Tomorrow is December 1, 2007

That means that NaBloPoMo is over. I will be able to say "I DID IT!!" and "I survived posting every single day in November (albeit, not necessarily thoughtful or good posts, but I did manage something).

Yay!!

Thanks to those of you who felt and/or posted your sympathy for my Bad Day. I'm really on a roll, today, albeit not as bad as yesterday, has been extremely aggravating. Thus, I'm having an aggravating day in lieu of a bad day. Does that count for anything? I didn't think so.

So, what was so bad about yesterday/today? (you may want to check out the list of links on my sidebar right about now, 'cuz the violins are coming out).

Rewind to Wednesday.

Work: the homo sapiens whom I deal with were great. Others, who, unfortunately, interact with my little universe were not. In fact, the description "wild-monkey-crazy-animals" would not be an overstatement. Can't go into any more details than that, because then it would be too specific,and the laws, and blah, blah, blah. At any rate, the behaviors (note: PLURAL) that were going on at work caused me to leave in a FOUL mood. I was so anxious and 'keyed-up' it took me the upwards of 2 hours to quit 'vibrating-internally' (you know, where you're so stressed out your guts feel like they're twisted in knots, and you start obsessing about what happened, and you get more and more upset--the negative cycle). Then, as a result of my stress I got upset stomach and started to have (am I actually going to publish this?) diarrhea.

Oh. So. Gross.

I was a very unhappy camper.

Then, I got to go back to work from 4:30-6:00pm for a conference/seminar that was mandatory. I'm currently taking a university class, and I have already done 25 classroom hours, and to finish it out I have a 'class' for 1.5 hours every month that I have to attend to receive my grade/credit. Oh joy. So,whatever 'unwinding' I had accomplished got undone when I walked in the doors for class.

Thursday:

Woke up at 5am still feeling ill. I have never had a somatic reaction like this to stress; ever. I rolled around and hoped I'd feel better...in the end I called in sick and spent the day feeling queasy and had unhappy intestines.

It gets better.

Wednesday afternoon after getting the mail (drove to the mailbox because, well, you know, I'd melt if I had to walk to the mailbox in the rain. You saw the Wizard of Oz, right? That was my sister), I noticed a tap-tap-tap noise. I figured I had a rock stuck in the tire of my van. Turns out I ran over a BOLT! AHHHHH!

So, after picking the kids up from the sitter (you thought I actually took a sick day and kept the kids home? Yeah. As IF.) I drove us to the Honda Dealer to ask about the tire. They told me to go to America's Tire Co. because they were really busy, and it would take a few hours for my car to get worked on.

Ok. I can do this.

We get to America's Tire Co. and my (evil screaming hellions) children behave like a 4 and 2 year old, respectively: they run around the shop, climb the tire/wheel displays, and scream like banshees. The tire guy looks mortified, and offers to 'work quickly' sine he sees I have "little ones." Great. Thanks. I appreciate it, I do. But, he tells me it is going to cost me $75 to fix my tire.

GAG!

Who pays $75 to fix a tire? Me, that's who. See, one of the joys of a 2006 Honda Odyssey Touring Model is this great little invention called run-flat tires. In a nutshell, run flats let you drive for 50 miles at speeds of up to 55mph without having to change the tire. The idea is so that if you're out and about and a tire gets a hole/leak you will be able to drive long enough (at highway speeds) to safely get to a service center without the hassle of changing a flat. Great idea. Poor design. Run flats wear out in about 30,000 miles of driving use. To replace them they are a special order, and here's what Consumer Reports had to say:

Consumer Reports magazine, said the tires offered a safety advantage, but the
tire forum on its Web site (consumer.org) had many complaints from run-flat owners about
higher-than-expected replacement costs, difficulty getting repairs and what some
considered excessive wear.

Ok. This is my only complaint about my van. Pretty good, don't you think, if that's my only gripe? I guess it is my 'just desserts' for insisting on the 'top-of-the line' if I were to cross over to the dark side of mommy-hood: driving a minivan.

