It's Just Something I Know

Some days are more about not knowing your arse from a hole in the ground.

Don't Know Dum Diddly Doo

I conjured up some homemade salsa yesterday to go along with the husbands and my dinner. Super fab yum!

I decided to eat some with my lunch today as well. Though, I'm thinking garlic, onions and jalapenos were not the best of my consuming choices I have made.

I've now brushed my teeth three times in the past 1.5 hours and followed each with mouthwash. None have worked their magic. I could still kill an elephant with one blow of my breath; let alone what I'm doing to myself.

Why? Why, do you ask, is this anything you should care about? It is majorly important, because I have a massage appointment with a client in 1-hour. (panic!)***









***. . . . And I thought the only thing I really needed to worry about was burping, growling tummy or farting in front a a client. . . .

Sheesh.

Waiter, Get Over Here - No, Not You . . . The Young One

Back on campus after 15 years.

Felt a bit cougar-ish when a couple of collegiate boys turned their heads when I passed on by. Which quickly disappeared as soon as I walked into a room full of academe girls. . . . Who looked directly at me as if I had willfully and spontaneously birthed three mutant heads out my left ear as I killed the czar and his ministers.

Mind you, I was stylishly wearing my stilettos. I mean, I do have charming toes.

Geesh.

Does This Monitor Make Me Look Fat?

Stoopid schedulers of the husbands work. . . . I mean, that it is nice to actually give him a holiday off, but make him work the entire graveyard shift the night before you give him a day off. That makes total sense, right? Right!

Wrong!

'Cos then on his day off he Will. Sleep. All. Day. Duh.

No wonder this couple in this Longhorn City has no idea what a holiday actually is.

So, thanks for making me go clean on a holiday, thanks for making the husband sleepy for the day and, last, but certainly not least, thanks so much for your consideration. We have learned that in order for the husband to get the day off requested by him we have to specify to not make him work graveyard the night before (it is here that I would like to note to my seven readers, that today was not a "request off" made by the husband. It was an assigned holiday "day off" by the scheduling company.) You almighty smiters. One too many times he's asked for a day off and you give him the night shift before that day off. We are on to your wiley ways. . . . oh yes we are. And, we will be sure to not make the same mistake 5x's.

For serious.

The Good Stuff

I know. I know. I am a horrible, beastly blogger. My time is eaten up elsewhere these days and it is all I can do to read all my fabulous blogosphere friends' bloggie-blogs. In case you are all wondering, I am. I may skip over uber-long posts for time management issues, but I am here reading when I have's a moment. I think I've even managed to forget how to use Blogger. I keed. I keed. Tis funny no?

Anyhow, I won an award from TT of Paint and Spackle, oh . . . . . . .idunno. . . . . . like, a millenium or so ago. . . . . . and I never did properly thank her. She took time to think of me and my leetol blog here in my Longhorn City, but could I even return a "thanks, tt! You really made my mixed-up crazy day!"? No. And that's just not like moi. I wasn't kidding when I said my cerebellum is a puddle of ooze and leaking out my ear down to my non-stiletto clad feetsie's. And, no, I'm not a drama queen.

I never forgot, even if I never did say thanks.



Oh. Right. In the tradition of awards I am to pass on the love, so in no particular order, "and the winners are:"

Jay of Cynical Bastard
Alli of Brown Eyed Girl
Butterfly Girl of Butterfly in Disguise
Freakazojd of Freakazojd's Palace
ETK of I'm Just Sayin'
Mindy of Mindy Does Minneapolis
Princess Winnipeg of the Princess Diaries
Emmeline of Why the Sky is Blue
Ian of Ooh! Shiny
Tink of Pickled Beef
Alex & Fi
Real Live Lesbian



(<------------ everyone's links are over there; check 'em out if you have yet to do so) I realize that some of you have already received this award. In case you have, please know that you are 2x's Most Excellent and then some! Someone else may have beaten me to it, but you're my staples in this here world of ours. Thanks for letting me peep in on yours every now and again. Pick up and enjoy your awards.




