Time For Some Random

Indeed.  My thoughts have been all over the place lately. My brain is having a touch of the spring fever, flitting around like the finest grains of pollen, infesting the airways of the masses.

My nemesis?  Hackberry.  Look, there's a cough RIGHT in the name of the darn tree!  And I do hack quite a bit when hackberry is in bloom.  Sometimes I even lose my voice from hacking, to my husband's delight. 

We are supposed to be getting rain today, and that would be great news, since it would not only wash all of the pollen out of the air, it would clear out most of the smoke from the farm fires in Mexico.  Those guys feel that it is most cost efficient to burn their fields instead of plowing the chaff under.  I can understand their logic, as most Mexican farmers do not own the expensive equipment that American farmers spend tons of cash on.  However, all that burning creates a smoke cloud that travels north every year and makes the outdoors exceptionally hazy.  The only time the air appears hazier is when the dust from the Sahara travels across the freakin' Atlantic and shows up here.  Think about that a moment.  Sand from another continent ends up in America all by itself, with no help from the usual suspects like shipping containers and errant tourists.  They can even track it on satellite! That's fascinating, at least to a nerd like myself.

I've been having feelings of anxiety lately.  No reason, at least not any that I can figure out.  I love my job, I'm not in trouble, my husband and son continue to be adorable, I'm in the best health I've ever been. So why do I suddenly find myself thinking that something is wrong?  And of course, once you start thinking such a thing, you can't stop for awhile.  It's a loop that plays the same lines over and over inside your head.  It's annoying.  Since there does not appear to be an actual legitimate cause, my brain is already going down a list of things that it might be, such as my thyroid or menopause and what have you. Because that is SO helpful!

My husband and I have been having an argument discussion about what constitutes yelling. I tend to raise my voice when I want to be heard.  It's a habit born of years of people overlooking me, brushing me off, and disregarding my perspective.  If I didn't speak loudly, I wouldn't have been noticed.  I am not nearly as bad as I used to be, of course, but since I do the least amount of talking in the house, occasionally I feel that have to speak up a bit louder than the others.  And raising my voice while speaking firmly is one of two signals to my child that I mean business. I do not actually yell, though.  I just get chastised for yelling often. My husband, on the other hand, speaks several decibels above normal. That is his normal speaking voice, and since I know that, I rarely say a word about it, and neither does Zane.  It bothers me that I am not afforded the same courtesy, and I am also concerned that we will all need hearing aids before long. 

Anyway, thanks for visiting and listening to my little rants about nothing.  Have a great day and visit Stacy over at her place.   She always has something interesting going on!

Random the Blu-Ray Version

We have been waiting impatiently for the blu-ray of Iron Man 3 to come out, and today is the day.   Yippee!   I was never a huge fan of Tony Stark when I was reading comic books(well, who would, when Batman was smacking down the bad guys in very ingenious ways?), but Robert Downey, Jr., really brings the character to life.  We did see this movie in the theaters on opening day, because we are a superhero-loving family, but as fanboys and girls, we like to see the movies we love again and again.   

Of course, I don't know when we are going to be watching Iron Man 3, since Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. will be on the television at 7pm Central time.  We've been waiting for that show since Avengers was still in the theaters. Hopefully, the show lives up to the hype, but with Joss Whedon at the helm, there's a great chance that we will love what we see.  I've like Whedon's work since the original Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and we have never been disappointed in any of his work.

I'm mentioned that one of my schools has pennants from many universities and colleges along the walls, for the kids to see.  The purpose is to put the idea that attending college is not out of the realm of possibility, if that is what they want to do, into young minds.  I've enjoyed looking at the  different names of the schools, and I try to guess where the college is located based on the name, if I have a moment.  But I'm not really sure about this one:

I've narrowed the location of "What Com?" down to the Pacific Coast, just because I think that's where killer whales might be found.  But I'm still not sure. 

I'm still not sure what to make of this university's slogan:  "Be a Cougar".  

 Are they speaking of the animal, or the older woman who dates younger men?  I don't think that actual cougars are in need of a bachelor's degree, do you?  Maybe the older women who date younger men are entering college to pick up the men?  I'm not sure, just based on the slogan.  More research is needed, I guess.

Did you ever notice that cats like to sit in such a way that their tails will whack you, even if they are asleep?  My cat Pounce, who only appears when I'm the only person around, will sit with her back to me while I type at the computer, and her tail will just move back and forth over the keyboard, hitting my knuckles.  It doesn't hurt, of course, but it is interesting to watch.  If I stop typing, to sit and think a bit, her tail swishes less, but if I start typing away, there it goes, swishing in time to my keystrokes.  I think, in her own way, she is just trying to encourage me.

