The Mysterious Card

Usually I find if a place I spend money at goes the extra mile to contact me afterwards to be fairly impressive. Usually. Sometimes it can be like really? I went there once, feel confident that you didn't suck that much and I will be back. But that's only sometimes...

So when I went to the mailbox today and found a card from a restaurant we ate at in Phoenix when we were there for work related purposes, I automatically was fairly impressed they went that extra mile. That is, until I came into the house and started opening the mail.

First of all, this card's envelope is addressed to my husband - which is fine, since he used the company card to pay for the dinner and I am sure that's where the waitress got his name from. Even after opening the card and looking at the note inside I was initially impressed. Then I reread it again. I then I got to thinking a bit...

First of all, this card is addressed to 'Scott and Wife' inside. Wait...What?? I am *just* the wife?? I have no name?

Calm down Lisa, I told myself. There is probably no way she could have known your name. But d*mnit! I have a NAME ya know?

Anyway! I moved on from that and started wondering how in the heck they got our home address. As I pointed out before, we used a company card. Hence, there is a company address attached to that card. Sooo....

I am musing over this information and then my husband starts mulling it over himself. As he was speaking out loud about how odd this was, I firmly state:

"Well, I dunno either. Your WIFE would like to know too"

He snorts and replies, "Seriously, I wonder how they got our address. I am confused."

I answer, "I dunno either. Your WIFE would like to know too"

He snorts and calls me crazy...

But seriously!? WTF? I am the WIFE! I have a right to know how my husband made such an impression that they went out of their way to find our home address to mail us the card.

In other news tho, we did receive a card from Jared's (jewerly store) today, too. Can't help but think they need to amend their slogan:

"He went to Jared's!"

to

"He really should go to Jared's!!!"

The Big Apple

Where to begin?

Well, I guess I should explain that the Big Apple is a restaurant we went to tonight. I should also warn y'all that you may want to stay away from the Big Apple. Well, you are free to try it if you like:

1) To be able to smell the strong smell of must and carry that smell with you on your clothes after you leave the restaurant.

2) To be directed to the extremely taped up seat by a waitress with a gun holster and a toy gun in aforesaid holster.

3) To sit down at the table to eat to see a picture of a steer on the table with a dark spot in the middle of its head that looks like a bullseye.

4) To be able to truly see what kind of restaurants they target for those restaurant makeover shows.

5) To eat meatloaf that is about 10% meat and 90% of something else you afraid to ask. Or know what that 90% was when your stomach starts churning a few minutes into the meal.

6) To eat the toughest chicken wings. EVER.

7) To realize that the old guy's cologne that he coated himself in smells better than the musty smell of the restaurant as you leave the restaurant.

8) To be able to say you lived to blog about this.

Tired of Pretending

Generally, I keep things fairly light hearted on here. Generally speaking, I feel that way. But lately? Not so much…

I am tired of being the person who remains quiet and let’s others voice their opinions about how horrible certain kinds of people are. I am tired of being the person who doesn’t say anything when those people outright insult me in the process. I am tired of so many people in this country making generalizations about groups of people. I am tired of being the person that always tries to be open-minded when around closed minded people. I am tired of people always taking from me and never giving back. I am tired of those people feeling like they have a right to do so.

In a nutshell……..I am tired of pretending. Why do I not get the respect I show other people? Why do other people look at my life and assume I have no problems? Why do people not care about my opinions and feel like it’s their duty to tell me how wrong I am? Why do I continue to let them?

Without being political, this last election has taught me something. I will *not* take this kind of attitude from people anymore. I will *not* care what people think of me anymore. I will *not* bother to explain to people how I feel when they quite obviously do *not* care how *I* feel. I will *not* reach out to people who think I am the enemy when they do not even know me and/or care to know the real me. I will *not* tolerate people saying it’s impossible to do this or that – OR saying that I do not understand.

I do not owe everyone a reason for things I do and/or have done. I DO deserve respect. From now on, I will not tolerate people who will not or are apparently incapable of showing respect. From now on, I will not pretend….

Do You Think I Am Pretty?

