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Archive for October, 2006

Music! Music! Music!

I love music. One of the great things about getting rid of the headaches is that I’ve been able to listen to music again. I have CDs playing all day at work again. I have the radio or a CD playing in my car all the time again. I have truly missed my music.

I also love discovering new songs. Well, new to me, anyway. They’re probably not new to anyone else. I’d say, “Hey, I just heard this great new song! “Political Science,” by Randy Newman.” And they’d say, “That old thing? It’s been around forever.” And it has. Apparently I’m the only one out there who never heard it before. So I don’t get out much, and I’m woefully lame. So sue me. (Actually, don’t bother. I’m not worth the time and expense of suing. I’m just saying.)

The point is, what other fantastic songs have I missed out on? My husband thinks I’m like the music queen of the world because he hasn’t heard of a lot of the stuff that’s in our iTunes library. I hate to tell him how sheltered I truly am, despite the hundreds of CDs we own.

It’s thanks to my sister (I love you, Zard!) that I found the Dandy Warhols and Poe. How banal my life would be if I didn’t get to listen to such great songs as “Nietzsche,” “Godless,” and “Bohemian Like You” by the Dandies, or “Haunted,” “Hey Pretty,” or “Not a Virgin” by Poe.

Each time I get a new CD from Crazy Mixed-Up, I listen to it obsessively, picking out the songs that I just have to add to my new list of favorites. And I wonder how I managed to miss those songs before. That’s how I found “One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces”, which has been around since 1997. And I just met it several weeks ago!

Okay. So I’m begging you—list some of your favorite songs. Tell me who performs them, what feelings they evoke in you, why you like them, whatever you think I should know about them. Give me something to seek out. Expand my horizons. Get me out of this sheltered little isolation chamber I seem to be living in, music-wise.

What will you get out of it? Karma, baby. Sweet, sweet, musical karma.

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Twilight Zone

Okay, I swear I must live in the twilight zone. I looked again before I started the last long post where I tried to rehash a little of the previous lost post, and that stuff wasn’t there!

“I’m not crazy!” she screamed, as the men in the little white coats were trying to suppress her.

“Like we’ve never heard that before,” they grunted, strapping her onto the gurney and carrying her away.

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I wrote a long post on Friday, wherein I waxed rhapsodic on the word “raucous,” talked about my love of punk rock when I’m in a foul mood, waxed rhapsodic on the word “foul,” and blathered on about I now forget what else. I hit “publish post.” It took me to the screen where it showed the progress as it was republishing my blog. It made zero progress for 15 or 20 minutes until I finally, in supreme disgust, hit the refresh button and promptly lost my post. It really pissed me off, and in revolt I refused to blog again until now.

But I really have a lot to say, so I’m going to try again. But this time I’m going to copy and save the text of my post before I hit the publish button, so that when Blogger loses my post, I will still have a copy of it.

Okay–the words first. I love words. I mean, I seriously love words. Raucous is one of my favorites. You’ve probably seen it more than once in this blog. It sounds so lovely–raw and cuss come together in a brusque joining of emotion. Raucous! raucous raucous raucous raucous. And foul–when I say I’m in a foul mood, that’s saying something. It’s light years beyond being in a bad mood. Foul. It just a wonderful word. If the day outside matched one of my foul moods, the sky would be black and it would be pouring rain, but the rain would somehow be unable to pour away the muck and mire that one simply could not avoid stepping in, muck composed of horse droppings and the contents of chamber pots that had been hurled out of second story windows, and ankle-deep thick slimy mud, and icy water. And one’s umbrella would blow inside out despite all attempts to keep it from doing so. That’s what I mean when I say I’m in a foul mood. See why the phrase “bad mood” just doesn’t work there?

