Monday, June 29, 2009

More things to think about...

Whew - what a whirlwind this past week has been.

So, a few items of catch-up.

1. Now Under New Management! So as it turns out, I don't think I'm crazy after all. Remember the other day when I was pondering the significance of the SVP of Sales being nice to me? As it turned out, two days later, they announced a org change at work that made him my boss' new boss. I am excited, and can't wait to see how that plays out.

2. More armadillos (all post mortem): Since my sighting last week, I've seen several more. Is this a recent development, or am I just now noticing them?

3. Coming soon to a jar near you... Peppers. The jalapenos are starting to bear fruit in a big way. There are marble sized tomatoes on the big plant, and the little plant has doubled in size. Looks like we have a garden! I had to water the glories early this morning - they look desiccated, but by the time I leave for work today, I suspect they'll be back in full flower.

4. End of the Quarter as We Know It....and I feel fine. We've got two days of urgency, then...a holiday weekend. As I've recently pointed out - Providence isn't just the capital of Rhode Island.

5. Michael Phelps needs to watch his back. Lola went canoeing with us this weekend on our annual trip. A great time with great people, and Lola decided she was going to show everyone what she was made of. I am so proud of my girl - she's the greatest.

6. Old friends...I am going to have to say adios to two pairs of shoes, both a decade old. My brown Birkenstock sandals and the black Birkenstock slides are both officially done. I could have sent them off four years ago for some TLC and maybe I'd still have them, but I was loathe to part with them, so instead, I wore them down to a nub. Now seeking replacements that will function until I can afford to replace at least the brown ones. Flip flops need not apply. Also, I somehow screwed up a toe this weekend, and that's going to make wearing "real shoes" to work today a treat. Hobble along.

7. Tonsils 2, Allie 0. My left tonsil is still enlarged, and is working out a few last issues that the antibiotics didn't "cure". I see the ENT on the 7th, and I hope my old girls put on quite a show for him. I want the -ectomy. I know - terrible recovery time, but seriously, I am done with them.

That's all. Enjoy your day!

Thursday, June 25, 2009

From A(rmadillo) to Z(umba)

So, Anna (aka Zumba Anna), her neighbor Laura, and I all trekked over to East Nashville for a Zumba class with a woman named Jenny, who Anna had taken with and enjoyed – she described Jenny, aptly, as a “Wood Nymph”. She was great. The music was excellent, the moves were fun – the only bad part was that the class took place in the gym – or, half the gym – the other half was curtained off for basketball – which would have been fine – had the air conditioning not been broken. That was brutal. I’m STILL dehydrated.

After class, Matt and I met up with Seb and Alex and went to dinner at Athens Family. I ended up eating way too late (healthy), but it was a good time with people who are great company.

Tomorrow I am going to hit the Red Cross on my way into work – they open at 7AM, but I got an appointment for 8, and that should still give me plenty of time to get to work by 10. And with any luck, I can hit the PetSmart on the way in to look for a life vest for Lola. Silly? Sure – but I didn’t raise my dog carefully for the last decade to have her perish in a tragic canoe accident. And you know I’m right.

So, I saw an armadillo yesterday on my way home from work. Dead, on the median. But completely intact, so I know for sure for sure it was an armadillo. I can’t believe that they’ve made it this far north. Growing up, armadillos were my favorite animals. I have armadillo earrings (sterling), a pin (pewter) and little carvings in wood and stone of the little guys on my knick-knack shelf in the bedroom.

By the way – shrinks love it when you tell them that the armadillo is your favorite animal. You can see the dollar signs in their eyes. I’m just saying. Anyway, I was equally sad and delighted – sad that it was dead, delighted that armadillos now call Nashville home.

Matt did a boatload of yard work yesterday (and got a new driver’s license, and gave blood) and the place looks awesome. Even my peppers are starting to produce tiny little nibblet sized fruits. You heard me – the pepper is a fruit. I checked. Online so it must be true. I actually checked several sources online, so I figure it has to be more or less correct. Tonight, I need to fertilize, water and stake up an errant plant.

I have to tell you, I need to stop checking Facebook before I go to bed. I had the weirdest dream last night about all my old HS classmates. Actually, it’s been a full week of weird dreams. But at least I’m sleeping enough to dream. I guess.

I did two training sessions yesterday and received complementary e mails after both from the person in charge on the client side. I decided to send them to my boss this morning, because, well – I can. And he needs to know what an asset he has sitting right next door to him.