There are times a guy needs keep his mouth shut if he is unable to respond the way a gal wants him to. I sound harsh you say? Well, let me tell you a short story…

Husband and wife make their annual trip to the Harley Rally in Sturgis, SD. Husband is in 7^th heaven, despite having to rent a bike because his is in the shop. The wife tolerates it, and is not surprised that on the way back she gets a bad sunburn on her arm. Yet, besides this fact, the trip is fairly uneventful.

Husband and wife drop off the rental bike and are on their way back home about 4 days later. About 2 days after this, the wife’s arm starts to peel, exposing pinkish skin against the dark tan she got on her arm. She fusses over it, and it continues to get worse…

Husband and wife stop at a hotel for the night and watch a ‘Fresh Prince of Bel Air episode as they are about to call it a night. OK….ok….the wife tuned in initially to this show…BUT the husband *was* watching as the part came on where Vivian – the wife – goes:

o    Vivian: Do you think I'm pretty?

o    Phillip (husband) : Woman look in that mirror and tell me what you see.

o    Vivian: I don't know.

o    Phillip: Well let me tell you. I see every great thing a man could want in a woman. Eyes so dark and deep a man could get lost in them. Skin the color of mahogany, soft as satin. Body fit for a goddess. Look how beautiful you are. Look how beautiful you are.

And the wife sighs and looks at her husband and pointedly says:

“You should take notes”

And the husband replies:

“Your skin is like bark…. On a tree….all flakey and ….”

Wife smacks him.

The Cozy Corner

I wonder if our GPS is possessed. Heck, I wonder if my husband is possessed sometimes too. I swear he tests me on a daily basis. Need an example you say? I have three words for you…

The Cozy Corner

Oh, yes. The name sounds nice, but it’s the last place a priss like me frequents. And thanks to our lovely GPS, it lead us right by it while barking its orders at us in one female voice and then another.  No – I am not kidding about the two voices.  One sounds quite pleasant, the other is more grumpy and sounds like she has been smoking a carton of cigarettes a day for years and years. The pleasant voice dominates most of the time, but as soon as we hit the Montana line, Miss GPS starting spazzin’ on us.

Honestly, I am not sure whose voice we heard before we got to the Cozy Corner, but I was filled with such dread walking in the door that I think I have blanked it out.

The Cozy Corner *is* centered on the corner, but I am not sure you would call it cozy. It was a bar – a bar that obviously had no one coming by to check on them for health code violations – or ANY violations for that matter. As I walk in, I see three people turn around to stare at us and I instantly cringe. I feel like an outsider, and no matter how hard I might act like I belonged there, it was apparent I didn’t. This didn’t stop my husband any, as he walked up to the bar and asked if they had anything good to eat.

Gack…. I think…. *we* might be the food if they don’t like you saying that I think. But the stooped over bartender exclaims that everything is good there and gives us menus and we sit down at a table. I make the mistake of looking around and notice empty boxes lining half of the wall, a cardboard cutout of some cheerleader gal that is signed stuck behind those boxes and a fireplace with ‘Cozy Corner’ on it that apparently had flames shooting outside it judging by the black soot lining the wall upwards a few feet.

Gack… I think again….I am not sure my stomach can handle this place. I look towards the bar and see the sideways glances of the people sitting up there – weathered, scrunched up faces that were sizing me up.

 Gack.. I think once again …and I look at my husband as he tells me to relax and chuckles.

 *&^%$%$^”, I think, “I will show him” as I try to act nonplussed that I was there.

 I didn’t do a good job at it, because when I told him what I wanted to order, he orders me two shots of rum also. Which I think is fine, makes me look bada$$ right? Like I am not too prissy to drink something that hardcore right? =)

 Well, I did get my rum and diet pepsi (shush, even hardcore people drink diet pepsi! Uhh…don’t they?), altho I looked longingly at the glass wanting a straw so bad I am pretty sure I nixed any badassedness they might have all been initially thinking about me.

 BUT, the rum helped and I started to relax some. The food came and it was decent and most importantly, my stomach is not gurgling in utter frustration yet. And as we walked out the door, we were told to have a safe trip, which I found nice.

 Altho, I was a bit too eager to get to the truck and wonder if they knew something we didn’t and this trip would be my last, but…

 Oh dear, I am starting to sound like our GPS I guess…..

Romance Gone Wrong

Don't judge me, but I downloaded a romance book the other day. Nothing raunchy - just some light reading since I haven't picked up a book in months. And heck! I am a gal, that kinda stuff appeals to me ok?

