Lori got out of surgery late last night and I stayed the night with her. When I left this morning she was sleeping. The doctor was pleased with the results. Hopely Lori will be back to posting in a week or so. Continue the emails, she reads them all.
For those who have been wondering where Lori is, she was hospitalized again. She went in on August 19th, although she was pretty sick for about a week leading up to it. She is having surgery today. Hopefully this will finally correct the problem. Lori asked that I post to let everyone know what was going on. She is in good spirits and actually relieved that this should fix things for good. The hospital she is staying at has an email service. I haven't used it so I'm not sure exactly how it works. The hospital is St. John's Medical Center in Longview Washington. It's Lori Carlson in room 606. She goes in to surgery at 4pm, but I'll be there all afternoon to get messages.
Pookie
My primary doc refilled the duragesic patch for me so Pooky ran over and got it filled. I think just in the nick of time because last night my gut started going into "back-up mode" where it won't drain because of the oral narcotics and there was nothing in my bag this morning meaning I had gone over 6 hours without poo leaving my body. So upon getting up I had to use the stint to get some of it out.
As soon as Pooky came back with the patches I slapped one on, ate some cereal so I could take more gabapentin, etc. Hopefully my gut will agree to resume expelling waste again without the tube. I don't feel sick to my stomach, so I think I'm catching things before it gets to the point where I wind up in the hospital.
How The Visit Went
My dad makes outstanding homemade pizza! I think he's gotten it down to a science! I said that he is very meticulous and perfectionistic when it comes to cooking. That much about him hasn't changed. I swear his pizza is restaurant quality. I even said he should go public with it. The crust was thin and crisp on the bottom, but soft on top and the sauce and cheese combination was delicious! I only wish my gut wasn't acting up! I would have gorged myself!He sent us home with a bunch of veggies from his garden. Green beans, onions, raspberries, etc. I remember as a child he always did a garden each year and so that part of him still thrives. He knows a lot about the different varieties of fruits and vegetables. Such as I know that there are red potatoes, white potatoes, and something called Yukon gold potatoes, but he was telling me about ones called yellow Finns, which are yellow but not as yellow as the Yukon golds, and then for the white potatoes he knew about three different varieties of them. He also said why the crops this year for fruit trees was bad. We got too much rain at the wrong time killing the blossoms and allowing brown rot to set in. Basically trees were drowning.
He also loves to watch documentaries! Not all about World War II, but all sorts of different subjects. He still likes British humor and movies and is familiar with the PBS line-up. During my childhood he got me into Carl Sagan and Cosmos as he loved to watch it and also he would watch Nova.
Now, the story my mom tells is that my father was too stupid to do his homework in college and that she had to do it for him. I have to question her claims because my dad was always watching programs and reading to learn about things, so I don't know why she tells this particular story. My dad confessed he is horrible with spelling, but he is mathematically smart, and can remember a lot of facts and figures, and he seems to be able to build things from scratch. I tend to think he may have been lazy about doing his homework, but not stupid.
Anyhow, Pooky did most of the talking because I was trying not to burst into tears or scream because of my gut dancing around. But I did talk a little.
My dad is much more mellow than he was back in the days before the divorce. I think age calms people down. He said something that really made me think he's not as Evil as my mom made him out to be. He was talking about a documentary about Auschwitz and he said what got him the most was how the guards would kill dozens of children and then go home at the end of the day and play with their own kids. He wondered how somebody could do that. There's a softness in his heart that I'm sure my mother would vehemently deny.
The story I'm telling myself as to why he was so nasty to her during the divorce is that he was hurt by her; broken hearted and angry. I think he struck back financially because she knew his pocketbook was a sore spot with him and she wanted to get what she felt she had coming. I don't want to cling to tightly to my new story, because the only way to really find out is to ask my dad why he paid so little for child support. I am assuming it wasn't about me, but about the relationship with my mother. My brother and I were just caught up in the fury.
When we left I thought to myself: How did my parents ever get together? They are so totally mismatched! What did they see in each other? I thought how well matched my dad is with his wife. They both like the same things, share common interests and outlook on life. I didn't vocalize this to Pooky, but suddenly he said out loud what I had been thinking!
He said (paraphrasing) that what he knows of my mother, and now of my dad, he just couldn't see how they ever got married and lived together for almost twenty years.
Maybe they thought they had to get married because they had slept together (I believe they were each other's first)? Maybe my mom was a bit different back then? I know her personality has gotten more pronounced over the years. Maybe it there isn't really an answer.
