Since November I've responded to like 1070 questions and asked a few of my own. So it's safe to say I've spent some time there. Yeah, I like it way better than Facebook or Twitter!
Well, anyway!
There are some Dooce members that ask some very personal and/or out there kinda questions (and pholks will answer them in great detail). I've even answered some because I thought my answer could help (or entertain) a few.
A few days ago I broke down and posted personal question of mine own — because I had to know:
Click the image above to read the (maybe not so safe for work) responses (and go to Dooce Community!).
Now the thing is, here lately? I have been eating peanut butter on toast almost every day because I mistakenly bought this peanut butter thinking it was just creamy peanut butter (as opposed to crunchy). And that stuff is good!.
But I'd been getting a whiff of that "peanut butter" odor several times over the past few years. No, I didn't say anything to my doctor. There were no other symptoms and I really thought it just had to be my imagination because who's vayjayjay smells like peanut butter?
Oh, mine!
I knew I could ask this question of my Doocemates because somebody in the the community always seems to have an answer for anything. Yes, we're a very diverse group!
Well. No one did. Oh, but there were others with odd vayjayjay scents, so I still felt in good company better.
Finally I decided to ask my Darling Husband if he'd ever noticed a peanut butter scent.
(I'll let you imagine on that for a second.)
And so…
…I was able to post this for all my Doocemates to enjoy:
Click the image above to read the responses and go to Dooce Community again for even more maybe not so safe for work replies!
Which prompted me to start working on a post about my questions and remarks from my doocemates last night — oh, but there's more!
Because this morning I was gifted with a kicker!
Dooce wrote a post featuring a different community question. It's a lovely post regarding her recent wedding anniversary.And I'm reading on and on, and then to her closing line…
My sister-n-law had the chaplain set us up for this photo and she kept flashing me the "ok" hand sign, which would make me laugh. I didn't realize she was wanting me to flash it over my new and darling husband's shoulder with our wedding license on his back.
I also learned that everyone does not really "kiss the bride" that day…
Darling hubby and I culled through our closet and dresser drawers. We finished with 8 bags of clothing to donate and a few that just had to be trashed. Apparently one can have too many polo shirts!
Now we have room in the closet to move things back and forth and our dresser drawers open properly again.
~ … ~
I have been flying for decades. I think I may have been eight or nine years old when I first began. It was so difficult at first. Learning the right amount of running time and just how small a rise would give me any lift.
At first the length of time I was airborne was so short, I thought I'd just imagined any time past the second or two of a normal hop, skip, and jump. As each year would pass my time aloft would become more and more prolonged. By age eleven I was surely aerial a good and equal eleven minutes.
It was not my imagination.
I was flying.
I could fly.
All by myself. Up in the air. Maybe a good forty feet above land.
I did well at keeping my secret. I would say to my pholks that I was going to ride my bike. And I would ride my bike. I'd ride my bike to the most private places I could find.
Flying about in circles lost its interest quickly and so I was constantly searching for bigger spaces to hone my skill.
By age seventeen I could stay elevated for nearly an hour. Landings were smooth and soft. Height was no longer limiting — I could go as high as I chose, but not as high as I wanted. Too much height could lead to discovery and I had an innate awareness to keep this gift from notice without the understanding of that wisdom.
At thirty I no longer needed to run a few a few paces up even the smallest bump in a field before I could take off. Just a casual few steps and I was airborne. I'd have to force the approach to altitude to keep aloft.
Around my fortieth birthday I'd conquered the ability to ascend and descent with the calmness of an ebb tide.
Finding the time and place to take to the air was becoming a rarity. Family, home, and life made it difficult for me to break away. Our choice to live in a densely populated area also meant less alternatives for privacy.
I became unexpectedly aware that I was not noticeable. Not me. I had not become invisible, too.
My action was not detectable.
It was the animals. My dog no longer chased and barked from the ground below. Instead she would just follow under me as if we were walking together. Birds in flight were no longer startled to find me beside them.