My tribal elders are doing well. I talked with them yesterday. Mom is enjoying her new foray into retirement so far – though I think it’s only a matter of time before she branches out and does some volunteer work, or maybe a little job or something. I mean, when you have hair as gorgeous as my mother’s, you really need to get out and be seen – it’s more a public service than anything else, when you think about it. Dad is in cardiac rehab classes at the hospital, and he’s really enjoying it. Mostly, I think, because he has an audience – the little old ladies giggle at his antics constantly. He’s working hard though, and starting to build back up a little – to say nothing of the fact that he has found some people who can validate his feelings and give him a new sense of what normal should be.

Dad’s garden, incidentally, makes me gnash my teeth with jealousy. He has both zinnias and marigolds (two of my wedding flowers), gorgeous mandevilla, geraniums and hostas. His banana trees are producing bananas – inedible, true, but still – bananas. Their bamboo would make a generous gift to Ling-Ling and Mei Lan over at Zoo Atlanta. It’s a tropical paradise, and their shady screened porch is the jewel in the crown. Someday, maybe…

So, I had the chance a few weekends ago to meet my friend Rese’s new baby – and she was all of about 9 days old. I watched my colleague Bethany hold her with a beatific smile, I watched Natae do the same. When it was my turn, I broke into a sweat. I just wasn’t cut out for motherhood, because all I could think was “I would be so exhausted – this is terrifying – college tuition, braces, skinned knees, skeezy boyfriends, proms, piano recitals, fights over clothes, standardized tests…it never ends”. At which point, Rese rescued her daughter to feed her. That’s good, because I’m sure I was just pouring negative energy onto that baby. Fast forward to this past weekend, Mom was updating me on everyone she knows and their grandchildren - who is pregnant, who wants to be pregnant. It’s overwhelming. I’m just not feeling the biological mandate to reproduce. Ah well – this too shall pass.

Besides, there needs to be someone like me out there to be a mother to the lovely little roadside doggies of the world. I’ve been eyeing Boston Terriers in a big way the past few weeks…nothing against Lola, but you know, I like to have information at the ready. I’m sure we’ll end up with a pound hound, and that’s perfectly fine with me, but there’s something très charmante about the pugs’ über-willingness to be up on your lap that makes me think we should be checking out the smaller, sweet-as-pie breeds. I’m sure Matt is thinking something more like White Fang. Which is why we’ll probably need two dogs to replace Lola, when that time comes. And I hope it’s not any time soon.

And that, my friends, is that. For now.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

This made me laugh

Trivia and Kvetching

Look, I’d love to have something profound or funny or interesting for you today, but I’ve got nothing. I’m itchy, it’s hot, I need to lose some weight, I don’t feel like doing anything after work, I need a hair cut, but I’m broke.

My colleagues at work are acting weird, and I am starting to think full moon. Except that yesterday was the new moon. Never mind.

We’re ending a quarter – we’re not going to make bonuses, but we still have to bust our asses til the end of the quarter. Boo!

I hate everything in my closet, I don’t want to do laundry, and yet if I don’t, I’ll be coming to work naked tomorrow.

I am so tired, I keep having to attempt not to fall asleep at my desk. And my new glasses make everything seem a little weird.

And I’m ready for vacation, but I don’t have a free day between now and then for anything. My schedule at work is packed, thanks to our Project Manager.

My boss’ boss introduced me to one of the people in from our Colorado office as a “Trainer and Our Little School Teacher Here in Nashville”. What does that mean? Moreover, though only tangentially related – why is the SVP of Sales being so friendly to me?

And why am I so paranoid and self-centered to think that either of those incidents means anything?

Why are my heels so scaly, and where can I buy some of that stuff that removes calluses that they used at my last pedicure?

Why are so many pedicure places run by Asians, and so many diners by Greeks?

Did you know that Great Danes are called Great Germans in Danish? And that in Denmark, what they call Danish pastries translates into “Vienna Bread”?

And seriously, that’s all I have for you.

I’m going to plug into the rest of the day and hope for a nap before dinner tonight. Except…I’m cooking dinner. Sigh.

Would it kill my Journey-Loving colleague to shut down his ringtone for the day?

Speaking of – I left my phone in Atlanta. That was dumb. And my watch. Grr.

Ok. Enough.


Friday, June 19, 2009

I can't say I wasn't warned...