Go visit Stacy today! She must be a little lonesome for all her stuff, still packed in boxes and in storage until they find a house. 

Random-dee-dom-dom

We were able to have our first soccer game of the season last weekend.  There was a big opening ceremony, with mayors and councilmen and reverends--Oh my!  I had my camera out and was snapping away.  I may have gotten a little carried away with taking pictures of my own child, as he so eloquently informed me.

Okay, okay! I parked myself on a lawn chair with all the other moms and put the camera away.  Zane's team played beautifully, and they won.  Zane had one almost goal, but more importantly, he remembered what he was supposed to do during the game without anybody telling him, and he passed the ball instead of hogging it.  That's progress in my book!

I am completely shocked these days when I read about how other countries treat their little girls.  Supposedly a 40 year old man married an 8 year old girl.  In this day?  That has to be a sign of a backwards society--a 40 year old man marrying an 8 year old girl. That's pedophilia, by any definition.  India has all but killed off most of their girls by aborting them, because they don't want to be saddled with a dowry. Now men in India who want to marry have to buy their brides instead of wooing them; CNN says there are poor girls stolen from their parents and sold for that purpose. What is wrong with these other countries that they treat their women so poorly?  Girls are not property, they are not a burden, they are not to be sold by the pound.  They are to be loved and cherished and nurtured into adulthood so they can love and cherish and nurture the next generation!  I just need to stop reading or listening to the news.  I always end up upset.  

Hurricane season seemed to start with a whimper, but it certainly heated up in a hurry.  I think that last week there were three storms in the Atlantic--Gabrielle, Humberto, and Ingrid. We are supposed to be getting rain from Ingrid in the Gulf and Manuel from the Pacific.  I feel strongly that we need a hurricane Millicent.  That just seems like a good name for a hurricane.  Also, perhaps they can have a season where all the hurricanes are named after characters from the Harry Potter universe?

We FINALLY got to see the last Star Trek movie.  My husband went out and bought the blu ray, and we watched at home, with commentary by Zane.  He wasn't really watching the movie, he was hiding in his Boy Nest and playing games on his tablet.  Every now and then he'd pop up, make some comment, then burrow back underneath his pile of pillows.  He decided that he liked the character of Chekov, but I think that was mostly because of the accent.  The accent made Zane giggle.

Yes, that is indeed a Christmas tree.  They were putting them up at Macy's when we were there on Sunday.  Here it is, not even the end of September, and Macy's is putting out Christmas stuff.  There is something wrong with that!  Everyone knows that the everlasting candy of Halloween(I still have some on the shelf!) comes before the evergreens!!!!

Let's try this visiting Stacy again, even if it is a little early.  Last week there was some sort of glitch. Have a great day/week!

What a Bunch of Random

My favorite "Church is Entertainment" nondenominational sect sent out another postcard this week. God is on tap! The postcard declares. I guess that now they are trying to gather the alcoholics into the flock, maybe?  Then there is the comment, "Think you have to be good?"  This particular statement is concerning to me--are they saying that I don't have to behave myself at all?  I can run amok and inflict damage upon the populace and God will be happy?  I don't think they are reading the same bible that I am.  On the back of the postcard, there's discussion about how there's a tap that never runs dry, and the tab is already paid in full.  But you have to attend the sermon to find out how, of course.  And I am sure that the collection plate will be passed around at least twice, because mass mailings of postcards are expensive. 

Zane's first soccer game is this weekend.  Zane picked out the team colors for this season, and being a confident almost six-year-old, he chose uniforms which are bright yellow.  As a soccer mom, my first thought was "Oh no! There's no way I'll be able to get the dirt stains out of that!" Then I had to laugh. When I was young and contemplating life as a mom, laundry certainly never entered my daydreams!   My daydreams about motherhood mostly involved hearing my son's name on the intercom at various events.  There was never anything messy or weird, which really covers most aspects of parenting.  If daydreams were about realistic aspects of being a parent, nobody would ever be coaxed into the vocation.

