Saying yes...

Why??

There is absolutely NO reason why this product should exist. None. If someone loves these things enough, they'll get a real one. If they're buying this to scare someone, my guess is they will scare them once and would then wake up in the ER.

Sunshine on my shoulder does NOT always make me happy

I'm sure I'll regret saying this, but there are days when the sun gets on my nerves. I love the sun. I love a blue sky, but not all the time. Yes, I know, I've probably have at least 30 posts bemoaning the lack of sun. I guess I'd just like it if the sun were on my schedule... in sync with my moods. I'm a Leo... ruled by the sun, but really, Leos supposedly think they rule it all... including the sun... and today I'd like to tell it to go away. I'm not in the mood... just like the chirpy person you don't want to talk with because you're having an interesting enough conversation inside your head and are one insight away from the answer to everything... they're a distraction... the sun is being a distraction.

Too much sun in late autumn/early winter makes me cranky. I love the early darkness, love the world being lit by incandescence... love the warm yellow pouring out into a world of deep blue. I generally like getting up in the dark during this time of year and like that the dark doesn't stay away so long. I like the turning in and focusing on things inside.

But today, instead of being a blustery November day where I can revel on indoor projects,  it's sunny... it's nice out. It's mild...  the sun is poking it's head inside my window, asking me what I'm doing, do I want to go out... do I want to go here or there...  it won't shut up.

Words That Make My Head Want to Explode

Ok, I've confessed to hating the word, panties, before... gads, even typing it makes my face start twitching... but the word... or words that can potentially make my head explode??? Well, come to think of it, it's not the words themselves, but the pronunciation...

I heard this particular pronunciation on one of the Sunday morning news shows and let out a roar/growl so intense that the youngest lamblet spontaneously started to pick up her toys...

The word?

Strength... or length...

The pronunciation?

STRENTH!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Lenth is just as BAD!

Even worse? Shtrenth.

While my less than crisp, clear esses have dogged me through my life (Your S is bordering on sibilant my dear!), it now appears to be ok to say sh for ssssssssssssssssssssss.  Adding the sh to the already mispronounced word is just rubbing salt in my wound.

I can't take it.

I can take many, many forms of pronunciation. I can find reginal differences to be charming. I can even deal with the occasional "matooer" instead of "machure" that I prefer. I could deal with the geomotry teacher who said, "mazeyoor" instead of measure. Lit-a-chure has been known to make me clench my teeth and need a moment to regroup, but strenth?? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! JUST TYPING IT MAKES ME WANT TO THROW SOMETHING!

And it doesn't matter if I like you or not... doesn't matter if you could get away with any other infraction... strenth could make me have to turn and on walk away.

Even Elvis Costello, whom I dearly love, nearly lost me on this one... and I liked this song to start with... liked the song, loved Elvis... what could possibly go wrong!?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Yes... God give me strength to not stop listening to you Elvis!!! God give me strengggggggth to remember your scratchy voice drives me crazy. God give me strength to ignore.

Have I ever mentioned...

...how much I hate afternoons? I know, there must be something wrong with me, but they drive me nuts... 

Note the total 180 from this morning's upbeat post... but by this evening, I'll be upbeat again...

Attack of the 50 Ft Taskbar!

I had a hand spaz today, held my cursor in the wrong spot while inadvertently clicking, and now I've got a freakin' taskbar that is double in thickness... I can make it completely disappear or I can make it larger, but I can't get it back to its orginal single line thickness and it's DRIVING ME NUTS!!!

I can live with enormous chaos. I can deal with things that would make others insane and should probably make me insane, but little things like a double-wide taskbar. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I CAN'T TAKE IT!

There it is... mocking me... the big-ass chunk of BRIGHT BLUE... a digital flipping of the bird. It's not even the mere fact that I can see it, it's throwing my hand memory off. My hand/mouse dance is doing the dance it's always done, but now it's not ending up in the same place. Now I have to pay attention...

I've rebooted. I've sworn. I've done irate clicking and dragging on any number of things, but it won't reduce. It will not go back to normal.

It's been nice knowing you, but I'm guessing by the end of the day, I'll be thoroughly and completely insane. I'll be twitching and muttering "Taskbar! Taskbar!" somewhat like Paul Dooley in Breaking Away after he finds out his son offered a refund.

What you talkin' about, Willis??

This just pisses me off. I know things change, I realize ownerships change, but come on... apparently I'm not alone.

First Post After Promising Myself I'd Take a Break From Posting...

I knew it... I'd put up something saying I wasn't going to post since I've got a long list of other things to do and what happens? A long list of things to post pops into my head over the rest of the day, thus rendering my ability to focus on anything else, nearly impossible.

I'm still not posting, but am now not saying I'm not posting. If I'm not posting, you'll know why...

I'm also not working. I'm not working on anything and refuse to work on anything, let alone complete something. I will NOT cross one item off of my list... I'm hoping this ensures that I will no doubt, be blasting through said list in a matter of days.

In the meantime,  while I don't like to think of myself as a major sports hound, I know I can be momentarily taken over and get caught up in a game. I don't really get upset with anyone or any calls... that is until it's being pointed out at me that I'm using my Sgt Carter voice and really need to reel it back in a tad. I can usually fly under the radar of being detected though because the people who heard the Sgt Carter voice don't expect it to be coming from me so I smile innocently and then glare at some man.

I'd like to point out, I can control this at children's games. There are enough yelling parents. I save my roars for the good plays... but last night was challenging. The ump was really ticking me off. He kept calling strikes! Strikes on balls that were flying in at about 10 inches above the ground! WTF?!?! Grizzled could tell that I was getting flustered and even though I was ready for the game to be over, all of these "strikes" were starting to get to me...