Punk rock. When I’m in a foul mood, I like to listen to punk rock. It just all goes together. Gimme my punk rock, and stay out of my way. I wasn’t in a foul mood on Friday, but I still wanted to listen to punk rock. It happens sometimes. I had one of my pissed-off mix CDs at work, but my boss had borrowed it so he could listen to “Run S***head Run.” So I didn’t get to listen to the Clash on the way home. I made up for it by listening to “One Angry Dwarf and Two Hundred Solemn Faces” by Ben Folds Five. It’s not punk rock, but it’s angry and funny and I love it.

I’ll finish up, very briefly, employee appreciation day. It went well. Mostly. I’m not going to talk anymore about it. Let’s just say that I’m glad it doesn’t come again until next year, and next year I am going to very strongly push for it to be held inside.

Weight loss. I lost another 1.2 pounds, for a total of 16.2 pounds. I am not losing quickly. You might have figured that out by the fact that I’ve been doing Weight Watchers since July 1st and I’ve only lost 16.2 pounds. But hey! I’ve lost 16.2 pounds! See? It’s all in the punctuation.

What’s the slowest delayed reaction, double-take you’ve ever seen? There’s a reason I ask. On Saturday afternoon I persuaded Joe to take me out to lunch. That’s after weighing in and going to my WW meeting. It’s also after I spent two hours stripping wallpaper border. I was hungry and tired. So we went to Logan’s Roadhouse and split grilled salmon, salad, and a huge baked sweet potato. Very yummy. When we got back into the car after lunch, Joe asked if we needed to go anywhere else, and I said that I needed a pair of shoes. He said okay, and was going to take me to DSW, but I told him Payless would be fine, because I only needed a cheap pair of shoes. I directed him to the nearest Payless, and he parked, unlocked the car, and was halfway out the door. He stopped, got back in, stared at me, and said, “You need more shoes?” I can think of no other way to punctuate his question to emphasize his complete and utter shock. I lost it. I sat there and laughed as I explained to him that I did indeed need a pair of either black ballet flats or else low-heeled dressy black pumps, since the soles of my ballet flats had come off long ago. And hey, since the shoes are Buy One/Get One Half Off, it only makes sense to buy two pairs instead of just one, right? So after unsuccessfully trying to talk him into 4 pairs (I was lusting after a pair of bright red shoes with obscenely high heels), I ended up with a pair of really cute dressy black pumps with low heels and a pair of black ankle boots.

In Joe’s defense, I do have lots of shoes. Nowhere near enough, because there is NO SUCH THING as enough shoes. Or purses. But I do have a lot. Oh, and he’s going to let me get a pair of red pumps with obscenely high heels, but he wants me to get them from Newport News instead of Payless.

Liz and I took a long walk on Saturday night, and then walked a little more before going to dinner at Mimi’s. We shared, naturally, and had salad, blackened chicken, fruit, and a really tasty pumpkin muffin. We each ate a third of the muffin, and I frantically poured salt all over the remaining third of the muffin to keep myself from picking at it. I was full and didn’t need to eat anymore, but it was so good I knew I’d keep eating it. I also had a cup of French onion soup. They make such fantastic French onion soup. The meal was so good that Liz suggested we take one home to Joe, so we did.

Yesterday I spent vast amounts of time decluttering. I filled two big black trashbags full of stuff for Goodwill; a regular kitchen-sized trashbag full of clothes for Sarah, and started another one that will be full by the time I finish the laundry; got some more trash out; and in general worked until I couldn’t work anymore. Joe was pretty cooperative with my giving so much stuff to Goodwill or dumping it, and didn’t make me haul anything back out of the Goodwill pile, as he has previously been known to do.

So I think that’s all I feel the need to blather about today. Thank you for reading this far, if you did so. You may now return to your regularly scheduled lives.

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The Primal Scream


Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!

Sorry. I just needed to get that out. I will be really glad when today is done. I haven’t been able to get my regular work done, because I’ve been frantically running around getting things done for the employee appreciation day.

