Really? A National Merit Scholar?

I'm pretty smart.  No.  Stop laughing.  I am.  SERIOUSLY, stop laughing.

Well, I'm smart, but then I am DUMB DUMB DUM.

Here are some examples of The Dumb:

1. My boobs are kind of achey from PMS.  So what do I do?  I KEEP TOUCHING THEM, of course, to see if they are still achey.  Which they are.  STILL.  Five minutes later.
2. When the cats are whining outside the girl's bedroom door and she's still asleep and I want them to SHUT IT and not wake her up, I YELL AT the cats to be quiet.  Because obviously, she won't hear that.
3. I keep volunteering for stuff even though every time I do it, I say, "THIS IS THE LAST FUCKING TIME I'M DOING THIS."  What's that quote about insanity and doing the same thing over and over?  Yeah.
4. I am IMPATIENT.  And so sometimes, when I'm making soup or noodles for the girl, I forget that I'm supposed to wait for the water to boil BEFORE I put the noodles in.  So I dump noodles in placid water and walk away.  I've made glue more than once.
5. I know I'm not supposed to eat flour because my head will hurt and my pancreas will go kerflooey and yet I do it anyway sometimes because that pasta with veggies looks so fucking delicious.

 BREAKING NEWS!!!

You know when I'm not dumb?  NOW!

The delightful people behind Secret Society of List Addicts were cool enough to ask for guest posts and guess who got one?

ME!

Head on over and read my List!  It's as awesome as you think it would be.

Life is full of mistakes. I don't care for that.

My goal - my life goal, I guess, if you want to get all touchy feely - is to be o.k. with myself.  To let myself relax and make mistakes and be o.k. with the mistakes. To not worry that I have done something wrong or could have done something better.  To stop second guessing.

It's hard work.  It's nearly impossible some days - I am a dweller, a rue-er of the highest order.  I can nitpick the smallest mistakes I've made from 20 or even 30 years ago, and the pain of it is still ridiculously fresh. 

Here is a mortifying moment from elementary school - and I am not joking when I tell you that I still cringe when I think about it.  It pains me:

My mom gave me a week's worth of lunch money at once.  I was supposed to keep it and not lose it.  This was fine when I wore something with pockets, but the fashion gods are bastards and most girls' clothing did not come with pockets.  So I kept the money wrapped in a napkin.

Well, at the end of lunch, we were supposed to line up at the door and wait to be dismissed for recess.  On this particular day, I was first in line.  And then I saw something that made my heart stop, that paralyzed me:

The lunch lady was going through the trays and there, on that red tray, was my folded napkin full of money.  Which she tossed in the trash.  I watched it fall in slow motion, I am not kidding you.

I didn't know what to do.  My mind was racing, I felt myself flush.  Should I leave the prime spot of being first in line and dig through the trash to get my money?  Did I want people to see me go through the trash? What should I do?

I did nothing.  I went outside and played and tried to forget about it.

Except.

Except I never told my parents that I lost the money.  Instead, the next day and for some time thereafter I told the lunch lady that I got free lunch. 

So I scammed the school for about a week or so, until they caught on and then I had to go to the principal's office and my MOM was there and I was ready to fucking die.

I still feel sick to my stomach when I think about it.  Seriously.  I'm embarrassed that I'm writing this and while I know it can be seen as funny, all I can think of is that I WAS A THIEF and I GOT IN TROUBLE and I MADE A HUGE MISTAKE.  And I don't know which of those three things is worse in my book.

So, I got a talking to by the principal, and my mom repaid the lunch money.  I can still see the principal's giant tie and white belt [because there was no way I was looking him in the eye] and I still feel like hell when I think about it.

I'm hoping that writing about it will make me feel better about it - sort of expiating my sins.  Let's hope it works.  I can't keep this up.

Smart and Entertaining. Just Like I Like Them.

I spent pretty much the entire day unplugged, reading Dead Clever by Scarlett Thomas.  It's been an engaging read, and I'm almost done.

I like the book and really like the protagonist, Lily Pascale.  She's a failed actress and an English Lit Lecturer, and I like that she equates solving a crime with solving a puzzle and literary criticism.  But I think that's mainly because she smokes.  Gauloisies. 

They just look awesome, don't they?  Think of how awesome Lily Pascale must be to smoke these while solving crimes as an ENGLISH LIT LECTURER!!








So, the book has been entertaining, although I did fall asleep a couple of times while reading it.  I put that down to tiredness rather than boring subject matter.  I haven't slept well the past couple of nights, so that plus the quiet of the house made me doze.  [The girl had gone to the beach with my sister and the husband was enjoying some special fantasy football draft time.]

But, yeah, so, the book is smart and entertaining and engaging.  I'll get more of the series, for sure.  Even though it makes me desperately want to start smoking again.  God, I miss that awful, dreadful taste.

Also, does anyone remember those cigarettes from the 1990s, the pastel ones, Sobranies?  Those were fucking amazing!  I felt so cool and cosmopolitan smoking those at the bars or the coffee shops.  Mainly the bars.  Let's be honest.  I drank like a fucking fish and the bars were more fun.














