This week it's just the lyrics to a song that kind of sums up my life. Normal psycho posting to reume shortly.
"Stop & Stare" performed by One Republic
This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us
It's time to make our move, I'm shaking off the rust
I've got my heart set on anywhere but here
I'm staring down myself, counting up the years
Steady hands, just take the wheel...
And every glance is killing me
Time to make one last appeal... for the life I lead
Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be, oh
Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're here not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, can you see what I see
They're trying to come back, all my senses push
Untie the weight bags, I never thought I could...
Steady feet, don't fail me now
Gonna run till you can't walk
Something pulls my focus out
And I'm standing down...
Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be, oh
Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're here not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, you don't need
What you need, what you need...
Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be
Oh, do you see what I see...
Monday, July 30, 2012
Friday, July 27, 2012
Jackasses of the week- it's a TIE! (sort of)
Monday, I had a lovely "gentleman" come in with a court order to return his gun. His baby mama didn't show up for the EPO/DVO hearing and they had to rule that he could have the weapon back. ($5 says that gun is back here within 3 months, and probably as a homicide weapon. I may be growing a tad cynical working here) We still have to run a background check, per federal law, which sent him into a shrieking fit and had his homies grumbling. (because, of course, he had to bring his posse with him to get the gun) My unhappy Sgt. called to tell me he was amazingly clear, and to proceed with the release.
I type up the release form, have him sign it, give him the gun, and this is where the fun starts. "Where's my bullets?" I explain that the order only said to release the gun, not that ammo, and that even if they HAD ordered us to return the bullets , we don't release guns & ammo on the same day for safety reasons. "What? It don't have to say anything about the bullets, they be part of the gun!" Um, no, they're not. You're welcome to come back in the morning to debate that with my Sgt, but *I* am not giving you anything else today. "Bitch, bring me my bullets!" Because, yes, calling me names and ordering me to give you something you're not entitled to works SO well. I reiterated to him that he could come back in the morning and discuss it with my Sgt, or he could keep screaming at me and find himself going back downtown in a squad car- his choice. He kept screaming at me, so I picked up the phone to call for backup, and his posse dragged him put of the building.
D stood on a chair to look out the window and make sure they left. She said they were driving a tricked out SUV that is probably worth more than my house. The officer who had brought the gun in after his arrest happened to come in about 20 minutes later. I told her that we'd had to give the gun back, and WHY, and she said she would do a welfare check on the baby mama and warn her that he had his gun back.
*****************************************************************************************
Thursday, I get this phone call:
Idiot: Do you be havin my stuff? (I swear, I don't make this dialog up. It's as close to verbatim as I can get)
Me: Who are you?
I: Bob (not his real name, just in case anyone out there is wondering)
Me: Do you have a last name, and is your first name Bob or Robert?
I: mumbles full name. I have to ask him to repeat it twice, and then to spell it because apparently his jaws were suddenly glued shut. He then tells me that *I'm* stupid.
Me: (finally locating the record in the computer) Yes, we have your stuff. We're open until 5:30 today and you will need your ID to claim it.
I: Man, I ain't studying coming down there in this heat. Can't you send somebody out to bring it to me?
Me: *headdesk* NO. You have 90 days to come get it or it goes in the garbage.
I: It's too hot to be going out to get stuff. (Really? that didn't stop you from going out shoplifting- I looked the charges up while I was dealing with him) Why can't you bring it to me?
Me: If it's too hot for you today, then you might want to wait until it cools off. Surely it will be cool enough for your taste soemtime in the next 90 days.
I: Bitch. *hangs up*
Me: *giving in to the urge since it's only a dial tone* Your mama. (yes, my mother is proud of my maturity levels)
I type up the release form, have him sign it, give him the gun, and this is where the fun starts. "Where's my bullets?" I explain that the order only said to release the gun, not that ammo, and that even if they HAD ordered us to return the bullets , we don't release guns & ammo on the same day for safety reasons. "What? It don't have to say anything about the bullets, they be part of the gun!" Um, no, they're not. You're welcome to come back in the morning to debate that with my Sgt, but *I* am not giving you anything else today. "Bitch, bring me my bullets!" Because, yes, calling me names and ordering me to give you something you're not entitled to works SO well. I reiterated to him that he could come back in the morning and discuss it with my Sgt, or he could keep screaming at me and find himself going back downtown in a squad car- his choice. He kept screaming at me, so I picked up the phone to call for backup, and his posse dragged him put of the building.
D stood on a chair to look out the window and make sure they left. She said they were driving a tricked out SUV that is probably worth more than my house. The officer who had brought the gun in after his arrest happened to come in about 20 minutes later. I told her that we'd had to give the gun back, and WHY, and she said she would do a welfare check on the baby mama and warn her that he had his gun back.
*****************************************************************************************
Thursday, I get this phone call:
Idiot: Do you be havin my stuff? (I swear, I don't make this dialog up. It's as close to verbatim as I can get)
Me: Who are you?
I: Bob (not his real name, just in case anyone out there is wondering)
Me: Do you have a last name, and is your first name Bob or Robert?
