Jerky junkie

My husband got elk jerky a couple weeks ago. He opened it up tonight and our 15 lb poodle went ape shit over it. I'm sure in a past life when she ran wild with all the other rabid carnivorous poodles in their large poodle pack, she probably took down the wild elk and devoured it in one sitting. However, after aggressive domestication over the centuries, she wouldn't even know what to do with a really large field, much less a real live elk. But that doesn't mean we won't mess with her by opening and closing the package as she falls asleep just to watch her go nuts. It's not cruel, we're just refining her instincts.

New attitude

The weekend was good for me. Today was refreshing for a Monday. While the weekend flew by, I crammed a little goodness into the last little bit of it and was able to feel rested and calmed by it by the time my alarm squawked this morning.

Today was actually a good Monday. I wouldn't have always believed such a thing could exist. Plus you cannot exactly beat how I was greeted when I got home from work today. Kitchen was cleaner than when I left this morning. The mysterious garbage disposal funk was simmering away after being boiled. Hubby had music on and was in a pretty happy mood. Going totally old school back to the college dorm days, we listened to music while lying on the floor. We laughed, we talked, we made out, life is good. Sometimes those unexpected little moments are the ones you wouldn't trade for the world. We were eventually caught by the dog when I thought it would be fun to throw her chew toy against the wall to see if it was bouncy rubber or dense rubber. It was dense rubber, but she apparently recognized the noise and ran over to tackle us. Now I think we might get to listen to rain as we sleep. This is the kind of thing that makes your day. Yay for a good Monday.

You have been denied.

Fail. Dumbass. You are not worthy. You have been denied.

I may need some fine motor skills re-training because I seem to be exceptionally good at dropping my birth control pills. Usually it is while I'm driving and fumbling around in my purse to find the pack, pop out the pill and take it all with just one hand. I'll drop it back into my purse somehow, and then I have to feel my way through all the crap in there to find that itty bitty little pill. Don't worry, though, I'm a safe driver as I do this. I taught myself to drive with one hand at 16. Somehow I felt that was a very important life skill.

Today was worse, though. Much worse. I actually remembered to take it before I left work. I pulled the pack out of purse and popped the pill out over my desk. It was like skipping stones over a calm lake. It skipped lightly over the shiny top of my desk and right down the small little crack between the 8000 lb desk and the wall. I just stared... in disbelief. It did not. It could not. How could it have? But oh yes, it did. I attempted to move the desk, but there was no way in hell I could even get it to budge. I considered recruiting a coworker, but decided that when I peeped down that crack and saw the filth, they would be sure that I had swapped my Pill with something I got off the street if I was still willing to take it. I made a few quick calculations in my head, and popped tomorrow's pill out. I'll have to figure a way to relabel so I remember when I've taken and when I haven't now, but I'm covered for today. I was never very good at math, but you seem to graduate a few levels in math skills once you have to start figuring out the pill and how to save your ass from getting pregs.

I called my husband once I actually got out of the building. I thought this seemed like a defining moment in my life to illustrate the bizarre clumsy capabilities that only I seem to have. He didn't see the humor. Whatever. I'm still marveling at the masterful grasp of uncoordination that I demonstrated today.

Confrontation

Sometimes your mind goes places where you wish it didn't because it crosses the line, even in thought form. For instance, cancer is one of those things. You don't make a snappy comeback at somebody and tell them that they caused your cancer (ESPECIALLY if you don't have cancer, that's just disrespectful to all who do!) because you figure that inevitably it'll happen since it's rampant around here.

I feel guilty for those thoughts sometimes. I have been known to say them even, under my breath, just to where the person can't hear me but asks what I said. Of course I don't repeat it. But it makes you feel better momentarily to have just gone there. I've also done that in angry emails back to idiots. You type it out, hitting those keys as angrily as you can, like yelling through your fingertips, read it, let out a big deep angry vindicated breath, and watch that backspace button wipe it all away.

I'm bad at confrontation in real life, but I pretty well kick ass at it in my own mind. Because in my own mind, nobody's feelings get hurt by the cruel things I want to say. Nobody has a snappier comment or puts me in my place (as if I could ever have a place to be put in!). Nobody makes it personal and hurts me. In real life, I learned from the days of Barbies and Truth or Dare that you weren't going to like the outcome unless you played both parts. I also learned about that time about passive-aggressiveness. Namely, my mom would undermine my attempts at being the cool Barbie because it made her the less-cool barbie and would spoil my fun. Low. Ok, show and tell time on childhood scars is over.

So bottom line, if I don't like you, you'll probably know it but won't quite know why. I won't overtly tell you off usually or try to confront you to make things better. Things will probably never recover after we face off. I'll resent you to the end of your days. I never learned how to deal with confrontation even a tiny little bit.

Wow, really I will find a happy warm and fuzzy to share soon. Life's just been a bit on that downward trend the past few weeks. Drama, hrmph.

Girl talk

I'll let you boys in on a little secret. You ever wonder how girls can always find something to talk about? It is because all but the thinnest girls can fall back on discussing their weight. Weight gain, desire to lose weight, diets, exercises, tips, and tricks. I, however, stand there awkwardly. I'm a thin girl. You try to contribute to that conversation when you have obviously never struggled with the number on the scale, and you'll get your eyes clawed out. Usually, I also try to stand very still because as their frustration mounts, it's not uncommon for the conversation to then turn angrily to my bitchiness for having inherited some great genes. *sigh* So now you know. Guys, steer clear if you see the ladies sizing each other up in the conversation. Come back later after they're worn out and a little defeated, then hit 'em up with a good compliment. Oh, or just rescue the scared thin girl-- she'll be grateful, and it will fuel the conversation for another 10 minutes.