I could fly where ever I chose! People might see me above them, but there was no panic. It wasn't that they were accepting of my status in the air — they just couldn't see that I was flying. Their minds were only conscious of my appearance. Their memory was of seeing me at the grocery or across the street. It was an oddly wonderful and sensational realization.
And this summer? On this warm morning in the middle of my forty-ninth year?
I no longer needed any pre-steps to flight.
You were walking beside me, holding my hand, and I was hovering in that grasp.
Tomorrow I'm going to share this wonderful secret with you.
Tomorrow you will ride with me…
~ … ~
Monday (being yesterday) is also the day I prefer to change our bed linens.
However mine was probably conditional as I only had trouble making water while having to pee in a cup. I’ve had this problem before. I blame it on the awkward position one must use in order to pee in a cup. One should be able to pee in a hat and then drain the hat into a cup. See. There. Problem solved.
I had to pee in a cup for a pre-employment drug test.
I took the job!
They did bump up the hourly rate over what they had initially offered because of my abundance of clerical experience. It’s still a few dollars less than what I was making six months ago (because this job only requires a high school education) but I’m okay because I’m also going to get some nice shift differentials and I’ve already decided that those are going straight into savings.
That’s me. Planning ahead already.
Yesterday Hubby and I were driving to his office and I spotted a truck painted like a Gateway cow turning into the road. Soon we were right behind it and I had to take this photo:
BECAUSE IT HAD A TAIL!
Of course the darling husband wasn’t so impressed by the tail as he was the license plate — it read "Mr Moo." So I took this picture of him out of spite (because he was so dismissive of the tail) as he hates having his picture taken.
I’ve not told Lily or the Minikins about my new job yet. They won’t understand until I’m leaving them for long periods of time. And then they will look at me with those "please don’t leave us" faces and I will still have to go…
That means I have nine months before I catch up to him — but really? He will always be OLDER than me!
And there is cake!
We went to Sam’s club for some tp and other like stuff, but first we made a quick stop at the VOLVO dealer. The little message thing in our car said URGENT CHECK ENGINE, but the dealer was closed.
Hubby checked all the fluids while I looked over the manual. The manual said the message meant we could still drive the car, but we needed to get it checked out asap. Of course there was no hint as to what could be the problem and the car didn’t behave as if something was wrong.
We decided since we were already this close to Sam’s we’d go ahead and make that trip, but then go home. Too bad. I’m nearly out of veggie burgers. And we got the bread I like to eat them with from Sam’s, so there is another trip to the grocer in our future.
My backyard is so small. It amazes me how much playing the girls manage to do in such a small space. They really take advantage of every inch of our yard:
And that nice little dirt path down the center there? Yup, my whole back yard is nothing but more (and not nearly as tidy) of these little dirt paths (all produced by the Lily puppy).
Yesterday Hubby and I traveled to Sam’s Club to hunt us up a printer. Just a printer. Not an all-in-one-knit-me-a-sweater-multi-function jobber.
A printer. That just prints.
Yeah, I think I’m gonna have to buy one online for that…
BUT!
Lookit what I came upon for just $19.97 or something:
So I called Hubby over for inspection. He keeps misplacing his — and he has a "work" pair and some for home. Now he can keep a pair in every room of our house! See how my DH has already loosed one pair from the package? Yup, it’s musical readers in our house. Fer sure!
Lily will be a year old this month. Remember when we brought her home?
Tokenbloggeris a middle aged fat lady who lives in a small Victorian cottage (in historic Lexington, Kentucky USA) with her husband of 28 years, 2 dogs, a cat, and a tortoise. She is the mother to one adult child who recently returned home (with his dog) to "attend" college --- and now he has a new kitten, too!
Tokenblogger is recently unemployed. While looking for a new position Tokenblogger also does stuff like:
write
keep house
hang out with the pets
walk the neighborhood
blog (write)
draw
read (books!)
cruise the internet
some website design
write
nap
visit friends and family
listen to the radio
and her iTunes collection
watch television
write
work on her wellness
in mind & body
get through each day
write
and some other … stuff.
Tokenblogger has a favorite color, too. Take a wild guess, will ya!