I: mumbles full name. I have to ask him to repeat it twice, and then to spell it because apparently his jaws were suddenly glued shut. He then tells me that *I'm* stupid.
Me: (finally locating the record in the computer) Yes, we have your stuff. We're open until 5:30 today and you will need your ID to claim it.
I: Man, I ain't studying coming down there in this heat. Can't you send somebody out to bring it to me?
Me: *headdesk* NO. You have 90 days to come get it or it goes in the garbage.
I: It's too hot to be going out to get stuff. (Really? that didn't stop you from going out shoplifting- I looked the charges up while I was dealing with him) Why can't you bring it to me?
Me: If it's too hot for you today, then you might want to wait until it cools off. Surely it will be cool enough for your taste soemtime in the next 90 days.
I: Bitch. *hangs up*
Me: *giving in to the urge since it's only a dial tone* Your mama. (yes, my mother is proud of my maturity levels)
Thursday, July 26, 2012
I'm a little post-happy this week...
Today is apparently National Coffee Milkshake Day. Not just any old milkshake, but COFFEE milkshake day. Seriously, who comes up with this stuff?!?
This announcement brought to you by the Spencer Foundation For The Sharing Of Useless Trivia.
It was intended to amuse, and possibly educate, but no offense was ever intended. Please feel free to share if you enjoyed it and remember not to shoot the messenger if you didn’t.
This announcement brought to you by the Spencer Foundation For The Sharing Of Useless Trivia.
It was intended to amuse, and possibly educate, but no offense was ever intended. Please feel free to share if you enjoyed it and remember not to shoot the messenger if you didn’t.
Follow you, follow me
I apparently have acquired a new follower! Thank you, dear reader, whoever you may be! (I seem to be technologically stupid today and can't get Blogger to show me the list) I hope you enjoy my deranged posts and forgive me for putting that Genesis song in your brain with the title of this post. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be humming it to myself for the rest of the night...
Welcome to the biopsy story!
So, after my last 6 month checkup, I was told that the tumor on what’s left of my thyroid gland had grown again. Given the family history on both sides, and the fact that cousin Andrea is now being treated for thyroid cancer, I was less than thrilled when the doctor said, offhandedly, “I’m not sure it’s big enough yet to remove now, so let’s wait another 6 months and see what happens.” Well, what happens when you say things like that is that a 6ft Amazon goes into hysterics in your office. So the nice doctor decided that maybe we should do a biopsy, just to be on the safe side.
Next time I’ll take my chances. *halfhearted snicker* The biopsy was scheduled for 8 a.m. yesterday. My parents insisted on coming to the hospital with me, and as usual, were slightly late picking me up. The first words out of my mother’s mouth were “Are you sure you want to wear that shirt? I see a stain on it.” Way to focus on what’s important, Mom. (The shirt was clean, BTW. It was a bleach spot on the hem that old eagle eyes spotted.) Then we had to go back, because I forgot my paperwork (which it turned out the hospital didn’t need) and the little black cat took off out the door. I got back in the car and said “Let’s go” at which point both parents began questioning my decision to leave the little brat out. I pointed out that I didn’t have the time or inclination to chase her around the yard in the hopes of catching her and that she’s done this before and will be fine for the few hours I’m gone.
Did I mention that I’m doing this on about an hour of sleep? So yeah, I really needed to be second-guessed on everything that I said/did.
Mom dropped us off at the door- Dad spent so long getting out of the car that I walked off and left him to catch up. I was processed within 10 minutes of arrival and we were moved to the waiting area. For an hour. (be there at 8 a.m. my ass) They called me back and this is where the fun starts.
The tech put me on a hard gurney to do another ultrasound so the doctor doing the biopsy would know exactly where to jab me with the needle. I had to lie flat on my back on this thing for almost 45 minutes, so my (bad) back was screaming at me by the time we were done. 10 minutes later, the doctor wanders in, describes the process to me, and we begin. First the lidocaine shot to numb my throat, which felt like they were injecting liquid fire. It kicked in almost immediately, and I’m here to tell you, THAT is a very unsettling feeling. Then came the jabs for the biopsy. He had to take three sets of samples, and while I didn’t feel pain, I DID feel the needle moving around like he was Roto-Rooter cleaning a drain.
We waited about 10 minutes for pathology to verify that the samples were workable- thankfully they were- and I was cleaned up, allowed to dress and given an ice pack to hold against my throat to help prevent swelling. They told me to call my doctor in 3-4 days to hear the results.
Mom decided we needed to go to breakfast after all of this. I was ok with that, but she REALLY wanted to go to a restaurant where we’ve had a history of crappy service. Once again, it took Dad 10 minutes to get out of the damn car. (he is NOT that old & feeble. It’s some sort of passive-aggressive thing he does just to piss me off. It succeeds admirably) We would have been seated immediately had he not poked around, but 3 other families came in and were seated, and then we got to stand there for 10 minutes until the host came back. Note, the place was mostly empty.