Back last week when I ended up at Vanderbilt, Dr. Koons told me that the Augmentin could cause some intestinal upset - although he put it more bluntly. Give the man a gold star. Oh well - this too shall pass. Ahahahaha. Oh, sheesh, too funny.

Bought two dresses in the same style, different colors from WalMart tonight. In the clear light of my home, I'm thinking they both may go back.

What I really want is one of those cute long sundresses that are so hot this year, but it was pointed out to me by Erika, who is also on the short side, I may want to grow a foot first. Good call. Also, have you seen my arms lately? No? Damn right - there's a reason for that. The legs aren't great, but the arms - it's like two albino hams escaped and are roaming free.

At the moment, I'm in the attic, sweating, waiting for Matt to get home - he was shooting in Arkansas today. Shooting footage, that is. Not Arkansans. That I know of.

I have dinner waiting for him. Pizza. Somehow, right after I ordered it, I started regretting it - and when the delivery girl got lost twice, it should have been an omen. But since I need to eat before I pill up again - well, thankfully, there's pizza.

I was listening to a country station tonight because Jack FM and 97.1 were both irritating - I hear this song with the best lyrics:

"God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy."

That is a very true philsophy, don't you think?

OK, well, I gotta go take my...gag...Augmentin. It's augmentin' my desire to ever take antibiotics again, that's for shizzle.



Thursday, June 18, 2009

Ipomoea, oh my!

So I went to walk Lola this morning and had the excellent fortune of seeing this:

My first morning glory of the year. To be fair, this is a result of one of the volunteers from last year - I know this is a Celestial, a variety which I didn't plant this year (couldn't find any) but I did plant last year. Aside from which, my volunteers had a two week headstart on the ones I planted. To be sure, the ones I planted are going gangbusters and within another week or two, we'll have more than we know what to do with.

Tonight, I weed, I cage the tomatoes, and I relax.

Gardening kicks ass!

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Table For One

Matt’s schedule and mine are not going to synch up for the next few days, so dinner tonight is a solo flight.

Given that I was single for a lot longer than I’ve been married, I certainly don’t mind eating alone. I do mind cooking for one, but that's a entirely different situation altogether.

Often, if I don’t have to cook for two, I’ll revert to single-girl eating – a box of preternaturally orange mac n cheese, maybe a quick PB and J eaten by the romantic light of the television. Except that Lola has become even beggier in her old age, and I can’t eat in peace. If Matt’s there, she’ll keep her yap shut, but when it’s just the two of us, Lola knows that Passive Mommy is in the house! Special thanks to Susie for coining that nickname for me.

Back in the ATL, if I didn’t feel like cooking and/or, eating dinner at my ironing board while Jeopardy played, then I had options. I could go mooch off Mom and Dad – I did that a lot. Sometimes, though, I’d just grab dinner at one of the many single-friendly places near my apartment. Now, most restaurants are explicitly built for two or more, but there are places out there that make you feel less like a complete reject if you grab a table for one, and anyone who ever dines alone knows what I mean.

I used to grab dinner from the Hot Bar at Whole Foods quite a bit. Expensive, yes, but casual, and healthy (unless I was on a carbohydrates bender, which was more often than I should admit). Plus, the people watching was good. And I could always buy a magazine to go with my starches.

Jason’s Deli was another one I’d hit up quite a bit. Again, casual, healthy – and quick service – so you don’t look so lame waiting for your meal. Plus – free ice cream!

The place I miss the most is Sweet Tomatoes. For those of you uninitiated, it’s a buffet of soup and salad – they also have bread, pasta, baked potatoes, and soft serve fro-yo at the end. Plus, small chocolate chip cookies that have been laced with crack – they’re addictive. I really, really miss Sweet Tomatoes. I usually got the exact same salads and soups every time, but oh, I miss them! And I haven’t been since before I got married. We never have time to go when I’m at my parents’, and even if we did, I am apparently the only member of my family that is in love with it. I think soup is the perfect food, Their chicken noodle was especially good. Of course, it was all good. Have I mentioned I miss Sweet Tomatoes?

Tonight, since I don’t get off until late, my options are limited. I may hit up our local Greek joint – notable for its 24-Hour service Wednesday- Sunday (they close after lunch on Sunday). It’s pricy, but the food is quite good, and at the moment, comfort food is top of mind. And my other go-to – Sylvan Park – a dumpy little meat & three where they call you darlin’ and hon – closes at 8.