Piss ant

I know it's bad to think mean thoughts about other people when they piss you off, but screw it, sometimes that's all that keeps you on the right side of the law.

This week has been national piss me off week, I think. I have referred to somebody in my life as the Pseudo-Douche. I literally went on a yelling rant to friends to avoid a restraining order from confronting the one who pissed me off. I woke up an hour late for work. I was almost crunched by a guy squealing out of his driveway in reverse. ........... I really don't have anger issues, I promise, but my gosh people, back up off me!

Hm, I'm hungry, so I'm gonna go. Weekends are much more mellow. I'm looking forward to it!

Sucked in

So I'm still finishing off my light summer vacay book. I'm very conflicted about it. I can't decide if the writer sucks at taking a story to the climactic point and beyond, or if she gambled and won with the guess that people would continue reading pointless chapter after pointless chapter on the assumption that eventually she would tie it all together. Honestly, I'm more focused on this aspect of the book than on the plot itself, since you know, there isn't one and all. Sequence, point of view, plot... all these traditional aspects of classic writing were abandoned completely. And not in an edgy post-mod kind of way either. Like in a sloppy, jotted on napkins because you needed the rent money, don't give a crap kind of way. Further proof to me that the people who write the glowing reviews must only read one chapter.

Now that I sound like a crotchety old fart with an axe to grind, I'll soothe my anger by deleting things from the DVR and preparing for work tomorrow.

P.S. People who take advantage of the elderly should be shot. A coworker of mine told his mom never to make a big purchase without double checking it with the family first to make sure she wasn't talked into anything stupid. Wonder how I can convince my parents to do that in a few years without getting disowned for making it seem like my judgment is better than theirs. Hm...

Venom

Spit fire and vinegar. I've had a lot of venom in my veins this week. I think it's something about the post-vacation blues. No housekeeper preparing for my arrival at home. The mess we left in the tornadic wake of packing a week of clothing into a carry-on bag was still waiting when I got home. The pile for goodwill, the stack of crap to sell on craigslist, the funk in our garbage disposal... all still there. They seem smug, gloating that they stood their ground and waited me out. I came back to them.

The worst was the to-do lists. To leave for vacation, I put in some serious hours at work, which meant that everything other than food and shelter necessities went by the wayside in my home life. Of course much of the time at home before I crashed into bed to do it all again the next day was spent feeling guilty and indignant with myself about how I needed to stop all that and find a way to manage things via miraculous intervention so I could always keep it to 8 hrs a day.


In other news, I just caught myself singing along to half a line of that Miley Cyrus song. Don't judge me. I stopped as soon as I realized it! My husband then accidentally flipped to the reggae-sung-by-white-boys channel. Between the two, I'd go with Miley.

Because husband questioned my reasons, profuse hyperlinking can be attributed to Tony's teachings. As if you really had to ask.

Teetering on the edge.

I think Dooce would be proud...

I was a little pissy tonight, thoroughly equal opportunity about it at least, and may have gone a little over the edge with what I told my husband. Somehow I made a reference to "tampon rock" and then made a pissy comment to myself about hating that term.

My husband then proceeded to direct my wrath back over to him. He then said, "some people would call your behavior bitchy, but I would just call it PRINCESSSSSSSS!!!"

I told him that if he wasn't careful, I would fashion my kleenex into a tampon and shove it up his urethra.... or I could use one of our kitchen knives to fashion a vaginal opening for it in his taint.

Did I go too far? Seeing it in black & white, I would definitely say yes. Do I give myself redemption points for laughing as I said it so he didn't enter the witness protection program? You bet. I consider it just a slight overreaction at that point.

I will remember to be grateful for my husband tonight because he gets my warped, twisted sense of humor and laughs right along with me on this crazy rollercoaster we signed onto together.

Home sweet home

Sorry, I've been on vacation.  I think I must be a homebody.  I couldn't get a good night sleep, my body was out of whack the whole time, I was starving most of the trip, I got car sick, and I reached that breaking point of being so exhausted that I could cry about 5 days in.  Oh yes, and the most brutal kicker of all for any woman... I gained 8 lbs in that one week of vacation, while my husband lost 2.  You can all be grateful that you don't live in a 5 mile radius of my house when I found that ugly little truth.

As soon as I got home, my body was much happier, though.  No more car sickness, normal levels of hunger, restful nights of sleep, and able to handle stress again.  And of course, I started working out to knock back those 8 ugly new buddies of mine.  There will be no pooch to my tummy and no thunder for my thighs!

Seize the day

Sometimes you just have to seize the moments. You have to recognize the opportunities as they come. The chance to see a legend perform in concert. To make the most of a trip that you'll probably only make once.

The true challenge is to seize every moment. Not to make each minute of your life something outrageous and spectacular, but to enjoy every last drop out of every single day. If things are good or bad, it's all temporary. Enjoy it for what it is and move on.

If I master this, I'll be sure to let you know how to do it.

Get over it

For me, this is easier said than done. My mind never learned how to let go of things. I hold onto it like a rabid pit bull with a bone. Logically I know that it's foolish and is detrimental to me (and often to my husband), but emotionally I can't force myself to forget it.

I think that sometimes God sends you messages in a way that only you notice when He wants to keep it low key. Somebody REALLY frustrated me today and I couldn't let it go, and within an hour a friend told me about a philosophy she learned that reminds you that whatever somebody does or says about you is really all about them and not anything to do about you. I know this message is meant to remind me to work harder at changing this. I also know that each time that memory riles me up, I'll also remember the message and force myself to simmer.

We are all a work in progress. We'd all be a little kinder to ourselves if we could remember that.