Wait. I sound defensive I guess. I probably am that way cuz I was so friggin irritable by the time I was done reading the book. I am not a fast reader by any means, so even a 200 page book can take a bit longer for me to get thru than the next person. So I guess maybe I get a bit more grumpy if the book s*cked.

But honestly? There were several flaws to this romance:

#1 Their parents hated each other, yet they didn't care and continued their relationship secretly. Once the parents knew and one of the parents confronted the gal in the relationship with 'news' why he was against them having a future, she just took off. Uh huh.... vanished. Drove hundreds of miles away. Didn't question her guy's Dad at all - just believed him all of the sudden. I mean, what kind of moron does that? How in love could you possibly be if you didn't at least *question* the guy who was against you the whole time had to say?

#2 This gal eventually comes back for her Dad's wedding. She bumps into the guy she was/is so madly in love with and finds out he is pissed. First of all.... DUH??!! Second of all... why the heck didn't HE question why she got 2nd thoughts all of the sudden? Instead, he just feels sorry for himself. I dunno, but I figger *someone* has to be the grownup in this story right? Go friggin find her as soon as possible and question her why she is being a dumba$$!!

#3 Since these two bump into each other when she comes back for the wedding, they automatically wanna get down each others' pants. OK, fine. EXCEPT, the gal was told by her guy's Dad that she was his daughter. So that would make them half brother/sister and isn't that an instant turnoff? Excuse me while I go take a shower..... ickk...

Anyway.... I feel better... I guess...

Coexist

Flies piss me off. Ask anyone who knows me. I can be totally consumed with wanting to see them die. Hence, there is no way we 'coexist' with each other - we never will.

Unfortunately, summer seems to bring flies into our house on a fairly regular basis. The first fly of the year was a horsefly. Cuz, gee, we have to start the summer out with a BANG right? Anyway, this horse fly was one of the smartest I have ever encountered. He/she knew I was going to put a fly swatter in my hand even before I had it in my hand. It did figure 8's in the air right in front of me - taunting me that I was unable to kill it as my hands spazzed out left and right trying to swat at it. Then the fly would hide and make me think that maybe I had miraculously killed it.

Then another day would dawn and I would again look like a dork going through the same motions over and over and OVER again. Yet, one day I tracked it to the kitchen and watched it as it went behind the blinds.

Swat!!

*Buzzz* goes the fly.

SWAT!!!

*Buzzz* goes the fly.

SWAT! SWAT! SWATTTT!!!

*Buzzzzz, Buzzzz* goes the fly.

*whoosh, whoosh* goes the blinds.

I wait.

And wait...

And the next day the fly did his/her usual figure 8 in front of me.

*GRRR*

And after many hours of stalking him, I killed him/her by one of our fake plants...

Two days go by of fly-less bliss....

Then one of the slightly smaller ones began plotting its revenge....

State Farm

A few days ago, we got a package delivered on our doorstep. For me, it is always somewhat exciting to have a package delivered, even when you already know what the package will contain. Therefore, I see this package and squeal 'Oooo! a package was delivered!!!' and pick it up and take it into the house to look at the box more closely.

Once inside I noticed that it had a woman's name on the return label and the address it was shipped from was from Texas. In addition, this box is being shipped to my husband and not me. I sat it on the table and forgot about it for a bit until somewhat later when my husband and I were about to have dinner and were cleaning off the table.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I ask my husband what HE was getting a package from a gal in TEXAS for. He immediately looks perplexed and retorts that he has no idea and wants to know who it's from.

"Well, it looks like her name is Brenda!" I grumpily reply.

"WHO?," he answers.

As I snort my disgust with his inability to answer my question, I exclaim, "Fine! I will just open it myself and find out."

So I take it into the kitchen and find a knife to start opening it as he again asks me who it's from. As I am opening the box, I tell him again. And as I am almost ready to open the box, I steal a line from a State Farm commercial and say:

"She sounds hideous."

My husband realizes what is inside almost at the same time as I say this and starts laughing. Once I open it, I find about six light/dimmer switches he had ordered online for our house.

I stand there for a minute, say a simple "oh" and find somewhere else to be as my husband continues to laugh...