So. Yeah. Evidently I'm so susceptible to suggestion that reading a book where people smoke has me teetering on the edge.  Evidently I learned NOTHING from those afterschool specials on peer pressure.

Wow. Really Phoning It In Today.

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Having a nervous breakdown (ah, PPD, how I DO NOT miss you!)

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Pretty much the same thing - getting the girl ready for school.  Oh, and waiting for my bar results.  [I passed! SUCK IT, BITCHES!]

Five snacks you enjoy:
1. Doritos (PMS)
2. Apple and smoked gouda
3. Home made smoothie
4. Kettle Chips Salt and Freshly Ground Black Pepper Chips (PMS)
5. Banana and peanut butter

Five songs that you know all the lyrics:
1. The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Music by Fraulien Maria and the Von Trapp Family Singers
2. Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles
3. Paradise City by Guns and Roses
4. Rio by Duran Duran
5. Love Is A Stranger by The Eurythmics

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1. Pay off all debts
2. Travel EVERYWHERE.  Except not really hot places, because that makes me cranky. And nowhere really cold, because that also makes me cranky.  So, travel to temperate climates.
3. Sell this house and buy a condo (no yardwork!)
4. Set aside money for the girl's and the husband's schooling
5. Buy every OPI nail color I could get my hands on

Five bad habits:
1. Procrastination
2. Negative thinking
3. Procrastination
4. Perfectionism
5. Procrastination

Five things you like doing:
1. Reading
2. Swimming
3. Playing Ms. PacMan or Super Mario 4 or Oregon Trail or Secret Agent Barbie (these are the few video/computer games I can play without getting VERY CRANKY because I don't know how to maneuver the controls and they don't make my head swim with 3D perspective)
4. Sex
5. Writing

Five things you would never wear again:
1. Fingerless fluorescent gloves
2. Side buttoning ruffled shirts [It's better if NO ONE wears these again]
3. Bras (if I could get away with it . . .)
4. A baseball cap (total Krusty the Klown hair)
5. Stirrup pants. In leopard print. [Give me a break - I was 19!!!! It was the 80s!!!]

Five favorite toys:
1. Mac
2. Digital camera
3. Deck of cards
4. That one that goes in my bedside table drawer
5. Knitting needles

What's underneath that?

I'm a piler.  I pile and pile and pile.  Mostly papers, although the ironing pile gives me a run for my money.  Sometimes I just grab something that's been on or near the bottom of the ironing pile and hope for the best.  It's never wrinkle free, like you would assume if my life were a movie or a novel or a CBS sitcom [I don't think NBC would have such a dumb plotline - I mean, c'mon, 30 Rock? Community? Maybe not ABC, either, as I've been pretty impressed with Modern Family.  But I think CBS would.  Because I don't watch any CBS comedies, so I'll just call them dumb.], but the wrinkles are hopefully a bit faded, like I'd been sitting in meetings all day, even though my first meeting is at 8:30am.  Unless there's a weird crease running diagonally across my pant leg.  Then it just goes back on the pile and hope I can get another day of wear out of my black dress pants.

Anyway, I'm a piler.  It's compulsive.   And it's gotten worse because now I'm BOXING stuff and leaving it to sit in my office.

Seriously.  I'm a little afraid of becoming a hoarder.

In pretend land

I was raised to excel.  To be the best.  Things were never good enough - they always had to be perfect.

I'm not blaming my parents; well, maybe.  But most importantly:  It's also how I am.  I WANT to be the best.  I NEED to be superlative in all that I do.  Even stuff I don't WANT to do.

For example:  I am not a fan of housework.  I love a clean house, and thanks to years of training, I have almost a sickness about finding dirt and noticing where things are NOT CLEAN.  Like, I'll wake up thinking that I should wash the walls and the ceiling [again] because it's been about a year.  And while I'm doing that, I should take apart the curtain rods and clean those [and obviously the curtains] and wash my pillows, pillow covers [not pillow cases, the these are like slips for pillows] and the mattress pad and also turn and vacuum the mattress and wouldn't it BE AWESOME to get that shark steamer to steam clean my mattress and box spring? And be sure to once again clean each and every. single. slat on my head- and foot-board, which looks like this:

 Except my bed is somehow more slatt-y and has WAY cooler linens.
 








And also clean the linens.

And so on through the rest of the bedroom.   And house.

And I don't even LIKE TO CLEAN.  I mean, I love a clean house, but it's quite obvious that I'm not obsessing about it by actually doing it.  Instead, I obsess about wanting my house to be perfect, but not doing much about it.

Which puts me in an awkward position, psychically & emotionally, because I feel like I should have a SPARKLING CLEAN HOUSE.  My house should be the best, in the clean sweepstakes, and I should be the BEST housekeeper, even though that's not something I want to excel at.