I think back to an old letter my mom pulled out of her cedar chest that was written by my father to her. They were dating at the time. In the letter he wrote how much he cared about her, how he loved her and thought of her often. After reading it I cried because I saw a side of my father he wasn't allowed to show because my mother painted him out to be Evil. I think it all boils down to that no one can really ever please my mother. You can try and you won't ever succeed. Nothing is ever really good enough for her, and she'll never in a million years admit to being wrong or say she is sorry. That would mean she has to admit to "defeat".
I still love and care about my mom; I worry how she'll react to my reestablishing connection with my dad. I try to not let the anxiety get the best of me. When the time comes I'll deal with her the best that I can. I'll reassure her that my heart is big enough to love her and my dad. If that doesn't ease her mind, then I don't know what else to say. I don't want to play her "blame game" and say that because my dad did nasty things to her I should banish him from my life. She's done nasty things to me and I still keep in relationship to her.
Thank You All
I was touched to see all of the comments from my previous post about taking medications. If I have to be on them for a couple of months, at least my doctor is prescribing them for me and not denying me the pain patches. I see him tomorrow afternoon and I'll talk to him about what he'd accomplish as far as me being on the meds. Then on Friday I see my bowel surgeon. I hope by then my gut will start working without the stint. Pooky seems to think my gut shuts down because of the oral narcotics. All I know is that poking a tube into me to get the poo out is not fun!Finally my prescription for gabapentin came in. When we went to pick it up on Friday the clerk said they had to get approval from my insurance, and I was nonplussed by this information because the prescription had been filled before without any issues.
It turns out that I really needed the gabapentin because my body went all wonky without it. Plus, I ran out of the duragesic patches so that was also a shock to my body. Compounded with my period I've been creeping around.
Today I slept for most of the day, induced by the various medications to keep my gut in check. My brain is stuffed with mental lint. It will take a few days for my system to get used to the gabapentin.
What concerns me is that I wonder about dependency on these various medications. The goal is to be medication-free, but it would seem that my body doesn't want to behave. Argh!
I've got positive things to say about the dinner with my dad, but will save it for tomorrow when my brain isn't so linty.
I got my period over the weekend and along with it my gut went nuts, my body went wonky, and I've done not much of anything but watch movies on TV and have flashbacks from the past months of where I was sick in the hospital or sick at home. Why does our brain suddenly release these memories when triggered by a sound, a scent, or a visual stimuli?
It feel like I'm in a mental prison and no matter how many "happy thoughts" I try to remember to chase away the icky-awful ones, the icky-awful ones are too vivid for my comfort level.
This weekend I've not been pleased with being an ostomate because I've had to wear underwear and I hate wearing underwear. My period isn't very heavy, though it has a right be since it's been on hold for three months. The cramps were typical for me, but the emotional/hormonal aspect has been three months' worth of PMS.
This evening we're going over to my dad's house for pizza. I just hope I can make it through without feeling worse. I do feel better than the past two days. That's because I've medicated myself into a stupor. When it doubt: medicate. It always seems to do the trick.
Pooky was real good about making food. I sent him to buy steaks and he even grilled them perfectly. He also got the rice made ok; too wet the first night, but good the second. I know I bitch at him when he cooks; it's that damn Virgo trait of mine to hover and worry about food being prepared exactly right, so more often than not I snap and then have to apologize later for my outbursts. He just chalks it up to PMS. That sums up what being a Virgo can be like at times: never-ending PMS.
I've got weddings the next two weekends, two a piece for each Saturday. The phonebook ad lady called me today to remind me it's time to renew the phonebook ad. I want to expand into the Olympia market; hope it won't cost me an arm and two legs. The ad I currently have was over $800. Advertizing isn't cheap! I just hope the ad will pay for itself. I have gotten maybe 5 calls from the ad but no real income from it. I think it will take awhile before people catch on.
So much for early menopause! (The percocet has kicked in so I'll sign off before I give away trade secrets!)
I get an e-mail from my father last night asking me if, as a belated wedding gift, I'd have a use for a Kitchen-Aid mixer, and if so, what color would I prefer?
Being that I've wanted one for more than a year now, I said I didn't have one and gave him a list of four potential color choices, depending on what would be available.
After I sent the message it occurred to me that my mother had said (before she turned momentarily evil just 4 days before our wedding) that she had wanted to get me the mixer as a wedding gift.
(Part of me does have some trust issues with my father actually coming through with the gift. He has made promises before and not delivered, so 30% of me is stuck in the past thinking he won't come through. Yet, there is a certain amount of honeymooning going on right now as far as reestablishing our relationship. He's going to do nice things to make up for lost time, and to also gain approval. I'm guilty of it with making the cheescake.)