Mother's Day

What IS Mother's Day to *you*?

To me, even though Mother's Day has been created largely for the sake of companies like Hallmark, I still find that it is a day that ANY woman needs.

Yet, I do not feel that this day needs to be a day dedicated solely for women who have children anymore. Perhaps, back in the day it was created, this idea of what Mother's Day is would suffice. But today?  I really think we need to revisit what makes a woman happy, and sometimes that is *not* having kids or having a genetic Mom to turn to. To me:

• Sometimes having kids is having what women refer to as 'fur' babies.
• Sometimes having a kid is having a godson you make sure you are always there for if/when he needs you.
• Sometimes having a kid is having the maternal instinct to watch out for the neighbor kid to make sure he/she doesn't get into any trouble.
• Sometimes that maternal instinct will spill over into your friends as you watch out for them because you have no family to turn to.
• Sometimes it's that woman you turn to for answers who *becomes* your Mom regardless if your real Mom is alive and/or dead.

And sometimes? We should simply celebrate Mother's Day by recognizing the woman that we are, that we want to be, and the woman we aspire to be.

Syncing

The other day my husband had a follow up appointment to go to, so I tagged along to make sure I got the 'whole story' of how he was doing, what he should/shouldn't be doing, etc etc. I was happy to note that the DR said almost verbatim what my husband had been telling me. And the other stuff he *kinda* left out? Well, I had done my research on his particular surgery, so the DR just confirmed what I had already learned. That basically, if he just listens to me, he will heal up just fine and dandy =D

So after leaving the DRs office, my husband got in the driver's seat of the truck and decided to try to sync up his cell's music to his truck. After much fussing over trying to do so, he figured out he would have to kick out his iPod he had synced previously in order to sync his cell.

After a series of prompts, he had to name the 'new' thing he wanted to sync, so he says:

"Motorola Ra ra ra ra rrrrazoor."

At this point, I am trying my darndest *not* to remark on what he just said and hurriedly looked out the window, at my cell phone, ANYTHING just so that he didn't see how funny I thought he sounded.

The voice from the truck's speaker answers/asks back:

"You want to sync to....

"Motorola Ra ra ra ra rrrrazoor."

And I lost it..... I sputtered. I snorted. And then I just outright laughed.

And LAUGHED. AND LAUGHED.

He then gets a bit defensive and tells me to quit laughing at him. He tells me that it is not *that* funny.

And I reply:

"Ohh, don't get all in a t-t-t-t-thh-thhithher about it"

And I laugh once again.

Should I be ashamed? Maybe.

Am I? Heck no lol

Yard Work

I am not sure what inspires me to tackle yard work. I am not sure if it is the occasional bouts of caffeine induced highs or as my husband says, I just want to punish myself. Regardless, I decided that the yard needed mowing today - so as soon as I can track down the keys and crank the mower on, I made an effort to check yard work off my list of things to do.
Despite finding a dead bird that looks decayed enough to gross me out, mowing the lawn went fairly uneventfully. However, as soon as I put the mower away, I set about tackling the weeping willow branches that I snipped off the tree the other day. My husband had started a fire and it was my duty to keep it going/clear out underneath the willow tree.

Suffice it to say my husband really had no business starting fires after having surgery 4 days ago. However, it's embarrassing to admit that I really had no business trying to help him out. Yet, even though my lower abdomen and back were hurting, I duck underneath the tree to get the aforesaid branches.

The second handful in, I stand up and turn around and thump the side of my head against a branch I had snipped off previously. As the 'F' word came out of my mouth, I make my exit out from the tree and throw the branches on the fire. When it came to the 5th handful of branches, I started to notice stuff on the ground the branches were laying on/around. Ahhh, cool! Mushrooms! And lookie here, its...

WTF? WHAT is that? I poke it with a branch and it makes a hollow sound. It looks kinda like an egg, but it wasn't - it actually looks like it has some sort of string attached to it. OMG -is that? Gackk!?? A tampon?

I tell myself to calm down. I tell myself I haven't touched it yet (I think) regardless of what it is. Determined to know exactly what it is, I announce to my husband:

"There is something weird underneath the tree."

"Oh?" He answers somewhat disinterestedly.