First they seated us at a table that was filthy. I pointed out the dirt on the table and the host said he’d go get a towel to clean it. Mom said, no, something just dropped from the ceiling onto her face, and we would prefer to be moved to another table. (we should have just left then) He moved us to a booth across the room, and we were soundly ignored by the wait staff until one of them heard us discussing leaving and going to Panera instead. THEN they rushed to take our order. The girl tried to argue with me about my order- I wanted one of the breakfast specials without eggs. She said, “oh, I’ll just put it in as an a-la-carte order” meaning they would charge me per item for the French toast, juice, and bacon, and would cost twice as much as the order the WAY I FREAKING ASKED FOR IT. I told her she had better think again. Dad sat there and dithered about his order until Mom & I both gave him the death glare.
10 minutes later, we got our drinks.
20 minutes after that, after they heard us again contemplating leaving, we got our food. The bacon was cold, but tasty. The French toast was hot, but had to be cut with a knife. Seriously? How do you make French Toast so hard that you need a knife to cut it? The bill, which was the only thing to arrive promptly, was correct at the end, so apparently our little server took my snarl to heart.
We finally got out of there and my parents took me home. The little black snot was ready to go in when we got there. I had to tell my mother three times to stay where she was (she insisted on walking me to the door) so that she didn’t spook the cat and I could get her into the house. I went to bed and slept most of the rest of the day.
Oh, and my throat? Last night, my neck was swollen out to the point that I looked like a boa constrictor that was in the process of swallowing a possum. Today, the swelling is mostly gone, but I have a Technicolor bruise across my neck that looks like someone throttled me. Why yes, I have gotten some interesting looks from officers today. I’ve convinced most of them that I am NOT a domestic violence victim, but I think I’m going to start pointing at my coworkers and whispering “she did it” just to see what happens. Heh.
Next time I’ll take my chances. *halfhearted snicker* The biopsy was scheduled for 8 a.m. yesterday. My parents insisted on coming to the hospital with me, and as usual, were slightly late picking me up. The first words out of my mother’s mouth were “Are you sure you want to wear that shirt? I see a stain on it.” Way to focus on what’s important, Mom. (The shirt was clean, BTW. It was a bleach spot on the hem that old eagle eyes spotted.) Then we had to go back, because I forgot my paperwork (which it turned out the hospital didn’t need) and the little black cat took off out the door. I got back in the car and said “Let’s go” at which point both parents began questioning my decision to leave the little brat out. I pointed out that I didn’t have the time or inclination to chase her around the yard in the hopes of catching her and that she’s done this before and will be fine for the few hours I’m gone.
Did I mention that I’m doing this on about an hour of sleep? So yeah, I really needed to be second-guessed on everything that I said/did.
Mom dropped us off at the door- Dad spent so long getting out of the car that I walked off and left him to catch up. I was processed within 10 minutes of arrival and we were moved to the waiting area. For an hour. (be there at 8 a.m. my ass) They called me back and this is where the fun starts.
The tech put me on a hard gurney to do another ultrasound so the doctor doing the biopsy would know exactly where to jab me with the needle. I had to lie flat on my back on this thing for almost 45 minutes, so my (bad) back was screaming at me by the time we were done. 10 minutes later, the doctor wanders in, describes the process to me, and we begin. First the lidocaine shot to numb my throat, which felt like they were injecting liquid fire. It kicked in almost immediately, and I’m here to tell you, THAT is a very unsettling feeling. Then came the jabs for the biopsy. He had to take three sets of samples, and while I didn’t feel pain, I DID feel the needle moving around like he was Roto-Rooter cleaning a drain.
We waited about 10 minutes for pathology to verify that the samples were workable- thankfully they were- and I was cleaned up, allowed to dress and given an ice pack to hold against my throat to help prevent swelling. They told me to call my doctor in 3-4 days to hear the results.
Mom decided we needed to go to breakfast after all of this. I was ok with that, but she REALLY wanted to go to a restaurant where we’ve had a history of crappy service. Once again, it took Dad 10 minutes to get out of the damn car. (he is NOT that old & feeble. It’s some sort of passive-aggressive thing he does just to piss me off. It succeeds admirably) We would have been seated immediately had he not poked around, but 3 other families came in and were seated, and then we got to stand there for 10 minutes until the host came back. Note, the place was mostly empty.
First they seated us at a table that was filthy. I pointed out the dirt on the table and the host said he’d go get a towel to clean it. Mom said, no, something just dropped from the ceiling onto her face, and we would prefer to be moved to another table. (we should have just left then) He moved us to a booth across the room, and we were soundly ignored by the wait staff until one of them heard us discussing leaving and going to Panera instead. THEN they rushed to take our order. The girl tried to argue with me about my order- I wanted one of the breakfast specials without eggs. She said, “oh, I’ll just put it in as an a-la-carte order” meaning they would charge me per item for the French toast, juice, and bacon, and would cost twice as much as the order the WAY I FREAKING ASKED FOR IT. I told her she had better think again. Dad sat there and dithered about his order until Mom & I both gave him the death glare.
10 minutes later, we got our drinks.