The problem became, after I walked a sick me and two squealing, hungry little piggies up and down Lancaster Dr. and found a Chinese restaurant to feed us dinner (By now it was 5pm), was when we got back to the tire center an hour and a half later the tire was not fixed and he had, surprise-surprise, really GOOD news: It wasn't fixable.

I need 4 new tires (they're worn out) and I would have to immediately buy 1 new tire if I was to drive my van home. Great. The estimate he had for me for tires--ONLY, was $1,200.

It is amazing that I didn't barf right there on the counter.

Thankfully, by this time B.J. had met me at the store, and I let him take over the haggling.

In the end, since it was taking for-ever to get a tire changed, it is 6:45pm now, and we'd gotten to the tire shop just past 4:30pm, I pitch a fit, get the car seats squeezed in (should have used WD-40 to help) to the backseat of the Eclipse, if that is what you call the little shelf behind the front seats. Let's just say, preschooler and toddler in a sportscar is a real trip, in both senses of the word.

The kids and I get home. B.J. arrives about an HOUR later, with USED tire on the van, $150 lighter in the pockets for a USED FREAKING TIRE!!

We were so not loving the fancy tires, last night.

Friday:

Today was aggravating because my Nikon is still not back, got a call from the shop saying that it will be $95 to 'fix it' --huh? it is in the shop for a warranty-covered cleaning. I'm blogging right now so that I don't return the phone call and totally chew-off the store clerk's ear. My 1pm dentist appointment was cancelled. Let's just say I was dreading the cleaning all week long, and now that it has to be rescheduled, I have another new week to dread the cleaning, once I call back to reschedule.

Does it ever end? Oh, yeah, B.J. and I decided to buy new rims and tires for the Honda. No way can I put cheap-o steel rims on it (way too tacky, even for me) and that's gonna set us back $1800. But, that purchase (we're trying to hold off) is for next month--as in January.

But, to put it all into perspective, I'm grateful for what is a 'bad day' or an 'aggravating day' to me. Because, after reading about what the Ugandan people have to deal with, on Prose of Sharon's blog, I have nothing at all to gripe about. Even in my 'bad moments' I'm blessed beyond belief.

Here's to the weekend, and all the troubles I'm blessed with. I hope I can keep this perspective tomorrow, when we get picture re-takes of Peanut and Chubber.

We did it! Last post for NaBloPoMo.

And, how perfect is this? "The Twelve Days of Christmas" by The MacKenzie Brothers is on the raido right now. Their attitude sums up NaBloPoMo. Perfectly.

Inseperable

After our first date, B.J. and I were nearly inseparable. That, dear ones, resulted in majorly ticked-off friends. To be precise, my friends were angry as hornets that I was spending so much time with B.J. Funny how that happens, especially since it was those friends who so forcefully pushed me to go out with B. J. Guess it is true: be careful of what you wish for, because you just may get it.

Angry (jealous) friends aside, B.J. and I really hit it off. We found we had a lot of things in common: movies, music (to a lesser extent, I never could enjoy the twangy country music he liked), going to the coast, shopping. Yes, you read that correctly, B.J. likes to shop . (Yes, I heard angels singing, too.)

We spent nearly every weekend driving over to the coast. B.J. and I enjoyed lots of dinners and lunches at little mom & pop dives, long walks on the beach collecting shells, interesting rocks, random detritus, and countless hours driving to nowhere in particular.

::sigh:: I miss those carefree days every once in a while.

Those certainly were the days. It really set into motion a theme of travel in our relationship.

Three months into our relationship we took our first long-distance trip together. We flew to Florida for two weeks. The trip was to celebrate me (amazingly) completing of high-school. It was such a wild and exhausting (in a good way) trip. I can hardly believe that my parents consented to letting me do it, but they did. Will I be such a cool parent? Lemme think about that...NO!

I remember the green Chevy Blazer that we rented, and the fact that I was not even remotely old enough to legally drive it. We drove from north-central Florida to Key West and back on that trip. I can't say I didn't enjoy myself the whole time. How could I not? Eighteen years old, cute boyfriend, and on a wild and crazy road-trip up and down the sunshine state. Life was good.