Whither a good place to grab a bite when I need it?

Basically, because of the Augmentin, I’m dealing with a little acid indigestion, and I’m craving bland and starchy. I don’t want fast food, either.

It kind of sounds like the orange mac n cheese might be the thing, but part of me wants someone else to cook it, bring it to me and clear the dishes when I’m done.

I guess there’s Waffle House, with swivel chairs at the counter beckoning for the lonely diner, but the closest Waffle House to work is in a rough neighborhood – not that I scare easily, but why do dumb things just to get a plate of cheesy eggs?

What I am trying to say here is that I’m hungry, I don’t feel like cooking, and I need a place to grab dinner where I don’t have to wait long, which, when you’re dining alone is aaaaawkwaaaaard.


Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Living the Good Life - Part Two

More things I love that serve little practical purpose but exist for our enjoyment:

-neon signs
-birthday cakes
-comic strips
-those round chairs that look like satellite dishes (Papasan chairs is what Pier I calls them)
-napkin rings
-bath fizzies (aka Bath Bombs)
-fashion dog collars
-coin operated trinket/gumball machines at the front of grocery stores
-Harlequin romance novels
-soap operas
-men’s fragrance (I love the smell of nearly every cologne and despise most perfumes –go figure)
-Christmas lights
-flavored lip balms
-warm paper that just came off the printer or copier
-Cadbury Fruit/Nut bars (especially those made outside the US)
-vanity license plates
-colored paperclips
-toe socks
-fun-sized candy bars
-high thread count sheets
-stuffed animals
-the massage chairs at the nail place
-lighted foot basins at the nail place
-nail places
-goofy straws
-maraschino cherries

Now go out and be a hedonist - enjoy at least one of the above today!

Monday, June 15, 2009

Signs of Life

I have gray hair. More than I did a year ago. I used to be afraid, but now I embrace it. If you've ever met or seen pictures of my parents, you know why - they are silver foxes!

At the moment, I have bruises. Not a big deal, really, and they'll go away. I've had some really icky ones over the years, but they're not permanent.

I have wrinkles. Not as many as I could, but enough to prove I've laughed and frowned and scowled and pondered.

I have scars. The one on my leg from last year's waterfall incident is particularly nasty, but what can you do? Probably should have had stitches, but good old hindsight being what it is, I have a gnarly scar on my leg, and others from various slips, trips and falls, cuts and scrapes.

But hell, at least I've lived an interesting enough life to have all of these things.

Friday, June 12, 2009

You can handle this one of two ways...

I find that when I am in a situation that is highly stressful, I try hard to be overly cheerful, polite and accommodating.

Yesterday after my second training session, my throat started really hurting on the left side, and a quick check with my compact showed a few blistery looking things on the tonsil. This was around 3. By the time I got home, my left tonsil looked and felt like this:

Ok – not exactly, but that’s the least gross way I can describe it.

Since my PCP (that’s Primary Care Physician for those of you who don’t speak Blue Cross Blue Shield) has walk-in hours til 8 during the week, I hopped in the car and drove down.

After the receptionist finished telling me how she “jewed down” the guy who sold her a new car, the nurse looked, took a strep culture, and we waited. When the PA came in, she said it didn’t look like strep – it looked like a peri-tonisillar abscess and that I should pop in over at Vanderbilt and get that bad boy lanced. Oh boy! The ER!

But you know me – my voice is my moneymaker, so I got in the car and drove. I spent about 4 hours chilling in the waiting room – which was enough to decide that I am not a fan. I got to go back around midnight, where I got a gown, a room, a bed, and Sex and the City on the TV. It was on mute, but since I’d seen that episode before, I was more or less able to follow the hijinks. Oh Samantha, you're such a whore!

After meeting with the resident and attending, they called in the ENT Resident on call. He looked like Doogie Howser (only his hair was brown). Now, I’m not promoting ageism, I’m just saying, this was a young guy. But as I age, I’m going to have to get used to things like this. Anyway – he took a look at this gross mass and said he wasn’t impressed, he didn’t think it was an abscess, and he didn’t think there was anything to lance. Awesome. But to be sure, he was going to do a CT scan, and if it came up clean, I’d get a metric fuckton of hardcore antibiotics and something for pain. I perked up a little when I heard that last bit.

