Weekends

Is it just me, or are weekends getting shorter?

I don't feel like I have any time during the week - a long commute and a few evening responsibilities. And when the weekend comes I try not to schedule anything more than laundry and groceries. But I barely get one or two things crossed off my "to do" list and it's already Sunday afternoon.

How do other people do it? I don't have expectations of a life of ease (though, wow, would that be cool) but some of the things I want to do are just for me. I used to be able to read a book a week - now it takes me a month.

Short of dropping back to part-time work status, or finding myself a sugar daddy, I don't see a solution.

Any suggestions?

Funny Videos

I found a show on TV today that was funny video clips of people getting hurt. You know the type - people send in videos of of their family or friends. Some are hilarious, some look really painful.

I just want to go on the record saying that if I ever get hurt in a funny way and it happens to be caught by a camera - I will definitely hurt any family member who sends it to any TV show. Why would family members do this?

Granted, many of the videos are of people doing incredibly stupid things. . . or things that they really shouldn't be doing. I would say that either youth or alcohol is involved - or both. But what kind of family members would make these embarassing events public.

I'd like to think my family would rush to my aid if I ever got hurt in a funny way. Well, at least right after they stopped laughing.

I Did It!

I feel invigorated! Alive! Almost giddy!

Tonight I did something I've been wanting to do for weeks, but was too timid to actually do. After all, it would have annoyed one of my neighbors who is particularly bitchy and self-absorbed. I have thought about it, but I thought that I would avoid a confrontation if at all possible.

What did I do? I moved her garbage can that was "holding" her parking space since the first flake of snow fell a few weeks ago. Actually, the same family has been holding 3 spaces, so it's been difficult parking for weeks.

I was able to avoid the confrontation for a few weeks - simply because I managed to find another space. But tonight I didn't want to park around the corner. I didn't want to park on someone else's street. I wanted the space directly in front of my house. It's a public street and I've lived here longer. I wanted it bad!

I didn't take it at first. I went around the block. Then I went around the block again just in case some other parking space became free. Finally I neared the space for the third time and saw that there were no lights on now in their front room - it was time. It was my street too. I could get out and move the can and park quickly and be inside my house before anyone in their house noticed.

That would have been perfect, but that's not the way it happened. The can was heavy and it made noise when I put it up on the sidewalk. Then I simply forgot how to park and had to back up a few times to try to get close enough - and finally gave up even though I was probably 8+ inches from the curb, but because I have a small car I was still inside the lines.

I gathered my work bag and purse and tried to close the car door quietly - I was parked directly in front of their front door. They'd hear it. But I closed it so quietly that it didn't latch. I could have taken out my keys and opened the door again, but that would take too long -- so I just gave it a push with my butt. Finally, I heard the click.

I scampered across the street and into my house as quickly as I could. Did I mention she's quite a loud and mouthy bitch?

Finally inside, I started to laugh. I was grinning from ear to ear. I did it! I'd taken back my street.

It's the little things that make life worthwhile.

Winter Olympics

Are you watching the Winter Olympics? I'm not. I don't think I've watched the Olympics - Winter or Summer - in years. I guess I just can't get interested in any part of it. I just don't understand the attraction. People slide around on the ice, people slide down hills, people slide down hills on their backs, and people race each other on the ice. In allmy years, I've never been able to find anything exciting about watching these sports.

But, to be fair, I think most sports are boring to watch. Well, except football.

Dogs vs. Cats

While there are many other types of pets, most of the world is divided into the dog camp or the cat camp. I am a living example that we don't always voluntarily select what camp we're in.

I like cats. Cats suit my personality. I like the size of cats. I like the independence of cats. I like the feel of cats. I like the purring of cats. I just like cats.

When I was young I lived on a farm and we always had cats. Most lived under the porch and hung out on the porch most of the time. Some were barn cats and you couldn't get close enough to them to enjoy them.

But . . . I'm very allergic to cats. So I have a dog. And the dog I have now is smaller than most cats.

Sometimes you get to make choices in life, and sometimes the choices are made for you.