Later, gators. I will be back for more - most likely when I'm not a zombie princess. Promise.

His Name Is Not Egg Salad

I'm not quite wired correctly today on this lovely (& frigid) Monday morning. Or maybe I'm just sleep deprived. Either way it's not yet 7:30 AM and here is what I've accomplished:

• forgetting to shave one entire leg
• forgetting to brush my teeth
• putting on slippers instead of shoes when dressing for school
• washing my hands and then going back to lotion them, but managed more soap instead
  
• putting the milk in the cupboard completely missing the refrigerator
  

Granted I've caught all such misdemeanors, but you need to understand that I have the rest of Monday to screw up even more so. I have far to drive to get to school on time. I'm a bit nervous about this.

Wish me luck.

Tell Us Your Phobias, and We Will Tell You What You Are Afraid Of. robert benchley

So, I'm in massage therapy school. Three weeks and four tests into it now with a mid-term looming tomorrow. Yes, I should be studying. I should actually commence thy studying. It's raining, is my only excuse and,Idon'twanna. . . .

But being a student in massage therapy school, I realize I have to touch people in choosing to do what I want to do. I just did not realize that some of these people could quite possibly be Sasquatch. Or that some individuals might be one big raised melanocytic nevus. And, while these things are not scary, they can tend to make some individuals cringe, take pause or recoil. I may or may not be this person.

Either way, I somewhat naively thought I could take one step at a time. Maybe have a slightly hairy person one day, a entirely clean shaven the next two or three times to another more hairier individual, back to no hair at all and then, finally, on to a single cute little mole. You know, baby steps. To get me out of the "ew zone". It is only my third week.

Well, let me just say that I no longer have the previous two phobias. I'm cured and so over both the Sasquatch and the moles. Two birds with one stone. In one client. For good measure, let's also throw in creepy toenails. Truth be told, I was scratched by some thick, apparently, sharp yellow one's. I got the three-for special. That's trip fantastic.

Bring on the herpes.





I'm just, you know, sayin'.

Because I Said So

Note to self:

Do not drink 1016 ml (approximately 48 oz.) of water at 9 o'clock at night.





Right before bedtime.

'Nough said.

Injuries May Be Forgiven, But Not Forgotten. Aesop

Forewarning:

This post may not be for those of you who are faint of heart. If you don't like blood and guts the following photo's are not for you. It's not like I am holding my actual beating heart in my own hand, but it is not like I'm holding butterflies either. Though they were taken with my camera phone and details have been blurred & they do not look as bad as the original.

This is not a result of playing real-time Frogger in 5" stilettos:

(Please note the husband has already scrubbed out my owie.
During which I kept quietly blubbering some sort of gibberish while rocking back and forth. But it's clean. For now.)

This is what happens when your husband and you, while bike riding, pseudo-shout to a woman you are coming upon to pass, "on your left" but they do not move over. Since there was less than 12" to pass on, it seems I did not make it.

My tire caught the side of the concrete path and henceforth decided I should not remain upright. My nice warm leggings were gashed just like my knee and blood began a heavy trickle down my shin. That was gross. Vile even if you were to ask me. But your not, so I won't. I also bruised my left palm. I'm sure that will help me in school.

Anyway, I popped up right away after nonchalantly exclaiming under my breath something that rhymes with "Chuck" (sorry mom). And the offending lady offered, "I'm so sorry! Are you okay? My husband and I are always listening for cyclists as were are one's ourselves. I never heard you come up on us. I'm so sorry."

Which, to me, is a kooky-mental thing to say to someone when both of your iPod earphones are plugged into each one of your ears!

Um, duh.

