F#$%-all

F&*k-all is one of my favorite words. It's descriptive and multi-use. I don't hear it much in the States, mostly I hear it in BC. I think I'll do my part in the language arts and introduce it into American society. I'm sure my mother will be pleased.

I'm in a mood. It's been lingering for awhile now. It's called JULY. You ever have those moods? There's no way to describe it accurately without cursing: You just f*&king hate everyone and everything. Everything. I hate that shirt! It's raining. This song bugs me. That person sucks. I hate gas prices. bladda bladda bladda.

Usually, a nap helps this. Or one of my beloved iced mochas. But God has a sense of humor and it's dark sometimes. Time hasn't allowed for naps. I have "lack of coin" so my iced mochas are not an option. The MG has even been busy and I haven't seen much of him. Perhaps, it's my mood that's keeping him away, perhaps it's the racecar...we'll never know.

I know it's irrational. I know it's immature but I just feel pissy. I feel like I am on the verge of a really good, adult-sized tantrum.

So, for lack of attitude and anything positive to write, I've huddled down, like a troll muttering and throwing things. (this is a metaphor, I don't actually throw things nor do I resemble a troll) I'm waiting it out.

Bright side: Tomorrow is Friday. We're going out of town. (( yes, the family is going too, why do you ask? Of course they're going! Don't be silly))

(:-S

F*&K-all.

Quote of the Day

I just really, really like this:

Educator and writer Leo Buscaglia put it like this:
"The majority of us lead quiet, unheralded lives as we pass through this world.
There will most likely be no tickertape parades for us, no monuments created
in our honor. But that does not lessen our possible impact, for there
are scores of people waiting for someone just like us to come along;
people who will appreciate our compassion, our encouragement, who will
need our unique talents. Someone who will live a happier life merely
because we took the time to share what we had to give. Too often we
underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening
ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which
have the potential to turn a life around. It's overwhelming to
consider the continuous opportunities there are to make our love
felt."

Minty Fresh Breath

We usually use the Crest Whitening brand of toothpaste. We've tried others but the Crest brand seems to work for us. However, the choice has not gone without it's share of problems.

First, we tried the Cinnamon flavor. I love it, MG was kind of "it's alright." Two problems with the cinnamon: I am a paleface so any skin touched by the toothpaste is inflamed for a little bit. Yeah, that's hot as you're crawling into bed. And, less of a problem, the taste clashes with the Listerine that we use.

Then I tried the Orange flavor. *shudder* It tasted like that orange slice candy, you know, the chewy kind? Blech.

Finally, we settled on the mint flavor. Always a safe bet. It mixes nicely with the Listerine. Ah, issue resolved.

And then while I was in a hurry and shopped by "color" instead of actually reading the package: I accidentally picked up the Vanilla flavored toothpaste.

Picture MG brushing his teeth. He finishes, kind of rolls his tongue around his mouth and announces:
"It's like brushing with....PUDDING."

It was immediately banished from the house. Seriously, whose idea was VANILLA?

Snap Crackle & Pop

If you're only experience with chiropractors is Alan on Two & A Half Men, listen up!

I was not a fan of chiropractors. I was cynical, well - perhaps dubious is a better word.

And then entered the MG who SWORE by chiropractors...or rather, by his chiropractor. He was in a motorcycle accident when he was 19 (hate those damn things) The hospital and his doctor proclaimed him "FINE." They told him to give it a few days and he would be good to go. Two weeks passed and he was pretty much bed-ridden. Someone told him to go to the chiropractor. He was also in the skeptical/dubious category. Desperate, he gave it a try.
It worked! A series of adjustments and he was a brand-new man. He goes regularly-ish now and tells that story whenever he has a chance. (when appropriate of course. He's not stopping innocent by-standers or anything)

YEARS LATER...we had been married nearly ten years and I still hadn't tried it. Hadn't really needed to, or so I thought.

I got up one morning and couldn't stand straight. Not straight as in solider at attention straight but straight as in my shoulders were on one side of my body and my hips were on the other side. I was a rookie at that point but I was pretty sure this wasn't good.

The MG took me to his doctor and a few adjustments later: straight and true. Magic. Relief!
I have been a devoted patient ever since.

Now, the trick of chiropractor treatment is follow-through. If you're not going to follow-through on their instructions then don't bother. Trust me. This is Suzy-I'll-Do-It-Myself talking. It just doesn't work that way. Every once in a while, I'll get cocky and not follow instructions. Yeah, bites me in the ass every. single. time.

