So I have been doing some things since I had to let Emma go. Life goes on and all that other stuff. I’ll see or hear or smell something and there will be Emma in my mind and I’ll choke up. The first week moved into the second and I sorta lost myself for a few days, but I came back.
A Friday back was the night before the Tri For Sight. Hubby had to attend a volunteer meeting that night (I never go to those) so after work I walked over to Wines On Vine to wait for him.
I’d never actually been to Wines on Vine (which is really on Old Vine in downtown Lexington) but I’d had their blue cheese dip the day after many BGA meetings. We’ve been using them as a caterer for these meetings since moving to a new venue.
The Uber One would often walk over to the bistro on his lunch hour and bring back a lovely sandwich or something. He would always say they make a good sandwich.
These volunteer meetings usually wrap up in an hour to 90 minutes and since I was feeling a strong need to have some vodka I decided to make an appearance at the bistro/wine shop. I drank the first black russian rather quickly, but did my best to savor the second. At 6 I walked over to the wine shop side to discover they were having a tasting. I tried all three and bought a bottle of one. A white that was a bit fruity, but not too sweet. I’m not really a white wine person. I prefer the deep reds at room temperature, but this little white was not too bad.
I decided to buy it because it reminded me of one of the home made wines my little brother makes in his basement. It also came with a little glass stopper instead of a cork. Charming! Meaning I’ll be keeping the bottle and its stopper for a while…
I also picked up a bottle of this — because I liked the label! It was okay. Meaning I shouldn’t buy a wine because of its label…
At a quarter to seven I was sitting outside and decided to order something to eat. If I was still eating whenever hubby arrived he could share before we left. I chose the warm cheese dip because I’d never had it fresh before. Let me tell you, always eat the warm blue cheese dip fresh. It’s amazing.
As it turned out darling hubby didn’t arrive to pick me up until well after eight. He had stayed after the meeting to help fill up the schwag bags for the Tri For Sight participants. I was tired, but he was pooped. Hubby tried the red as soon as we got home. I went to bed.
The next morning we were at the race venue to set things up and register the entrants. We took turns with paperwork and being a runner for the schwag bags. Neither of us was none too comfortable in the short little chairs they had for us to sit upon at the registration table.
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| DH unloading the schwag bags… |
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New registration recruit… |
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| She taking ours… |
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So sorry for the lousy pic, Susan! |
Sunday we came home from the race to discover that the Minnikins had managed to nearly rip off one of her dew claws. I tried so hard to put a bandage on it, but she just wasn’t having it. Tuesday morning the vet removed both dew claws and quicked all of her toe nails, too.
She’s been quite the depressed little doggie since Tuesday, but still very determined to tear off the bandages, pull out the stitches and lick those wounds to worrysome and back. I even took her to work with me to keep an eye on the little wound licker. Don’t let the following pictures fool you into thinking she is an angel in disguise:
On my desk at the office…
Our own little religious icon…
Home today (carefully positioned covers to keep her from picking)…
From an email I received on my lunch hour today:
If you had purchased $1,000 of shares in Delta Airlines one year ago, you will have $49.00 today.
If you had purchased $1,000 of shares in AIG one year ago, you will have $33.00 today.
If you had purchased $1,000 of shares in Lehman Brothers one year ago, you will have $0.00 today.
But, if you had purchased $1,000 worth of beer one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the aluminum cans for recycling, you will have received a $214.00 refund.
Based on the above, the best current investment plan is to drink heavily & recycle.
It is called the 401-Keg
UPDATE: Just discovered it’s from this website: http://401kegplan.com/keg/
I took Friday and Monday as vacation days thinking with such a nice long weekend I’d be home getting all kinds of things done.
That didn’t happen.
I did not finish going through all the boxes of crap around this house of which I planned to sort into clear plastic totes while at the same time trashing so much and separating more into different bags for different charities.
I did not clean the kitchen, bathrooms, bedroom, living room … any room.
I did not get my son’s homecoming room put together.
I did not go for a bike ride.
I did not walk my dogs.
I did not even take a shower (until today, but then I had to go around forever with out a bra to wear because all seven of mine were in the washer, which I started before I stepped into the shower) dammit.