So, this is my knee now (again with the camera phone, I know, I know. . . .
But my Rebel XTi's battery died, so these are what you get):

I'm fine. I did not want to wash it at first. I still don't want to wash it. The husband made me. Actually, he had to clean it as I refused to do so, but I didn't like it. It bled again. And I still don't want to clean it tomorrow or even the next day or the day after that. It also doesn't help that my Boykin Spaniel, Dixie, is following my knee around trying to lick it on a consistent basis tonight. That's gross too.

************************

I rode 1/2-way back home and since my tire is bent the husband ran ahead to get the truck. I have to say here that every single man that passed me on the path asked if 1) I was okay and 2) if I needed help. Chivalrous - and I am very okay with that, but I'm going to wait for my husband thankyouverymuch.

The women that passed me if they even acknowledged my existence said, "hello." Oddly, I was reminded of Madeleine Albright who once said, "there is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women."

That is all. I'm pretty sure I don't look comfy nor cute.

If You Can Hear Me, I Believe

I am not supine anymore and I also can move more than 50-feet away from the porcelain goddess. I also should not wear 5" stilettos to massage therapy school anymore, especially when playing Frogger across 6 lanes of road at 7:45 AM.

I'm just sayin'.

Your Ancient Customs Intrigue Me

Yesterday, it started with a nap. A rarity if I ever do so. But if it must be done it is a 20 to 30 minute rest only. Yet, I awoke after an hour of sleeping hard. I immediately wanted to go back to sleep.

Then, I could not be more than 50-feet from the good ole porcelain goddess or god, whatever your preference might be. I still cannot leave this DMZ Longhorn City toto area. A zone that did not formally exist two days ago. My tummy is full of bubbly and not the good kind. It's not good for anyone involved. Trust me on this. I'll spare the details.

Finally, it feels as if a zombie is eating the back of my eyeballs out. Let me tell you what a fantastic feeling that is. My head hurts too. To top things off and make it that much worse, I have lost all sense of my appetite. Everyone knows how much I love my food, the smells, the tastes and the cooking of.

Am I turning into a zombie? Am I in hell?

Maybe, like wine in a decanter, I need air, to relax, to stretch, to become comfortable? I cannot possibly be ill. I have too much to do today, tomorrow and Sunday. Besides, the weather is fantastically beautiful. I have my back door open and it smells like spring. Awesome. I want to walk the dogs, look at pretty flowers bursting out and soak up the gorgeousness of the day(s).

Instead, I sit here telling my seven readers of the fetid stank pit oddball, which is full of decaying nasties; the thing that was formerly known as "me". I'll need to come up with a symbol, just like that guy who is Formerly-Known-As-Prince. Or is he back to being Prince?

Jeebus.

Say a little prayer for me. Please.

Because I Said So

The husband had a day off today. Guess what I made him do on his one day off before I leave our Longhorn City?

Go to a movie. That's right. A movie. It had been so long since we've seen the inside of a movie theater, that I was like a school kid in a candy shop! So, what movie did we pick? The husbands vote: National Treasure: Book of Secrets. My vote: Cloverfield. Guess who won? That's right, me. Woot. Woot.

Off we went.

Where I made it through 40 minutes of the movie. The husband looked at me a few times, "baby, you don't look so good. Let's leave." And since I really, really wanted to see this movie, I refused to budge. Increasingly, I became clammy, sweaty and green-ish. At 40 minutes, or there about, I ran to the women's restroom. All of the stalls were full. I tasted vomit. I couldn't cool off. I wanted to lie down. A few women stared at me as if I were some kind of junkie, but no one asked if I was okay. What's wrong with society? I suppose, to their credit, I looked like a fashionably dressed junkie, but . . .

After 20 minutes being spent in a movie theaters bathroom, I returned to my seat still not quite right in the belly. The husband whispered, "honey, a movie is supposed to be fun and you look miserable; let's just go."

Putting my head down in disappointment, I finally nodded. Motion sickness is a bitch.

I Sense You Are Looking For Something

me: grrrrrrrwaaarrrrrmmmmmmblllllphlat.