So, they take me back to CT. And ask where my IV is. What IV? Oh, well, they ordered a dye-contrast. I get wheeled back to my room where it takes a paramedic and a nurse two attempts– they think they get a good vein. I get wheeled back to CT. The tech says my vein is for shit. They bring in a new nurse. She fails and bails – they bring in the doctor and the paramedic from my first attempt. Nothing. They bring in another nurse, and then another – while all this is going on, Doogie is massaging my hand trying to coax a vein. I explain to each subsequent vein getter that I normally have great veins, that I’m dehydrated, and that I donate at the Red Cross.

Finally it’s Teresa, who, with the help of Doogie’s loving caresses, hits paydirt in the back of my right hand. They shove me full of dye, scan me as though I were a Manager’s Special pot roast, and determine that yes, my tonsil is inflamed, but there’s no abscess. I get a scrip for Augmentin (ugh), Magic Mouthwash (huh?), and I pay the nice people and go home. I arrive at the house at 3AM.

During all of this, I was pleasant, polite and downright cheerful. Had I not been in a gown, you would not have known I was there for treatment. That’s all on the outside. On the inside I’m thinking things like:

- Did you really just say “jewed down”? Really? Seriously? We’re done here.
- Why am I having to wait so long?
- Can you please get me away from all these sick people?
- No, I don’t want a chaplain to come visit me. Ever.
- What’s the deal with entire families coming in and chilling with the patient – is there nowhere better to wait?
- Why doesn’t the lady who keeps getting called on the community phone just sit next to the fucking phone so that everyone doesn’t have to play secretary for her?
- Why is it so cold in here?
- Dr. Bryczynsky? Can I buy vowel? An A, please.
- Would you just pick a fucking vein and hit it please?
- It is cold in here and yes, I would love a blanket.
- And a Sprite.
- If I tell you my pain level is at an 8, what will you give me?
- Yes, it was a long fucking wait and the people out there were scary.
- Seriously, can you quit sticking me?
- Look, I don’t give a shit how the CT Scan works, I want to go home.
- Why do all of the nurses smell like cigarette smoke – don’t they know better?
- I love how excited you are about explaining osmosis to me, but I checked out of this conversation 5 minutes ago.
- FUCK – you’re hurting me! Find someone who can get an IV started and leave me alone.
- Seriously, Doogie – does your mother know you’re out this late?
- Yeah, I’m dehydrated – that’s what happens when you don’t eat or drink for 12 hours.
- You know, the people at the Red Cross have way less training than you and they hit the vein every time.
- Who do I have to fuck to get some pain meds?
- Wow, these are some interesting bruises.
- Why yes, I do seem to be bleeding a little – that’s what happens when you use me as a voodoo doll.
- Thanks for fucking up my bill – I’ll be happy to call BCBS to straighten it out.

But instead, I called everyone sir, or ma’am, or Dr. or whatever. I made jokes about my veins being fried from years of heroin use. I told everyone the wait wasn’t too bad, that I felt fine, and that they weren’t hurting me. I refused offers of blankets, I smiled and nodded and waved and was witty and charming. I even made the attending laugh. He apologized that I had to wait in the “Seething Cauldron of Humanity” – and I replied, “Well, if you ever want to feel thin and pretty, come to the ER.” He laughed and told me he was going to quote me on that. See, I was the highlight of his long night!

And I’m not bitter that I handled it that way. I honestly would rather engage people than put up a wall. I mean, yeah – I was scared, tired, hurting and frustrated, but I was also grateful that these people were helping me. And if I’m nice to them, they’ll be nice back. Works every time.

I think that’s why I do so well with customers. I need to write a book.

Anyway – I got about 2 hours of sleep, my throat is still hurting (and gross) and I haven’t had time to fill my scrips – won’t until the end of the day.

But as I told Doug, the male nurse who used to work in Neuro ICU – I’m still better than 99% of the people he’d have under his care last night. He agreed. He also said that unlike me, some people he'd seen that night were never going home. What a buzzkill, Doug.

Plus, as I told Doogie – this is totally going in my blog.

So, Dr. Mantle, age 32 (though you look 27), here’s to you – thanks for having me last night – and don’t worry about the needle sticks. I deal with pricks every day.

Hahaha. Yeah, we’re entering the punchy phase of things now.


PS -I cyberstalked and found a picture of my doctor.

Tell me that he doesn't look like he's 19:

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Garden Variety Mayhem

Good news everyone - my peppers have started flowering! I should have enough yield by August for jelly-making, and Fair entry. And with any luck, some holiday gifting. Because I am sure you have used up your supply from last year, no?

