Archive for the ‘Random crap’ Category

I’ve been procrastinating on posting here because I finally took the plunge and bought my own domain name and I’m moving this over to a self-hosted blog. I was hoping it would be done by now, but we’re still tweaking a few things.

I didn’t forget about Weight Loss Wednesday either. Unfortunately, this week Weight Loss Wednesday became “have-a-tooth-pulled Wednesday” The day started off bad and only got worse. I lived with some jaw pain all day on Tuesday and by the time I woke up on Wednesday, it was unbearable. I woke up late Wednesday morning. I was running so late that I forgot to weigh myself and I forgot to take my blood sugar reading. I got to work and called the dentist’s office as soon as they opened. They got me a 10:30 appointment so I left work early and headed over there. I don’t know what I was expecting, but them telling me that I had a tooth that needed to come out right then and there was not it. When they told me I had to have a tooth pulled I said okay, I’ll make an appointment. They said no, it needs to be done now. Well okay then. I’ve never had a tooth pulled before.

This tooth is waaaaaaaaaaaaay in the back on the upper left hand side. The good Dr. got me all numbed up and away he went tugging and pulling and snipping and oh my god the sounds!!! No one should ever have to hear their tooth crunching and breaking and hear the roots being snipped. I still shudder now just thinking about it. Needless to say, after the Novocaine wore off, I was in a good amount of pain. The good Dr. gave me plenty of hydrocodone and that is what has kept me relatively sane the past two days. Unfortunately, I had to return to work today, and that means just plain old ibuprofen for pain, and that shit ain’t cutting it.

I’m counting the hours until I can return home and take real meds to take the edge off the pain. On the plus side, I did remember to weigh myself this morning and I’ve lost a pound. I was hoping for a bit more, but losing anything is better than gaining.

Weight Loss Wednesday will be back next week in full force and, with any luck, on the new site!


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Today can suck it

I’d really like to start this day over.  On second thought, no.  There’s not one moment of this day so far that I’d like to relive.  Let’s just fast foward to tomorrow, please.

It started by getting up extra early so that I could go have a vampire phlebotomist draw blood.  Now, I have very deep, difficult veins to find.  I know this.  I always inform the phlebotomist.  I expect pain.  It’s not their fault.  Today the phlebotomist decided to draw blood from my wrist because the vein was visible.  Let me just tell you, I’m not a whimp when it comes to needles.  I have four tattooes and they didn’t bother me.  Taking blood from the vein in my wrist?  Sweet baby jeebus that hurt!  Not only did inserting the needle hurt, but her moving it around and sticking it in deeper about sent me through the roof.  My doctor must have ordered every test under the sun, because she just kept filling vial after vial.  Six hours later my wrist is still so sore that my entire hand hurts.  After experiencing this pain, I don’t know how anyone slits their wrists when they decide to off themselves.

After leaving the vampire’s office, I went and voted.  This is about the only thing in my day so far that went well.  I get to work and have to deal with the backflow of stuff because I left early yesterday to attend to some health issues.  Spent part of the morning at work dealing with said health issues.

Lunch time arrives.  I look forward to getting out of the office for an hour.  I decide to drive a little further than usual and try a deli near downtown I’ve heard is good.  I fight the rain and the traffic all the way down there only to discover the place is out of business.  Decide to stop at steak and shake on my way back to the office.  I pull into the parking lot and around the building to the drive through.  Out of nowhere this bitch woman in a ginormous Escalade pulls in front of me and cuts me off in the drive through lane.  I resist the urge to get out of my car and bitch slap her.  I wait patiently as she orders food for an army.  My turn at the speaker arrives and I order a burger that comes with caramelized onions, cheese and butter.  Now, I don’t know about you, but steak and shake burgers are greasy enough without adding butter to the mix.  So why order it?  I want the caramlized onions.  I order said burger with no butter, but add ketchup and mayo.  I also order a drink, but no fries.  I get up to the window and pay and think the price is a little high, but whatever.  I get my food, I drive away.  I grab my burger and realize there are fries in the bag.  They charged me for the combo I didn’t order, but whatever.  No big deal.  Until.  I open the burger.  It has no ketchup.  No mayo.  Tons of butter.  I do a quick u-turn and go back.  I go inside and explain that nothing about my order, other than the drink, is correct.

The cashier refunds me for the fries and they make me a new burger.  The guy who is actually  making my burger comes up and asks me again, specifically how I want it.  He makes it, hands it to me and I leave.  As I’m walking to my car, Moses’ mom and dad are pulling into the parking spot next to mine and come within inches of hitting my car.  Seriously, at some point, driving tests should be required every year.  I get in my car and leave.  Get back on the road and open my burger.  The guy who specifically asked me how I wanted it made it the exact same way he did the first time.  The. Exact. Same. Way. 