(oh, and when I rolled the truck, I didn't bother with the ER. I knew they were going to tell me I was fine, but here take some Oxy-Contin just in case. NO THANKS. I went to my doctor instead. Yeah, dislocated shoulder and hip. A few treatments later and it was like the accident never happened...other than the whole not having a vehicle thing)

As time has passed, a few funky little ailments that I've always had have gone away. Little things that a person carries and just doesn't think about. Ear infections (well, that's not little)
a sore shoulder or wrist. Ringing in my ears. All gone.

And you know who doesn't like chiropractors? Sneaky Little Bastard. He hates chiropractors.
They had a falling out somewhere along the way.

It also teaches you to listen to your body...now that sounded very Deepok Chopra but it's true. You start to pay attention: "was that a good pop or a bad one?" "Do I wake up sore or can I get up easily?" "What's that noise?"
But it's all about us being electrically-powered. When our bones are out of adjustment, the nerves, synapses, and spine can't communicate. It's like a kink in the telephone cord. (for those of us who used to have rotary dial telephones)

And there's a little bit of faith mixed in there. You have to assume that it's going to work. What did I say after the accident when the doctor said "It's going to be about six months for you to fully recover." I said "I Don't Have Time for That." It's about mind-set.

Now, before I go all Tony Robbins on you, chiropractors are not for everyone and not every chiropractor is a good one. I think a person has to be very discerning. Because there's a level of trust that has to be there when he's twisting your head around on your shoulders in a very unnatural-like way. (:-D

Gypped

Guess who came back early!?! *disappointed sigh* three. days. early!

But they brought me a lovely little ceramic lighthouse from Port Townsend and they just gave us a soaker hose for the garden. (caution: two items that just appeared in your rear view mirror are completely unrelated)

It was nice while it lasted...

Witness Protection Program

As I've mentioned in previous posts, the family all lives within FEET of one another. Yes, FEET.
7 people, three houses, 2 acres. It sounds like a reality show and it's called my life.

However, the neighborhood (as in us and my b & s-i-l) just heaved a collective sigh of relief. The Parents went away...for a WEEK. A WEEK!

We can come and go unmonitored! We don't have to wave every time we walk by! We're FREE!

While it's lovely having family nearby and it has come in handy when I've run out of cheese or don't feel like cooking. BUT, this little vacation is wonderful.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..............

Random Items

My kitchen window...see that bee-yoo-tee-ful sunlight pouring in!?!

Left to right...

White canisters that used to be MG's ex-wifes. Now they hold cell phone chargers & sugar.

The narrow coffee cup is a Thomas Kincaide cup that currently holds the water filter to the fridge that I can't remember to replace.

Plant is the only kind of plant that even I, despite my worst efforts, cannot kill.

Dish soap dispenser, given as a house-warming gift. It's too pretty to use

Painted flowerpot that I HAD TO HAVE...even though it didn't match my house at the time.

Another plant that I can't kill

Pretty little tchotchke that my mother-in-law gave me.

The first bottle of wine ever drank in the Malibu Barbie Dream House

Coffee cup is my Starbucks Las Vegas coffee cup that I love but didn't make it home in one piece. (the handle cracked...bummer!)

See that *sparkly* sink!?!?! At least I got that scrubbed out.

Oh and that odd pump thing to the right of the faucet? The best thing ever for a kitchen or a bathroom: a built-in hand soap dispenser! ($20 - Home Depot!)

Exhaustified

I am stuck in "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" mode today.

I have chores to do and writing to do and errands to do. Meanwhile, my caffeine fueled brain is mildly distracted. I have to do laundry, sh*t, it's still wet...oh look, that curtain needs washing soon...I need to change dishrags, but I need to scrub out the sink first...darn, I forgot to run this dishwasher last night...oh look, it's sunshiney, I should go hang out on the deck and read...MG gets home in a few hours, maybe I'll play the "Get the chores done in the time it takes him to get home" game...wait, what was I doing? Oh, that's right, I was going to write for a little bit but I should go out and wash my truck...I wish I'd stopped at the Dollar Sale at the Nursery...when did Time magazine expire? I can't remember when I got the last one...oh Lucky's sleeping on the floor behind me, he's such a sweet dog...I've got to remember to get my film developed this weekend...someones here, oh, it's just the family...I'm going to change my Sirius to the 80's station...there, that's better...I'm hungry. Dammit, I have to go to the grocery store today...

Welcome to my brain...sigh..........

Through a Filter

I think that everyone sees things through their own filter. Either it's "rose-colored glasses" or through a "veil of sadness" or just through emotion.

So, when I run into situations where people say things *cough* stupid * ahem* things, I try to remember that.