I got my act together and sent out my résumé and the detailed list of the requirements from LIOS's regarding an internship, along with a cover letter, to the local mental health agency I contacted back in April. I hope the person I spoke to still has a faint memory of speaking to me.
While someone from long ago did an internship at this site, there is no guarantee that this current site director will want to have me, mostly because there is work on their end to train me and supervise me. However, I am free labor.
What bothered me the most about this inquiry is that while the director seemed interested, it was a lukewarm interest. Even worse was the site director at the Centralia branch came across as she couldn't be bothered when I started listing some of the internship requirements.
If this doesn't come through then I will send out my packet of information to a few sites that I would like to intern at, hoping that they do have the interest to have me as an intern. And I'll have to commute. I hate that word.
On Wednesday the truck was repossessed. We knew it was going to be taken back, but we had thought we would be contacted first. I hope that there wasn't anything left inside of it as we had used it last on Saturday. I'm going to miss Verne (what I called the truck). He was our carriage across the country. He served us well.
As I digress down sentimentality lane, what it all boils down to is we have one vehicle now. I had thought I'd be able to get enough money from a private student loan to buy a new car, but after figuring out what my actual expenses are going to be for the academic year, it is going to have to be a used car. We're thinking of finding a truck as it occurred to me that we can't haul a 9ft Christmas tree in our Saturn sedan.
The school supposedly can offer me a list of potential internship sites, but from what I gather, they only know about places in the Seattle area. In fact, it would seem they encourage people to "find their own" site; I suppose it is all part of the leadership I'm supposed to be learning about.
First of all...
To all of you who have requested Orb readings, I haven't forgotten you!! Since Sunday I've been existing like a cat, eating, sleeping, and blogging. OK, the last thing isn't associated with feline activities, but you get the idea. My gut has been a bit crampy and I've had to take the anti-spasmodic meds and it has the side effect of almost narcoleptic proportions. Suffice it to say, I've done almost nothing—not even personal maintenance (yeah, I need to be fumigated) and I'm the type who showers daily.I felt energized today and made an astounding cleaning effort in the computer room, and got caught up on officiant business, plus a few odds and ends. In the next few days I'll be sending out readings to those still anxiously waiting.
A big heart-felt thank you to Regina for posting about the Orb reading she received.
Additional Orbs
Being the ham that I am, I asked Regina if she'd make additional orbs for readings and she has agreed! (I now bat my orbs at her) Stay tuned for Snake Eye, Pink Eye, Private Eye, Cross Eye, Hurricane Eye, Eye of the Needle, and Cat Eye.**All depends on what Regina feels like making. I'm just thrilled she's doing this for me, and that she sang my praise for her reading!
Kiss and Make-Up
I was informed that I'd have to attend portions of Module 6 and Module 7 from Winter Track to make-up my track's Module 7 on the 26th thru 28th of this month. Therefore, on Thursday night I'll be departing and returning Sunday afternoon.While I'll be away I may scrounge up the $4 for an hour of Internet time at the hotel to check e-mail, read a few blogs, and maybe post an entry. Please pray, sacrifice small animals, or perform unknowable rituals on my behalf so that the hotel will not serve fish. I don't want to have to pay to eat real food. Thank you!
as translated by Lori M. Carlson
The early days of my youth were spent within the paradise of a tropical rainforest. While most of my days as a child were like the all the rest, there was one particular day in which a man with a big yellow hat came into the forest. He wore yellow clothes and kept calling me Curious George. I shrieked a lot at the man with the big yellow hat, and wildly flung my feces at him to make him go away.
In my early adulthood my family I and were forced to move because our rainforest was cut-down by big metal beasts that belched smoke and awful smells. Times were tough, and I sought employment outside of the forest. I responded to an ad in the local paper and soon found myself stationed at a typewriter along with a thousand other monkeys. Our task was simple: write the Great American novel. Sadly, just as I was writing some of the best fictional work of my life, funding for the project was cut, and I was once again forced to relocate and seek new employment.
My parents passed away, and I found myself living with my nephew Skanky and my Uncle Stenchy, who lost his ears and tail in a mishap involving a meat cleaver wielded by a Chinese cook who wanted to prepare monkey brains. (Uncle Stenchy never told us how he managed to escape.) Times were extremely desperate, and I knew that the only way I could make it was if I could go to America. I had no worldly possessions to sell for fare to the U.S., so I resorted to peddling myself in an up-scale trendy catalog, as I heard that in the States people wanted sock monkeys as their children's companions. The idea of being a "mail-order monkey" was cheap and tawdry, but I thought if Oriental women could sell themselves as mail-order brides just to get into the United States, I could do the same.