I want, desperately and poignantly, to be o.k. with being a mediocre housekeeper.  I want mediocre to be o.k. I want to accept being mediocre and not have it be a judgment on my soul.  I want to look at my mediocre housekeeping skills and say, "You know what? Good enough is fine."  Mediocre shouldn't be a bad thing when you don't actually want to be the best.

I want not to WANT to win. 

I want to be mediocre and I want to be o.k. with that.

I hope I get there soon, because the curtains in my office are looking like they need to be cleaned again.  It's been a year.

Warning: Much bitterness and angst ahead. You may want to move along.

I've not been sleeping well. This makes things really funny and also kind of sad.

I think part of the reason is the stupid bronchitis [6 weeks and going strong!], but also the stupid stress.

I'm not a person who is cavalier about things like joblessness or being broke.  I'm not one of those people who will focus on the positive - because extended joblessness and extended being broke are not positive in any sense.  When you are trying to focus on how to pay your bills, your mind just slips past all the horror of debt and bills being due and the fact that your kid may need some sort of uninsured dental guard.  Because focusing on that, too?  Is too much to bear.

So my mind will slide past that giant mountain while I'm awake, but it's what I think about before I go to bed and what I think about when I get up and then it just sort of pops in during the day when I'm not on my game.  And when I wake up at night, for the 3rd or 4th time, it pops in then, too.  Just for funsies.

I don't even know what I'm saying, except that it sucks and I don't see an end and I realize that I'm getting really obsessive about the need to get a job and make money and how everything, every situation comes down to money and I don't like that about myself, but there it is.  There it fucking is.

So, today I have a headache and errands and some volunteer work ahead of me [because people LOVE me to do shit for them for free, it's like they can't get enough] and I'm still bitter and angry and obsessive.  Want to hang out?

Rewind Review - Cheesy Vampire Goodness

You know how you are just now watching/reading/hearing that thing that everyone was talking about 1/2/10/15/20 years ago?  Or maybe you're revisiting something you LOVED and want desperately to talk about it to someone who cares?  Well, this is my forum to discuss that thing.  Join in, make suggestions, read my genius thoughts about that old school thing.  [Not to be confused with Old School, the movie, or being old school.  Although either of those may come up in the future.]


****

The husband and I went to Target yesterday to get cleaning supplies and fill yet another of my prescriptions [which, by the way, I thought was only for a week long supply, and it turns out I have to use that mouth coating Advair inhaler for another MONTH.  A MONTH.  Fuck.] and we decided to see if there were any $5 movies available, which would make for a super cheap date night.  Along with the cleaning supplies.  Do we know how to live?

We ended up picking up The Lost Boys, on sale for $4.75.  Total deal. 

It was made in 1987 and stars Kiefer Sutherland, and oh, my LORD, he is yummy.

Seriously.  Look at this guy:


 I would totally be his vampire wife.  Even with the mullet.  Yes.  I would forgive the mullet.  Because look at him.











This movie is so very, very 80s.  It's got tons of 80s actors acting their little hearts out: Jami Gertz as Star [I know, right? STAR)]; Jason Patric as Moody Older Brother [dude needs to stop being such a fucking douche. Actual depressives aren't that despondent]; Diane Weist, pre-Law & Order; Richard Gilmore [Lorelai's Dad from the Gilmore Girls]; and THE COREYS!!!

 I don't remember which is which, so we'll call them Left Corey and Right Corey. 






 

They are truly hilarious in this movie.  The Left Corey wears everything Don Johnson ever wore all at once and the Right Corey is a badass vampire hunter/comic book seller.  I think they have the best lines in the movie.

Anyway, in case you don't remember or, god forbid, you've never seen it, what happens is Diane Weist gets a divorce and moves her and her kids [Stupid Jason Patric and Left Corey] to Santa Clara, CA, to live with her dad, who is a weirdo taxidermist.  She ends up working for and dating Richard Gilmore.  Stupid Jason Patric ends up trying to make it with Star, who is a newbie vampire.  Kiefer is the badass leader of the boy vampires, all of whom sport FANTASTICAL mullets.  Seriously.  See this movie, if only for the scene where they are sleeping upside down and the back of their mullet hair is hanging like a foot down from their heads.  Spectacular.

O.k., this is the best photo I could find of their hair.  See how it's all mullety?  Now imagine them hanging upside down.  Brilliant, right?  Joel Schumacher knew what he was doing!






Anyway, The Coreys [and Right Corey's brother] try to kill the head vampire to free Stupid Jason Patric from the evil vampire spell.  I won't spoil it by telling you who is the head vampire or how that person gets killed. 

I do recommend seeing this movie, as it is cheesy, hilarious, and kind of gory.  Maybe a bit scary, depending on your level of fright.

Oh.  And as an added bonus?  Right at the beginning of the movie, there is the greatest, most awful thing ever in the history of music and movies:

Here's the You Tube link.  Enjoy!







So, in summary:
Jason Patric can suck it.
The Coreys are hilarious.
Team Kiefer all the way.

This one time I was sleeping, and . . .

I'm a pretty vivid dreamer.  I also am not a solid sleeper - I wake at least three times a night.  Fully awake, not just roll over and go back to sleep.  I generally do fall back asleep pretty quickly, but sometimes it's hard.