I went online looking for some data about this year’s dates, drop off times and whatnot, and I came across a .pdf file that listed all 2008 winners. Naturally, I opened it. What I found is enough dirt for a Dateline Exclusive. Stop the presses!

I realized that there is a couple (Nancy and Owen) living in Cumberland Furnace, TN (yes, that’s apparently a real place, I checked) – and that they placed in nearly every single category of canning last year – they were second in my category. Ben of Madison took first. In fact, in looking at the winners list, there seems to be a Jelly Oligarchy. I feel intimidated, but at the same time, happy that an urban amateur could breathe the same rarefied air as Minnie Fay of Lebanon, Opal of Cookeville and Marjorie of Lebanon. I am leaving out last names so that these people aren’t deluged with hate-mail. Though in the interest of full disclosure, you can find a full list of winners at:

Page 24.

In fact, of the 46 categories of canning, there were only 26 separate individuals placing – so, figure 1st – 3rd place on 46 categories – that’s 138 possible ribbons – divided among 26 people.

So, really, the fact that I placed – the fact that I possibly beat some of these mega-winners, well, it’s astonishing. Especially when you consider I only can one thing. Pepper jelly. Maybe this is the year I break into pickling my peppers.

To be clear, I’m NOT suggesting you try to sabotage these nice people. Really, I mean it.

But if you accidently let some hungry rabbits loose in Cumberland Furnace, I wouldn't say a word.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Monday Night Zumba Fiasco - Film at 11!

So the plan was to meet Erika at the Y last night where we’d give the Monday night Zumba one last chance… only, when I arrived, there was a big notice on the desk that due to circumstances beyond the Y’s control, Monday Night Zumba has been cancelled. Permanently.
I got upstairs to find Erika waiting, and we opted to take a walk, and that worked out nicely, too.
But damn, I feel bad. Plus, I had some work angst that hopping and salsaing and punching the air would have mitigated. So, now what?

Well, Thursdays with Lorenza, for sure. Beyond that, we’ll have to work something out. Hahaha – see what I did there? Work? Out? Purely unintentional.

Had a great impromptu conversation with my Atlanta homeslice, Connie. She’s actually in Ann Arbor doing Customer Service Training with a company called Zingerman’s – known primarily for their gourmet food gift boxes… like this Bereavement Gift Box:

In lieu of flowers, send the family some kickass carbohydrates.

Of course, foodie that I am, as soon as Connie said Zingerman’s, I knew she was talking about the coffeecake people. I don’t miss much. Turns out, they are so renowned for their customer service that they now offer onsite training (and feed you quite well throughout). I need to convince my boss that they need to send me there. The 2 day seminar is *only* $945, and they’ll even knock off $100 if you book in advance. Of course, to hear Connie tell it – she was the only Marching Band member in a room full of Cheerleaders. What would I do without Connie?

Had another crazy dream last night where there was someone standing outside my window late at night with a camera. Woke myself up trying to scream, “Get the fuck out of here!” The best I could muster was a faint “gaaah” before I woke up. In a sweat. No wonder I find myself exhausted most mornings! By the way, I checked- there wasn’t really anyone outside the window – aren’t you relieved?

I am getting used to my glasses, and apparently, others are, too. I like them, but occasionally, I just have to pull them off and take a breather. I notice the biggest difference in distance vision.

Beyond that, I’ve got nothing.


Monday, June 8, 2009

My plan is working! Bwahaha!!!!

My transformation from normal-looking person... corporate-looking spokesmodel/logo

is nearly complete!

I just need the sassy haircut and I'm done.

In full disclosure, I interviewed with Emma back in "the day"(tm), but they really didn't have anything for me at the time. However, the woman who interviewed me liked me well enough to call me about six weeks later for a job a friend at another company was trying to fill. But by then, I was safely installed here at PureSafety.

And, in an coincidence of synergistic proportions, my current company uses their services.

I wonder if they could use a part-time lookalike for personal appearances.


Friday, June 5, 2009


Self Portrait:
Late Night with Dirty Hair and New Specs
circa 2009
One question - has my nose always been this comically bulbous? It has? Why didn't you tell me? Sheesh!

Thursday, June 4, 2009

I'd like to buy a vowel. Can I have an E, please?

So, on something like a whim, but more of a calculated impulse, I've decided to get my eyes examined. We all know I really ought to have my head examined, but BCBS of Tennessee doesn't cover that, wouldn't you just know it?