I spend this time picking a stick to poke it with. It answers back with a thaaampp, thaamppp sound and I am amazed I am unable to penetrate the outside of the freakish white-ish round-ish *thing*. I grab two sticks and balance one on each side to pick it up. One step and it drops. I try again and manage to get a few more steps. And again...

And manage to get it near my husband for him to look at.

"Isn't that a locust shell?" he asks.

Stifling a cry at my effort to get it to its resting spot, I answer: "Well, I was hoping YOU would TELL me what it was."

He kicks it away and I go back to grabbing more branches. And now I sit here drinking a glass of wine and haunted by visions of that *thing* that I am sure to dream about tonight because of my husband's ambiguity.    

Wordsmith

I guess you could say I am a wordsmith. Or maybe not. Depends on your definition of a wordsmith actually. If you describe one as an individiual capable of using current words or creating words to be used for current day terms? YUP. That would be me. However, if you wanna use the dictionary version of a wordsmith, *maybe* I am not THAT person.

On the way home today, I was trying to relate a story to my husband. I decided I would show him how intelligent I was by starting it with:

'Well, if one was to pre FACE it...."

After which an actual wordsmith, or someone less liberal with words, snorts and laughs:

"WHAT? You mean PREFACE??? (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/preface)

To which I reply:

"Shuddup. JUST. Shuddup."

To which this person replies:

"No, I mean - my E - soph - A - gus (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/esophagus) really hurts.

To which I reply:

"SERIOUSLY. shuddup. JUST SHUDDUP."

And as I sigh I make a mental note NOT to use that word again lol

Winning

The other day my husband and I were driving somewhere and started talking about a movie we had seen with Jean-Claude Van Damme in it. We noted it was a 'decent' movie and agreed that it deserved probably about 3 out of 5 stars. However, from there, we dissected the movie a bit more by commenting on how certain parts seemed like Van Damme was trying to look *too* bad a$$.

I mention how it reminds me of Steven Seagal, even though Seagal has seen his heyday so to speak - Seagal keeps appearing in the occasional movie like he has not aged and like he has miraculously turned into a better actor. Which prompted my husband to start talking in a Seagal voice on EVERYTHING after that he said...

Tired of his antics, I started singing the song 'I wanna kiss you all over' by Exile which he hates. And, by the way, if you are wondering why he hates it, just watch this video and watch the main dude singing. I mean, REALLLY, watch the main dude singing lol (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJJQpSzDgC0)

Anywhooo! This worked temporarily - very, very temporarily. After maybe a minute he starts singing the Beverly Hillbillies theme song which I hate...

Yeah, so anyway! The moral to this story? Sometimes even when you think you are winning you are not...

Sorry to burst y'all's bubble =)

Being Sick...

There are times when you don’t need input from certain people when you are sick. Usually, this happens when it is not a close friend or someone with good intentions…

However, when it is a company that is just trying to upsell their product? Yeah… that is not so cool..

Not too long ago I was miserable with the ‘creeping crud’ that seems to be making its rounds. I was congested, my head hurt, my body ached, and well…. I just felt overall miserable in a nutshell. However, I was not to be deterred in my attempts to make this crud go away that much quicker. I put a hot towel on my head. I double dosed on Mucinex to where I found it difficult to even sleep. And I tried using breathe right strips on my nose to uh, breathe better….

Yet, even the latter did not end well, as I managed to bruise my nose. Since my husband was gone at the time, I texted him a picture of my displeasure/disgust. I even ’tweeted’ about how my nose was bruised… only to get this in response the next day:

FROM@ Breathe Right: Can u please give us a call so we can answer any questions and understand how ur using Breathe Right? 1-800-858-6673. Thanks!

Uhhh??

Errr???

Ummm??

#1 I do not need to call you. IF I wanted to call you, I would have done so to begin with. I *am* sick, remember? I just wanna curl up in my bed and be as lazy as possible – do you think being lazy entails calling F’N you? *Lisa takes imaginary phone and slams it into something hard to make herself feel better*

#2 Why da heck do you think it’s MY fault? Maybe, just maybe, your flippin’ product doesn’t work as well as you think/hoped. And maybe I don’t think it’s gonna make me feel better by calling you to tell you what you are doing wrong!? *Lisa takes imaginary cell phone again and throws it across the room*

#3 WTF? Seriously? ME call YOU??!! Are you not the least but concerned my nose is bruised and that I am sick? HUH? *whine* *Lisa picks up imaginary cell phone & holds it as she cries big large drops of sadness onto it*

So there ya have it Breathe Right. I will pinch my nose really hard to make myself feel better before using you again thank you very much.