It's particularly hard after I've had a nightmare.  I still have those.   Not the anxiety or panic induced kind, where I'm naked or I'm late for an exam or a meeting - although I have A LOT of those.  Particularly the naked ones.  In my dreams, I always think initially it's a good idea to be naked and go to the mall, but then I get there and realize that pants would have been a great option.

But I digress.

My nightmares are scary nightmares, filled with ghosts and monsters. 

Once, I was sleeping and I dreamed that a ghost had picked me up and was tossing me around my living room and hallway.  I distinctly felt myself butting up against the ceiling.  I was afraid - no, I was terrified.  It got worse when my daughter came in and asked if I was o.k.  Not wanting to scare her, I said that everything was fine, I was fine, just playing.  But that feeling that something else was in control, that I couldn't act to save myself, was horrifying.

I woke up panting.   I was scared, but didn't want to wake my husband [I save waking him for panic attacks].  I decided to go to the bathroom, but that meant leaving the relative safety of my room and going into the hallway.  And looking into the living room. 

I did it.  But I'm not kidding when I tell you that I wouldn't look directly into the living room and I made sure that every light I could turn on was on and I don't think I've ever peed and wiped faster.

I still remember that feeling - tearing me from sleep, that residual fear or being unable to control myself.

Hmmm . . . maybe that was an anxiety dream, too. 

Coherence. It's a thing, sure. But let's not get carried away.

**I can totally hear my behind-us neighbor talking on the phone.  Well, I can hear that she is talking, but I can't make out most of the words.  I did hear "choreography" and "diagnosis" and also "maintain" and "turned out GREAT".  I think she's a spy.

**I have a bug bite on my kneecap.  How does that even happen? It's like I grew an extra cap.

**The husband is substitute-playing for his old softball team tonight.  The girl is at a friend's house and may stay the night.  I feel like I should be doing something exciting, but I have a headache and I'm tired.  Also, still congested.  Maybe I'll pretend I did something fun tonight.  Like the behind-us neighbor and I had a secret mission.

**Owning a white bathmat will make you feel like you are constantly shedding mud and hair. It's disgusting, is what it is. I wash and bleach the shit out of that thing at least once a week and it only looks good for about 3 seconds after I put it out.  Then, it's like a dirty cat rolled all over it.  I may need to move to a black bathmat.  Or get rid of the cats.

**Is it weird that even though I can totally hear the behind-us neighbor talking, I still feel like no one can hear me? In unrelated news, that was NOT me that just farted.

**I am usually a SUPER organized person, one who likes a separate manilla folder for every subsection of material, but I have become the WORST at keeping track of the PTA stuff.  I'll write notes down on old grocery lists or on the backs of envelopes and really just not care that it's not all neatly packaged in one place.  Passive aggressive much?  This presidency is going to take its toll on me.

**I love freshly ironed clothes.  I even enjoy ironing.  I have a tendency to wait until the ironing pile is about a foot tall [wish I was exaggerating, I am not] before I get to it, but then I'll spend an hour or two ironing shirts and skirts and even shorts. It's a nice opportunity to watch tv and accomplish something. Plus, I then look AWESOME.

**I'm reading Kurt Vonnegut's A Man Without A Country and it's making me sad.  What is wrong with this world?  What is wrong with people?  How do we, as humans, think it's o.k. to come up with more and better ways to kill each other?  I can't believe that doing so is the point of our human existence.

**I also can't believe the shock I had when I read Breakfast of Champions in high school and saw Vonnegut's doodles of anuses and vaginas and the whole what's a beaver thing. Seriously.  Blew my sheltered little mind.

**I don't think there's anywhere to go after that.

Moving on with medication

Watching old videos is so very bitterwseet.

I miss that time.  I miss even just being there, really, because I spent so much of that time anxious and unhappy.

And I realize that I'm like that now, too, still.  I thought, once I took this barrage of medication for the neverending bronchitis, that I'd be better.  Less anxious.  Because a major part of my anxiety, a huge trigger, was taking medication of any kind.  I thought that having taken so many different kinds, all at once, for a week, I'd be cured.

I'm not.

I'm still anxious.  I'm still apt to find myself short of breath and panicky.  Wondering if it's the illness or the crazy and what is to be done about this?  What?

I hate that anxiety is such an ongoing disease.  It's so fucking draining.

But.

I'm glad I'm doing it.  Slowly but surely and reminding myself that it's ok to be panicky about my health and if I'm REALLY REALLY concerned, I should maybe talk to a doctor.  That it's o.k. to do that.  Even if it is just anxiety.  Better safe than sorry.

I just wish I could wiggle my nose like Samantha

Or cross my arms and blink like Jeannie














And I'd be cured.

And my house would be fucking SPOTLESS.

Weekend Update

I had a pretty nice birthday weekend.

I did end up in urgent care on Friday morning, but I look at that as a positive, since an EKG ruled out any problems and I didn't need yet another breathing treatment, AND my husband brought me lunch and a new decongestant!  Presents!  Presents all around!