20 minutes after that, after they heard us again contemplating leaving, we got our food. The bacon was cold, but tasty. The French toast was hot, but had to be cut with a knife. Seriously? How do you make French Toast so hard that you need a knife to cut it? The bill, which was the only thing to arrive promptly, was correct at the end, so apparently our little server took my snarl to heart.
We finally got out of there and my parents took me home. The little black snot was ready to go in when we got there. I had to tell my mother three times to stay where she was (she insisted on walking me to the door) so that she didn’t spook the cat and I could get her into the house. I went to bed and slept most of the rest of the day.
Oh, and my throat? Last night, my neck was swollen out to the point that I looked like a boa constrictor that was in the process of swallowing a possum. Today, the swelling is mostly gone, but I have a Technicolor bruise across my neck that looks like someone throttled me. Why yes, I have gotten some interesting looks from officers today. I’ve convinced most of them that I am NOT a domestic violence victim, but I think I’m going to start pointing at my coworkers and whispering “she did it” just to see what happens. Heh.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
A Deadly Grind- Virgina Hamilton
Meet Jaymie. She has a passion for vintage kitchenware. Her older sister doesn't share this passion, and often refers to it as Jaymie's junk. They attend an auction where J buys a vintage cabinet, known as a Hoosier, much to her sib's annoyance. Unbeknownst to the sisters, there is a valuable object concealed in the Hoosier, and someone is NOT happy that it's in their possession. A man breaks into their house and is killed, and the story is off and running. Throw in an eclectic mix of friends & neighbors, a jerk ex-boyfriend and his pretty, rich, young new girlfriend, a local festival, a three legged dog, and a charming detective, and you have this inocuous but pleasant read.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Monday Musings- One of my favorite TV shows
Something a little different today, dear readers! I loved this show when it first aired. The relationship between Hannah & Marty as they fumbled their way into falling in love, the interaction with their friends, loved ones, & coworkers, Hannah's wardrobe...well, it WAS the end of the 80's and cool at the time. I still love it and watch the DVD's repeatedly. My favorite episode is the 2nd one- Hannah thinks she's lost Marty's story in the computer, they have to pull an all-nighter to rewrite it, and a scheming co-worker sends in "romance expert" Anthony Amore (played by an over the top Taylor Negron) to derail their progress. You can tell that the actors were all having a lot of fun with this epsiode by the barely suppressed laughter that is clearly bubbling in them. Jamie Lee & Taylor come very close to cracking in one scene and I suspect it was probably not the first take they had to shoot. Any show that gets the entire cast singing and dancing to "Come A Little Bit Closer" is worth watching!
I keep searching online, hoping to find the later season has been released. John Ritter briefly joined the cast as a fellow journalist and rival for Hannah's affections and those episodes, along with the culmination of the love story were wonderful. Maybe I'll get lucky and find them someday...
Saturday, July 21, 2012
I hate everything and the insurance company is next...
A few years ago, I had to have half of my thyroid removed. The insurance company wouldn't allow the removal of the whole thing since the other half had mini growths and the ones on the section that WAS taken were 'only' pre-cancerous. I have had to have ultrasounds on what's left every six months since then. My last one was a three weeks ago and I got a call from my primary doctor's office saying that the largest growth had tripled in size since January and they were sending me to the throat doctor for consultation. I've spent the last 2 weeks worrying myself sick about this...and then this happened (copied from the email I sent one of my best friends):
I got to Dr M’s office and the first thing I had to do was fight with the snotty receptionist. She said I have a past due balance and if I wasn’t paying it today, they’d have to reschedule me. I told her that I had already skipped buying my meds this week to pay for this visit and taken time off work, so either I saw the doctor and they could get paid when I have the rest of the money, or she could explain it to my family lawyer if I died from lack of treatment and my parents sue her ass.
Then I get ushered into an exam room…and wait. And wait. And wait some more. Dr M finally comes bounding in and cheerfully says “So what brings you in today?” WTF? Did he really just ask me why I’m there? Turns out that the hospital didn’t send the ultrasound results over to him per Dr B’s request, so he didn’t know anything about it. I waited another 45 minutes for him to get the charts and look everything over.
The good news is that the girl at Dr B’s office missed reading a decimal point and the tumor hasn’t tripled in size, but it has grown by 1/3. (which to me is bad enough) Dr M said it could go either way- he could see if the insurance would sign off on the removal, but it would probably be safe to go another 6 months and check it again. This is when it all caught up with me and I started getting hysterical. I told him I’d spent the last 2 weeks worried sick, reminded him of the family history of thyroid cancer, and said I wasn’t doing this anymore. He freaked out when I lost it, so he called Humana to see what we’d have to do to get an authorization for the surgery.
This is the part I really love. The INSURANCE COMPANY gets to decide if I’m in enough danger to need surgery?!? They won’t approve it without a biopsy first, despite the family history and the fact that the tumors on the half that was already removed were in the early stages of cancer. So I go in Tuesday to have a needle punched into my throat. And then they’ll decide what we’re allowed to do next.
It’s not that I want to have surgery, but I want to be done with this. I’m sick of being sick, and I’m even sicker of worrying about all of it.