We had an impromptu visit tonight. It's one of the MG's oldest friends. While I adore him, I can certainly do without her. Swirling Negative Void is the best way to describe her succinctly.

With that, I had to take a deep breath when the first words she said was:
"So, you even had time to vacuum. There's even tracks in the carpet."

While I wanted to reply: "IT'S BECAUSE I ACTUALLY VACUUM!!!"
I simply said "Oh no, that's from a few days ago. It's still pretty new carpet."

She saw it through her filter of not being a housekeeper. I must remember that.

But it still irritated me. I'm seeing it through a bitter filter. (:-D

Scene from My Life

My husband has to eat every three hours or so. Luckily, he can get by with small snacks throughout the day as long as he eats a decent lunch and good dinner. However, these small snacks can't be missed. Graves Disease along with hypo-glycemia requires this. This has been a huge adjustment for both of us but three years after his diagnosis, we've gotten it down to a science, almost.

As he begins work at 7 AM and finishes at 5 PM, the contents of his lunch box would feed a small, third-world country.

Usually, I pack most of his lunch the night before because I am so Not. My. Best. at six in the morning. Apparently, last night I forgot to pack his cookies for his mid-morning snack.

Keep in mind, he is the smartest and quickest and funniest human I have ever met....

While at work, I received the following picture and text:

"There should be a cookie in this hand, you heartless b#$%^"

Not Garfield

One of my favorite internet photos to help combat the Monday blues:

Pissy VanCranky Pants

I used to love the Garfield cartoons when I was a kid. "I hate Mondays" was posted on my locker in school. Today was that kind of a day. I had a task, dealing with a unpleasant - and that's the nicest descriptor I can come up with - person first thing this morning and I was dreading it. Don't you just hate that?

And although it was over by 11:00, it just set the tone for the whole day. I was exhausted by the negative energy.

So, this afternoon I came home, took off my shoes (did I mention I have a bug bite on the top of my foot? yeah, nice.) laid down on our most comfy bed and read a book. A little bit of bliss for about thirty minutes.

Now, Hyper Boy is home and I have laundry to do. And the dog shed the entire length of the house. And the garden needs watering. Sigh....... Calgon, Take Me Away!

If I'd just thought about bringing take-out home. Oh well. Tomorrow's another day, Scarlett.

Icy Contentment

I just have to mention how wonderful that it is to have a mocha stand two minutes away from my house. Pure Joy.

Simpsonize Me

My friend J showed me how to Simpsonize myself! How fun is that?

Alternative Uses

Along with the theme of random stuff from my house, I realized that I often use things not quite as they are intended. Wandering about the house, I found these things.
In no order whatsoever…oh, wait, how about in order of discovery?

A candy bowl holds our car keys

A flour canister stores our cell phone chargers

Plastic shoe-box & basket style boxes in the refrigerator (why is there never enough space in the fridge?)

Fruit bowl holds the scrubby under the sink

Telephone books that I wrapped in my fave wrapping paper hold my monitor up. (at work too!)

I use a rocking chair instead of my desk chair.

A carafe holds Listerine instead of wine in the bathroom.

There are also books and throw pillows about the house in strange & interesting ways, kind of like filler for empty spaces.

And if you scroll back through the blog, oh wait – here’s the link:

Just a bunch of silliness, really: The Brownie Story

you will see that cake pans make wonderful paint pans!

This now concludes a strange little tour of the Malibu Barbie Dream House and it's alternative uses for items.

The Bluest Skies You'll Ever See

...are in Seattle. A little Perry Como shout-out for y'all.

Summer has finally arrived here and I am glad to see it. With that however, is a complete undermining of my want-to write anything today.

So, discuss amongst yourselves. Today's cell phone camera photo. I think it looks like a dog chasing a kite

That's What Friends Are For

A few years ago, I hit a rough patch. And I mean A. ROUGH. PATCH.

I won't bore you with details, just know: It Wasn't Fun.

My BFF D gave me a pillow that she had specially made, not without some serious convincing on her behalf, mind you. It summed up what needed to be done to get through what I was going through.

I think everyone needs a friend like this and a pillow like this. As I can't send everyone a pillow, I can send everyone a picture. Perhaps this will help you get through your rough patches in life:

*warning * Language!

The Rock

On the way to work every morning I pass "The Rock". It's a landmark up here that everyone checks out as they pass by on the freeway.

It's a boulder, really. It's what I would describe as God's Exterior Decorating. One of those things that I imagine him saying "Hmm, what this area needs is a huge rock. Right there. Yes, that's perfect."