What is that? What does that mean? Is that Jen without makeup? Or hair products? Or coffee? Zombies, possibly? Dead sea monkeys?

No.

That's Jen p*ssed off at uninsured motorists. Did I say the parents were really concerned and willing to work with us? I take that back - tenfold.

That's all I really have to say right now about that.

******************

A couple hours after cooling off. . .

Addendum: yeah. I know. I knew this would happen. I did. I was just thinking (hoping beyond all hopes & dreams) that maybe; just maybe someone in this world during the age we live in would not be a jackhole for once. How very wrong I am. Sooner or later I'm going to turn cynical. And evil.


Addendum to the Addendum: Here's what I know so far - our insurance company will cover the damages and a rental car.

We have to pay the deductible.

Since the parents of the twins that hit us do not plan on putting them on their own insurance within the 30-day time allotment, as mentioned previously, our company will cover it. To use the the mothers' words, "They're on their own. I told them that if they bought this car it was up to them to take care of it. . . .blah, blah, blah"

What she doesn't seem to understand is that our insurance company will turn around and sue them. Though I'm not here to educate the masses, 'cos, you know, that's not my jobbie-job; it makes sense, at least to me, to put their children on their insurance to cover the damages therefore avoiding any law suit(s). Since these twins are students and thus considered dependents of their parental units. Put. The. Kids. On. Your. Insurance. I'm not going to sue you - my insurance company with a building full of one thousand-and-two lawyers will.

Make sense?

Are You & Your Little Band of Ruffians Picking Pockets

What are Jen and the husband in the middle of:

A) prepping (sanding, washing, masking/taping, wood filling, etc.) the dinning room & family room for paint
B) planting stuff that grows
C) tearing out homemade ceiling structure(s) in the Great Hall
D) power washing house, fence, cars, garage
E) epoxying the garage floor
F) fixing broken window the dog kicked out last spring
G) prepping trim on home to receive a coat of paint
H) breaking into shed
I) replacing deadbolt on said shed post-break in
J) re-caulking 264 pieces of glass
K) customizing all outlets, plugs and weird electrical items
L) flabbergasted that closed off electrical wires which are 60+ years of age are still "hot"
M) pricing Pergo flooring for master bedroom (cha-ching)
N) prepping kitchen for paint
O) prepping guest bathroom for paint
P) replacing front & back door hardware
Q) repairing rotten wood pieces around home
R) on the millionth-and-one trip to Lowe's
S) cooking the entire way through home improvements
T) ALL OF THE ABOVE

What's your guess?

the husband: so. . . . was there a special on syrup?

It Hissed at Me and Raised into Attack Mode

I was moving the flagstones in our backyard today. I decided to walk under our tree house - taking a short cut to get to the pile of stone. I was looking down and walking rather quickly. In doing so, I. Hit. My. Head. In. The. Same. Exact. Spot. I. Did. Yesterday.

I crumpled in a heap.

I am talented, people. Verrrrry talented.

I Smell a Burrito

While driving to breakfast this morning, we happened to come across a man with a gasoline can. He was walking across the part of the sidewalk where there is an entrance into some sort of shopping center or store or whatnot. He saw that the husband and I were about to turn in and abruptly stopped walking. The husband made a quick motion to the man that it was fine, keep going - it's not a problem. But the man motion the same thing to the husband. In fact, he insisted upon it. So, as we drove by the man I gave him a quick "thank you" wave as well as a mouthing of such words.

And there it was - rock star parking! In all it's glory right in front of us. Just calling out to be completed with a truck in its b-e-a-you-tiful space. This never happens to us. It was a calling from the parking gods that be. "Take. The. Spot." and "It's yours for the taking." Yet, to my alarm, we kept moving which was away from the front spot not reserved for the wheel chair bound or pregger females.

I promptly mentioned a few words of wisdom to the husband as if he didn't already comprehend, "buthere'srockstarparking!" Upon which the husband replied, "yeah, but I don't want to get stopped by that man with the gas can asking for cash."