When the word came to me that a young woman wanted to adopt me, I was excited, afraid, and nervous—mostly because I knew I'd have to spend time in quarantine. The stories that drifted into the forest about the harsh treatment at quarantine were enough to make any sock monkey tremble. Tales of unnecessary surgery, and anal probing abounded. When they came to take me to the quarantine area, I said good-bye to uncle Stenchy and Skanky, vowing to send for them when I could.
My arrival at quarantine was at night, so I quickly sought refuge in my cage and slept fitfully throughout the night. The next morning, I found my surroundings to be not as evil as rumors told, and I made friends with other sock monkeys seeking a new life in a new land.
Shortly after my arrival in my new American home, my girl arranged for Skanky and Uncle Stenchy to immigrate, too. I received a letter from my cousin Yulie asking if I could manage to help her come to this great country. Being she is only a midget, she was easily smuggled into the country in someone's pocket.
Things are going well for me. I've written a screenplay about my life, and my agent has met with Disney a few times regarding the production of my script. They say that they want to revive their animal adventure movies like they made in the early 1960s. With computer animation, they claim that they can make Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon appear on the screen as if it really were 1963!
I've already got the opening theme song written:
The Stanky Song
They sewed him up from an old lady's hanky
But he wasn't very swanky!
They sewed him from an old man's pants
and he turned out quite danky.
It wasn't until they sewed him from a sock
that he came out to be stanky!
He's Stanky, the sock monkey!
He's Stanky, the sock monkey!
The Monkey made of socks!
I mentioned that my dad was coming to visit on Monday afternoon with his wife. (I believe they have been married for almost 20 years!) Aside from my dad looking older (he's now 67), he was pretty much the same as I remember him, but a bit slower and mellowed.
We all chatted about nothing in particular, enjoyed a cherry jubille cheescake I made, and made plans to go to his house for homemade pizza. His wife said he takes a couple of days to prepare the dough, etc. I recall my father was very meticulous and perfectionistic when he would cook. Saturday mornings he would prepare waffles and hash browns that were superb.
So I'm thinking that his pizza is going to be very good. I can hardly wait!
They live on a farm, in fact, they used to raise chickens for a local chicken company, but he said they have gotten rid all but one of the houses. I don't know if they are still raising birds...I'd assume perhaps not. They have cows, guinea hens, a dog, and they said no more barn cats, but neighboring cats come to mouse.
I recall they had an in ground swimming pool, and the house itself was an old barn converted into a house.
Pooky said that my younger brother's mannerisms and personality is very much like my dad's, and he was amazed by this since the two saw very little of each other (just visitations twice a month). It gives support for genes carrying personality and traits and not the environment.
What was really freaky is they asked about my surgery and I said I had it done in Longview by Dr. S. My dad said that he is a patient of Dr. S, too, and that he probably saw him during the time I was in the hospital. He said his gallbladder has been troubling him.
So much has been running through my mind about my dad. The good memories, the bad memories, all coming to the surface. I'm thinking about my mom, too, and how she would react to my meeting with my dad. She's always been fiercely territorial, that you couldn't have any relationship with him because she would interpret it as betrayal.
Considering how she has recently acted when I was sick, I have no reason to think she's turned over a new leaf and would accept my reestablishing a relationship with my father. Yeah, he wasn't really there during my childhood; yeah, he didn't pay his fair share, and yeah, he's missed the past 15 years of my life, but you know what? I could come up with a lot of negativities about how she treated me, too.
What I'm learning from all of this is: I can choose to be open-minded about my parents, and see them as a collection of good/bad memories and put it into perspective and love them nonetheless because deep down inside each of them is a shining soul, a spark of the Divine, or I could be like my sister who went down the path of hatred and live out my days acting like a victim, claiming her childhood wasn't ideal or perfect.
I don't mean to mock my sister's feelings of pain and sorrow; my intention is to point out that both of us have a choice in how we will feel about our childhoods and our parents. I want to keep my anger in check, knowing that there isn't a damn thing I can do to change the past and right the wrongs that I feel my parents laid upon me. I only have control over the present, and in this moment I want to be different, accepting, and loving.
And maybe, just maybe, my parents will want the same.
What caught my eye about the search terms was that a lot of folks are looking for shrones! This is great because it is spreading Shrone consciousness and the awareness of shrones is increasing. I'm scratching my head about the "Crafty Dirty Virgin". Shouldn't the phrase "dirty virgin" be classified as an oxymoron?
There really is a Pooky's Zoo blog, and it mentions Rachel.
The reason for all of the Bartholin's Gland info is I made a page about my experiences with having one twice (or three times). It's good to see people still find it. I've even had e-mails from people asking about my experiences.