I got an email from the human resources department at my new job--you know, the ones who left me questioning whether I would be receiving a paycheck in August?  Those guys.  My Monday email was certainly not a pleasant surprise.  It informed me that, oh gosh darn, they were completely unaware that I had received a paycheck last month.  Apparently those payroll people are just handing out paychecks all higgedly-piggedly, without telling the people who submitted the payment information to payroll in the first place. As a consequence, they forgot to take any of my benefits out.  I read the email further, a sinking in the middle of my stomach.  The people who make these sorts of mistakes are never the ones who actually have to pay for those mistakes.  No, the email informed me that I myself now had two options: either immediately hand over a check for 900$ to cover those benefits, or they would be taking 1800$ out of my September paycheck.  Ouch.  I had to read the email twice, certain that another mistake had been made.  To say that I was angry would be an understatement, but I had to get over that.  Anger in this situation would not change the outcome--we'd still be out money.  So I calmed myself down and went down to human resources, where they at least had the grace to apologize.   It didn't make me feel any better.  Since it was their mistake, they should have paid for it.  But that's not the way the world works, and I'm old enough to understand that.  

I have mentioned before that my husband is a mosquito magnet.  He gets grouchy at me that I'm often untouched by those insects, which is totally unfair.  I may not have to worry about mosquitoes and their diseases, but I do seem to attract fire ants.  For those who have the good fortune to live up in the northern sections of our great country, fire ants are evil little beings whose sole purpose in life is to bite my ankles repeatedly.  Their bites feel as though you were holding a lighter next to your skin.  The gifts just keep on coming--within a day, the area has a bite mark that looks a bit like a pimple. If you scratch that bite, you are treated to more pain, as the area is suddenly inflamed once more. My ankles look as though they are going through a second puberty!  I've done what I can to avoid mounds, but the fire ants have evolved.  Many of them don't bother with mounds anymore, and I'll find myself standing in the middle of them without knowing how I got there.  The worst thing about the bites is that my body is starting to have an allergic reaction to the venom; I would rather not have to carry around an epi-pen!  That's one more thing that will get lost in the bottom of my purse.

Go visit Stacy--I am sure that she will be around at some point this week. I am being all random on Monday instead of Tuesday, just because!  Go do something random to make up for Mondays, and make sure that it involves chocolate!

Semi-Random

I hope that everyone had a wonderful three day weekend.  My Friday ended on a bad note, but the rest has done me good and I'm hoping to keep my attitude as positive as it can be for a pessimist such as myself.  My goal for this week is to remember that while other people may be all about the drama, I don't have to respond in kind.  I never really was that great of an actress, anyway.

It just so happened that I got to come home in the middle of the day this past week, and as I stepped into the door, I had to take a picture.  Little Maisy, who isn't really all that little anymore, found something to occupy her day while we were out earning our paychecks.  She was so proud of her accomplishments!  If there's ever a need for a cardboard shredding dog, she is definitely in the running. I have absolutely NO idea where the rabbit ears came from, and I've been scratching my head about it ever since.  I hope this doesn't mean that she ate the Easter Bunny. 

Zane came home from school Friday talking about cake.  Great--I am all on board with discussions of that particular treat.  Except Zane wanted ME to bake a cake.  Upon further conversation, I learned that Zane's class read a story about cake that Friday.  His teacher, being unaware of my firesetting skills, sent home a recipe for a Piglet's Poke cake and frosting, with a note that we could make the cake "together".  I was game, until I looked at the recipe.  What the heck is baking powder?  Is that the same as baking soda?  I wasn't sure, but I knew that we did not have either in the house at the moment.  The frosting was going to be iffy as well.  Zane was so disappointed. 

And then...

I remembered that I had purchased a cake mix last year!  A cinnamon cake.   Who cared that the cake was made by Duncan Hines?  Cake is cake!  We did have the eggs and water and butter needed for the recipe to be complete, so Zane and I got to work. We dispensed with the frosting--none of us are big frosting eaters in our house.  The cake turned out just fine, and has been disappearing at an alarming rate. 

My husband and I have been having an argument discussion about what is appropriate for Zane to watch.  He likes to watch Ghost Adventures with me, and my son and I have discussed what's real and what is not in staggering detail(and yes--most reality shows are not 'real'--they are staged/edited for entertainment, even his favorite show, Call of the Wild Man).  Zane isn't bothered in the least by the ghost show.  He wasn't bothered by seeing The Lord of the Rings movies.  He IS bothered by the evening news, which told him that a tornado had touched down in the Midwest this weekend. That made him have a nightmare about tornadoes and our house.  Zane understands that most of what he sees on television is not real, and he is just fine with that.  It's the real stuff that bothers him.  I hate to tell him, but the real stuff bothers me, too. 


Go visit Stacy.  She should be arriving at her destination in the Pacific Northwest soon, and back to her regularly scheduled program soon.



And Shawn and Impulsive Addict  for Talk to Us Tuesday.  They are actually posting again, so that's a real treat!