Now, I know I should have checked it before I left the second time.  But the guy made it a point to come up to me and ask me exactly how I wanted it.  One would think since he asked, he’d make it the way I instructed.  One would be wrong.  At this point, going back was not an option.  I had to get back to work.  I did call and speak to a manager, and they’ll buy my lunch another day.  Wonderful.  I’ll make sure I triple check it.  In the mean time, I choked down the burger with butter because, well, I had to eat something.  I’m going to regret this all day long.

I’m hoping the rest of the day is fairly uneventful.  I’d just like to fast forward to being home and having wine and chocolate for dinner.

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Romance.  It means different things to different people.  I’m not super sappy.  I don’t need The Man to say I love you 50 times a day.  I don’t need saccharine filled wall posts and comments on Facebook from him.  I’m not that neurotic insecure.  I know he loves me.  He tells me he loves me, even if it isn’t 50 times a day. 

However (you knew there was a however coming, didn’t you?), it’s nice to get those little romantic surprises every now and then.  Like a lot of women, I love flowers; specifically roses.  I know they’ll die in a matter of days.  I know they’re not practical.  I don’t care.  I like them.  I’m not particular about the color.  Any color will do.  Now, he has sent the requisite dozen roses to my office on Valentine’s Day, our anniversary, etc.  Sometimes though? I’d like to get roses or some other romantic gesture for no specific reason.  Just because it’s Tuesday.  Or whatever.  I took matters into my own hands and bought myself a dozen roses yesterday.  They’re pink, and they’re beautiful.  

Please to be ignoring the messy table they're sitting on.

 The Man noticed them and said he had thought a few days ago about buying me roses, but didn’t know where to get them where they wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg.  I need to teach him where to shop. 

See, he is more practical than romantic.  That’s ok, but there are times he needs to venture outside his comfort zone.  He hates shopping.  I don’t mean that he doesn’t really care for it.  He. Hates. It.  So, for Christmas, birthdays and other gift-giving occasions, he wants me to tell him exactly what I want.  He will go buy those items and call it a day.  He particularly loves when I find an item online and send him the link.  That way he doesn’t have to leave the comfort of the couch.  My Amazon wish list is his favorite friend.  Now, his reasoning behind this is that he doesn’t want to get me something I’m not going to like.  I can appreciate that.  However, it’s also nice to be surprised every now and then.  And really?  The thought DOES count.  Buying something from a list doesn’t require any much thought. Step outside your comfort zone and make an effort.  I promise to love it even if I don’t.  Last Christmas we decided that we would each get one small surprise gift to open on Christmas morning.  After all, we have kids and Christmas isn’t really about us anymore anyway.  Oh, and guess who gets to take care of shopping for the people on his Christmas list as well as my own?  It’s a damn good thing I like to shop.

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When friends aren’t

Friendships are funny things.  New ones are born, and sometimes older ones die.  Sometimes it’s a disagreement that kills them, sometimes it’s distance, sometimes it’s just life.  No matter why a friendship ends, someone usually gets hurt in the process.  It may not be intentional, but hurt is hurt.

I’ve been reevaluating some of the friendships in my life.  There are select few friendships that have seemed to die a slow death.  I suppose you could spread the blame among all involved.  One went back to school and has little time to get together.  Others, if I’m honest about it, were more acquaintances than friends to begin with.  There’s one, though, that stings more than the rest. 

I realize going back to school to further your career is time consuming.  I didn’t expect to get together with the same frequency we used to.  However, I didn’t expect to not see her at all.  It’s been at least a year and a half since we have seen each other.  We live 15 minutes apart.  She has made time to get together with new school friends and also some other people that are part of our circle of friends.  Yes, my feelings are hurt.  I want to know why she has time for some, but not me.  We were very close friends.  Finish each other’s sentences type friends.  Part of me really shouldn’t be surprised.  I have seen her do this same thing to another supposed close friend.  I saw that person get hurt and try to reach out only to be rejected time and time again.  I guess that’s why I haven’t simply asked her what the deal is.  I saw first hand how she reacted when the other friend did it.

I don’t spend a lot of time dwelling on this, but I see her posts on Facebook about hanging out with mutual friends and the hurt and jealousy rears its ugly head.  Why not include me?  I know all those people too.  I suppose I’ve moved from friend to afterthought; or perhaps no thought at all.  Given time, I’m sure she’ll probably do the same thing to the people she hangs out with now.  It seems to be a pattern.  I guess some people can only have a select number of friends at any given time.  I think what makes this worse for me is that I did a lot to help her when she was having some tough times.  Her completely turning her back on me feels like a giant Fuck You.