I spent Friday and Saturday sleeping and taking more medication.  The weather was wretched - so bad I had to bail on my friend's wedding, because every breath out in the humidity was like breathing soup.  I still feel awful about that, but I'm trying to feel o.k. about taking care of myself and not worrying so much about how it affects everyone else.

Sunday was nice, too.  I slept and dozed and my friend came over and brought me a homemade chocolate birthday cake.  And my family came over in the evening and we had dinner and watched old movies from when the girl was little - over a decade ago.  How can that be a period of time that I use to reckon the age of my child?  It's too bizarre.

My aunt & cousins got me a funny card, inside of which was a photo of me and the husband from when they first met him, when we were impossibly young.  It's weird to look at that picture - we look half-formed.  Like amoebas!  How did we make any decisions about our lives?  Beyond who was picking up what 6 pack and where we were going drinking later and do you have an extra pack of smokes?

I feel, sometimes, envy for myself at that time and for other young people at any time.  The world is open, it's amazing and unlimited.  There are so many choices to make.  I feel, at this ripe old age of 42, like all my choices have been made and there's only waiting left.

I know that's not true.  I know that there are things I can choose to do and things I HAVE chosen and WILL choose.  But the big things?  They're done.  Aren't they?  Are they?  I know that life is not static, but sometimes it feels like it's moving alternately too fast and too slow.

I think I need another nap.

I say it's my birthday. I'm gonna have a good time.

It's my 42nd birthday today. 

I'm kind of excited.  Guardedly so.  It's been a pretty crummy year couple of years decade life year what with the no job and exploding debt and now this stupid going on 4 weeks long bout of bronchitis, but I'm focusing on the positive.  I am, as my daughter reminded me, living the year of the answer to the question of life, the universe and everything.

So, the positive:

1. I have an amazing daughter
2. I have a husband who loves me
3. I have family that is there for me
4. I have friends who care for me
5. I have fun with my family and my friends
6. I have cats who love to sit with me
7. I am smart
8. I am kind
9. I am generous
10. I am focused
11. I am saucy
12. I am funny. Dammit.
13. I make excellent cookies.
14. I make even better chicken noodle soup
15. I make awesomely hilarious cross stitches
16. I make really inappropriate jokes
17. I make people comfortable when they are ill at ease
18. I have a home 
19. I have a little garden
20. I have my books
21. I have my photos
22. I have come to actually enjoy eating oatmeal for breakfast every.single.day
23. I am taking my medication and it is helping me
24. I am exercising and it is helping me
25. I am fearless [about some things]
26. I am loving my curly hair
27. I am pretty beautiful
28. I am using Twitter and having fun with it
29. I have made friends through Twitter
30. I have made friends through the internets
31. I have been writing
32. I have had people show an interest in my writing
33. I really like when I get to practice law
34. I really like being able to watch every episode of Scrubs back to back to back to back . . . 
35. I really like that Andygirl and I took a germ of an idea and created the Raw Photos Contest
36. I really like having spent this summer enjoying unlimited time with my daughter
37. I still love learning
38. I still love reading
39. I still love dancing
40. I still love laughing
41. I still love trying new things
42. I am learning to love myself.  Every bit of myself.

So that's my birthday.  Yay me!

I miss who I thought you were.

I had a friend since 1st grade.  A close friend.  A best friend.

It took me a number of years to realize that we'd grown apart.  I kept her in my loop, and it slowly began to dawn on me that I wasn't in hers.

It hurt, so badly, to realize that I wasn't as important a part of her life as I thought I was.  As she was to me.

We had a very, very close friendship.  Everyone though of us as a unit.  It's still painful and embarrassing to me when people who know us / knew us ask if I've seen or heard from her lately.  I haven't.  Not for a few years.

I know people grow apart.  I know that.  I've lost touch with people. 

I just never thought it would be with her.

I can't believe it, sometimes, that it was so easy for her to just stop calling.  To stop writing.  But I guess it was. 

I could only go on with things being one-sided for so long.  And then I stopped reaching out.

And it ended.

I miss her still.  Or who I thought she was to me.

One giant fucking step for me

So.

This past week has not been good.

As I have noted before, probably, I have serious anxiety/phobia about taking medication.  I've muddled through this for the past 12 years, avoiding medication when I think I can get away with it, fearfully taking it when I cannot, but only under the most dire circumstances.

Well, circumstances got pretty fucking dire for me this week. 

I went to bed Sunday night near midnight and woke up 2 hours later, wheezing like an old man who has smoked for 50 years.  It was like breathing through molasses, like a wet cloth was in my lungs.  I took a hit off my inhaler and was o.k. for almost an hour, and then the horrible feeling came back. 

This went on all night - me waiting out the time until I could take another hit of albuterol, crying, wondering what the fuck I was supposed to do.  By the time the husband woke up at 6:30 to go to work, I was an exhausted fucking mess.  He told me to calm down, call the dr., and see what she said.