Our trip included visiting my family (currently, my entire family resides in Florida), driving on the sand in Daytona, going to Disney World, Miami Beach, and the Keys.

Disney World was, as to be expected, very diverting. I don't believe I ever remember my feet hurting so much before (or since!) from walking. We spent 3 days at Disney, walking here, there, and everywhere. I can remember after the second day my feet hurt so bad that to get to the bathroom from our bed I crawled across the hotel floor to get there. That was certainly a first. Generally one thinks of crawling to the bathroom to, uh, worship the 'porcelain god' after a rough night, not after a day of truly innocent fun.

B.J. and I probably had some of the most fun moments cruising around Key West on rented scooters. If you ever have an opportunity to go to Key West, go. Be sure to check out the cemeteries there. Key Westerners are known for being unique and their tombstones are no exception. Hands down, one of the best headstones I saw read something to the effect of "...at least I know where he'll be tonight."

Before our trip together, B.J. had never spent any real time in Florida, so when a typical southern Florida storm rolled in on our last day in the Keys he was blown away. In south Florida, it isn't uncommon to have beautiful calm, blue skies in the morning, and within minutes black stormy clouds rolling in, blackening the day to night. That is exactly what had happened to us.

We chose to stay in a floating hotel while we were in the keys--an old boat that had been converted to hotel rooms--and that last morning it was sunny, blue, and beautiful. By the time we had gotten out of the shower the wind had picked up, and black thunder clouds had begun to roll in at an alarmingly fast pace. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but since we were in the islands, if there was a truly big storm the problem about leaving becomes this: there is only a single little 2-lane South Dixie Highway that leads in and out of the islands. Meaning, when serious storms hit, if you don't leave immediately you ain't gonna leave. Since we were staying in a floating hotel, we decided it would be best to head out sooner rather than later. B.J. was terrified. The storm was getting progressively worse. In the space of about 20 minutes we had gone from sunny and clear to pitch-black--at 8 o'clock in the morning--with sheeting rain and 40+ mph. gusts of wind.

Welcome to paradise. There will be no cheeseburgers served today.

We packed up and headed north, to Miami. In the end, the storm wound up nothing more than a typical tropical squall. Nothing out of the ordinary. The storm managed to blow itself out by 3pm that day. Some days, up here, I miss those storms a lot. I certainly miss the fact that in Florida, when it rains, it rains. Then the storm is over. The rain is done. Up here it rains, and drizzles, and mists, and pours, and rains some more. For days on end. Very slow. Very soggy. Very much we can't do anything. (I am clearly not a true north westerner...doubt I ever will be. In fact, I always carry and use an umbrella.)

This trip was just the first of many that B.J. and I would embark on during our 'courtship' years.

Blogger Homework

I'm excited to go to the blogger get-together here, and while getting ready I have homework.


How great is this? I almost have a built-in post ready-made for me. I just have to add a few important details, and Voila! Instant post for NaBloPoMo!


Yee-haw! Thanks girlies.


Here it goes:


What is your motto? Uhhh...I don't really have one? I guess if I had to choose I'd pick the one my mother told me many moons ago: When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. What sage words of wisdom she imparted upon me. Nothing gives quite the pick-me-up as a little retail therapy. Cheaper than the shrink, too!

What superhuman power would you most like to have? Gotta agree with Alida, here. I'd love to be able to fly. I've always fantasized, since I was a kid, how neat it would be to fly. As an adult I'd love to be able to do that Star Trek transporter thing. Just think, how easy would long-distance travel be with kids. Uh-huh. Now you're crackin'...

What makes you laugh? Reading all these wonderful blogs. I'd also have to admit to a gloriously unrefined joy in listening to the 'Blue Collar Comedy Tour' CDs.

