Yep, that's me. Grace in motion.
A couple of weeks ago I dutifully meandered downstairs and decited to clean out the lower portion of the deck. In my cleaning frenzy, I managed to uncover a huge assed wasp nest. Not good. I vaguely remember thinking "Oh Shit" before my body took over. All thoughts of reason escaped my being. Pure reaction took over. The result? Let's just say I really wish someone had been there with a camera.
I vaguely remember some weird high-pitched obnoxious noise escaping from what I can only presume was me. I vaguely remember turning as part of that "flight mode" you see on programs like Animal Kingdom. (No, Marlin Perkins and his many "Jims" were not narrating, although that would have been a nice touch.) I vaguely remember the support beam coming closer to my face, surprisingly faster than I thought possible.
Next thing I remember - me on the ground wondering why I hurt. Molly, the dog, came over to see if I had discovered any tasty mole bits. Deciding that I was not hoarding any decaying bits, wandered off, unimpressed at what I can only assume was a fantasic crash and burn. I managed to assess that I was not bleeding, and crawled my way back into the house.
The end result of all this activity? Two skinned knees, a bruised collar bone, a spectacular black eye, and a mild concussion. Needless to say I never got around to cleaning out under the deck, but the hubby did manage to empty a brand new can of wasp spray on the nest, cackling with glee as he shrieked "DIE DIE" all the while.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Crackberry Vacations with Furry Beasties
Finally broke down and got a Blackberry, or as the hubby calls it, a Crackberry. Spent the better part of the evening getting aquainted with the little sucker. Even with the wonders of transferring data, I still ended up entering in a butt-load of stuff.
On vacation this week. Yeah me. So far I have managed to do some painting and yard work. Next up, some much needed cleaning before the possible visit of various parental units. Of course the freakin' animals have been getting me up at the crack of dawn as if I were going to work. They do graciously allow me the joy of sneaking in an nap now and then.
Tah tah for now!
On vacation this week. Yeah me. So far I have managed to do some painting and yard work. Next up, some much needed cleaning before the possible visit of various parental units. Of course the freakin' animals have been getting me up at the crack of dawn as if I were going to work. They do graciously allow me the joy of sneaking in an nap now and then.
Tah tah for now!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
When Clothing Retaliates
As some of you may know, I have had a love-hate relationship with clothing all my life. Due to genetics, I have always had to try on almost every piece of clothing. When I was younger, I was tall and skinny. Once puberty hit, I was tall and skinny and, well, stacked. One wannabe “suitor” once referred to me as “all leg and curve.” It got him nowhere (he had the I.Q. of a turnip) but I always thought it was a pretty accurate statement.
Because of this, I have never really enjoyed cloths shopping, unless the mood strikes, which isn’t all that often. Finding things that fit “properly” was always hard, and many times my mother (bless her heart) would take time to alter things so they actually fit me. Eventually I learned how to do this (I hate sewing – lol). When I moved out on my own, and time was tight, I learned the value of tape, staples, and tying bits of elastic together for a quick fix in a pinch. (Yeah Mom, I know it makes you proud!) That isn’t to say I didn’t have the brains to know that there are some things that you absolutely must repair/alter/fit.
As I got older, gravity and Mother Nature caught up with me. Although I still had to do some altering here and there, clothing began to fit better. I found myself looking for better quality, more “sturdy” pieces that would allow me to contain my various wayward body parts. I learned the value of spending more money on certain articles of clothing, particularly undergarments (again, thanks Mom!). I also learned to take good care of such things in the vain attempt to make them last.
Lately it seems that more and more I find that my clothing is retaliating. I have no idea why, or when it started to happen. All I can say is that it always happens at the most incontinent time. Take for instance the time I was working at the bookstore. I was alone, and it was very busy. I happened to be wearing a skirt, and being raise “right” I had on a half slip. I as running in and out from behind the sales counter. What I failed to realize, is that the elastic was shot. This dawned on me when I was ringing up one person. One minute everything was fine, the next, my slip was in a puddle at my feet. Being resourceful, I carefully stepped out of the slip, kicked it to the side and went on my merry way.
