name of the crazy professor I called the police on a few weeks back. This is where the "gasp!" comes in. I read the email message that this person wanted to be my friend. Gasp! Do I reject the crazy person possibly shoving them off the edge? Do I accept the invitation and bring crazy into my online home? I decide to ignore and hope I am quickly forgotten.
When I logged into FB this morning there was the request. Curious, I clicked it open and there was someone I do not recognize. Not the same crazy prof but someone with the same name. Bear in mind, I still don't know who this person is, but he has 4 friends in common with me. Well, if he is friends with those 4 people, it must be alright for me to accept him as a friend. That makes not sense!!! I would purposely ignore crazy, set my profile to private, but let in someone I know I do not know simply because he is a common friend. Furthermore,I really doubt the 4 other people who share him in common actually know him. They barely know each other so I don't see how their paths could intersect when he is in London and is way too young. He is probably genuinely friends with one person, but in my new sense of online protectiveness, that is not enough. Sorry Mr. London Young Guy whose name is the same as Prof. Crazy-- you are being rejected after you were accepted. The borders of my life must be secured.

Another Trip around the Sun

So, my husband turns 36. (Happy Birthday Bubby!) We are not doing anything in particular to celebrate today. He is scheduled to work this evening, and that is a bit of a bummer. I just wanted to spend a couple of lines being cheesy and wishing him a wonderful night. I love you, bubby. I am glad we enjoyed another trip around the sun together and look forward to your party on Saturday. I will be staying up late just for you.

Cheney Thinks Public Health Threats = Not Our Business?!

new statements by Jason Barnett, the former associate deputy administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency have revealed that Vice President Cheney’s office sought to delete testimony by the CDC in congressional hearings last fall which proves the negative health consequences for human beings as a result of climate change.

read more | digg story

Life Lessons from a Rottie

After a wonderful meal of curried chicken and a split of Segura, I came home yesterday to a kitchen, hall, and bed covered with garbage. My husband's rottie mix (a born archeologist) decided to excavate the kitchen's trash container. A thorough researcher, she pulled the trash bag out and deposited the contents across a wide swath of surface. The most interesting items she brought back to her lab (read: my bed) to inspect more closely.
Her research had lasting lessons for me as well. Here are my take aways:
1. I should empty the trash before I leave.
2. Sweeping after a full meal including bubbly and too much food is not a good idea (every time you bend down to use the dustpan, you taste a bit of your dinner again)
3. I eat a ton of cherries and pistacios
4. My husband does not recycle as much as he ought.

Unfinished Business

So, July is apparently the month for restarting old projects and hopefully finishing them. Our backyard has looked like a Laotian jungle for over a decade. I have plans and a person committed to fixing it, but sometimes (like for the last couple of years) unable to work through the process to completion. So when a couple years go by (or should I say grow by), he has to start all over again. This he did this past weekend. Yay! So, now I can see how vast my backyard actually is. I can see my lemon and peach trees and fence line. One day... hopefully this year... I will see an actual garden like environment.
Now I am in domestic diva mode. I bought a lawn mower yesterday and called the plumber today. Going to finally fix the two leaks and get a new s-pipe in the bathroom sink. Would like a new bathroom sink, but don't think that is going to happen. What will be next? An electrician? an HVAC person? Only the house will tell.....

I Think Kristy Reads My Blog

So I went in to the Vet yesterday to pick up my puppy with the clean teeth.... and yes, she is still alive and healthy. Vindication! Only when I walked in, Kristy immediately perked up and said "Hello, Ms. Thompson, it is good to see you. Your baby is just fine. I will be right with you." GASP! My first thought was, no joke, "She must read my blog."
So, hi Kristy... I don't think you suck so much now. I am pretty easy that way.