Anger Management Issues

There comes a day when you realize you might have anger management issues. That day was today for me...

Since we decided to say a big 'F' you! (uhh, I mean, thanks for trying, but we don't like your service) to Time Warner Cable about a year ago, we do not have local TV stations. Therefore, since the first NASCAR race of the season was today, my husband required bar food (ie wifi, ie many local sports channels). And so henceforth we went to our local Tanners...

However, once there, things went downhill for me. It first started with me thinking I can spend my time trying to make my eReader work on my iPad. I tried to log in to the full website for eReader, only to find out that it kept redirecting me to back to the mobile site.

So I continue to hit my finger onto my keypad harder….and harder… and HARDEERRR…

Until I realize that maybe the eReader app I downloaded for my iPad might not work. So not to be deterred, I went to search Google again and found that there is no solution to my problem…

WHAT?? %%^&^*((&!!?? Don’t *^^%%&@#@##@#..... Uhhh… tell me that!!

So I googled some more and found out that maybe….*maybe*…. DropBox could help me out since that last post was in 2010….

I smile smugly at my husband as I download it. I say in an elated voice that I may have found a solution to my husband…

And then I try the downloaded version…

And realize I am not able to find anything out with my friggin iPad, cuz it’s considered a ‘mobile’ device…. *grrrrrr*

Anywhoooo! Husband takes a commercial break to go to the bathroom. I go to the bathroom to take a break. PERIOD.

I decide not to use the first stall cuz I figured everybody in a bar is gonna take the easy way out and use the first stall they find. So I go to the 3^rd stall and find that someone didn’t flush. EWW. So I go to the 4^th stall. UGGHHH….. same thing! So I go back to the first stall and try to shut the stall door.

And try…

And try again..

REALLY pissed off, I try to yank the stall door to me –yet, it still refused to close all the way. So what do I do? I get out of the stall and pull on the handle, and…

YANK THE F’N thing OFF!
   
Know what I was doing? Closing the wrong bathroom stall door for where I wanted to do, uh….my business…

So I went to the VERY end stall and did so – and laughed the whole time. Then I got done, washed my hands, and then tried to affix the stall doors handle back on as best as I could. Only I pulled the handle out of the stall door from its' friggin HINGES, so I was not ready with my handy dandy screw driver to fully rectify the stoopid mistake/accident I had caused…
   
Needless to say, I left the bathroom with tears in my eyes from crying/laughing so hard…

Rum

Once upon a time a Kansas gal thought she was a rum snob.

Until she went to a liquor store in Florida anyway….

She spent her day at a Florida hotel trying not to go postal on the kids who found the pool there a great place to scream at. She also had to endure the hotel entertainment that afternoon that made her send an email to her husband in the next room titled ‘Stabbity, stab, stab”. She was also recovering from a wine (yes, you read right) hangover from an IT banquet the night before.

But, anyway……

She went to a Florida liquor store with her husband to look for a specific kind of beer for a friend. OK, ok…. *maybe* the 158 rums advertised on the liquor store sign didn’t help to woo her in, but….

 She went in and picked out a bottle of rum. Her husband picked out two kinds of rum after not finding the beer they were initially after. They head to the liquor store checkout counter where the Cuban guy rings them up. And this is what she hears…

 “This is a good rum. And this too…”

 He stops on the rum she chose, and says “THIS, not so much….”

Home Improvement 101

There are a bunch of websites, blogs, twitter & Facebook pages and more out there that have *something* to do with helping you with home improvement tasks. However, none of them *really* address the realities of home improvement. None of them really tell you that you will not be *that* overjoyed in the process. To me, it is kinda like a woman in labor - painful, way too long, but at the end of it all, it can be worth it. IF everything turns out as planned...

Anyway! I am not going to tell you how much I have enjoyed the many months of home improvements we have done. I am not going to tell you that I would recommend everyone do it at least once. And I am not going to say that one truly appreciates the result more if he/she does the work.