Then there was the time I was shelving books. This required a lot of bending for lower shelves, and reaching up for higher ones. Somewhere along the line, I became aware that something just didn’t feel right. Couldn’t quite put my finger on what was off. Shoes matched, nothing unzipped or unbuttoned, no one had caught me farting in the aisles, and no unsightly buggers. Then I looked down and realized, to my horror, my chest had some kind of weirdly misshapen look to it, like someone had scrambled my molecules and not put them back in the correct order. After escaping to the ladies room, I discovered that the lace in the front of my bra had given out; causing my chest to "smush" about any way it wanted. No telling how long it had been that way.
Of course there are other incidents, too many to really go into, but you get the idea.
So what brought this revelation about today, you ask.
Well, I currently work at a job where I get to sit. It’s a nice job. I have my own space; I get to personalize it to make it comfortable. I have pictures of the hubby, pets, family and friends. I have “toys” with which to amuse myself. I like it. This is all acceptable because the place I work at realizes that we spend the majority of our time on the phones, sometimes for long periods of time, and if our space is comfortable and “fun” for us, the happier we will be. (Amusing myself has never been a problem for me.)
Today was a rather hectic day. We are being bombarded with install calls. There aren’t many of us on this team, so we don’t get a lot of down time at the moment. It’s one call right after another. Because of this I got a late lunch. So at approximately 3:45, I discovered that I had apparently ripped out the seams in the crotch of my pants.
Yep. That’s right. Of course I am thinking “Wonder how long they have been like that” followed by “How come I didn’t realize that before?” Then I realized I just didn’t really care. If someone wanted to see my blue panties, more power to them.
Of course I told the people I work with. It had been a hectic day and I figured they needed the laugh as much as I did. And they did.
See what I mean by amusing myself?
Because of this, I have never really enjoyed cloths shopping, unless the mood strikes, which isn’t all that often. Finding things that fit “properly” was always hard, and many times my mother (bless her heart) would take time to alter things so they actually fit me. Eventually I learned how to do this (I hate sewing – lol). When I moved out on my own, and time was tight, I learned the value of tape, staples, and tying bits of elastic together for a quick fix in a pinch. (Yeah Mom, I know it makes you proud!) That isn’t to say I didn’t have the brains to know that there are some things that you absolutely must repair/alter/fit.
As I got older, gravity and Mother Nature caught up with me. Although I still had to do some altering here and there, clothing began to fit better. I found myself looking for better quality, more “sturdy” pieces that would allow me to contain my various wayward body parts. I learned the value of spending more money on certain articles of clothing, particularly undergarments (again, thanks Mom!). I also learned to take good care of such things in the vain attempt to make them last.
Lately it seems that more and more I find that my clothing is retaliating. I have no idea why, or when it started to happen. All I can say is that it always happens at the most incontinent time. Take for instance the time I was working at the bookstore. I was alone, and it was very busy. I happened to be wearing a skirt, and being raise “right” I had on a half slip. I as running in and out from behind the sales counter. What I failed to realize, is that the elastic was shot. This dawned on me when I was ringing up one person. One minute everything was fine, the next, my slip was in a puddle at my feet. Being resourceful, I carefully stepped out of the slip, kicked it to the side and went on my merry way.
Then there was the time I was shelving books. This required a lot of bending for lower shelves, and reaching up for higher ones. Somewhere along the line, I became aware that something just didn’t feel right. Couldn’t quite put my finger on what was off. Shoes matched, nothing unzipped or unbuttoned, no one had caught me farting in the aisles, and no unsightly buggers. Then I looked down and realized, to my horror, my chest had some kind of weirdly misshapen look to it, like someone had scrambled my molecules and not put them back in the correct order. After escaping to the ladies room, I discovered that the lace in the front of my bra had given out; causing my chest to "smush" about any way it wanted. No telling how long it had been that way.