I got to Dr M’s office and the first thing I had to do was fight with the snotty receptionist. She said I have a past due balance and if I wasn’t paying it today, they’d have to reschedule me. I told her that I had already skipped buying my meds this week to pay for this visit and taken time off work, so either I saw the doctor and they could get paid when I have the rest of the money, or she could explain it to my family lawyer if I died from lack of treatment and my parents sue her ass.
Then I get ushered into an exam room…and wait. And wait. And wait some more. Dr M finally comes bounding in and cheerfully says “So what brings you in today?” WTF? Did he really just ask me why I’m there? Turns out that the hospital didn’t send the ultrasound results over to him per Dr B’s request, so he didn’t know anything about it. I waited another 45 minutes for him to get the charts and look everything over.
The good news is that the girl at Dr B’s office missed reading a decimal point and the tumor hasn’t tripled in size, but it has grown by 1/3. (which to me is bad enough) Dr M said it could go either way- he could see if the insurance would sign off on the removal, but it would probably be safe to go another 6 months and check it again. This is when it all caught up with me and I started getting hysterical. I told him I’d spent the last 2 weeks worried sick, reminded him of the family history of thyroid cancer, and said I wasn’t doing this anymore. He freaked out when I lost it, so he called Humana to see what we’d have to do to get an authorization for the surgery.
This is the part I really love. The INSURANCE COMPANY gets to decide if I’m in enough danger to need surgery?!? They won’t approve it without a biopsy first, despite the family history and the fact that the tumors on the half that was already removed were in the early stages of cancer. So I go in Tuesday to have a needle punched into my throat. And then they’ll decide what we’re allowed to do next.
It’s not that I want to have surgery, but I want to be done with this. I’m sick of being sick, and I’m even sicker of worrying about all of it.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Confessions of a Cake Addict- Emma Kaufmann
From Amazon:
The story unfolds in a series of letters and emails between overweight, insecure Gherkin (Kate) who lives in London, is tortured by her boss The Haddock at the advertising agency she works at and whos life has generally hit the skids since she split up with her long term boyfriend and has started dating a string of losers. Whenever things go wrong she muffles her feelings with cake.
Her sister Egg (Laurie) lives a perfect life in Sydney, Australia, is happily married and has two perfect, high achieving kids. However, the kids do leave her frazzled so she enjoys dipping into Kate's messy life and living vicariously through her romantic disasters but can't resist giving her dollops of sisterly advice. Laurie pulls no punches when commenting on Kate's bad life choices and echoes the reader's sentiments that zany, kooky Kate really needs to get a life. Laurie is a refreshing burst of reality, cutting through Kate's delusions and encouraging her to lose weight and go for it with Count Alex von Pappenberg when she's scared to be vulnerable.
Alex von Pappenberg, is a handsome but sensitive Austrian Count who is similarly disillusioned with life and love as Kate and lying low in the Austrian sticks in his Schloss. Like Kate he is stuck in life - his once successful vineyard has gone bankrupt and he's too unmotivated to start it up again. When Kate arrives at his Schloss as part of the entourage making a Bollywood movie Alex is determined to win her love but scared to make a move himself. Readers will enjoy seeing two insecure people grow to the point where they can take a chance on finding love again and facing the challenges of the future together!
This was a fun read that I lucked into as a freebie on Amazon. Poor Kate spends most of the book being pushed into the background while her glam friend Eva gets all the guys and her evil boss makes her miserable at every opportunity. A trip to Austria has them meet someone professing to be a Count, who Eva embarks on a fling with. Returning home, the Count writes to a less-interested Eva and she had Kate write back to him. The problem is, Kate finds herself falling for the bemused man she's corresponding with and isn't sure what to do when they make a return trip to Austria. Neither is he, as it turns out, because he is NOT the man they met the first time, but he is interested in Kate.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Monday Musings- When Do You Declare a Friendship Dead?
How do you decide when/if it's time to end a friendship? I've ended two in the last few months, although one of them doesn't seem to be aware of the fact.
Former friend one: totally overreacted to a post made on Facebook, that alluded to something he'd said that I found to be insensitive but did not mention him by name, and proceeded to spew venom and issue veiled threats on my wall as well as attack other friends who tried to point out to him that he was acting like an idiot. I let him rant for a day or two and then quietly deleted the post, and then deleted him from my friend list. I rarely see/speak to this person in real life anymore, though we used to be quite close, so he probably isn't even aware that he is no longer someone I wish to be associated with. I do know that he has told mutual acquaintances that he thought I'd "learned my place" and they just shook their heads at him. Most people who know me, know that I am not a "forgive & forget" person, and there are some things that I refuse to accept from so-called friends. He crossed the line and I'm done with him, whether he knows it or not.