What's interesting is how our blogs are becoming have become resources of information (either correct or erroneous). I know I've found links to sites from blogs that I otherwise wouldn't have discovered. Each of us is a wealth of knowledge—and we share it for free. (OK, technically it isn't "free" but you get the point.)
I tag April, Misfit, and Micky!
If you want to participate the chain-letter part works like this: remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; just check to make sure the links are still attached if you copy n' paste.
1) Yea, I knit...
2) Yarn Obsession
3) Yarns and Musings
4) Addicted To Crochet
5) Home Burrough
5 Things I Miss From Childhood:
1. Nalley's Cheeze Pleezers (they were like Cheetos, only better!)
2. Going and doing things with my sister.
3. Saturday morning cartoons
4. Going to the theater and paying the 12 and under admission (it was only a couple of bucks!)
5. The lack of technology, i.e., cell phones, computers, ATM's, cable TV, etc. When there was only 5 channels to watch, there was always something on to watch, and if not, then you read a book or wrote a letter, or you went to visit someone.
On Saturday I received my Not-So-Secret reveal package from Kari. I promise to post pictures as soon as I get my lazy ass in gear. One of the best things she included was a beanie Wienermobile! I used to have one in my previous incarnation and left it behind when I moved out. I was really missing it and was thinking of trying to acquire another, but she beat me to it!
Having Kari as my secret pal was something that I was hoping for. She's helped me grow as a person in that when I first landed on her blog, I was really ruffled by her opinions, but then I remembered to breathe and it wasn't so bad. She got me to thinking, and for me, anyone who gets me to thinking is someone that I admire and respect. Her sense of humor and intellect indicated that she was a sistah Shrone.
Thank you, Kari, for being my secret pal for the past 3 months! *hugs*
Captured On Film: Teddy Is Evil
Today I was able to prove that Teddy is evil. I've nicknamed him "Corkscrew" because his tail is bent at a 90° angle. His surname has been decided: he'll be Mr. Theodore Montague. Thus, the kitten trio is Snodgrass, Smee, and Montague. Sounds like a group of lawyers, doesn't it? I still need to get a picture of Teddy's tail. When we took him in his tail was a nub and as he has grown, so has his tail. It appears like it was slammed in a door, but I don't think it was. It wasn't long enough to get caught!
Teddy's abnormality has also manifested in that he won't eat tuna with the other cats. He isn't interested in people food, either. I thought his need to suckle was abnormal but found out that it isn't all that abnormal.
A Billion Cats Can't Be Wrong!
Smee finds that the taste of butt isn't as delicious as it is cracked up to be (bad pun, please excuse me)! Naturally I wasn't trying to take this picture. I was hoping to get him with his leg up as he look disjointed. I also want to get a movie of him wiggly his "bell clapper" tail. His tail is straight but half-length so it doesn't flow like a snake like other cats' tails do. Of course the moment I bring the camera out he has to come over and check it out making my job that much more challenging. So far he is winning (obviously!)
Smee is also plagued with indignities (my language for fleas). I don't understand how he can be having them as I dosed all of the cats with Advantage or Frontline less than a month ago! I know the hotter weather is flea hatching season, and I've sprayed their sleeping areas with something that surely will cause cancer in laboratory white mice (but allow the fleas to live)!
Mr. B Allows His Image to Be Stolen
Mr. B is the only camera-shy cat I've known. Most know what you are doing and go out of their way to be photographed. Instead, he acts like someone from a cultural belief that photography will steal his soul. I didn't enhance his image in Photoshop to reveal the details of his face. This is how he mostly appears, just yellow eyes floating in a void of blackness.
Mr. B isn't too crazy about the kittens. He hisses at them regularly. I don't think it has occurred to him that he can make all three of them his bitches. Since the arrival of the kittens Mr. B has become more loving and socialable. He'll come sit on my lap and he allows his highly glossy fur to be stroked. I call him my Silkworm as his fur is very silky. He enjoys the praise.
Help! My Cat Has Been Replaced with a Boneless Hoot Owl!
Last but not least, Mr. Doo was striking one of his Lord Doo poses for me during my feline photography session. When he tucks his front paws in and up-turns his ears he is in his Lord-mode. I think he looks like a hoot owl and simultaneously like a meatloaf (boneless meatloaf, that is).
His training of Stash continues. All of his antics are being passed like a baton. I'm not entirely sure how he is transmitting the information to Stash. It could be mental telepathy, it could be on parchment paper written in blood.
Lady Linoleum tagged me for this: Write down 5 of your own idiosyncrasies, then if you wish, tag 5 people.
1. I carry salt with me wherever I go. I take extra salt packets from restaurants. You never know when you'll need some salt!