Of course there are other incidents, too many to really go into, but you get the idea.
So what brought this revelation about today, you ask.
Well, I currently work at a job where I get to sit. It’s a nice job. I have my own space; I get to personalize it to make it comfortable. I have pictures of the hubby, pets, family and friends. I have “toys” with which to amuse myself. I like it. This is all acceptable because the place I work at realizes that we spend the majority of our time on the phones, sometimes for long periods of time, and if our space is comfortable and “fun” for us, the happier we will be. (Amusing myself has never been a problem for me.)
Today was a rather hectic day. We are being bombarded with install calls. There aren’t many of us on this team, so we don’t get a lot of down time at the moment. It’s one call right after another. Because of this I got a late lunch. So at approximately 3:45, I discovered that I had apparently ripped out the seams in the crotch of my pants.
Yep. That’s right. Of course I am thinking “Wonder how long they have been like that” followed by “How come I didn’t realize that before?” Then I realized I just didn’t really care. If someone wanted to see my blue panties, more power to them.
Of course I told the people I work with. It had been a hectic day and I figured they needed the laugh as much as I did. And they did.
See what I mean by amusing myself?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Pay No Attention to the Woman Lying in the Road.
Welcome to my life.
We have this bouncy dog named Molly, who because of our work schedules spends most of the work week inside napping on a couch/bed/what have you. In the winter, it is too dark at night for us to take her out on long involved "proper" walks, as we live in the country and would probably break our necks trying to take her out and about much further than our yard. Because of this, weekends are usually declared as "Molly Days", which include good 40 to 60 minute walks.
Molly knows the word "walk" and the word "leash". Say these words together and she starts spinning aroun in circles, hopping up on hind legs to peer at the counter where her leash is kept, and gently nudging you towards the door. Snap a leash on her collar and she is grabbing hold of the end and tugging it while she heads towards the front door.Since we are in the country, we walk along the gravel roads that run behind our property. These head out to the fields, mostly corn. Once out there, we can let her loose, and she romps around in the fields and ditches, looking for mice, rabbits, fluff, imaginary creatures, anything she can think of. We headed out this morning in the nice snow flurry that was coming down pretty thick. Once we got to our half-way mark, we headed back, just like normal. (yeah, I know. I am not normal.)
As we turned the last corner, there apparently was a patch of ice covered by snow. Now, I knew that this was here. But, apparently I forgot about this as I was be-bopping along with Zelda (my ipod), singing along watching Molly and looking out for any stray cars that might be zipping along the back roads. No big deal, I do it all the time.
Next thing I know, I am lying on my back, looking up at the snow sky, still singing along mind you. Molly comes scampering over to offer assistance by licking my face and snorting at me. It doesn't take long for me to realize that I have obviously slipped on the ice and landed on my backside. Suddenly, I am struck by the absurdity of the situation. I mean come on, I am lying there, arms and leg straight down, dog scampering about me, getting pelted by snow flakes, and I am STILL singing along with my ipod. If anyone ever needed a video camera, that was the time.
Then of course I start laughing. A lot. I try to get up but the ice is slick, so I really end up just kind of rocking about, body parts flailing about pathetically. Eventally I am able to escape and make my way home.
My husband takes one look at me and voices his concern. I am covered in snow/mud/lord knows what else, tears running down my face (due to lauging so hard) and am snorting and snuffling. Once he is able to rule out serious bodily harm, he pats me on the head and says he is heading off to school to take care of some things, leaving me to clean myself up.
Of course as I write this, I can't help but wonder what the local farmers would have thought had they come across me, lying there in the road, incapacitated with serious fits of giggling. And what if I hadn't been able to get myself up right? Would I still be lying there, singing along with the ipod? Would Molly have pulled a Lassie moment, and run up to the house barking out for help? Would my husband have figured it out? ("What's that girl? She is stuck on an ice patch in the road?")
Then I wonder if my "clone" has ever been "stuck" like that. You'll have to fess up Corine!