Cats or dogs? Once upon a time (read: pre-children) both. Nowadays, 1 kitty cat. In the future, say in 20 years or so when Sparkle-boo kicks the bucket, none. The chublet was tested at the allergist's office, and he's super allergic to cats and to a lesser extent dogs. **sigh** B.J. was really hoping to get a Bengal Cat, guess it has to wait 'til chublet is in college.


Would you rather be a little smarter or a little sexier? Sexier. Hands-down, sexier. (not PC...but ya know what? I don't care!!) See, I know what its like to be a bit of a brain, but the sexy part...well, all you have to do is read this previous post to get your answer. This pic is for you, Alida (the one I finally got around to scanning):

I'll just get someone to whack me with the 'smart stick' and I'll be both sexy and smart!


What is the one thing you'll never understand? Why, despite all our education, technology, and free social programs, there are such a high number of unwanted children born in our country. I just HATE this social epidemic, and I'll never understand it. There is absolutely no reason for it, and EVERY child should be wanted. Ok. Climbing down from my soap-box, now. However, I am still debating getting my very UN-p.c. bumper sticker made to stick on the back of my mommy-minivan:


Abstinance is best...but, it is easier to change a CONDOM than a DIAPER.


My life would be simpler if? I had all the answers to solve the moral, social, and ethical dilemmas that face our world. I don't, but it doesn't stop me from getting angry and outraged.

A self-cleaning house would be a good second-runner up to make life easier.


The big decision I'm currently wrestling with? Do I accept my Dad's offer to help pay for us to fly down to Florida for Christmas? The last time we flew down (on our nickel) we had such a lousy trip. In a nutshell (and to save this from being a rant) my Dad was a terrible host. So, do we chance it, with his financial help? Or do we stay here? What to do, what to do...

First Date

Saturday morning (11am) rolls around in all its sunshiny glory. I am a nervous wreck. I can hardly believe that I am going to call B.J. and try to figure out how to get to his house on the other side of town, the rich side of town.

I heave a few humongously deep breaths and phone him. He's pleasant, cheerful, and gives me his address.

"Do you know how to get here? Do you need more directions that that?" He asks, already considerate of how I may or may not be directionally challenged.

"No. I think I know how to get there." I lie. Flat-out, through my teeth lied. I have not the foggiest clue of where his house is or even less, how to get there. "So, I'll see you as soon as I get there!"

"Great. See you soon." Click.

I'm thinking to myself, I'll just look up a city map in the phonebook (this is before Mapquest, or at least before I knew how to access maps online--at this point in time it's like $1.99/minute to use the Internet. Hard to believe we actually paid for it by the minute.). I locate his street and the cross street he gave, so I'll just follow the streets across the city that look like they're the most direct routes.

WRONG!

I climb into my dirty car and try to traverse the city. I was so painfully naive. It was quite a lesson in city planning, for me, that afternoon. I had no idea how many streets dead-end and are one-way and not marked as such on the map in the phonebook. As I'm driving, and getting more and more lost (no cell phone, those days, either) the minutes are ticking by. I began to worry that he would think I blew him off, and that I wasn't going to show up because by this time it has nearly been an hour! The drive, he said, should be about 20 minutes. Oh, man, was I a wreck.

Finally, by the mercy of God (whom I didn't know, at that time, either) I made it to his house. He teased me good-naturedly about how long it took me to get there, but at least I'd arrived.

He told me how to drive half-way around the block to access the alley that led to his back-yard/driveway. That was quite a little adventure in and of itself. See, my car was a little Plymouth Colt (aka Mitsubishi Mirage) and at its stock sitting height it could conservatively be called a 'low-rider'. It was a small wonder how I managed to navigate my little car up the steep driveway that led into the alleyway without tearing a hole in the oil pan!

At any rate, I'd finally arrived at B.J.'s house, safe and sound, albeit 40 minutes later than originally anticipated. B.J. had all the accouterments needed to clean my car (in all actuality he wound up detailing my car for me) and he had me park myself on the edge of his porch while he went to work.