2. I carry fingernail clippers in all of my purses/bags. I'm a nail biter since childhood and I often need to trim ragged nail edges.
3. I dislike body hair; I keep my legs, pubs, and pits fur-free as much as possible.
4. I collect writing pens, mostly the metallic gel ink kind, and at any given time in my purse/bag I've got a handful of them. Once in awhile I'll actually throw away the ones that don't work.
5. If there is too much sauce on a pizza, I will scrape it off.
I tag the following people: Natalie, Elizabeth, Twink, Donna, and Stacey!
In the shadow of the bridge on the Oregon side is a quaint restaurant called Char-Burger. No, the burger does not come to you looking like a round piece of charcoal. However, it does taste like it's been grilled over charcoals, like a backyard barbecue. Inside you can sit and gaze at the river and watch people doing water-type activities.
If you travel further up the Gorge into the desert region you can visit a replica of Stonehenge. We went there for my 29th birthday. The Henge isn't built to scale. It is perched atop a cliff and you can look out and see for miles.
On our way home today we're going to dine at my favorite place on earth to eat a cheeseburger: Fuddruckers. Our nearest one is in Portland. I don't put any condiments on the bun because the meat is so flavorful that it needs to shine on its own. I add just a little onion and lettuce to give it a little crunch.
I anticipate we'll be back late tonight, so until tomorrow!
| Star Wars Horoscope for Virgo |
 You show efficiency when working for a good cause. Star wars character you are most like: C3P0 |
Many of you with inquiring minds wanted to know how my local temperature of 93° could only feel like 90°. The answer is: to keep more people from moving to this state (at least the Western half) because we are rapidly reaching a state of over population, and I'd like to still see Mt. Rainier on the eastern horizon instead of a brown haze of smog relative humidity and what is has to do with the heat index.
This post from How Stuff Works explains it better than I could. The humidity was 23% yesterday. The heat index is based upon the humidity being 25% or greater.
I feel like Hermione Granger in posting this. (I've been re-reading the series in reverse order). I have to wonder if J.K.R. doesn't have a Virgo or two in her life, beause she writes the character of Hermione too, too well. (The reason I know Hermione is a Virgo is we share the same birthday.) In fact, when I was Hermione's age I was a geek like her, a regular know-it-all—until I became bored and jaded with high school for not being mentally challenged enough by my teachers and for having a mother who was threatened by my need to be mentally challenged.
Here I go, here comes a tangent waiting to happen...
My digression for the evening. In fact, when I was 10 years old I begged my mom that I wanted to start college, that school just didn't offer any of the subjects I wanted to study. She said children my age don't go to college, they are too young. But I knew of child prodidies who were even younger than myself going to college. Then she countered that she and my father had no way to pay for me to go. End of discussion.I was placated with entry into my school's gifted program, but that ended in the 8th grade. Even that wasn't that stimulating toward the end. The school district didn't want to advance me a grade, either. So I simply gave up on academics until college where I learned that getting a high GPA had some rewards, like scholarships.
Being that I didn't take my S.A.T.'s in high school, (again no parental guidance and the guidance counselors at school were a joke), I wasn't eligible for the really good scholarships or entrance into an Ivy League school. Yet, I did earn some decent scholarships that were through my community college and alma mater. I kind of wonder what would have become of me if I would have had better input from teachers and parents, but don't dare travel down that road of regrets and missed opportunities. What is done is done. I may not have meandered my way to LIOS.
Speaking of LIOS, I get a phone call from the school's jack-of-all-trades administrator who informs me that I don't need to attend all of Module 7 because parts of the curriculum I need to make up are being held at Module 6 which takes place the last weekend of this month! I still have to attend certain dates in October (Module 7) but will need to go to the sessions held in August!
I e-mail her back saying unless the room and board for the hotel can be deferred to my fall tuition bill, there is no way I can attend as Pooky is bringing home just enough money to cover the bills, and the money I get from officiating weddings is just enough to operate the business. (I don't tell her the financial details, but she should get the point). As it is, I will need some money that weekend (granted I do attend) for gas and to buy lunch/dinner for those nights plagued with fish for the entreé and I just know that Friday and Saturday are the nights most likely to be fish nights. Which means I'll need about $100 for food/gas.