I am going to tell you the signs that it may be a good time to take a break. I am going to tell you when maybe - just maybe - you have taken on too much. And I am going to tell you that any of the good and bad things/events/etc below are a sign that *maybe* you should find something else to do with your spare time during your day. So, uh, here goes...

Good: You start enjoying long/hot showers more.
Sad: You wash your hair. You soon realize you are unable to find the bandaid that was on your finger. You soon find it IN your hair.

Good: You start applying more lotion to keep your skin from drying out.
Sad: You realize parts of your legs and hands are not *really* dry. They are just covered by grout.

Good: You go to the dentist and find out you do not have any cavities.
Sad: You go to aforesaid dentist with a bandaid on your finger & a large burn on your elbow from your curling iron.

Good: You start to feel comfortable around your masseuse.
Sad: You feel so comfortable with your masseuse that you invite her to your party to celebrate the end of the home improvement projects.

Good: You drink an alcoholic beverage to 'unwind' at the end of the night with your significant other.
Sad: You drink so many beverages you have to restock continuously before your party.

OK, I guess 5 'tips' are enuf for tonight lol

Be well. Hire a contractor =)

Life is What You Make It

I have to agree with the title of this blog post for anyone except me...

What makes me so special? Well...

#1 I can paint a cabinet and have the paintbrush somersault out of my hand onto my shirt and then bounce off on to the slate floor. Yes, I *could* laugh about it. Yes, I *could* act like it didn't matter. BUT it was my F'N shirt and newly tiled floor and less than 2 weeks away from a huge party at our house. I don't wanna laugh - I wanna cry.

#2 My youngest pup thinks I stink anymore. She covers her nose while she lays on MY chair that I covered with MY blanket and squints at me like her eyes are watering. OK, *maybe* I can convince myself it was the candle I was burning. Maybe ..... IF I could convince myself that the last few months of home improvements have not improved ME.

#3 My last post about the moisturizing balm? Yeah - that didn't happen just once over the last couple of weeks. It used to be that I could learn from my mistakes.... anymore? it is too hard to remember how many mistakes I need to rectify.

#4 My highlight of the day? For me, it is to lay on my office floor and take a nap. What's wrong with this you say? Well, the pups are on MY chair in MY office and think I am too stinky to be around to curl up next to me. AND, I am friggin ASLEEP - how sad is that?

OK, ok.... yeah.... yeah.... that is the point of the above saying. Life is what YOU make it. So I guess in order for me to be more happy, I should do the following:

#1 Pay someone else to paint for me.
#2 Shower more.
#3 Take some herbs to enhance my memory.
#4 Steal my blanket from the pups to make my chair less appealing so the pups nap with me more.

Well, crud, if I type it out *that* way, it doesn't sound too hard lol

NYE

How did y'all bring in 2012? A party? At home? Neither? =)

I really did not do anything much myself. Well, I *kinda* did - as I was busy doing a lot of painting & miscellaneous housework that needed to be done that day. But did I party? Nahh, not really. I did have a rum & diet coke to relax a bit from all the house stuff I had been doing. But by the time we headed off for a late dinner at Tanners (which consisted of nachos & more diet coke/rum), I thought I felt pretty sober. So I am not sure I can blame what happened in between the house and Tanners on alcohol *sigh*

Despite being splattered with paint, wearing jeans that had belt loops that ripped off when trying to yank them up over my hips, and a button up shirt that is about 15 years old..... I headed out to Tanners with my husband. In a desperate attempt to look *somewhat* classy, I started to put on makeup, add carmex to my lips and then try to massage some moisturizing balm into my hands. All of this went well up until I wondered out loud where the lid to my moisturizing balm went.

My husband replied that. "Maybe it's on your lap."

And me? Well, I automatically think he is being a smarta$$ as usual and go 'Ha, Ha - how funny! Seriously! I can't find it..."

And as I say a few choice words, I dive into my purse looking for it. In doing so, I hand my moisturizing balm container to my husband to hold.

I hear him snort with laughter, but I continue to dig thru my purse. I look beside me, underneath me and hear my husband start laughing and as I turn around to say that "it's not funny, I can't find it...", he lift the container up to show that its *sitting* on the lid of the friggin moisturizing balm.

Men are evil I say lol