They are all out to get you... or at least Kristy is

So, I try not to be too paranoid... okay at least without some sort of possible justification even if it just lives in my mind. I think Kristy the front counter girl at my Vet's office does not like me and purposely tries to annoy me. I call the Vet fairly regularly as I am the co-owner of a frickin zoo... 5 cats and three dogs for those of you at home counting.
I called a couple of weeks ago to schedule a Saturday appointment for my two newest cats. Kristy took the call and we made the appointment for two days later. I packed up my cats into their carriers and trudged into the Vet fifteen minutes prior to my appointment. They had no record of me having an appointment... none. It was not even like there was some confusion about the day. Fortunately, my vet makes a fortune off of me and knows my value as a consumer. She fit me in and I hardly had to wait at all. It was just a bit embarrassing showing up without an appointment.
That alone would not be enough to get my paranoia engaged. It was when I called the next week to schedule my dog Cixous's dental appointment and she said, "Oh, its you." And, yes, she said it "that way." You know what I mean, like her stomach just clenched and she vomited a bit in her mouth.
This all stemmed from my first bad encounters with her. She just is not very good at customer relations. I have twice been ignored while she worked at the front counter. All I expect is an acknowledgement of my existence and the words, "I am sorry for the wait. I will be right with you." She does not do this. On the second encounter, she helps someone who is not even a regular customer while I wait for the pain meds for my then dying dog. After twenty minutes of waiting, (yes, 20) she informs me that the vet left and did not leave the script. I explain that he should have and that I need it. She looks at me blankly. Apparently of the three vets at this clinic, two are out and one is at lunch. I expect that one of them could be reached so that my dying dog can be relieved of pain. She suggests I try back later. I suggest she call the vet now. Ever since then, she treats me like I am the most horrid person.
Perhaps I am projecting somewhat as I do feel bad for being a bit of a bitch and demanding that I get the script. But my dog did in fact die three days later and enjoyed her last days only because of the meds.
I hate Kristy.

Sign the Petition

"FOX must stop injecting racism, prejudice, and fear into our political dialogue. We intend to hold FOX, its advertisers, and its personalities accountable for FOX's attempts to smear the Obamas."

http://pol.moveon.org/stopthesmears/o.pl?id=13009-8294195-21kJ4gx&t=5

Unreasonable fears

As you may or may not know, my beloved pitbull mix Lillith died on May 3rd. She was diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma on April 29 while getting her teeth cleaned. My rottie mix Cixous really needs her teeth cleaned. They are gross. I don't want periodontal disease to kill her. However, I am a little gun shy about having her get her teeth cleaned. This is an unreasonable fear. I get those.
I know that the association between teeth cleaning and doggy diagnosis of death is tangential at best. There is a correlation of one and no causality. Unless of course Cixous reacts to the anesthesia and dies on the table. It does not help to tell myself this. I would hate an ironic death. So she is getting her teeth cleaned on Wednesday, July 2. It will be just fine.....

A Rut in the Road

I am a creature of habit. I embrace that part of me (generally). However, my routine is now being managed by my yellow lab. I don't spend enough time in front of a computer at work, so I try to spend some time honing my bubbletown skills (and currently my word play skills) in the evenings when my spouse is at work. This new practice has outraged my dog. He assures me that he needs me to return to my previous routine of playing with him outside and letting him curl up at my side while I veg out in front of Scooby Doo. Sigh. I realize he is a dog, and that I should not give in to his demands. I am being a very bad dog parent. However, as a concerned dog owner, I realize that spending quality time with him is vital to his sense of being in the pack. I just don't want him to think I am doing it cuz he said so.
As neither the vegging in front of the TV nor the busting of bubbles qualifies as exercise and in light of tight skirt today, I am committed to spending quality time with my dog while exercising. It is far too hot to go for a walk because I live in a swamp... a hot and humid swamp.He can watch me ride the stationery bike while he fetches the ball and he can continue to mess up my sit-ups with attempts to sit on my lap. I think this will work out well.

Word Games

So I have been attempting to play the various and sundry word games that are now available through Facebook. I figured I should curb my addiction to Bubbletown by playing something that would exercise the brain a bit more. I am on Word Play, Scramble, and Scrabulous. I have a single game going with a chemistry professor... he is currently in the lead.
That said, I am seriously doubting the quality and value of my education thus far. I have a degree in words (English and Speech Communications). I should be kicking ass in these word games. The fact that I am not is seriously bumming me out. In all fairness, I have several plausible excuses for my lack of success. Here they are so far:
1. I never learned to type properly.
2. I do not work well under time constraints
3. Most of the "words" in Scramble and Word Play are really not words.

I think they are fairly solid excuses. Your thoughts?

Stay Away

Someone thought it would be a good idea to scope out my property this morning at 6:30am. Not too smart. I have two large dogs and one soon to be large ferocious dog (he's still just a puppy) not to mention a shotgun that I am more that able to use. Whoever it was opened the gate to our backyard. Not cool. Thankfully the dogs were not outside and I caught the open gate before anyone went on an adventure.
I used to feel a lot safer in my house. It needed a paint job really badly for several years. The extended neighborhood thought the house was abandoned or at least haunted. It didn'y hurt that I had two pitbulls and a rottie mix. Last year we had a spring time rash of house robberies. Our house was spared. We had it painted (finally) by Ozuna's Painters (They do great work!!!!). The only down side is that now the house looks really good. It looks like people with money might live there now.
Our main guard dogs are now the rottie mix (she does look pretty scary), the yellow lab and then the doberman puppy. I think the yellow lab, while a good barker, lacks the street cred to scare off the would-be robber. Not sure though. Thoughts?