Ever try to pull money out of your ass that isn't there? Universities and colleges seem to think you have it to pull out whenever they say that you should. My surgeon can assure you and them: I ain't gonna be pulling anything out of MY ass anytime soon!
| Your Virgo Drinking Style |
 Virgo's controlled by the intellect, but there's an unbridled beast lurking within, and they let it loose when walloped. It's dead sexy (and surprisingly unsloppy). As one Virgo friend used to declare, "I'm going to drink myself into a low level of intelligence tonight." A toast to the subgenius IQ! |
| Your Signature Cocktails |
| Many Virgos prefer clear, simple, untreacly drinks like vodka tonic or a real margarita, though you can be found drinking anything from unflinchingly downing Cuervo straight to smirkingly ordering a dirty virgin. You also tend to like bitter, low-alk guzzles like Campari and soda. However, you rarely change your signature drink once you've found it. |
| Your Celebrity Drinking Buddies |
| Cameron Diaz, Hugh Grant, Keanu Reeves, Nicole Richie, Bill Murray, Jada Pinkett Smith, Adam Sandler, and Ricki Lake. |
My siganture drink: The reason I like a Blue Hawaiian is it reminds me in color of Berry Blue Kool-Aid. I just love blue drinks!
I've never been to New England or to prison!
Your Slanguage Profile |
| New England Slang: 50% |
| Prison Slang: 50% |
| Aussie Slang: 25% |
| Canadian Slang: 25% |
| Southern Slang: 25% |
| British Slang: 0% |
| Victorian Slang: 0% |
I opened up the package last night that I thought contained the pattern and direction to make Monty. It did not. It merely contained the thread, needle, and felt to make his clothing, plus his adoption papers (in English and Spanish). Being that I need directions, I don't think I'll be able to sew Monty into existence. I am the type that needs a pattern, or at least an outline so I can improvise.
Being that it's been 4 years and probably no less than 6 moves since I bought the kit, I am not very hopeful for finding the directions. Plus, I never thought I would sew up Monty since I hate sewing tiny things. But, you never know. I could find the directions. I do tend to save the user's manuals to everything, so I may just uncover how to piece him together in a stack of mundane papers.
Negative Heat Index
Pooky didn't even threaten to install the window A/C because I said if he comes home late enough it should be cool enough.
Despite Deneen's wish for me to sweat it up, I am no where near breaking a sweat. I'm disappointed. I so very much want to strip naked and die from heat and humidity! Tonight's dinner was hot, homemade vegetable soup.
I should tell the story of my first summer in Pennsylvania. It was one of those record-breaking summers for heat, and I had never felt humidity before. I believed that the world was coming to an end and I did nothing but bemoan and lament that people could live in such climatic conditions and not perish. By the following summer I was conditioned to the elements and was begging for more heat and moisture as I believe my DNA had been transformed into something like a tropical orchid's.
But never, never, never have I been able to tolerate the cold of winter. Even here where the winter isn't much of a winter, Pooky and I have thermostat wars and $400/mo gas bills and I take long, hot baths so I can feel my toes. Granted the gas bill would be much less if we replaced the original windows and tore up the walls to put in real insulation, plus replaced the doors. Yes, we could put plastic wrap over the windows and shrink wrap them but we have 50 windows in our beloved 90 year old home.
Next week will mark three months without having a period. It feels like that I have been brewing to have one, but so far the only thing that has come out of my undercarriage has been the usual discharge (sorry if that grosses you out). No, there isn't a possibility of me being pregnant. Pooky is fixed and in that span of time we've only had one conjugal visit. (It's been difficult to be conjugal with him working nights and my body out of commission.)
Part of me hopes that menopause has come early, but I doubt it. Yet, if my period is gone for good I feel a bit sad about it. I've been menstruating since age 11. Two days before my birthday my period came. I felt weird about it because I was still playing with toys and had absolutely no interest in boys.
Tomorrow we're forecasted to get into the 90s! The humidity stays pretty low so it shouldn't feel too sticky and awful. Pooky will bemoan the heat though and threaten to install one of the air conditioners a friend gave us.
Twice now the power has gone out for an hour just as I am about to make my breakfast. Last week it was on Thursday, and then this morning. It could be a trend. I'm thinking next week it will go out on Tuesday. It goes out for about an hour.
Update on my dad. He e-mailed me today saying he'd like to come over this coming Monday in the afternoon, but can't stay for dinner because they have young livestock that needs tending to and can't stay away for too long. Sounds good to me. Any kind of visit is what I was hoping for. He's offered to bring produce from his garden. Fresh veggies work for me!
While de-stashing my yarn today I came upon a sock monkey kit and I located the socks elsewhere, so I am feeling ambitious thanks to Regina's sock monkey post to sew up the little monkey. I bought the kit 4 years ago. I don't like sewing. When all is done I will post the results. It's a mini-monkey which means small things to sew. (Cringe)
My curiosity about finding more sock monkey kits from Leisure Arts resulted in finding this new book by them. This is going on my wishlist!