Former friend two: a former co-worker with whom I'd bonded over pop culture and a shared sense of amusement/horror/disbelief at some of the goings on in our office. Like me, she has had a fair amount of nearly unbelievable crap happen to her in her life, only she's had more and worse. The problems in our friendship stemmed from her wallowing in the toxicity of her life and the world and my inability to encourage it. There are so many things wrong here that I could probably write a book on it, but the short version is that I just can't keep dealing with her drama and inability to actually work on her problems, rather than just claim she's going to. She had treated a mutual friend so badly that the friend got fed up and dropped her like a bad habit and then sent me a passive-agressive email 'apologizing' for her behavior and saying WE could still be friends if *I* wanted to. I told her that I needed to think about it and honestly wasn't sure if I did, but I would contact her after a week and decide then. It was one of the most peaceful weeks I'd had- no drama filled angsty emails, no floods of emails with links to every "ain't it awful" story she could find, etc. I realized at that point that our friendship had turned into a toxic energy sink and that it wasn't in the best interest of my emotional health to continue it.
I'm not saying I didn't do my share of angsty emails about things. But I would actually work on my problems, whereas she didn't/wouldn't. If our mutual friend and I sent emails about positive things, 90% of the time she'd respond with a vague "that's nice, but let me tell you about this drama in my life..." type message, which then turned into all of us dwelling on negatives instead of being happy that something was going right. Or she wouldn't respond at all.
However, when I went back to respond to the situation after the week was up, I discovered an 2 emails from her that solved the problem for me. The first was informing me that she was dropping me from her Facebook friends because "it was too painful to see my posts and know she wasn't welcome to respond." I never said that. I said I didn't want to hear from her at my work email for a week. (I only check FB on weekends and she knew that) I have mentioned in the past that if she adds one more damned petition to my wall, I'd drop her. The second? Was basically an "I don't want to wait for your decision because I already know what it is so I'm going to drop you first" email from her. Ok by me.
So, I'm "down" 2 sources of stress and aggravation. Excuse me while I go cry quietly to myself...NOT.
Former friend one: totally overreacted to a post made on Facebook, that alluded to something he'd said that I found to be insensitive but did not mention him by name, and proceeded to spew venom and issue veiled threats on my wall as well as attack other friends who tried to point out to him that he was acting like an idiot. I let him rant for a day or two and then quietly deleted the post, and then deleted him from my friend list. I rarely see/speak to this person in real life anymore, though we used to be quite close, so he probably isn't even aware that he is no longer someone I wish to be associated with. I do know that he has told mutual acquaintances that he thought I'd "learned my place" and they just shook their heads at him. Most people who know me, know that I am not a "forgive & forget" person, and there are some things that I refuse to accept from so-called friends. He crossed the line and I'm done with him, whether he knows it or not.
Former friend two: a former co-worker with whom I'd bonded over pop culture and a shared sense of amusement/horror/disbelief at some of the goings on in our office. Like me, she has had a fair amount of nearly unbelievable crap happen to her in her life, only she's had more and worse. The problems in our friendship stemmed from her wallowing in the toxicity of her life and the world and my inability to encourage it. There are so many things wrong here that I could probably write a book on it, but the short version is that I just can't keep dealing with her drama and inability to actually work on her problems, rather than just claim she's going to. She had treated a mutual friend so badly that the friend got fed up and dropped her like a bad habit and then sent me a passive-agressive email 'apologizing' for her behavior and saying WE could still be friends if *I* wanted to. I told her that I needed to think about it and honestly wasn't sure if I did, but I would contact her after a week and decide then. It was one of the most peaceful weeks I'd had- no drama filled angsty emails, no floods of emails with links to every "ain't it awful" story she could find, etc. I realized at that point that our friendship had turned into a toxic energy sink and that it wasn't in the best interest of my emotional health to continue it.
I'm not saying I didn't do my share of angsty emails about things. But I would actually work on my problems, whereas she didn't/wouldn't. If our mutual friend and I sent emails about positive things, 90% of the time she'd respond with a vague "that's nice, but let me tell you about this drama in my life..." type message, which then turned into all of us dwelling on negatives instead of being happy that something was going right. Or she wouldn't respond at all.
However, when I went back to respond to the situation after the week was up, I discovered an 2 emails from her that solved the problem for me. The first was informing me that she was dropping me from her Facebook friends because "it was too painful to see my posts and know she wasn't welcome to respond." I never said that. I said I didn't want to hear from her at my work email for a week. (I only check FB on weekends and she knew that) I have mentioned in the past that if she adds one more damned petition to my wall, I'd drop her. The second? Was basically an "I don't want to wait for your decision because I already know what it is so I'm going to drop you first" email from her. Ok by me.
So, I'm "down" 2 sources of stress and aggravation. Excuse me while I go cry quietly to myself...NOT.
Friday, July 13, 2012
I have lost my freaking mind
I just let my best friend talk me into entering a contest to go see these guys on tour. We have to dress up like KISS and send in photos. I agreed, but only if we could make her husband go as Gene Simmons. LOL. He's going to kill us both.
I think I'm going to go with the Cat face. Costumes are going to be a bit trickier...
We'll see how it goes. Pictures may or may not be forthcoming.