I called the dr. a couple of hours later and they told me to come in.  I called my sister to drive me, because I was in no shape.

Well, 2 1/2 hours later, I had had a breathing treatment, an xray [nothing bad, thankfully], an admonition to TAKE MY MEDICINE and a prescription for several scary meds as well as a stern warning that if this ever happens again GO TO THE ER. Don't fuck around.  And TAKE THE MEDS.

I went home and took them all.  All 4 prescriptions with the space of 15 minutes.  I made my sister stay with me to make sure I didn't die. 

I didn't die.  From the meds.  I did make a bad situation worse by not taking the meds I was originally prescribed.

I'm feeling better.  I'm still anxious about taking the meds.  And anxious about how I feel - is this heaviness bad news or anxiety? Am I stressed or jittery as a side effect of the meds?  But I'm taking the meds and working my way through the rest of it.

It's still so fucking scary, but I'm kind of proud of myself for taking this step.  A step that is not a big deal for most people, I know.  Most people can take meds when they need to.  For me, though, this was  huge.  Really, really fucking huge.  I hate that I had to get to the point where I was so sick I couldn't breathe before I could get over the phobia. 

But I did it.

This is it! The Winner!!!!!

We hemmed. We hawed. We fidgeted. We had to choose a winner.

This was SO tough. You all are amazing photographers, and each photo was so pretty in its own way. The task is not easy.  I almost emailed Andygirl to ask if everyone could be a winner.

Great job to everyone who entered and to the finalists! We asked and you guys delivered your best raw photos without photoshop and the flash and dazzle of editing. It was your excellence and your cameras and that's what we wanted to celebrate.

But alas, this is a contest.

And we have chosen a winner.

But first!

The runners up:

By bee3six5

By relyan85

Both of these photos were completely excellent and were favorites of the judges. Fantastic entries, both!

And the winner is...

By CholeJB

How do you not love this photo?  This child IS summer!

Congratulations on your fantastic photo!! You are a Raw Photo Maven!

Email awesomecrazylady at gmail dot com to get your badge code. 

The next contest will be announced in September. Get your cameras ready!

And the finalists are . . .

Thank you. All of you.

Thanks so much for entering your amazing, gorgeous summertime photos in our Raw Photos Contest. We could not be more thrilled or delighted or stunned by how hard a choice it was to come up with our finalists.

These are [in no particular order] our finalists, the photos that collectively, Andygirl and I thought best exemplified the Last Days of Summer. Gorgeous, aren't they?

And because my HTML skills are sorely lacking, I'm just going to write about how much I like each one and hope it syncs up with

I love, love, LOVE the color in this one. It's bone melting, isn't it?

By bee3six5:

This is simply gorgeous and I can smell the chlorine.

By nessavay:

Wow. Beautiful, lacy, dainty. I'm waiting for a bee to buzz right over to this flower. I can almost smell it. [Does this type of flower have a smell? I'm going to think it does. Slightly sweet and powdery.]

By GApeach55:

I love this one. The smell of cotton candy, the wind whipping you as you plummet down the roller coaster.

By steffsux

I love the sun glinting on the metal here. I can almost smell the heat.

By MadeOfWords:

Oh. My. God. So gorgeous. So. Gorgeous.


By CholeJB

By relyan85

The crack of the bat. Running on the grass. Trying to spot the ball in the sunlight. Mmmmm.

So these are our finalist. Andygirl and I are going to spend a night making a painfully hard decision on the winner.  Which one did you love? They're all so AMAZING.  We'll announce the winner tomorrow.

Thanks again to everyone for making our inaugural Raw Photos Contest so wonderful.  We couldn't have done it without you.

This is my fifth attempt at a blog post. Wish me luck.

Today has actually been a pretty good day.  I worked out for the first time in FOREVER [fuck you, bronchitis. Fuck you gently with a chainsaw.]  I only did 1/2 my usual workout because I'm still wheezy and hacking like I'm tubercular, but it felt great.  Go figure.  Working out is good.

The girl came with me to the rec center, where, after we entered, we were told that our pass had expired on the 1st.  WHOOPS. EMBARRASSING. The woman was cool, and just said to renew whenever we get a chance.  Yeah.  I'm gonna kiss you for being so cool, lady.  Except I'm kind of smelly, so never mind.

The girl tried the elliptical today, and she kicked ass on it.  I've tried it before and can never get the hang of it and so I haven't been back on it.  If at first you don't succeed, fuck it.  That's my motto.

I also went fruit crazy at the market - man, do I love fruit.  Not in a weird fetish-y way.  In a normal, all American wholesome way.  That banana doesn't know what it's talking about.

I even managed to deal with 2 things I really, really didn't want to.  One was a phone call to a long-talker.  It's almost impossible to get off the phone with this person, so I tend to put off returning calls as long as I can before my stupid, gnawing conscience possesses my finger and dials.  But even that was a success, because I immediately said I just wanted to REALLY QUICK double check a date and THEN I HAD TO GO.  It worked. Miracle.