Fast Food

I stopped at a fast food establishment on my way home from the college tonight because I was starving and didn't want to have to wait to cook something.

Instead of having the drive through menu at the beginning of the driveway, it was at the same location as the speaker. Within second of driving up I had some cheerful person asking me what I wanted. I paused. Umm. Ahh. "Just a minute." I read as quickly as I could. What did I want? I told her one item and did a few more Umm's and Ahh's

Why is it that I felt the need to order quickly just because I was at a fast through drive through? There was no one behind me. It was nearly 8:30 at night. I was alone in the drive through. But I felt pressured. Finally I just ordered two of the first item just to get something out.

The order taker was apologetic when I got to the window. She commented that the building was going to be torn down in 6 months to rebuild and she's hoping they will put the menu further back on the drive so people have time to study and decide. I just smiled. She understood.

Time Zones

Being on the East coast, I know that most of the rest of the US is behind us in time. I have no trouble remembering this. I never remember where geographically the time zones oficially change, but the concept I get. Who decided that Tennessee should be half in one zone and half in another? Texas has all but a tiny corner in the Central time zone - why? Same with Idaho and Florida. What made them decide this - shouldn't the state be entirely in one time zone? And North Dakota has the lower left corner in the Mountain zone - but parts that are just as far west in the upper left corner are in the Central zone. This is just craziness. Since this seems to be (for the most part) an arbitrary geographic deliniation, why not just make it follow state boundaries? Or at least make it a straight line from North to South?

My other problem with time zones is that when I travel I never seem to be able to think the other direction. I still think everyone is behind me. So when I call East, I may be getting them an hour later than I wanted to. When my son was a senior in high school, I went on a business trip into the Central Time Zone. I was supposed to call in the morning to wake him up (since he wouldn't otherwise go to school) but I invariably called him too late. I would call him at 8:00 am, thinking I was reaching him at 7:00 am, and I was really calling him at 9:00 am. It was no use, I couldn't wrap my head around times changing in the other direction.

Now when I travel with my job I have no expectations of calling anyone at the right time. I just call their cell and if they answer. . . they answer. If they don't . . . oops.

Singing

I used to sing all the time. I used to have a half decent voice. But age and years of inhaled asthma medications have changed my voice. Now, it's more gravely and squawky.

But sometimes I still sing or sometimes just hum. It's soothing and uplifting. I find myself humming through the grocery store. Or singing while I'm doing dishes.

I think at times that it's a natural side effect of living alone. You need to hear a voice, even if its your own. But it's probably more that I just enjoy it.

Or maybe it's just that I'm getting old and senile.

White

I went for a drive today. All up and down the road there was uninterruped white. Both sides of the road. In front of me and behind me for the entire drive. White.

Winter is a dreary time anyway, but usually in shades of grey and dusty browns. Now, however, we are trapped in a glaring white landscape.

But good news, it's supposed to rain soon. That should wash away the white and reveal the grey underneath.

One Sick Puppy

Is there anything scarier than someone who replies on you completely being sick. I thought it was bad when my children were little - but I never expected it to be as scarey when a dog gets sick.

Well, to be honest, she doesn't have a lot of wiggle room. She is only 3 1/2 pounds. So when she goes on a hunger strike she can get dehydrated in one day.

I know I'm not the only person to treat their pet like a family member. It's hard not to do. My Winnie is there for me. There is nothing that will make her happier than to be right on top of me. It doesn't matter if I'm standing, sitting, or laying, she wants to be touching me. If we are out somewhere and she gets nervous, she tries to crawl into my purse - even if I'm carrying a clutch. It makes her feel safe - like I won't leave her behind - if she's sitting in or on my purse.

If I cry, she licks my tears. If I'm sore, she's the best heating pad. If I want to be lazy, she doesn't judge. If I want to be active, she will dance around my feet the whole time.

How can I help but worry when she's under the weather.

A Room With a View

I like my office -- both the previous one and the new one now that we've moved. Why? Because they have a view. Nothing spectacular. My old office had one wall of floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the parking lot driveway, the dumpsters, and a nice hillside. My new office has one wall of windows that go from about a yard above the floor to the ceiling. My view from sitting is the condo's across the creek and their front walkway. My view from standing up is a wonderful view of what is called Carroll Creek Promenade.