Vet School Update

The LSU Vet School has been very apologetic about their gross error. While I wish I could turn back time and have them undo their mistake, I know that such thinking is futile. Kudos to Kat and Jeff for their counsel and support. Kudos to me for letting go of the anger.
The Vet School is going to place a memorial brick in the Womack Serenity Garden for Lily. I get to suggest what it read. I settled on:
LILITH
BEST DOG EVER
1998 - 2008

Silence is golden

Somethings just cannot or at least should not be voiced. (Even in a mostly anonymous blog). I will not go into details of the situation as it involves someone other than myself. However, I want to express my feelings (which can and should be voiced). Here goes: angry, disappointed, hurt, sad, sorry, frustrated, worried, concerned, optimistic, helpless, and resolved

Wuv, twu wuv is what bwings us together today

Marriage is not easy under the best of circumstances, and we rarely live in the best of circumstances. My own marriage seems to be on pretty solid ground. Mostly because we have compatible expectations and life goals. Secondly, because we genuinely like and respect each other and take time to reiterate our mutual appreciation on a daily basis.
Marriages break down because of many issues, but I think at the heart of it is plain old resentment. Perceived sacrifices that involve expectations and life goals fester into resentment and the marriage breaks down. Sad, but true. Sometimes the resentment stems from lack of communication; other times from decisions that one person did not want to make - but did for the "good of the marriage." Decisions made that are regretted are never good for the relationship. To my mind, we are all adults in these relationships and have to take ownership of the decisions we make. It is a balancing act.... we must weigh our satisfaction with our existence based on the decisions we make and the perceived satisfaction we would have if the decision was not made. In my own case, the sticky point of our marriage involves progeny (our lack thereof). I weigh not having a child and maintaining my marriage "as is" against both the perceived satisfaction of having a little one and the potential destruction of my marriage. Some days my maternal needs seem to rule, but so far that is not the norm. I have to own these feelings and not resent my husband for his.

Wowzers

So, was it only yesterday that I voiced my ennui? my discontent with the lack of drama in my life? I should learn to shut the hell up. Really. I have had two crazy days in a row. First the Vet School threw away my beloved dog's ashes. Then today, I filed a police report because some university professor may or may not be criminally insane. I don't know, but I'm not taking any chances. Please, boredom return my way. I will try not to complain so loadly next time.

A Letter from Austin

As part of his pet therapy, I asked that Austin (my 4 year old yellow lab) write a letter expressing his feelings. This first one was a complete flop. He just wrote "throw the ball" over and over again. I asked him to dig a bit deeper. He added the words "now" and "hurry". He just wasn't getting it, so we tried again. I provided some more structure this time and requested that he write the letter to our new puppy, Kurzweil. As Kurzweil is not able to throw balls, the end result was much better. I am enclosing the letter in this blog. Austin spells really well for his age and species.

Dear Puppy:
I don't know your name or where you came from, but I think you need to understand a few basic rules here. Dude, you keep taking my spot on the bed. That is so uncool. Just stop, okay? And calm the fuck down. I mean, come on. I am a yellow lab and I think you are taking this puppy crazy thing too far. I don't appreciate the way you interfere with my cuddling time with the pretty lady. I was here first. I don't appreciate the way you bogart the tennis ball when I am trying to get my morning workout. Another thing... dude, give me some space. You are always like right there. Biting my face and crap. Not cool. I don't want to play with you all the time. I need some Austin time, man. Respect that. Oh, and quit peeing in my house.
There, I have said what I had to say. Got it off my chest. Now, lady throw the ball.
Peace out,
The Aus

Forgiving the Unforgivable

So let's say you had a wonderful loved one that suddenly passed away. Okay, now lets say that you had him or her put down.... humanely and by professionals. The loved one is a dog. Then the same professionals lost your beloved dog's ashes. Actually, they lost the paperwork that was attached to the corpse of said doggie and therefore disposed of her remains e.g., threw her away. Now the paperwork to bill for the private cremation remained and was properly processed. Hence the title of this blog.... so how do I forgive the unforgivable?

The Why and the How

So, I have been really bored lately. Not enough drama in my workplace for me. Yes, I know it just sounds so wrong. You have to understand, I used to work in a crazy place. Now I do not... in fact it has been 3 years. I keep waiting for the other shoe and to need to whip out my dealing with crazy skills. Now I am the only crazy.
I have decided that in lieu of crazy, I just need to vent publicly from time to time on the weirdness
that is my life. So now I have this vehicle and you have my words. Future blackmail materials I am sure.

They Pay Me for This

So I was asked by my boss (who is wonderful) to get a Twitter account so I could become just that much hipper. Apparently that is what I am paid for.... using hip tools. Gotta love my life