We have this bouncy dog named Molly, who because of our work schedules spends most of the work week inside napping on a couch/bed/what have you. In the winter, it is too dark at night for us to take her out on long involved "proper" walks, as we live in the country and would probably break our necks trying to take her out and about much further than our yard. Because of this, weekends are usually declared as "Molly Days", which include good 40 to 60 minute walks.
Molly knows the word "walk" and the word "leash". Say these words together and she starts spinning aroun in circles, hopping up on hind legs to peer at the counter where her leash is kept, and gently nudging you towards the door. Snap a leash on her collar and she is grabbing hold of the end and tugging it while she heads towards the front door.Since we are in the country, we walk along the gravel roads that run behind our property. These head out to the fields, mostly corn. Once out there, we can let her loose, and she romps around in the fields and ditches, looking for mice, rabbits, fluff, imaginary creatures, anything she can think of. We headed out this morning in the nice snow flurry that was coming down pretty thick. Once we got to our half-way mark, we headed back, just like normal. (yeah, I know. I am not normal.)
As we turned the last corner, there apparently was a patch of ice covered by snow. Now, I knew that this was here. But, apparently I forgot about this as I was be-bopping along with Zelda (my ipod), singing along watching Molly and looking out for any stray cars that might be zipping along the back roads. No big deal, I do it all the time.
Next thing I know, I am lying on my back, looking up at the snow sky, still singing along mind you. Molly comes scampering over to offer assistance by licking my face and snorting at me. It doesn't take long for me to realize that I have obviously slipped on the ice and landed on my backside. Suddenly, I am struck by the absurdity of the situation. I mean come on, I am lying there, arms and leg straight down, dog scampering about me, getting pelted by snow flakes, and I am STILL singing along with my ipod. If anyone ever needed a video camera, that was the time.
Then of course I start laughing. A lot. I try to get up but the ice is slick, so I really end up just kind of rocking about, body parts flailing about pathetically. Eventally I am able to escape and make my way home.
My husband takes one look at me and voices his concern. I am covered in snow/mud/lord knows what else, tears running down my face (due to lauging so hard) and am snorting and snuffling. Once he is able to rule out serious bodily harm, he pats me on the head and says he is heading off to school to take care of some things, leaving me to clean myself up.
Of course as I write this, I can't help but wonder what the local farmers would have thought had they come across me, lying there in the road, incapacitated with serious fits of giggling. And what if I hadn't been able to get myself up right? Would I still be lying there, singing along with the ipod? Would Molly have pulled a Lassie moment, and run up to the house barking out for help? Would my husband have figured it out? ("What's that girl? She is stuck on an ice patch in the road?")
Then I wonder if my "clone" has ever been "stuck" like that. You'll have to fess up Corine!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Cold Cold Cold Cold
Oh mt gosh it is cold out. Temps are dropping into the single digits, and the wind is horrendous. I just put some extra blankets in the cat house on the deck for the backup cats that come to visit. Filled up the food bowl and plugged in the heated water dish. I took a peak out the window and saw that the siamese cat was out there munching away. Pixel will make an appearance later on, and I suspect Whatnot will too.
For those of you who don't know, we live in the country and occasionally the neighboring cats like to show up for a snack or two. I am pretty sure Pixel-cat and Whatnot belong to one of the local farmers out here, but the siamese cat is new. They will all tolerate us looking at them through the window, and sometimes we can even be on the deck when they are about, but all are pretty skittish and take off running if we move towards them. The siamese cat looks young and pretty scrawny. I don't think he belongs to anyone, or if he does they are probably long gone. So I make sure that there is some food and water out there, and Mosely's old house is still on the deck for shelter if someone needs it. Call me a sucker.
In the meantime, our indoor animals are all fairly content. Archie is showing more and more signs of his age and hard abusive life. We baby him along, and for the most part he seems content. A little confused at times, but content nonetheless. Quatlieu is also getting up there in age, amazing as it seems to us. Molly and Mosely are our "young'uns", and are going full speed ahead.