Pushing people to buy tickets to throw pies at management. They don’t want to do it. No one carries cash or checkbooks. C’mon people! It’s for the American Cancer Society! You can spare $1. Go check your car seat cushions, under your floor mats, the backs of your desk drawers. I know you’ve got enough change to make a buck. No, I’m not nagging people that mercilessly. But I take this to heart, because I have a very dear friend who’s suffering from brain cancer. After 10 months, the tumor has once again reared its ugly self. So now she’s on a more aggressive form of chemotherapy, and everyone who loves her is praying for more miracles.

Now I’ve got to go outside and blow up balloons and tape up streamers. I’ll get hot and sweaty. And thanks to the genetic betrayal that is my legacy, I get really red in the face when I get hot and sweaty. No, you don’t get it. I get so red in the face that people think I’m sick or dying. They gently invite me to sit down and offer me glasses of ice water. That red. I’m not sick or dying, and maybe not even that hot. I just get red in the face.

And I’ve already been through three bottles of water, which means numerous trips to the bathroom. Which means more sweat. And my face gets even redder. If that were even possible, which it must be, because it happens.

Gripe, gripe, gripe. Why don’t y’all just tell me to get a grip and shut the eff up?

🙂

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You know, I had those damned headaches for so long, and was coming home from work every day and crashing for so long that I wasn’t getting anything done at home. Now I’ve got this nice medicine that made the headaches go away. And I’m glad. Really and truly glad.

Now I’m having to face the reality that piled up in the months of coming home from work and crashing because I hurt too much to do anything. It’s imposing.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a slobby packrat. But the condition of my house has sunk to new depths, even for me. I worked for a few hours tonight, only to wreak more havoc in the process of trying to clear some things out. And then Joe came home.

Joe, bless his heart, is even packrattier than I am. He also has memory issues. A few weeks ago I packed up some clothes that are too big for me and gave them to a friend, with his full knowledge and consent. I haven’t gotten of all my fat clothes, just some of them. Others I’ve packed up and have them ready to go into our storage unit. Anyway, today he came home while I was packing some up to take to my friend, and he just about had a cow. I get tired of having the same discussions over and over. And he gets so upset when I say that we’ve talked about stuff before, and it gets stressful.

And now he’s lying on the bed watching Jimmy Neutron. I love having him around, but when I’m trying to declutter a small room, I don’t want him lying on the bed watching Jimmy Neutron. I want him in the living room watching Jimmy Neutron, or in the living room playing guitar, or outside playing with Molly, or in the shower, or at Guitar Center, or in the kitchen washing the dishes, or pretty much anywhere that’s not here. But I feel guilty, so I’m not going to kick him out of here for another 15 minutes. But then it will be 9:00, and I have to be at work at 6:30 tomorrow morning to try to get a little bit of essential work done before I spend the day running around like a crazy woman getting things done for employee appreciation day.

I’m glad I’m feeling better. I’m glad that I’ve finally got the energy to start getting my house cleared out and cleaned up. I’m glad that I’ve got the energy to help my sister get moved. I’m glad that my husband loves me and wants to be with me. I’m glad that I’m losing weight, and have some clothes to pass on to my friend. I’m glad that my friend’s losing weight and needs some smaller clothes.

So why am I so cranky right now? I feel ashamed for being cranky, because life is pretty good.

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I’m tired.

I’m in the process of bullying my sister into moving a few months earlier than she’d been planning to. She needs to, and knows she needs to. But moving is such a horrendous job, and we come from a long line of packrats. I went over to her place last night, ostensibly to write lists, eat dinner together, and watch an episode of Buffy. I actually bullied her into going through her books, bagging up 8 bags of books to go to Half Price Books while I boxed up the remaining contents of the big bookshelf in the living room. I tore apart the bookshelf (that would have collapsed within a few months, being a cheap plastic jobbie from the Wall-2-Wall Mart) and threw it away while she sorted through the basket of mail on top of her end table. I wrote out her assignments to do tonight while she watches Gilmore Girls and Veronica Mars, and promised to go back to her place again on Wednesday night, when we will finish the living room and start on the kitchen. I also promised to go back on Friday night and sleep over, when we will get even more work done. We then took some trash to the dumpster and the 8 bags of books to Half Price Books, where she got more than twice my less-than-optimistic guesstimate for them. And she took me to dinner even though I was a bossy bit-cah.