I certainly understand being busy and whatnot.  I am also back in school, but I haven’t turned my back on my friendships.  I still get together with other friends on occasion.  I still keep in contact even if I don’t see them on a regular basis.  I don’t lie to them about why I can’t meet them.  I keep saying that I’m going to remove them from buddy lists, Facebook, etc.  Yet I can’t seem to pull the trigger and do it.  I guess part of me hopes that things will change at some point.  I know I’m fooling myself. 

I have friends from my childhood years that, while I don’t speak with them very often, when we do speak it’s as if no time has passed and we pick up right where we left off.  I’m not so needy that I need to spend every spare second with my friends.  I’m not asking that of her or anyone else for that matter.  I know it’s normal for relationships to change and sometimes end.  That knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less when it happens.  And that?  Sucks.  Big time.

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To the woman in Ross with the screaming banshee child. I have a young child. I realize that they don’t always enjoy the shopping experience as much as we would like them to. There comes a point, however, when your child is being so disruptive that no matter how much you’re enjoying casually strolling through isles of discount clothes and housewares, seemingly oblivious to your screaming child, that your fun must come to an end for the sanity of the rest of the shopping public. The worst part about all of this is I don’t even know where you were in the store. I know where you weren’t. You weren’t near your children. Apparently your lack ofparenting skills dictated that your older boy, who had to be all of 7 at the most, was in charge of watching your girl who appeared to be no more than 3. It was this demonic angelic little child who was screaming at the top of her lungs. Repeatedly. For at least 15 minutes. Not once did I see an adult in their general vicinity. I could still hear the poor child when I was on the opposite side of the store.

When I went through the checkout line with my purchases, I could still hear your child screaming relentlessly. I informed the cashier that I had just come from that part of the store and there was not an adult in sight. I sincerely hoped that management did something about it. Perhaps I should have stayed to find out. My ears, on the other hand, were very grateful to get out of that store and into the relative quiet of the busy parking lot.

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Empty Nest

Every summer my Little Man spends time with his two grandmothers. He generally spends one or two weeks with my mom and another two weeks with his paternal grandmother. In years past, these weeks have not been consecutive. This year, however, they are. At first I was giddy with the kid-free possibilities. A whole month to enjoy adult things. To be able to sleep a little later since I didn’t have to drop him off at his dads or at karate in the morning before work. To be able to stop and do a little shopping on the way home from work since I wouldn’t have to rush to pick him up. To be able to sleep with my bedroom door open, thereby making the bedroom at least 10 degrees cooler. To be able to go to the bathroom without having him knock on the door to ask me some silly question. To be able to go out with friends and not have to worry about a sitter. To just be.

School ended and the time for his extended vacation approached and I packed up his little suitcase with glee. But now? He’s been gone two weeks and I can’t stand it. How am I going to survive the next two weeks?? I miss that Little Man soooooo much. He is having the time of his life frolicking in the Smoky Mountains in North Carolina. He’s been hiking, 4-wheeling, white water rafting, rock climbing, swimming every day. I don’t think he’s had time to miss me. He says he does when we speak on the phone, but I remember my summers with my grandparents and those were some of the most fun times ever. I don’t begrudge his good time. I WANT him to have a good time. I wouldn’t give up those summers with my grandparents for anything in the world. I want the same for him. The memories he’s making now will last a lifetime. He’s growing up so fast and I want him to enjoy every single second of his childhood. But I still miss him. A piece of me is missing and it will return home in 2 more weeks.

Just thinking that I still have two entire weeks before he returns weighs on my heart. Of course, ask me after he’s been back for a couple weeks and I’ll probably be ready to ship him off for another few days! But certainly not another month!

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I started my blog as a place to get my thoughts and feelings out of my head and onto paper, virtual though it may be. Writing is cathartic. It’s a wonderful outlet. Except when it isn’t. The catch 22 with having a public blog is that sometimes you have to censor yourself, or shut yourself up completely because of people that read your blog. I’m not talking about the few people I don’t know personally who read my blog. Rather, the people in my daily life that read it.

I’ve got so many thoughts rambling around that I really want to get out. Need to get out. Normally, this is where I would come to let them out. This time, however, I can’t do that. It’s one thing to reveal my personal issues to the world. I make a conscious decision on what I allow the world to see. I have to be respectful, however, of the people in my life and what they might or might not want revealed about them on my blog. When those two issues collide, it leaves me in a quandary. I want to write, but I don’t want to violate any trust in those I love.

I want to scream and shout and let my fingers fly. But I can’t. So this is me writing about not writing.

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