Anyway, it's been over a decade since I've had an eye exam, and given that, along with family history, it's time to update my records. Tonight, at the Lenscrafters of Green Hills, we're going to get down to brass tacks and see if I'm just being picky, or if there is something they can do to boost my peepers a little.

Having worked at an Ophthalmic Facility, I learned a great many things. Like how to spell ophthalmic. And a few eye exam related things. Though, get real - I'll never be a clinical technician - too much precision - I prefer my shades of gray, thank you kindly. That said, I know they'll test me with a Snellen Chart (you know - the big E followed by a string of letters that are neither big nor necessarily E).

I know they'll test me for glaucoma and to see if my eyes will track. Will they dilate? I just don't know! So many mysteries of life, so little time.

Part of me really wants glasses - if for no other reason than to prevent eye strain. But also because I always really wanted to wear glasses. I have often thought it's so very academic looking. My husband would tell you it's a pain in the ass.

Either way, at least I'll have some peace of mind. My eyes aren't quite right - and if it's just an age thing, fine. If it's more than that, then at least I know.

Wish me luck - details to follow.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

News, Gossip and Weather on the Eights!

I stopped off at the grocery store this AM, and golly, what a mistake that was. For those of you who are not Kroger aficionados, Wednesday is Senior Citizens Day. Even my father, who is a Senior, hates shopping on Seniors Wednesday. They had 2 lanes open, plus self-checkout. The only thing more painful than having to self-check is watching an oldster trying to self check. These are people who remember the Roosevelt Administration. TEDDY Roosevelt.

Ok, I kid – and eventually, I did get out of there - after striking up a conversation with the woman behind me about iced tea, misbehaving spouses/boyfriends and being impatient. You know me – I’ve never met a stranger. I truly am my Father’s daughter.

Let me state for the record, I absolutely do not care about Jon, Kate or any of their eight kids. Well, ok - I feel a little sorry for the kids. But that’s where I draw the line. I think having eight kids is GREEDY. I mean, the planet is small, you already had two kids – why fill yourself full of fertility drugs and pop out a litter that would make a bluetick hound blush? And think of all the garbage you’re creating and filling the landfills with. Way to go! And now, I hear that the Octomom is speaking out against them. Um, yeah – maybe she’d better just shut up and walk away quietly.

My much loved Aunt-in-Law, Flora, is headed to Chattanooga today for a hip replacement. She had a tough time moving around at the lake, and thought they wouldn’t be able to schedule her before October – so this is a welcome surprise. As much as you can be excited about hip surgery, we are.

Conan O’Brien. Oh, Conan! Matt recorded last night’s show and we watched while getting ready for work this morning. There is something about him that is just so charming – he did this cute bit about his new Driver’s License photo and the one he had in New York. Adorable. Also, welcome back Andy Richter. Last night they did an interview with Tom Hanks, wherein he imitated working for Ron Howard mercilessly. Then, the prop people mauled him with a fake meteor. It’s funnier than it sounds. Even better than that though, was a bit Conan did about Twitter, Tweets, and the Tweet of the Week. It had a great announcer, hilarious graphics, and a nice send up of the whole Twitter phenomenon. It can be viewed here:

So, Rebecca Rubin, the Jewish American Girl doll was released yesterday. I am so excited. I want to by her and all of her cool accessories:

I’m sure Matt would appreciate me developing a doll habit. Plus, if I am going to buy furniture and accessories, they should be for us. First on my list – we need to do something about the bed in the ground floor bedroom – maybe we could build a platform like the one upstairs. Or something from Ikea. We also desperately need to pull the carpet out of that room and replace it with ANYTHING. My first choice would be bamboo. Maybe I should call Empire – 800-588-2300, Empire!

That’s enough for now, I think.


Tuesday, June 2, 2009


Stop the presses! I actually agree with something that came out of Dick Cheney’s mouth. Here’s what he had to say about gay marriage:

"I think, you know, freedom means freedom for everyone," Cheney said in a speech at the National Press Club. "I think people ought to be free to enter into any kind of union they wish, any kind of arrangement they wish."

And that, sadly, is where the similarities end. Dick thinks it’s a states-rights issue, and I think it should be universal and unconditional.

Still though. This may very well be the only time you ever hear me say, “Well, I think Dick Cheney makes a good point…”

Mark it on your calendars.

Aw, Dick, I wish I could quit you.