I’ve also been working really hard on pulling our employee appreciation event together at work. It takes place tomorrow, and I will be SO GLAD when it’s done!!!!!!!!!!! Some of the managers have been whiny babies, and I had to completely rework our fundraiser. But one of the senior managers who’s kind of got a reputation for being a whiny baby actually came through and is being a really good sport about things, and has already raised $52 for the American Cancer Society! I’m very happy about that. He’s promising to try to sell more tickets, which is very nice of him, because for every ticket he sells, someone gets to throw a pie at his face. Well, “pie” meaning a blob of fake whipped cream on a paper plate, but it’s still messy. And the person who raises the most money gets a real chocolate cream pie in the face as well, and I’m pretty sure it will be this guy. So I am truly appreciative that he has come through. And I have to say I have a little less respect for some of the other managers. I had actually volunteered to let people throw pies at me, but as the other managers pointed out, no one would be willing to do so. Apparently I’m too nice. My sister would probably disagree, but she doesn’t work here and probably couldn’t manage to be here to buy pies to throw at me anyway. But hey–if she wants to, for the American Cancer Society, I’d be happy to let her!

Well, my break’s about over, and I really do have gobs of work to do, so I’m going to get back to it. Please send happy thoughts my way. I need to go sit in my car and scream at the top of my lungs, because I’m feeling that stressed, but I don’t have time. Maybe while I’m driving home….

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I’m tired.

I’m in the process of bullying my sister into moving a few months earlier than she’d been planning to. She needs to, and knows she needs to. But moving is such a horrendous job, and we come from a long line of packrats. I went over to her place last night, ostensibly to write lists, eat dinner together, and watch an episode of Buffy. I actually bullied her into going through her books, bagging up 8 bags of books to go to Half Price Books while I boxed up the remaining contents of the big bookshelf in the living room. I tore apart the bookshelf (that would have collapsed within a few months, being a cheap plastic jobbie from the Wall-2-Wall Mart) and threw it away while she sorted through the basket of mail on top of her end table. I wrote out her assignments to do tonight while she watches Gilmore Girls and Veronica Mars, and promised to go back to her place again on Wednesday night, when we will finish the living room and start on the kitchen. I also promised to go back on Friday night and sleep over, when we will get even more work done. We then took some trash to the dumpster and the 8 bags of books to Half Price Books, where she got more than twice my less-than-optimistic guesstimate for them. And she took me to dinner even though I was a bossy bit-cah.

I’ve also been working really hard on pulling our employee appreciation event together at work. It takes place tomorrow, and I will be SO GLAD when it’s done!!!!!!!!!!! Some of the managers have been whiny babies, and I had to completely rework our fundraiser. But one of the senior managers who’s kind of got a reputation for being a whiny baby actually came through and is being a really good sport about things, and has already raised $52 for the American Cancer Society! I’m very happy about that. He’s promising to try to sell more tickets, which is very nice of him, because for every ticket he sells, someone gets to throw a pie at his face. Well, “pie” meaning a blob of fake whipped cream on a paper plate, but it’s still messy. And the person who raises the most money gets a real chocolate cream pie in the face as well, and I’m pretty sure it will be this guy. So I am truly appreciative that he has come through. And I have to say I have a little less respect for some of the other managers. I had actually volunteered to let people throw pies at me, but as the other managers pointed out, no one would be willing to do so. Apparently I’m too nice. My sister would probably disagree, but she doesn’t work here and probably couldn’t manage to be here to buy pies to throw at me anyway. But hey–if she wants to, for the American Cancer Society, I’d be happy to let her!

Well, my break’s about over, and I really do have gobs of work to do, so I’m going to get back to it. Please send happy thoughts my way. I need to go sit in my car and scream at the top of my lungs, because I’m feeling that stressed, but I don’t have time. Maybe while I’m driving home….

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