I have chosen not to take any classes this semester. Decided I needed a break, and the Hubby agrees. Since I have a job I enjoy, the whole "going to school to get a better job" is not as urgent. We have been in this house now going on our third year, and there is so much I want to do but never have the time. I felt guilty about taking a break from school, but as the hubby pointed out, I was going for me, not anyone else.
So now I am in the process of making out a list of all the projects I want to tackle around here. Plus I need to put in some time on Lady P's novel. Her fans are all clamouring for the next chapter. I was able to hold them off with Chapter 10, but I don't think they will wait as long for Chapter 11.
Lady P is Lady Matilde Prunelle, Romance Authour Extraordinaire. She was developed after I came across a photo of an employee who worked for me. This girl had some glamour shots done. They turned out very nice, and she looks great, although I think she is beautiful without all the fluff. Anyway, a couple of pictures reminded me of those romance novelists author photos. One day, out of sheer boredom on my part, I created a website for Lady P, complete with a "bio" and some fake books that she supposedly "wrote". Even included little excerpts from those books.
Some of the girls from work came across the site. I started getting requests for more of "the story". So, again, as a joke, I started writing a few chapters. And then it snowballed...
Now Lady Prunelle has a MySpace, a FaceBook, a website, and most recently a Fan site/club. (I had nothing to do with the fan club/page. That was one of Lady P's avid fans - lol) So now I feel compelled to keep writing the story.
Best part about the whole thing?
I don't really like romance novels. How is that for irony?
But, it allows me to stay creative, and some of the research (yes, I actually do some research for this - her fans wouldn't have it any other way, I'm telling you) is interesting.
Do I know how the story ends?
Of course. Even have a good idea of how it will get there.
Hardest part is keeping track of what I have written so far, and how to get from one point to the next in some kind of co-herent manner that makes sense to the reader and the story. I really hadn't thought out how complex this can all get.
But I'll keep plugging along.
As for my friend who is the face of Lady P, she is a good sport about all of this. Thinks it is hilarious and expects to start being bombarded by strangers asking for her autograph and what will happen to poor Ursula.
Thanks a bunch Amy! You are a peach! You inspire more than you will ever know.
For those of you who don't know, we live in the country and occasionally the neighboring cats like to show up for a snack or two. I am pretty sure Pixel-cat and Whatnot belong to one of the local farmers out here, but the siamese cat is new. They will all tolerate us looking at them through the window, and sometimes we can even be on the deck when they are about, but all are pretty skittish and take off running if we move towards them. The siamese cat looks young and pretty scrawny. I don't think he belongs to anyone, or if he does they are probably long gone. So I make sure that there is some food and water out there, and Mosely's old house is still on the deck for shelter if someone needs it. Call me a sucker.
In the meantime, our indoor animals are all fairly content. Archie is showing more and more signs of his age and hard abusive life. We baby him along, and for the most part he seems content. A little confused at times, but content nonetheless. Quatlieu is also getting up there in age, amazing as it seems to us. Molly and Mosely are our "young'uns", and are going full speed ahead.
I have chosen not to take any classes this semester. Decided I needed a break, and the Hubby agrees. Since I have a job I enjoy, the whole "going to school to get a better job" is not as urgent. We have been in this house now going on our third year, and there is so much I want to do but never have the time. I felt guilty about taking a break from school, but as the hubby pointed out, I was going for me, not anyone else.
So now I am in the process of making out a list of all the projects I want to tackle around here. Plus I need to put in some time on Lady P's novel. Her fans are all clamouring for the next chapter. I was able to hold them off with Chapter 10, but I don't think they will wait as long for Chapter 11.
Lady P is Lady Matilde Prunelle, Romance Authour Extraordinaire. She was developed after I came across a photo of an employee who worked for me. This girl had some glamour shots done. They turned out very nice, and she looks great, although I think she is beautiful without all the fluff. Anyway, a couple of pictures reminded me of those romance novelists author photos. One day, out of sheer boredom on my part, I created a website for Lady P, complete with a "bio" and some fake books that she supposedly "wrote". Even included little excerpts from those books.