In retrospect, I can't believe what I chose to wear. On that 'first' date I showed up at his house with my hair in a ponytail, a pair of Nike's, black sweats, and a t-shirt that said "Fukengruven" (a la the old VW ads that utilized "Fahrvergnügen" in their campaign).

Doh!! (Clearly, I was not thinking)

B.J. was not the slightest bit daunted (or at least he didn't appear so). He cleaned my car, until it was its proverbial 'squeaky' self. And then he came and sat down on the porch next to me.

My heart must have been pounding at least loud enough for the surrounding zip-code to hear it. We made some small talk for a few minutes, but before it knew it he was scooting closer and closer to me. He was right next to me! Aak!

I kept thinking to myself, I really sort of like this guy. He seems so genuine and sweet and thoughtful.

That was when he leaned over and kissed me. Our first kiss was right there, that sunny sun-drenched March 9, 1996 afternoon, sitting on the edge of his porch, our legs dangling, with a view of my very shiny and newly clean little purple car. I'll tell you this much, electricity surged through his lips to mine. Not only was he a good kisser, but there was some instant chemistry.

Oh, yes, chemistry indeed...

Nikon-gone

D-50. Mucho mega pixels. Almost 3 photos per second.

And, I can't use any of it right now. That's right, I haven't had my baby (camera) for going on 2 weeks now.

Sigh.

I never realized just how much and how often I grabbed my camera before it went out of use. See, it's not lost or broken or anything dramatic like that (thank goodness!). It was well overdue for a general cleaning, and most unfortunately the shop that we bought it from has pulled out of our fair hamlet, so I had to drive the hour north to the bigger city to have it worked on.

I really miss it. I can hardly wait until we get that glorious call from the shop saying we can come and pick it up.

My fingers have been absolutely itching to be able to set my f-stops and aperture to capture the beautiful fall foliage that is directly outside my kitchen window (my Japanese maples are showing some to-die-for crimson and orange right now). But I can't.

Not yet anyway.

I hate waiting.

The Gridiron, part 3

Once we got into the game, I was pleasantly surprised to see that the tickets that we had turned out to be our old season ticket section. I thought that was kinda cool, it definitely added to the feeling of nostalgia.

See, B.J. and I went to the games while I was an undergrad/grad and 'sat' in the student section (a.k.a. the section with seats that never sits down!). After I graduated we had season tickets in Section 17. Our tickets for Saturday were Section 17, row 43, seats 11 and 12. It was such a treat to be there, and it took us back to a less dramatic time in our lives: pre-children, when both of our mothers were still happy, (relatively) healthy, and still alive.

Saturday's game was...interesting. By far not the best game I'd ever been to--that would have to have been when Joey Harrington was playing (I heart Joey!), the 2000 game against Stanford. It went into overtime. What an adrenaline rush. I lost my voice at that game, that's how good it was. Ah, what warm fuzzy feelings thinking of old games brings up. Back to the point, the November 3, 2007 game. The first quarter ducks came on strong. They had a reasonable offense and a great defense (they always have a good defense). They scored 14 points in the first 4 minutes. What a rush! The Sundevils had about equal possession time of the ball. It looked dismal at the end of the 4th quarter, but then Dennis Dixon does the rockin' fake-out pass type move, where he didn't pass, and rushes it down the field for a TD! Man! that was a-some.

Then came the second and third quarter. SNOOZE! What the heck the Ducks were thinking...I'll never know. Good thing, too, I don't think I'd ever be the same if I actually knew what 19-22 year-old college football playing men thought. That would probably (definitely) earn me a trip to the state mental facility...hmm...come to think of it a nice vacation wouldn't be too bad. I'd get to see Oprah, uninterrupted! Well, except for the other crazies in there with me probably wouldn't ever shut up. Maybe I'll stay here...I digress.

In the second and third quarter the only good play, according to moi, football expert extraordinaire (hee hee) was at the end of the second (or third, can't quite remember) where there was only one minute left on the clock and, somehow, some way, they managed to rush the end zone for an actual TD--not a field goal, or a two-point conversion, an honest-to-goodness TD. Pretty hot stuff.