So today was one of those days not full of much, but it was still kind of nice.  

And now I'm sitting here, practicing my makeup for this wedding I'm in next weekend.  I'd do something else, like iron or make dinner or even run the dryer again so that the towels will actually dry, but this is way more fun. 

Hmmm. . . nice days, boring blogposts.  Interesting inverse proportion.

Pretending

Today I'm going to pretend.  It worked when I was a kid, it should work now:

I'm going to pretend:

* That there is a whole other month left AFTER August before school starts for the girl.  It's called Augmember, and it's not porno sounding at all - it's an excuse to kick back and enjoy several more weeks of good weather.

* That I actually enjoy filtering through the giant piles of debris on my desk.  It may actually be true!  Who's to say?

* That plain oatmeal with raisins tastes EXACTLY like oatmeal raisin cookies.

* That no news IS actually good news.

* That the most exciting things to come in my life are ahead of me.

* That Jesse from Burn Notice will be killed off in the next episode.  It could happen.

* That this bronchitis will magically disappear today.  TODAY!

* That duct tape on the corner of my dining room window screen is a political statement, and not a means to keep bugs from flying in my house.

* That my giant brown leather bag is my summer bag. 

* That something fantastic will come in the mail today.

* That the cats will stop shedding.

* That things will work out for the best.

What are you pretending today?

Hey, at least it's not a list of what I did today. That's a whole other post.

* I never feel like I'm on top of stuff I haven't showered first thing in the morning.  Even waiting to shower after I've worked out makes me feel like I'm about an hour behind on everything.  Of course, showering and then working out is doing no one any favors.  It's always that way, isn't it? Your needs vs. the world's.  And because I am a good person, I'm taking this one on the chin for the world.  You're welcome.

* I think I love the idea of Sephora more than I do the practice.  Part of that is because I have no use for the SMOKY EYE, but most of that is that I have super sensitive skin and am limited in my purchasing [Hello, Clinique!].  I've introduced the girl to Sephora, so we may get more mileage out of it.

* I've been trying to sit in the sun for about 30 minutes every day because I have to be in a wedding in about a week and while I am generally really o.k. with myself, particularly because I am awesome, I am going to be the oldest bridesmaid and also the fattest. I refuse to be the pastiest. 

* So, because I've been sitting in the sun, my chest is a nice burnt sienna. It should go really well with the bridesmaid dresses.  Eh. Whatever.  It can't be worse that the time I had to wear some kind of Little House on the Prairie dress.  Which will not beat the time my sister had to wear, I wish I was joking, a full on Scarlett O'Hara hoop-skirted PEACH satin dress with a giant straw hat with peach flowers on it.  Man, she lucked out.

* Can you explain to me, Crayola, why this is the best image google could come up with for burnt sienna?  Ridiculous.

How 1970s does this picture look?  Where's the guy with the burnt umber afro?







* My 42nd birthday is coming up [I'll have a full list of gift ideas soon, don't worry.  You'll still have time to get me a little something nice and overnight it.  Thanks in advance.].  I'm feeling o.k. about it, but I keep waiting to be that age where I just don't give a fuck.  I was that age once, and I liked it.  I'd like to get back to it. Older women I know say that they reach a point that they are completely free to be themselves.  I love that.  I love that feeling of just being you and not worrying about everyone else's response to you.

* What age would you think it is that women can truly be themselves?  I hope 42 is the magic number.  I know it's supposed to be THE ANSWER.  Wouldn't that be awesome if it were true?

* Why don't I just make it true?  I should.

That Long and Winding Road? Sucks Ass.

Trying something new this week:




I hate driving. I hate car rides.  I hate most modes of transportation.  I love to travel, but I hate the traveling part of travel.  It's cramped and time consuming and sometimes dirty and always cranky making.


I've never understood how people love to go on Sunday drives, or [remember when gas was cheap?] just take a drive.  Or restore cars and then drive those around for fun.


Several weeks ago, the husband and I took a long drive to pick up the girl, who was homesick &  miserable [and this is a child who, from the first, could not wave me away fast enough], from camping.  It was about 6 hours, total, in the car that day.  And I spent most of that time complaining about how there was no service on my iPhone.  Who can live like that?


I was also angry at that long drive for making it take so long to get to my girl.  I knew she was o.k. physically and all that other stuff, but it killed me that she was hurting and it took me so long to get there.  Plus, that fucking dropped service? Not conducive to texting and talking to her to tell her it would all be o.k.


Sure, she needs to be o.k. on her own.  But not now. I'm not ready for her to be.  Time has already passed so quickly that I know the next couple of years are going to fly by, and then she'll be gone.


I think that long drive also made me realize how much I love civilization [and by that I mean wireless and cell phone service] and how I am not a country person and how important it is for me to be pretty damn close to a bathroom.  And a Target.


Long drives are for people with patience.  I have none.

Summertime and you'd think the living would be easy. You would be mistaken.

You know what I love to make on a 90 degree day?  PASTA.  HOT, STICKY PASTA.  And baked chicken.  And garlic bread.  Screw you, nature, I am taking a stand.  A hot, sweaty, dense stand.