At home I have no view. If you are in my kitchen you can see the backyard, but otherwise, nothing. One side of my house has no windows at all - which is okay because it faces my neighbor's pistachio green house. The opposite side of my house has windows, but they are 3 feet away from a cement block wall. I've often thought of hiring an artist to give me a view there, but technically it's not my property. The front of my house faces the street and other houses. The second floor rear windows either give me a wonderful view of a building and a parking lot, or, if the tree is not bare, I see leaves. . . only leaves.

When I bought the house it was intended to only be a "starter" home. And at the time I wasn't aware of how important light and a view would be to my sanity.

Live and learn.

Recommendations

How do you recommend a book to someone? I love most books. Even the ones that are hard to get through, I feel as though I've come away with something valuable. I've never had a book be so bad that I didn't want to finish it. I have always found that books fill in the little empty spaces in my soul. I assumed others feel the same way, but I've come - grudgingly - to the conclusion that other people aren't like me.

I've recommended books to people who brought them back after a few chapters, just unable to go on. These were books that I found facinating. And some of the people have loved other books I've recommended. How can they react that way? How can they be in tune with what I like than then turn around and not?

So it's a puzzle. I have chalked it up to other people just being crazy. How can they like some of the books I like but not others . . . crazy, right?

Stacking Memories

I heard something on a news radio channel the other week that I thought was facinating. You know how sometimes it seems you have more memories of your childhood than you do for what happened last week? Well there is a reason for that.

It seems the first time you do something it imprints in your memory in more detail, every time after that you save less and less of it. Which is why, after thousands of meals, you can't remember what you had for dinner last night.

So when you were a child, you did things for the first time - first vacation, first kiss, first dance. You remembered more of the event. I remember every detail associated with my first kiss - but I can't even remember when my last kiss was, or whether it was remarkable in any way.

So, this means that as we get older we should find ways to do new things. Otherwise our brain is just yawning with all the repetition and moving things straight to the "out" box.

A Perfect Cup of Tea

Some days my morning cup of tea is okay, sometimes it's a little bitter, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cool, and sometimes it's perfect.

The cup, amazingly, makes a difference - too large and it will have too much time to steep and then will get cold while you are trying to drink it all. Too small and it's just over too quickly. And, of course, getting used to the amount of sweetener for the different size cups is always problematic.

Today's cup of tea was perfect. I think what made the difference is what I was eating at the same time. If the food is slightly sweet, that taste lingers in your mouth and gives the tea just a little extra sweetness. Today's breakfast was dry Honey Nut Cheerios - eaten dry while I did class paperwork. Perfect.

It was so perfect, that I think I'll have another cup.

Valentine's Day

I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. Even back when I was married or with someone. It seems like a day of too much pressure. Is a card enough? Do you do a card AND a gift? What about a card and cookies? What exactly is the appropriate protocol for the people in your life.

And even if you do get it figured out, the other person probably hasn't so there will be an inequality of gift giving which will make things awkward again. There need to be rules.

So, my opinion is to find what you can agree on and do it every year - favorite restaurant, special cookies, cards, flowers, it doesn't matter just stick to what works and everyone is happy.

But, since I am not currently in a relationship . . . I don't have to worry about it at all. I sent cards to the grandbabies - that's it. Whew!

New

Yesterday I was online looking at houses. No, I'm not moving. But sometimes I like to look. It's not that I want a big house on a beautifully landscaped lot. I dream of new.

My house was built in about 1892 -- if you believe the date and signature inside the wall in the upstairs hallway. It's never looked new. Now, 31 years later, it really looks run down - since it's hard to keep up with an old house on a very limited income.

So my dream is for something new - brand new. Something no one but me has ever lived in. Something with no nail holes in the walls. Something with no dirt on the carpet and no sratches on the hardwood floors. Something that can be all mine.

Now, I know that short of winning the lottery, I'll never have that. But I sure like to dream.