The game finished out with a little more pep in the fourth, but let's face it, it wasn't what you'd call great football. We won. Against a previously undefeated Arizona State, but the victory was Luke-warm.

After the game, and helping my FIL break down the tailgater (all of about 5 mins!) we had a choice: wait in the 500+ person long bus line to get a ride to our car, or walk to the car. We decided to walk. It was a good walk--wound up being 4.5-5miles. A bit longer than I guessed it would be, but that was fine. We enjoyed the crisp autumn air, the relative quiet, and just time together, alone. B.J. and I used to go for walks in the evening all the time. I hadn't quite realized how much I missed those walks until then. Of course I love my children, more than life itself, but sometimes I don't realize just how much they have re-ordered the flow and ebb of my life until quiet moments like these. We didn't talk much on our walk. We just were. Sometimes the best times are those that aren't spoiled by unnecessary chatter.

Once we got back to my Dad's house we were regaled with how well both children did. Peanut ate and Chub did not (whoa!? That was weird). They were happy, well behaved, minded my Dad and his wife, and generally did not wear out their welcome (praise the Lord!). However, my Dad showed us a bandaged finger that resulted from watching my kidlets.

A bandaged finger? Yup. My Dad had a bandaged index finger.

I asked my dad, "So, how did that happen?"
He replied, "Well, I had some work to do on the roof with the gutters to get finished up, so I climbed up on the roof to knock it out. The next thing I know I'm moving the metal around and I catch something out of the corner of my eye."

At this point I'm thinking 'oh no.'

"And I turn and look, and there's Kai! He's on top of the roof, just standing there, watching me! I couldn't believe it. The baby is on the roof. Well, I'm scared to death that he's going to fall or get hurt, so I tossed the gutter aside quickly, and in the process sliced open my finger--a good inch-and-a-half. Probably should get stitches. Blood was spurting everywhere."

I'm a little green around the gills right now, thinking of my dad gushing blood--he bleeds like a stuck pig--and having visions of my little man on the roof.

He continues on, "I went right over to him and grabbed him. He was sure interested in watching my finger spurt--I don't think I got any on his clothes--and I carried him down the ladder. What I couldn't figure out," and he gestures here with his hands to indicate 14-16" space, "is how he managed to climb up the ladder. He's just a little guy...it scared the hell out of me."

I, on the other hand, was not the slightest bit surprised that my Chublet managed to shimmy up the ladder. He's part monkey, I swear. Didn't mean I wasn't mildly FREAKED OUT that my 2 year old managed to climb up a ladder and find himself standing on the roof, but I wasn't even remotely shocked that he could climb up there.

In the end, no harm, no foul. Dad's finger will be OK. Chubb-chubb was just trying to 'help'--he is my helper-boy, to a fault. And everyone had a good time.

The drive home was uneventful--I passed out just as we were leaving town, and woke up about 2 miles from home. What a great day.

I just love college football.

Weird word of the day

OK. So, I'm a really random type of person. I'm an official cyber-card-carrying-member of NaBloPoMo, and I was planning on going with the theme of "B.J. and Lee: The True (unedited) Story" and "Travel" for the month of November, but, alas, I'm not going to stick to it rigidly. I'm going to use those themes, with a little ADHD (randomness) thrown in for good measure. Like this post:

Schadenfreude.

Ever heard of this one before? I certainly hadn't, and I consider
myself a reasonably literate member of the species. I've encountered it at least twice this week, alone, so I thought I'd share with you a little schoolin'. Here it goes:

Wikipedia defines it as:

a German word meaning
'pleasure taken from someone else's misfortune'.

Who knew there was and actual word for being a nasty little human being?

We all know someone who this definition fits to a 'T'. Heck, I'm sure at one time or another we have been that person who is guilty of committing this particular sin (not moi, of course...being facetious here. Sad to admit it, but hey, I'm not into lying...unless it is about my weight, but that is an entirely different issue in and of itself).

I just love the Internet. I learn so much, and at such weird hours, too!