**once again, thanks to Google Images for the pictures posted above
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Sugar & Spice- Jules Stanbridge
From Amazon: When Maddy loses her high-paying city job, her instant reaction is blind panic. But after the 'drowning her sorrows' hangover has cleared, she realises that this is an opportunity to change her life and do what she loves best: baking cakes. And so she sets up her own cake company, embracing the highs and lows of getting a new business off the ground, while looking for love along the way.
This was a light read, very British, and seriously chick-lit. I'm a sucker for anything involving baking (despite the fact that I *WAS* a baker and hated every minute of it) and loved the fact that Maddy associated the various people she met with different cakes. There's romance, sorrow, misunderstandings, and an ending that isn't excatly a happily ever after, but is still satisfying.
The biggest problem I had with this book is the craving for a Victoria Sponge Cake that it left me with!
Monday, July 9, 2012
Monday Musings- Felicity & the Squirrel
I lived in a bottom floor apartment in a u-shaped building for about 5 years. My living room windows looked out onto the courtyard and had a small ledge on the outside. There were bushes on either side of my front door and trees by my bathroom window and in the middle of the courtyard. We had a fairly extensive squirrel population, although they mostly lived in the trees out along the street.
Felicity loved to lounge in the windows, like a queen looking out over her lands. She would chatter at my neighbors as they ambled through the courtyard to the rear apartments. Sometimes they'd chatter back. One day, as I was struggling to get the door open, I noticed a flower on the window ledge. I didn't think anything of it at first, other than it was odd for it to be there. Then I started finding all kinds of things on the ledge- flowers, seeds, tiny pebbles, bits of shiny stuff. I wondered if one of my neighbors had a child who was sharing their treasures with my kitten.
The mystery was solved one day when I was home with a headache. Liss had been napping in my lap in my recliner. Her sharp little ears caught a sound and she was off my lap and in the window like a shot. the curtain was pushed askew as she bolted into the window and I finally saw the source of her treasures. A squirrel was there, chattering to her. Felicity pushed her nose against the screen and the squirrel did the same. They sat there, nose to nose, for a minute, and then her little boyfriend was spooked by an approaching neighbor and zipped into the bushes, leaving a leaf behind on the ledge. Liss sighed and came back to my lap, waiting for another chance to chat with her little friend.
Felicity loved to lounge in the windows, like a queen looking out over her lands. She would chatter at my neighbors as they ambled through the courtyard to the rear apartments. Sometimes they'd chatter back. One day, as I was struggling to get the door open, I noticed a flower on the window ledge. I didn't think anything of it at first, other than it was odd for it to be there. Then I started finding all kinds of things on the ledge- flowers, seeds, tiny pebbles, bits of shiny stuff. I wondered if one of my neighbors had a child who was sharing their treasures with my kitten.
The mystery was solved one day when I was home with a headache. Liss had been napping in my lap in my recliner. Her sharp little ears caught a sound and she was off my lap and in the window like a shot. the curtain was pushed askew as she bolted into the window and I finally saw the source of her treasures. A squirrel was there, chattering to her. Felicity pushed her nose against the screen and the squirrel did the same. They sat there, nose to nose, for a minute, and then her little boyfriend was spooked by an approaching neighbor and zipped into the bushes, leaving a leaf behind on the ledge. Liss sighed and came back to my lap, waiting for another chance to chat with her little friend.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
When Maidens Mourn- C. S. Harris
This is the 7th in the series of Sebastian St Cyr mysteries and is an excellent read. I wondered what was left for our hero after book 6 and the author has found a whole new series of angles to explore with her character. From his twisted relationship with his family to his new marriage to the daughter of his worst enemy, I can't wait to see what comes next.
The mystery in this book is the death of scholarly maiden Gabrielle Tennyson, and the disappearance of the two young cousins, George & Alfred (yes, THAT Alfred) who were visiting her. St Cyr & his new bride (who was a friend of Gabrielle's) start separate investigations that come together with a suprising conclusion.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
Monday Musings- Herding Cats, take 2
So after the bath adventure, I had thought we'd be done traveling for a good while. WRONG. 3 days after the bath experience, the landlord informed me that the workers were finally coming to replace my hail damaged roof. They thought they'd only need 1 day, but I had to have my driveway cleared by 8 a.m. for them to be able to get a truck & garbage trailer in. I was also instructed to take down anything hanging on the walls (framed art, etc) that could be shaken loose by them pounding on the top of the building.
The street I live on is fairly narrow and has steep drainage ditches on either side, so there's no street parking. I was informed of this after I was at work and therefore unable to ask any of my neighbors if I could park in their driveways. (Somehow I didn't think they'd be too thrilled to have me knocking on their doors at midnight when I got home to ask) I was left with two choices- park in the Kroger parking lot 1/4 mile form the house and hike to/from my car, or go stay with the parents. Add in the fact that there would be NO sleeping going on once the work started, and the noise was likely to give my idiot kittens a breakdown, the parents looked like the best option.
Mom couldn't contain her laughter when I called to ask. She agreed to let me bring the cats on the condition that they be locked in the room with me when I went to bed. Gramma's cat tried to kill her by sitting on her face when she was a baby and she's had a phobia about it ever since. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Felicity (sob) would have been the one most likely to do that, but agreed quickly before she could change her mind.