Some of the girls from work came across the site. I started getting requests for more of "the story". So, again, as a joke, I started writing a few chapters. And then it snowballed...
Now Lady Prunelle has a MySpace, a FaceBook, a website, and most recently a Fan site/club. (I had nothing to do with the fan club/page. That was one of Lady P's avid fans - lol) So now I feel compelled to keep writing the story.
Best part about the whole thing?
I don't really like romance novels. How is that for irony?
But, it allows me to stay creative, and some of the research (yes, I actually do some research for this - her fans wouldn't have it any other way, I'm telling you) is interesting.
Do I know how the story ends?
Of course. Even have a good idea of how it will get there.
Hardest part is keeping track of what I have written so far, and how to get from one point to the next in some kind of co-herent manner that makes sense to the reader and the story. I really hadn't thought out how complex this can all get.
But I'll keep plugging along.
As for my friend who is the face of Lady P, she is a good sport about all of this. Thinks it is hilarious and expects to start being bombarded by strangers asking for her autograph and what will happen to poor Ursula.
Thanks a bunch Amy! You are a peach! You inspire more than you will ever know.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
In the Wee Hours of the Morning
Lately, I have been waking up at something like 3 in the morning. Not fun. The past two weeks the hubby has been on break, and he too has been having trouble sleeping. Last night we both went to bed around 10:30, each with hopes of sleeping through the entire night. Silly people.
I woke up around 3, having my usual "I can't breathe" moment, so got up for a bit. I was in what we call "my room" where my computer/home office is set up. It is at the other end of the house from our bedroom. Quatlieu and I were checking emails, facebook, etc. trying to keep quiet so not to wake anyone else.
Apparently no one told Archie, our ancient little dog. He woke up and decided "must be time for a potty break", and let the hubby know by stomping across his kidneys while he was asleep. Needless to say, the hubby got up and stumbled out of the bed towards the front door to let Archie out. Quatlieu and I were completely unaware of all this.
That is until we heard the swearing.
My husband is a quiet man most of the time. However, given the occasion, he can let loose with the most entertaining verbal outbursts. I came out of the room, turned on the hall light only to see him stomping around, yelling "F#$K F#$K F#$K D@$M" with what turned out to be a dog turd stuck to the bottom of his foot.
Now, I have learned over the years, laughing at the hubby when he is in the middle of one of his rants only pisses him off even more. But I got to tell you, I was laughing so hard I was crying. He eventually saw the humor in the situation. Especially since I had to comment that he hadn't thrown in any "c*#k s(*kers" in the mix.
Did I mention how I just love these early morning get-togethers?
I woke up around 3, having my usual "I can't breathe" moment, so got up for a bit. I was in what we call "my room" where my computer/home office is set up. It is at the other end of the house from our bedroom. Quatlieu and I were checking emails, facebook, etc. trying to keep quiet so not to wake anyone else.
Apparently no one told Archie, our ancient little dog. He woke up and decided "must be time for a potty break", and let the hubby know by stomping across his kidneys while he was asleep. Needless to say, the hubby got up and stumbled out of the bed towards the front door to let Archie out. Quatlieu and I were completely unaware of all this.
That is until we heard the swearing.
My husband is a quiet man most of the time. However, given the occasion, he can let loose with the most entertaining verbal outbursts. I came out of the room, turned on the hall light only to see him stomping around, yelling "F#$K F#$K F#$K D@$M" with what turned out to be a dog turd stuck to the bottom of his foot.
Now, I have learned over the years, laughing at the hubby when he is in the middle of one of his rants only pisses him off even more. But I got to tell you, I was laughing so hard I was crying. He eventually saw the humor in the situation. Especially since I had to comment that he hadn't thrown in any "c*#k s(*kers" in the mix.
Did I mention how I just love these early morning get-togethers?
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