Instead…
I drank too much coffee (most of it was decaf).
Got us some of those fabulous cupcakes like we had at the wedding ( and then lived off those for two days because how could I eat anything else when I was being so bad eating all these cupcakes).
Watched some movies on Showtime (which we got free for one year with no obligation and you know I’m cancelling once that year is up).
Sat and stared … a lot.
Visited with E (who does more in one hour than I do in a week).
Watched the kids play in the alley … often.
Took a lot of otc pain meds (because my arthritis hurts) dammit.
Slept for many hours (because the sleep was not good because of the pain my arthritis has been causing me lately).
Discovered my boss called me (but I missed the call because I left my cell phone in the bathroom because I had taken it with me to the bathroom so I wouldn’t miss it if my boss called me).
Played with my dogs.
Loved on the cat.
Put some anti-flea stuff on each of them (because it is that time of the month, ah ha ha).
Surfed the net.
Today I did take that shower and I am doing laundry.
I don’t know that I’ll do anything else.
Tomorrow I have to go back to work.
I already have a list of things to do at work that I wrote down last week in preparation for my return — so I wouldn’t forget, you know.
I know what I’m doing.
I really do.
I’m just trying to hold it together.
I just don’t why it has become so difficult me to do so.
I sit and stare and feel powerless to even move.
Completely powerless.
… has been coming to our front door a few times in the past couple of weeks asking for a hand out.
Well, the first time he said he was trying to sell an organ (I’m hoping he meant the musical kind) but when I told him "no, thank you" hey says he is just trying to raise some money for food — and then asks me for a couple of dollars. Thankfully, I was honestly able to tell him I had no money on me and he left. (Yeah, like I ever have any money on me or even in the house! Extra money? Just sitting in my pocket? Or atop a dresser? Extra money? What’s that?)
Dude, we give to the United Way and that soup kitchen a few blocks away. You need to go there.
That was on a Sunday morning. Churchish time.
Then he came on a Saturday afternoon.
Then one time I was just sitting on the porch watching Harold make his way about the sunny front yard.
And there was this one time, like about 6:30 am, and he’s at the door telling me that we left our car’s lights on. ‘Cept that wasn’t our car parked out front (it was the neighbor’s — they seem to do that a lot) and he was on a bike.
Then last night. AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK. P.M. LIKE AN HOUR BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
WTF?
So this morning my hubby tells me he’s locking all the deadbolts from now on. Yep, this guy is really freaking us out. I’m gonna ask some other pholks on the street if he’s been coming to them, too. And I’m thinking I’m gonna have to mention it to the neighborhood police officers.
Scraggerly looking guy doesn’t look familiar to me, but Idunno. It could be I gave him some money or a sandwich once when we lived in the deluxe apartment in the skyyyyy.
There were always plenty of street people about when we lived there. It got to the point where I was banned from carrying any money at all — even if I was only going to the corner drugstore. I only carried the debit card. Because I would give the panhandlers money if I had it on me. Even if all I had was a fiver.
Which I once gave to Wilma. OMG!
So if they said they were hungry I’d offer to make them a sandwich if they’d wait here in the park (kinda like the front yard of the building). They weren’t always there when I came back out with the sandwich , and milk, AND COOKIES.
No matter, there was always some other street person around willing to take the food — like Wilma.
I wish I could make one understand how it is to live inside my head.
Could you imagine going through life with an image in your head of yourself and then walking by a mirror or seeing a photograph and being shocked? Surprised?
That would be me.
In this head of mine I do not look like that image in the mirror or that person in the photograph.
Seeing these more concrete images sends me reeling.
Don’t misunderstand me. I know I am fat. Obese. Morbidly Obese.
But I don’t feel that way in this head.
I want my outside to look like my inside feels it to be.
Yesterday I went to the gym. I was careful with my tender back (which is doing much better, thank you) but still I was able to work up a sweat on the stationary bike and do enough reps on different weight machines to feel like I was getting some where.
I feel so normal inside…and then I walk by a mirror.
Oh, yeah. I’m fat. Got to remember that.
I spotted this on my walk to the office after working out at the gym. I was tempted to pick it up, but I knew the weeds would have stayed behind and all I’d have was a pen that prolly doesn’t even work. So I took this picture instead.