Garbage Collection

I hate it when they change the garbage collection schedule. The only thing worse than taking out the trash is having to bring it back in.

Because of the snow over the weekend, they didn't pick up the trash on Sunday night. On Monday I left it out there, thinking that maybe they were just running late. By Tuesday when the snow was really coming down again, I moved the 2 bags up to the porch - I didn't want them to get stuck to the sidewalk ice and tear. Or worse, get hit by a plow.

I assumed that the trash wouldn't get picked up again on Wednesday night - blizzard in overdrive. And I was correct. Now this morning at 4:00 am I hear the garbage truck. This is not a garbage day! I lay in bed contemplating my options. I could spend a few more days with the trash bags on my porch or I could dash outside in my pajamas and toss the bags to the garbage truck workers.

I stayed in bed.

Mascara

One thing that is crucially important to any aging woman's cosmetic supply is mascara. When you are young, no one tells you that your eyelashes will "thin out" as you get older.

But I find buying mascara to be one of the most difficult tasks. There are different shaped wands and formulas that are supposed to lengthen, separate, darken, and thicken. It used to be you only had to pick waterproof or regular and whether you wanted black, brown, or brown/black - although back when I was in high school blue was also popular, but that's another story.

No matter which one I purchase, shortly after taking it home I find that I don't really like it. It's too clumpy, or not dark enough, or just ineffective. And if, by chance, I find one I like, the next time I bring it home it's not the same. This means that my cosmetic drawer never has less than 4 different mascaras at any given time.

I watch all the commercials that show the models and actresses with lashes that are about 2 inches long and I am sure that this brand will work, but it never looks as nice on me as it does on them. I've come to believe that maybe they are wearing false eyelashes.

I don't think I'll go that far.

Memories

Having grandchildren makes you remember things from long ago. Things you thought you'd forgotten because so many newer memories have covered them completely from view. Memories of your children.

Seeing little video clips of my granddaughter or hearing my grandson in the background of a phone conversation take me back.

I remember my daughter clasping my cheeks affectionately when I would hold her. I remember my son's giggle if I touched that special pace on his shoulder. I remember my daughter's stubborn "no!" when she was two. I remember my son's statue-like obsinate refusal to put his toys away. I remember my daughter's love of Strawberry Shortcake cartoons and my son's pretend sword in the air when he watched He-Man cartoons.

I wish that back then I'd had more time to soak in every minute so I'd have more vivid memories to keep me company. But they pop in unexpectedly when I see or hear my grandchildren. They remind me of my babies in a way that my adult "babies" no longer do. Maybe that's why grandparents love grandchildren so much - they are little glimpses of their parents . . . and my past.

Spiders

I don't really like spiders. I'm not afraid of them -- at least the normal-sized ones -- like I am of snakes, but I still don't like them.

Recently a spider has moved into my bathroom. I see him occasionally when I'm blow-drying my hair, and I turn the dryer on him. He curls up in a ball and falls to the ground and disappears. I can never find him. He's a quick one. I tried turning off the dryer one day and grabbing some toilet paper to squish him with, but when I turned back to him, he was gone.

Each day I go to the bathroom I find a new little cobweb. Yesterday it was on the toilet scrubbing brush. I found it as I grabbed the brush. Ewwwww. I'm sure tomorrow it will be beside the vanity, or next to the trash, or somewhere else.

What is the life expectancy of a spider?

TV

I enjoy TV, but I don't enjoy TV. Does that make sense?

My favorite way to watch TV is while I'm working. Yes, that's right. I do my best work when I'm watching TV . . . or vice versa. Most of the time these days I'm watching things I've DVR'ed (is that a word?) while I'm working from home. I know I could fast forward through the commercials, but I get in such a zone that I just I just push right through them. I know, TV does not seem to be the best for concentration, but I focus better with background noise. Remember when you were a teenager and your parents sad that you couldn't do homework with the radio or stereo on? And, of course, we knew better. It's the same thing now.

Maybe I have a little ADD or something, but there you go.

Super Bowl

Why do they list the Super Bowl in Roman numerals? This year is XLIV - or forty-four.