Running home after work, I discovered both cats had crawled into the big carrier. They'd been sleeping together in it since coming home from Bath Day. I flipped the door shut, packed my clothes and some kitty supplies and hauled everything to the car. Amazingly, being in the box together kept them calm- I didn't hear a single peep on the ride to Mom's. (as opposed to the ride on bath day when they each caterwauled the whole way there and back) I carried them into the apartment and back to the spare room. Malkin immediately bolted out of the room to explore, Nightshade went straight under the bed.
I left them with my parents when I went to work the next day. The landlord called to tell me that the roofers hadn't quite finished, so they'd be back tomorrow. Another night with the parents. Malkin didn't mind- he was having quite a good time with belly rubs on demand and new furniture to rub his face on and mark as his. Nightshade was still under the bed.
Since I usually go over to Mom's after work on Fridays, I left the cats there again for the day and planned to take them home late that night/Saturday morning. Wouldn't you know? Day 3 and Nightshade finally gets brave enough to venture out of the bedroom. She has an incredibly long little neck, and when she sits up and stretches her head out to investigate things she looks like a little meerkat. She wouldn't let us pet her and would bolt if we reached for her, but she did explore, play tag with her brother, and rub her face on the few surfaces he missed. The best moment was around 2 a.m. She'd bolted down the hall after Malkin and disappeared. I figured she'd gone back under the bed until I heard my dad yelp. Shady came tearing back into the living room and jumped into my lap. My dad came out a minute later, half-asleep and laughing. It seems that little Miss Braveheart had ventured into territory that even Greymalkin the Bold had avoided and gone into Dad's room. She jumped onto the bed- she's so small that he didn't feel that, and he wouldn't have known she was there if she hadn't headbutted him and stuck her cold little nose into his ear!
Wrestleing the brats back into the carrier took all 3 of us. They didn't want to go. I let them out when we got home, they both went and sniffed around our house and came back to me. It was clear that they wanted to go back to the other place. I don't know if they just liked it that much, or if there's still a lot of Felicity's scent in our house and it bothers them that they don't know where she is.
The street I live on is fairly narrow and has steep drainage ditches on either side, so there's no street parking. I was informed of this after I was at work and therefore unable to ask any of my neighbors if I could park in their driveways. (Somehow I didn't think they'd be too thrilled to have me knocking on their doors at midnight when I got home to ask) I was left with two choices- park in the Kroger parking lot 1/4 mile form the house and hike to/from my car, or go stay with the parents. Add in the fact that there would be NO sleeping going on once the work started, and the noise was likely to give my idiot kittens a breakdown, the parents looked like the best option.
Mom couldn't contain her laughter when I called to ask. She agreed to let me bring the cats on the condition that they be locked in the room with me when I went to bed. Gramma's cat tried to kill her by sitting on her face when she was a baby and she's had a phobia about it ever since. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Felicity (sob) would have been the one most likely to do that, but agreed quickly before she could change her mind.
Running home after work, I discovered both cats had crawled into the big carrier. They'd been sleeping together in it since coming home from Bath Day. I flipped the door shut, packed my clothes and some kitty supplies and hauled everything to the car. Amazingly, being in the box together kept them calm- I didn't hear a single peep on the ride to Mom's. (as opposed to the ride on bath day when they each caterwauled the whole way there and back) I carried them into the apartment and back to the spare room. Malkin immediately bolted out of the room to explore, Nightshade went straight under the bed.
I left them with my parents when I went to work the next day. The landlord called to tell me that the roofers hadn't quite finished, so they'd be back tomorrow. Another night with the parents. Malkin didn't mind- he was having quite a good time with belly rubs on demand and new furniture to rub his face on and mark as his. Nightshade was still under the bed.
Since I usually go over to Mom's after work on Fridays, I left the cats there again for the day and planned to take them home late that night/Saturday morning. Wouldn't you know? Day 3 and Nightshade finally gets brave enough to venture out of the bedroom. She has an incredibly long little neck, and when she sits up and stretches her head out to investigate things she looks like a little meerkat. She wouldn't let us pet her and would bolt if we reached for her, but she did explore, play tag with her brother, and rub her face on the few surfaces he missed. The best moment was around 2 a.m. She'd bolted down the hall after Malkin and disappeared. I figured she'd gone back under the bed until I heard my dad yelp. Shady came tearing back into the living room and jumped into my lap. My dad came out a minute later, half-asleep and laughing. It seems that little Miss Braveheart had ventured into territory that even Greymalkin the Bold had avoided and gone into Dad's room. She jumped onto the bed- she's so small that he didn't feel that, and he wouldn't have known she was there if she hadn't headbutted him and stuck her cold little nose into his ear!
Wrestleing the brats back into the carrier took all 3 of us. They didn't want to go. I let them out when we got home, they both went and sniffed around our house and came back to me. It was clear that they wanted to go back to the other place. I don't know if they just liked it that much, or if there's still a lot of Felicity's scent in our house and it bothers them that they don't know where she is.
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