That’s exactly what it looked like. For real. In my head. And in this picture.
If only it were this simple in my head, too.
Saturday, after the girls were finished with their lessons at PetSmart, we went to visit our dearest Miss B:
She was quite happy to see ALL of us.
The first time I met Miss B she told me she was dying. I thought she meant she had cancer or something, but no. For Miss B, once you make it to a particular age marker, "dying" is her reply to "how are you doing?". That was ten years ago. She is twice my age and no longer drives because she doesn’t want to die at the wheel. So now she pays a fella to drive her places.
We’re in her living room, all settled in with nice glasses of ice water, the girls have a nice fresh bowl of water in the kitchen, and thus begins the show.
Miss B’s short term memory was stolen from her when she was under anesthesia while having a new hip installed a couple of years ago. I don’t mean she tells the same stories over and over. I mean she asks the same questions over and over. Like she is constantly offering you something to drink or eat. No matter that you’re sitting right beside her with your bourbon in one hand and a lovely piece of cheese in the other.
It’s hard to get Hubby to go with me to visit Miss B. He tires of her quickly and just waits to go home. I’ve tried putting the races on her tv for him, but no, he doesn’t want to appear rude…
Miss B can fall asleep Just Like That. Any lull in the conversation or just seven minutes since she last dozed off and down she’ll go. I was lucky enough to get this shot with my ever present handy dandy cell phone camera:
A minute later she woke herself with her own sleep talking.
"Was I snoring?"
"No, but SHE took your picture while you were asleep," my husband tattles.
"I wasn’t sleeping," she snaps back with that southern and righteously indignant way she has, "I was entertaining."
And she gives me this look that I also get a shot of:
I was really surprised this picture came out so well. I was laughing so hard at Miss B’s remark that she was entertaining because it put this memory of an old post by the retired-from-blogging Mist1, "Pants and Entertaining," right up there in that laugh out loud part of my brain that lacks any conscious power of restraint.
So yesterday I’m sitting in a waiting room for my yearly MAMMOGRAM and across from me is this old guy; whom I’m guessing is waiting for his better half while she’s getting her boobage abused. He keeps nodding off and then snapping back awake. He looks at me and I smile at him. He seems embarrassed that I have witnessed his public dozing and tries to deceive me by covering his face…like I wouldn’t know he is not sleeping he is entertaining.
So I’ve got my little home based business and two paying customers (WOOT!) and now I’ve added ADVERTISING to my site.
"Ruh Rho."
I have a full time job with benefits. And while I don’t make a king’s ransom, it does *help pay the bills. But sometimes? Sometimes I want stuff. But I ain’t got no money fer it.
"Know whut ah mean?"
I want a new ‘puter. I wanna new Mac. A bigger one. Faster. Stronger. Than evruh before.
So I’m working on the side to get what I want. After all, I am an American. And when we want something we earn the money and we buy it.
At least that was the way I was told.
It’s all I want. I want my hobby to help pay for itself. And I’m a gonna use dis here innanet to git whut ah want.
I studied dem dere ads and decided I would give BlogHer Ad Network a try. Supposedly they will some what promote my blog because I have their ads on it, which should get me more loyal readers, up my hits, up my ad revenue — and when you figure all this together I MIGHT actually earn enough between the two sidelines to GET ME A NEW MAC.
Y’all come back now, ya hear. And bring yer friends! I’ll thank you fer it. You know I will!
Because this blog is all about ME. And ME wants a new Mac!
* My other half has a job that helps out with the bills, too.
See da moobie here!
From SpaceWeather.com
MOONDUST AND DUCT TAPE: Going to the Moon? Don’t forget your duct tape. Thirty-six years ago when Apollo 17 astronauts found themselves a quarter million miles from home with a damaged moonbuggy, a roll of "good old fashioned American gray tape" saved the day: full story.
At a quarter to seven I was sitting outside and decided to order something to eat. If I was still eating whenever hubby arrived he could share before we left. I chose the warm cheese dip because I’d never had it fresh before. Let me tell you, always eat the warm blue cheese dip fresh. It’s amazing.
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