I've thought about this. It really doesn't seem to make sense because most of the country probably wouldn't be able to decipher that XLIV is forty-four. (X is 10 and coming before L, which is 50 means 40 - then, of course, IV is four.)

So, I've determined that it must be because it's Roman. Maybe they are trying to liken themselves to the Roman gladiators - or something similarly rediculous.

I don't know if I'm right, but that is what I'm going to belive.

Shoveling

One of the reasons we have kids (though maybe we don't always admit it) is so we never have to shovel snow again. It doesn't work out that way like it used to.

When I was young I remember clearly my dad shoveling his car out so he could go over to shovel out his mom. He or one of his brothers would always take care of that for her. I remember her out with a broom sweeping the porch sometimes, but that was it. When they finished they always went inside and visited with her for a while.

While some things get better with each passing year, I think we've lost something in this area. I just spent a week sick - missed most of the week of work - and no one called to see if I needed anything - a drug store or grocery store run. It was a busy week for my son and my daughter is too far away. But it makes me a little sad. My grandmother rarely had to shop for herself, there was always someone going and asked if she needed something (it helped that she had 9 kids.)

In all fairness, I wasn't there for my mom. As a single mother I was stretched too thin. I asked her to come and live with me, but without that, there was no way I could add one more person to take care of. I still feel bad that I wasn't there for her more. Now, it's not that I did nothing. I left work for 2 hours one day so I could pick her up and take her to her dialysis appointment. And I spend several hours pushing her through Walmart in a wheelchair while she got her Christmas shopping done. But I wasn't there for her for the day to day things. I still wish she'd agreed to move in with me. I couldn't have given her a good life, but I would have done all I could - just like I did for my kids.

So today I shoveled out my sidewalk and car. And after the next snowstorm I will do the same . . . at least for as long as I'm healthy and strong enough to do it.

Snow

It's another snowy day. But i don't mind. I enjoy being stranded in a snowstorm. Just as long as I have heat and a good book, I'm good.

When I was young I lived in a house that didn't have central heat. There was one heating unit in the upstairs and one in the downstairs. It was so accomplished that I could dress without first getting undressed - all in front of the gas heater. I used my long-sleeved flannel gown as a tent. I'd just pull my arms inside and I could do just about anything. Sometimes, if I wasn't the first to get to the heater, I'd go in my bed and get dressed under the covers. It's not optimal, but it was better than freezing.

I'm not sure why I remember that so clearly . . . or so fondly, but I do. Some parts of my youth all blur together, but others are clear and vivid. The memory is a screwy thing.

Quilts

I bought a new quilt for my bed during all the January sales. I have 2 quilts that I've alternated on my bed until then, but they were getting a little threadbare.

I love quilts. I have since I was a little girl and used to love to snuggle under my grandmother's quilts. Once I spent the night at her house and I slept like weights were on me because she had at least 3 quilts on the bed. This was my dad's mother. When she died each of us would have loved one of her quilts, but they disappeared quickly.

Anyway, I switched to quilts after my hysterectomy. They are warm but also cool. Strange, I know, but they suit me fine. And they look good on my bed.

The Problem with Sick Days

Ok, I have a decent job. It gives me 15 PTO a year which I can use for any reason. The problem is, my sick days must also come out of that. I hate to take sick days because it's a day off from the office that I can't enjoy.

What's the fun of having a day off if you're too sick to enjoy it?

Still Sick

I hate being sick. Runny nose, sore throat, achy. Yuk! I called off work today, but I still have to drag myself to the college tonight to teach. Thank goodness it's not a class that requires I talk much.

What is it about being sick that makes you crave chicken soup (my fav is Mrs. Grass Extra Noodles) and toast? I stopped at the grocery store yesterday afternoon on my way home and bought all the things I'd need to recouperate. Tissues, soup, orange juice, chocolate pudding . . . everyone has different cravings. Only thing I forgot was my Theraflu.

Oh, well. I'll get it when I go out for class tonight.

Sick

I went home from work early today. I'm sick. Good Night.