I have no idea what the hell I was thinking when I planned my dinner menu.  Except that I wasn't thinking.  I should have given it up when my less than one year old oven balked at being turned on at 450 degrees [seriously - best way to bake a chicken? HIGH HEAT.  Sooooo good.  Yum.].  But I am a fan of civilization, and I simply cranked up the AC and turned that oven on to 350 and kept raising the heat.

Luckily, my desk is located right next to the air vent.  Nice and cool.
Of course, I was afraid to go back into the kitchen.

I'm checking the weather for the rest of the week and planning accordingly.  Because I do NOT want to get locked on making roast beef on another 90 degree day just because I decided I that was what for dinner, and peanut butter and jelly just isn't going to cut it.
 
Plus, I spent the day doing PTA stuff, and while I am a big believer in volunteering and giving back and being involved in my kid's life, I am also kind of tired of the whole school thing.  Probably because I am constantly wanting to say completely inappropriate things and this is unfortunately not a group that swings that way.  To be fair, I have been involved in school related PTA things where there was a group that frequently said fuck and complained bitterly about idiots and loved to be inappropriate on a level usually reserved for frat boys.  Those are my people.  I love them.

I wish I could find them again.

***********

Also, since we're now officially in August, have you taken your Last Days of Summer Photos?  Because you should, and then you should enter the awesometastic Raw Photos Contest.  Do so.  It's awesome.  Seriously.  Awesome.

Growing Up Is Hard To Do

I took the girl to a teen age kid meeting at the library last night. I'm one of those parents who has to walk her kid into the building and check out the scene [this comes from some experience with the criminal justice system, which so frazzled me at first that I was constantly expecting a rapist/murderer to jump out at me when I took the elevator anywhere - that was one of my first cases, and that guy was a fucking asshole], but I'm trying to give her space and let her know she can be trusted with some things.  She begged me not to make her look like a dork, so I took a book in to return.  I'm stealth like that.

We were greeted by an effervescent young girl who was literally bouncing on the balls of her feet, so excited was she to meet my daughter [or maybe it was excitement about the meeting.  No.  It was excitement about meeting my daughter. Who wouldn't be that excited? My daughter is awesome.].  It was alternately a cute and dorky scene, but it warmed  the cockles of my black, black heart.

When I went back to pick the girl up later [no, I did not mortify her by hanging out there, watching her to see what was going on. Although I did maybe linger a bit, pretending I was looking for a book to check out.], she was thrilled.  She was happy to have tried something new and stretched herself to meet new people and find new friends.

Which is what my husband, cousin and I were lamenting the other day.  We are all effervescent, cheery people.  Well, more sarcastic than effervescent, at least until we've had our coffee [or a few drinks], but we were talking about how hard it is to make friends once you leave school, how the adult world is fraught with an inability to meet people easily outside of work.

And my daughter, who evidently listens to what we say, asked, "Well, why don't you do what you always tell us kids to do? Go join a group and you'll make friends that way."


Hard to argue with; even harder to implement.  Maybe that'll be my summer goal - join a different group and meet some new people.  And no, PTA does NOT count.

You would not believe my night. Also, every picture tells a story. Don't it?

So last night, I got suckered by the girl into letting her have some friends over.  I'm still not feeling 100%, but it was a last minute thing so she could see a friend of hers from out of state, and it was only going to be 3 other kids.  I figured that would be fine.

And it was, for the most part.  A friend ended up hanging out with me, and we hadn't seen each other in a while, so that was nice.  I was a bit tired, but enjoyed myself.

Then, the kids left, and my friend and her kid were leaving.  I am a MAJOR bitch about keeping the doors closed, because mosquitoes eat me up like sugar and I hate flies, since our lazy ass cats won't kill them, and lately there's been some sort of fly convention in my house. 

So I was at the front door, making sure to pull it shut as I was waving away my friend, and I notice, a bug.  On my shirt. 

FUCK.

So I started slapping at my shirt to get the bug off OFF OFFFFFF when it shot straight into my bra.  And then I lost my shit.

I'm standing in my front doorway, lit up like I'm on stage, trying frantically to get this bug out of my bra and OFF MY BOOB.  A BUG WAS ON MY BOOB.

I nearly died.

I finally got the bug off of my private parts, wondering how my life is so ridiculous that I was sexually assaulted by a bug, and ran into the bathroom to wash my boob. Because eeewwwww.

And then?  I found bug parts on my person and in my bra.  I had killed the bug with the power of my boob [also, probably due to the slapping].

That was my night.  It was fucking horrible.

***************


Now, had I the presence of mind, I would have taken a photo and entered it in the KICK ASS Raw Photos Contest Andygirl and I are running.  I HIGHLY recommend you enter this contest.  And tell your friends to enter the contest, so you can share your cool photos.  And tell your enemies, so that when you win, you can rub their noses in it.

Just click on the badge over there --------------->

Seriously - enter this contest!  It's better than a bug on your boob.