I imagine that back-in-the-day, the rock was much smaller. But now it has, what I imagine, is 100's of coats of paint on it. Every week or so, it changes. Sometimes it's "Happy Birthday!", Sometimes it's "Congratulations Class of 2007!", you get the idea.

After 9/11, it was painted with a flag and "We will never forget." Yeah, nothing like bursting into tears on the way to work. That one stayed for about a month until someone painted over it with something inane like "Way to go Debbie". I suppose it was a matter of time before it was painted over, but it was just a little disappointing.

My all-time favorite was of Calvin, of Calvin & Hobbes. He was sulking. A perfect rendition.

Last week, someone painted the rock and I've been intrigued ever since. It's completely black, with red lettering and reads:
"I'm Sorry Thomas
~ Randy"

I am dying of curiosity. Who is Thomas & Randy? What did Randy do? Has Thomas seen the rock? Did he forgive him? It's intriguing. I find myself playing out stories in my head.

I wish I could take a photo but it's nearly impossible with a cell phone camera and 65 mph.

So, I'll share with you and you too can obsess about Thomas & Randy.

Waking Up the House

Every morning I go about "waking up the house". A gentle task that I do mostly without thinking.

This ritual entails opening curtains or blinds, turning on lights, opening doors if the weather cooperates, turning on music or television. Straightening up anything left over from the evening or in the wake of the MG. Making the bed, straightening clothes and towels. I seem to treat this house as I would a human: wake up, put on your clothes, brush your teeth, get ready for the day.

It's a ritual that happens every morning; it's soothing really. It's a transition from foggy sleep to being awake and preparing for the upcoming day. In my most disordered mind, I manage to keep a fairly orderly house. (this made possible only because we weren't blessed with kids, mind you)

And I feel it if it doesn't happen. If I oversleep and can't do one or any of the steps, it feels like I'm wearing my shoes on the wrong feet.

Of course, it happens similarly in the night time, not quite in reverse: close the blind so the dog doesn't bark, set the wash going, put my books away. Again, it's a human theme for our house: put away your toys, put on your pjs, and go to sleep. I can't settle in if I forget or skip something. (Yes, very OCD: I've been known to get up to switch or fold laundry just so I can sleep)

It's a ritual that I think most wives or partners conduct in some form or another. One more example of human nature that connects us all.

Keys to the Castle

Today's random item is hanging on our wall, next to the door.

When we bought this property, way back in 1991, we weren't married. Yes, gasp, we lived in sin!
The old house was in disrepair and let's not even discuss the state of the property. Suffice it to say: jungle-like.

We spent hours upon hours spiffing the old house up. The first weekend, the house was full of people: scrubbing, painting, repairing, laying carpet. It went from 1970's kitsch to a homey little cabin.

We were married in front of the old house, we had our first dog in that house. Christmases, parties, snowstorms, the house withstood it all. Many firsts happened in that house.

When we built the new house, I was excited. But I loved our old house and had trouble letting go.
When Danny tore it down, I watched in sadness. It took him 30 minutes to tear down the house we'd spent 14 years of our lives in.

I kept our old house keys and framed them in this little frame. It's a little reminder of the house that we built together, not built in the hammer & nails way but built in memories.

Drum Roll Please

and the winner of the Big Ol' Pay It Forward Contest is:

Stacy from Twists & Turns!!!
http://mizstizzle.blogspot.com/

Hooray!!!

Stacy, if you'll email me your addy I'll send your prize out as soon as humanly possible! (also known as Monday)

Thank you Everyone for your great comments on fave song lyrics! That was So. Much. Fun. to read!

Now, check out Swistle to see what great and fun things are happening regarding the other PIF contests. http://swistle.blogspot.com

Thanks everyone for playing and Let's do this again some time!

Random Quote of the Day:

You cannot prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair. ~ Chinese Proverb

This is odd, but somehow makes sense to me. Of course, an Amy Winehouse reference immediately come to mind, but beyond all that: it makes sense to me.

So here's to not having birds nests in our hair! *clink*

Unintended Consequence

Well, when I sleepily posted the Big Ol' Pay It Forward Contest, I asked everyone to post their favorite song lyric.

Oh. My. God. I am so loving this.

There's just one problem: I'm constantly trying to guess/remember the name of the song!
Alanis? Keith Urban? Rascal Flatts? Prince! Matchbox 20!

Cosmic Nudge: And the sign said Long-Haired Freaky People Need Not Apply. This song had Just Played on the Radio!

And then, tonight as I sat down to write this I get: "hell yeah i'm the motherf@*%in princess" which made me guffaw.

So this has turned out to be much more fun than I thought it would be.