It was then that he pointed out to me that these kids are small... some not even 4 ft yet, hence, their strike zone falls into a different area than the strike zone I am used to.

Oh.

That made sense.

I then recalled a batting cage experience from my mid-20's. Somehow we ended up at a gocart/batting cage/arcade-type place. I used to love to play softball so I thought hitting some balls might be fun. It had been awhile though so I didn't want anything too fast. No Major League for me. I looked at the choices and thought about which would be slowest...

I chose Little League...

Can anyone else figure out what was wrong with this choice???

I was confused as the ball came sailing in about crotch-high on my 5'7" body (come to think of it, this is a fine spot for ball location). Ok, maybe batting machines need to warm up. Maybe they have a bad day as well. Nope, second one, same thing... and the third and fourth. It then dawned on me how tall Little League players usually are... I adjusted and started playing tennis with my bat, but not before everyone around me saw what was happening.

Ok, I'm done *not posting* which means I may or may not be posting. I, however, will be doing NO WORK. Nope, none for me. Nothing. Nothing will be completed.

Happy Friday. And may all your balls be wherever you'd like them to be.

Just Once

While in the car, driving past many big rigs, I commented that driving a semi was one thing I never need to do. I can cross that one off my list.

Grizzled's response?

"Yeah, but you could drive over much larger garbage cans...".

Once... you do something JUST ONCE... and you confide in your spouse... after he sees the road rash on the Rubbermaid... and it will follow you to your grave. Hell, it will probably be on my tombstone...

"Loving wife, mother... drove for 2 blocks with a trashcan under her vehicle until she was forced to remove it and put it in the passenger seat..."

A Danger to Society

I lost large portions of last week due to a messed-up back. It's nothing new. When I was in high school, in Driver's Ed actually, I was pedaling my way home on my zippy red bike when a car, turning right, underestimated how fast my zippy red bike was going. He turned right into me. The last thing I remember was being airborne above the hood of the car and thinking, oh shit... I just got my bike fixed. Next thing I remember, waking up in an ambulance with a maroon shirt. Hmmm, that's funny, I thought I had worn a blue one to class.

Either way, I survived. I have two souvenirs from this experience. One is a scar on the back of my head. To this day, hairdressers will inform me about the scar, as if I wouldn't have a clue as to where a 4 in. scar came from. The other souvenir is a back that will spasm out of the blue. It's never something huge that does it either. I could be doing a clean and jerk with a moose, but no, that won't do it... it will be something more innocuous, like brushing a hair out of my eye or turning ever so slightly to maneuver a bag through a turnstile.  This last spasm was do to gently reaching for something. That's it... gently reaching... BOING! SPROING! I turn into a groaning, gasping sailor, spewing words no one under 21 should hear.

Over the years, I've learned many ways to lessen my downtime. I've learned the tricks of proper icing and heating. I've found having children has helped because they can pick up the things I can't reach. Ibuprofen is a gawd-send, kidneys be damned. As I've said, I've gotten much better at dealing with it and even taking preemptive action, but this last week caught me off guard and I was down for the count. I tried too many times to get up too early. I tried to power through, to ignore. I even, at times, forgot. There's nothing like finding out the entire house has overslept and even though you've woken up at 5ish for the past 13 years, the morning your eldest lamblet is going on a field trip and needs to be at school by 5:45, you'll be snoozing on the firm, supportive couch. You'll wake up at exactly 5:45... will be so startled, you'll fall off the couch and will then go hurtling up the stairs, yelling, "GET UP!!! YOU'RE LAAAAAATE!!!!" You won't remember your back hurts until the lamblet is out of the house and the adrenaline wears off. Oh well... another day as the prisoner of the ice pack and supportive chair.

I think the stellar example of forgetting though would have to be one of the days I dared to venture out. I had had some small successful ventures beyond the house and still had a ton of errands that were days past due and Grizzled had already been doing more than enough extra stuff, plus I was sick of having to stay put. My back was feeling... ok. It was threatening, but was behaving, so off I went. I cautiously got in the car... made it to the store... made it out of the car and was heading in when what did I see, but an elderly woman in the fire lane who was struggling to get into her car. She had packages and a cane and was hobbling along much like I probably was, but she looked older and my instinct was to help.

I forgot the back pain, I forgot the back completely, went sprinting up, saying ,"Oh wait! Let me help!" And as I leaned to grab her hand and lead her into her car, my back went, "YOU FOOL!!!! SPROING!!!" and I think I let out a slew of cursewords that no doubt lessened this already old woman's life by years... but she was kind, she grabbed my arm and helped me back to curb, while somehow using me as a ballast to launch herself back into the car, seconds before her elderly husband hit the gas and peeled out of the parkign lot to get away from the groaning, swearing stranger.

By the time my lungs regained some oxygen and I was certain I could stand up like other bipeds, I looked at the store and the throng of people and looked at the privacy the car had to offer, muffling my groans and profanities. I lurched back to the car... realizing I was a danger to society and that it would be best if I returned to my icy pack/supportive chair prison.

Update: I seem to be moving freely and have not scared anyone, including my dog, with errant groans, for the past 5 days. If by chance that elderly woman somehow stops by my blog, I'd like to say, I'm sorry... She still had some brown hair when our paths crossed, but by the time our interaction was over, it was all snowy white.

Time for a Mac??

All drives, except for my C and D, have disappeared from my computer. WTF??