I thought for a brief moment and responded, "noooo-oo . . . . he's not going to ask for money. I mean, he's out of gas, obviously and wants to get to his car." Most people in this world are good. Not everyone is out for something, right? By this time the husband; however, had already parked the truck in Timbuktu land (as if I can't walk) . . . . He got out and I followed suit. As I was moving myself out of the vehicle I looked for gas can man on the sidewalk just up the street he was moving. I didn't see him. I thought, "golly! The guy moves fast." And turned to find the husband who was stopped and half-heartedly listening to gas can man.

The guy sure did move fast, but only to proposition the husband for money. I stood aside perfectly bewildered.

Once we were able to move on from gas can man, I turned to the husband and said, "I will never doubt you again."

Don't Worry, No One Noticed Part Deux

I was determined that today was going to be a great day! My luck was turning after all.

On my way out to the truck, I grabbed the last remaining garbage bag from the Battle of the Boll Weevils. It was much heavier than I remembered, which caused me to look down. Upon where I then continued walking into the rising garage door. An impenetrable blow to the middle of the top of my little head. Unfortunately, so unyielding was our garage door that I believed I almost smacked my eyeballs out of their nice homey sockets. Elegance, really.

Three hours later, I have a nice little goose egg of a reminder and a headache to match.

Great day so far.

Lucifer's Chamber

So, this week started out a bit rough for me. On Saturday, as I was sitting trying on new glasses, I noticed one of my anniversary gifts was gone. Gone! In a panic, I just picked out a pair, paid and left. I needed to leave. I thought my throat was closing in - I couldn't breathe.

On top of that, the glasses I had previously picked out were not the glasses I purchased. I'm worried about that. Here's the thing, I'm not so much a pushover, but I couldn't get the lady who sold me my previous glasses to budge. She kept telling me that the eye wear I wanted this time around did not look good on me. Two weeks prior, four other employees said they were the one's for me. I loved them. I had my heart set on them. I did not get them. I'm mad at myself.

She did; however, keep trying to get me to purchase the Prada eyeglasses. I absolutely loved the Prada - who in their right mind wouldn't, but I did not love the $500.00 price tag they were wearing (and let me mention just how irritated I am right this moment for finding them for this price on the web. I'm not even going to bother looking up the one's I bought for fear of a much. lower. price.) ***gah***

I also bought my mother-in-law a birthday card. I read it. It was really a very sweet card. I did not; however, look at the card. I only read it. I went to sign it and finally viewed the card. It is a card for an African- American mother. An authentic and official Mahogany card complete with label and all. I somehow missed that.

Once more, I famously digress.

I lost my earring. I bought the wrong glasses. I cried over my earring. I tore the home apart. I finally told the husband, to which he responded, "it's okay, baby. You know how you can find it?"My response, "stop looking for it?" But with a big grin he said, "it won't be lost anymore if we just purchase another one!" Which made me want to cry further. He was so understanding. Instead, I managed, "this time I'm making them put screw backs on - not just the push backs. I couldn't handle losing them again." The husband just laughed and said it was okay. I still felt terrible.

On Monday, it was good not to go back into work. I hear now that the big kahuna has basically announced a downsizing will take place by the end of the year. People are definitely worried. I am really glad not to go back to that place, but I felt useless once more. It's not fun not working or not having a mission in life. I know, I know. . . I will post about this later.

I spent most of this week catching up on 2 months of housework and yard work. I have much more to do, but at least it gives me something. I can't sit my arse at this here computer all day now, can I?

I think I may be on the fringe of shin-splints. I could only do 2 miles of my 3 mile run last night. It was excruciating. The husband has been helping me with stretches and massages. Props to the ibuprofen as well. I have a 4.5 mile run to complete tomorrow night, I'll see then what level my pain is at. I can't stop now, the 1/2 marathon is just over a month away.