In case you were wondering... Twink had e-mailed me with news that Berry Blue Kool-Aid was discontinued because of it looking like windshield washer fluid. I thought that sounded a bit like an Internet myth, so I checked out Snopes.com but they had nothing to say about it. But I also found another site that claimed the reason for discontinuation was because it looked like Draino. So I e-mailed Kool-Aid and asked them the status on Berry Blue. They replied to me today and said it's definitely available, but it is subject to it being sold regionally, and suggested I talk to my grocery store manager to ask if they could special order it for me. Usually with such inquiries the manager doesn't want to order anything unless you want to buy a large quantity.
One last thing. I had Babe: Pig in the City at the top of my queue because I wanted to see that amazing crocheted sweater again. It arrived today but inside was the first movie! We watched it anyway and I hadn't seen it in a long while and I was reminded why I love the movie so much. Just remember: Christmas means carnage!
(I did report the mix-up and hopefully the sequel will eventually be delivered.)
I adore Rachel Ray and Paula Deen from The Food Network. I try not to miss their shows. I would really love Rachel's job of $40 A Day. She gets to travel and eat while there. As for Paula, I want her to be my mommy!
But I ask myself: How do these women stay thin? Well, Paula is not that thin, but as I figure it, with her use of butter she should weigh no less than 500 pounds. Might there be some selling of souls that's taken place? They don't look papery thin enough to have bullemia, nor does either one look the type for regular exercise.
Well, for Rachel I'm guessing how she keeps trim is that in order to keep below her $40 limit she eats an appetizer for dinner, and for lunch she doesn't get the AYCE special. In fact, she eats a lot less than I would eat. Still, she does drink more alcohol than I do and alcohol is chock-full of Calories.
As for Paula, wouldn't surprise me if she's sacrificing small animals off camera. Anyone who uses that quantity of butter and isn't 500 pounds, and doesn't cook healthy foods has to be cooking up some mojo somewhere!
BTW, just what is the recipe for cooking up mojo?
The question that begs to be answered is: What would Shrones wear to a convention? The answer is, of course, crocheted clothing! Naturally Shrones are drawn toward the flamboyant and gaudy styles that contain the essence of sophisticaion and style.
"People aren't wearing enough hats." This is true. Back in the day people always wore a hat. The eccentric wore turbans. As stated before, any woman wearing a turban who isn't undergoing chemotherapy treatment is automatically a Shrone. Here are two crochted turbans for Shrones to pick from:
Crocheting Shrones will be pleased to make their own turban using this vintage pattern. The turban allows for a Shrone to hide unruly hair or to compliment long tresses. Plus you can hide an assortment of contraband inside of this bulky head piece. People will stop and stare and find themselves at a loss for words to express their awe and wonder at the handmade garment atop your head.
People may mistake you for a movie star and want your autograph as these stylish turbans radiate a sense of charm and enchantment!
Imagine these turbans crocheted in vivid colors or sparkling jewel tones!
The smiling gal made her turban using this vintage pattern. She is so happy to stand out in the crowd looking a bit like a bunny rabbit who stumbled upon a patch of cannabis sativa.
I can't guarantee you'll be as giddy as the gal modeling the turban, but perhaps if you don your turban while cruising for penis and you get lucky, you may find yourself with a similar goofy grin.
The other alternative to cruising for penis is to make a cherry jubilee cheesecake with the cherries soaked for four hours in cherry brandy and to take a few nips of the sauce to make sure the cherries are becoming tipsy.
Also, a couple of Valium will render the same effect. Note: You won't be able to smile like this if you opt for Bo-Tox injections.
If you can't bring yourself to wear a turban there is a conversation piece vintage hat pattern that will surely make people stop and ask, "What's that on your head?" If such inquiries occur I recommend informing them of the Hall of Shrones and throwing a few insults there way as to why they wear bland, unremarkable clothing.
I'm not quite sure what is embellishing this hat. It looks like a curtain tie-back, but perhaps this Shrone is a closet dominatrix and it is her small whip?
Naturally you don't have to adorn your version of this hat with an unidentifiable tassle. I'd suggest making bright, semi-obnoxious flowers, or go all out and use silver or gold lamé to create something spectacular!
But if turbans and unidentified hats aren't your fancy and you require embellishments that are of a flamboyant nature, this patriotic vintage hat is just the ticket! There are oodles of potential for this hat to be transformed into something resembling a wizards hat. I'm thinking silver lamé stars and the addition of half-moons!
If you go the patriotic route, vivid colors would be best to show off your Shronedom.
Now that we have it figured out how we'll cover our heads, patterns for the rest of our bodies need to be found. I'm sure I'll find something outrageous—it's just a matter of time!