Once again, Swistle is the Queen! Muah!

Will They Make it?

Nipped from Andrew Sullivan's website: a little frivolous fun. Feel like I'm going to hell but at least I'll be met by friends. (:-D

"From the guy behind Overheard in New York, WB's a delightfully despicable site that lets you predict the nuptial success of unsuspecting lovebirds based entirely on submitted couple photos (a Hot or Not for judging eternal bliss)."


http://www.weddingbetting.com/

Blowing sh*t Up

For those of us that are just joining, I am a licensed pyrotechnician. I do commercial fireworks displays. The picture above was in the Skagit Valley Herald in 2006. I was standing underneath all of those sparks! Also, the profile picture that I have was from the same show, just a different photo.

Last year, we had a terrible accident that severely injured my eldest brother and minorly injured the crew, including myself. It was a freak accident, nothing we did caused it.
Here is the news link: http://www.komonews.com/news/8318837.html

((My brother is now fully recovered. He has a six-inch plate in his arm and his burns are all healed))

On Friday, it will be the one year anniversary of blowing up. It's with sadness that we're not doing the firework shows any more. It was with great soul-searching that we each made our decisions. Our parents and families all requested that we no longer do it and it's difficult to tell them no. My sixteen year old niece wrote a poem for school about the accident that I could only bear to read once. After that, my decision was made.

Yet, a part of me is breaking. This is the first time in I don't know how long that I won't be doing fireworks on some level. I am at a loss.

Wait. Let me back up a bit. A little history:

My dad began doing fireworks before I was born. 1963. It began as a lark: two men, drinking, (of course) and shooting off fireworks on a little dock in the middle of the lake. Forty-five years later, it grew to a crew of 8 and a $10,000 budget.

Both of my brothers grew up with the show. Each of them hold licenses since they were 18. I remember being about 9 and sitting on an equipment box, watching for sparks. My dad started us early!

The crews consist of friends and spouses. My crew is my husband, my brother-in-law, my nephew and two of my oldest & dearest friends. You didn't date one of us kids without getting roped into a least trying it. Understandably, many of our friends declined our offers to go "blow shit up" as we fondly refer to it.

But this year, we sit on the shore and watch.

So, in trying to lighten my heart here are a few stories about fireworks:

I finally got my license in 2000. I hadn't needed it until then but we were busy enough that I had my own shows so a license was required. My brothers and I were eating dinner about three hours before the show at the kitchen table. Strangely, there was no one else about. Usually there are tens of people hanging around. Little Brother (as I call him even though he's five years older) mentioned casually "Well, because you have your license now, I am going to stay on shore." Oh, okay. No big deal. Brother Dear (my eldest brother by 10 years...the name is from the Snoopy cartoons) then leans back and says "Yeah, I guess I am too." Wait. What??
I've had my license a month, I am not comfortable on water and they're both staying on shore!?!?! WTH! I look up and they're both grinning. The torch had been passed.
So, out we went. My first solo show and it's the biggest show we have. Yeah. No Pressure.

As we are being towed out to the middle of the lake, a barrel that keeps the dock afloat popped out from underneath the dock and floated away. I am trying not to have a panic attack when my friend Brad runs to the front of the dock and yells "ICEBERG! DEAD AHEAD!"
I laughed so hard I thought I was going to wet myself.
And the show went fine. The brothers were proud.

My favorite show is at a speedway. There are 12,000 people in the crowd and it feels like you can look them all in the eye, they are so close. The show is choreographed to music. It took us a few shows to get used to it but eventually we found our groove. The last show we did there I realized that we had figured it out when I heard the crew singing along as we shot the show.
(also during that show, someone sneezed and we all called out "Bless You!" ;-)

Way back in the day, we did a show in the middle of a cow pasture. (Glamourous, huh?)
One of our friends set up a stereo, unbeknownst to us, and as the show began I heard the beginning of the theme of Mission Impossible. Standing in the middle of a dark field and hearing the music play, I thought I was losing my mind but I turned to see the speakers and laughed out loud.

And we've done plenty of shows in the rain. The worst by far was at the same speedway. It was so slippery we couldn't stand, couldn't walk. Everyone was essentially Army-crawling to get the show finished. By the end, we were caked in clay. We were laughing so hard that we couldn't catch our breath. Imagine, we all wear white cover-alls (we look like Oompa-Loompas) I had to throw away my boots because they were beyond cleaning.

So, I am sure that we'll be telling these stories - and more - on Friday. If I have more pictures, (happy ones) I will post them.

While you're watching fireworks this year, think of me! I'll be somewhere pouting. (:-O