Also, I think I've discovered I'm a bit anal this week. Or at least more so than I originally thought. Whilst battling wheat weevils for hours, after washing every canned item and throwing out every conceivable box as well as wheat product, this is what my pantry looks like after the assault:

What do you think? Anal? Just a little? My life is fun, people! It is.

***geesh***

Upon waking this morning, I stepped in dog puke. I had on slippers. Ha, ha! Vindication! Still gross, but not quite as gross as being barefoot would have been. While cleaning up, I spotted a cockroach out of the corner of my eye. I cleaned him up too. ***shudder*** But, while grabbing him with a massive wad of paper towels, his 80,000 legs started to scrambled. I yelped, squished and flushed him down the toilet. A 1/2 dead cockroach almost killed me from fright on Halloween.

Furthermore, the husband and I finally started to put together our workout room. I was very sad as that meant we took down my nieces room and put it all away. She won't be back - at least not for a long time. I verged on tears once more. I miss her immensely.

A few hours of moving, cleaning, hooking electronics up and we finally have a TV, DVD, computer, CompuTrainer as well as a spin bike all set to go for home workouts.

We then rode bikes together for just over an hour while watching "The Nightmare Before Christmas." And(!) we tackled a core strengthening DVD for the first time ever. Just after we started, we looked at one another with fear. This was not going to be easy. We were huffing and puffing 5 minutes into it . . . . An hour later, we finished. We both almost collapsed. We stretched and ordered a pizza. Take that muscles! To hell with burning fat cells!

Finally, I found my earring this afternoon (and its backing)! I'm still going to take them in for screw backs. I'm not chancing nothing. I've been all smiles since then. I think my week just might be turning around. . . .

Don't Worry, No One Noticed

How did I manage to get supine on the couch on my very first day off from employment?

Was it from the boundless mileage on Saturday? Was it from the hours of battling wheat weevils Sunday evening? Was it from the day of yard work before that? Or was it, possibly, from the gym workout with my trainer this morning? No, no, no and no. None of these were the cause of my day of dormancy.

I managed to get myself laid out on the couch by parking my truck backwards into a parking space right before my gym appointment. You see, I turned my head to the left, which was done in order to see over my shoulder. That's when it happened. A snap and a burning of pain in my neck. A muscle spasm so tight, you could play Santana tunes on my ligaments that keep my head attached to my body. I couldn't move my head to the left or much of anywhere, actually, without extreme pain. It brought tears to my eyes.

My trainer's office mate is also a licensed massage therapist. She worked on it as much as it allowed me to complete my workout sans a few weight lifting maneuvers. She also provided me ibuprofen. I made it home. I found the heating pad and laid myself on the couch. For hours I did not move. Any slight head movement reminded me that I. hurt. myself. parking. the. truck.

It's not even a fantastic nor an elaborate story. No box lifting. No 20 miles ran. No passionate night at home. No marathon blog typing. Nothing. I injured myself parking.

Parking.




*I will mention that I did manage to run my required 4.5 miles today through the sheer gritting of my teeth. I walked .5 miles to cool down as well. My neck still feels like a Mac truck ran over it. Ibuprofen is fast becoming my best friend today. As is the couch.

**The husband noticed I was laid out on said couch. With a heating pad. Upon asking a few definitive questions he promptly brought me a couple happy pills and a glass of water asking if there was anything else I needed. These pills tried to knock me out, but I fought them hard. They also made me sick to my stomach. I again battled them relentlessly. Even on my afternoon run. I don't see how people like these things? They are absolutely dreadful.

***Though, this renewed my faith in how much the husband really is my knight in shiny, shiny armor! That alone made my day that much better! Even if it was spent on the couch.

****Another good thing, not as good as the husband, but still good was the fact that HBO played "The Holiday". A very top favorite of mine. Though drug induced, I did happen to watch the entire movie. I heart "The Holiday".



I'm going back to the couch now. That's all you get.