Random Something

I opened my email the other day, and the subject practically hurled itself off the page: YOU HAVE A POSSIBLE 137 RELATIONS!!!  And I just sighed.  Because the email is likely correct.  Whereas my parents limited themselves to two children, other family members went whole hog on the biblical "Be fruitful and multiply" suggestion.  It's entirely possible that I'm related to most of Illinois and parts of Ohio.  I stopped searching for relatives on Ancestry.com.  Every time I clicked on that green leaf, more cousins, great aunts, and long-lost uncles popped up.  It was starting to be annoying, all these relatives popping up.  Of course, they likely say the same thing about me. 

I overheard one of the teachers telling a custodian about the roach problem in her classroom.  It seems that one of those insects ran up her pant leg.  Not those diminutive German cockroaches. No, this was one of the impossibly large Texas-sized cockroaches.  Kafka-sized. The ones able to move furniture. The ones that haunt my phobia. The very image of such a creature scurrying up my leg filled me with terror, and made me look very closely around my office when I got back.  I have a new found respect for teachers--they need combat pay!

Zane has a new habit, one that he learned in only a single week of school.  He will now approach people and say, "I have a question," and wait for them to ask him about it.  I am so proud of him! Especially when his question is something like "Do gorillas do dishes?" or "Are ghosts real?"  You should see the looks we get!  People are always nice enough, however, and most of them do try to answer Zane's questions honestly, even if the answer is "I don't know."

All summer long, one thing in my life was constant:  a cat wanted out.  Unless they wanted in.  We only have two cats, but it seemed some days as though we had forty.  As soon as I sat down to eat breakfast, Zena was meowing to go outside.  I let her outside, and when I sat down again, she wanted to come back inside.  In and out, in and out, all day long, for no apparent reason other than that there was a door.  It made me seriously consider a cat door.  For a moment, anyway.  I've discussed all the random critters who visit our backyard: possum, raccoons, skunks, rats, and the odd feral cat.  Who knows what I would find in the kitchen each morning, if those creatures could just walk in the door every time they felt like it?

Have you ever sat and just listened to another person type? My friend Anita, who used to have a typing business in grad school, seems to type so fast that the sound of her fingers hitting her keys is constant. I think that I type at a decent speed, with my usual random stops for hitting the wrong key or deciding to use another word.  When I hear her whipping around the keyboard in such a speedy manner, it makes me very self-conscious about my own typing.  I've ended up with a typing complex of some sort.  It's embarrassing.  Does this sort of thing happen to anybody else? 


Go visit Stacy, if you're up to socializing.  She's in the process of moving across country, but I believe that she is almost done.  


Or check out the lovely Shawn and her friend Impulsive Addict and their somewhat regular show.

Completely Random

Forget back to school--it's football season here in Texas.  All the football teams are out sweating and practicing.  They've made water breaks mandatory here, not suggestions like they were before, thank goodness.  My husband often talks about only being allowed a swallow or two during football practice when he was growing up.  It was supposed to toughen a kid up, but in this heat it can be fatal. Even the marching bands, who are standing on the sweltering asphalt of school parking lots, are making sure their members are well hydrated.  Texas has also passed a law limiting full contact during practices and there have been stricter guidelines handed down to deal with concussions.  For that I am very glad.  Even with all that padding and helmets, the brain takes a pounding in football.  All that sloshing around in a skull is not good for a growing mind! 

That's Zane with his dad and his grandpa at the Scorpions soccer game the other night.  My brother took the picture. They had a 'Boys night', except that my brother's kids are teenagers and are contractually obligated to never appear in public with a parent.  My brother was the same way--when he was a teenager, he would always walk about ten feet behind us so nobody knew he was with his family!  Tristan and Tyler missed all the fun.  Scorpions games are fun--and all the profits go to fund Morgan's Wonderland, an amusement park built just for families with special needs children.  How's that for helping out the community while having a good time?

We were at a Burger King, and my son ran right to the playscape.  I would run there, too, if I were a kid.  The BK playscapes are the coolest I've seen so far.  Before Zane is allowed to play, however, I take him over to read the rules they have posted.  Just so there's no question about whether it's okay to use the top of the playscape as a diving board.  The very first rule was "Must be supervised by a happy adult."  I got a little defensive, right there. What the heck is that supposed to mean?  I'm happy.  Who says that I'm not happy? Just because I'm not acting like I've had a lobotomy doesn't mean I'm not happy!  I went to the table in a huff about it, and Larry asked if I wanted a Snickers.  Does anyone else have these Joe Pesci moments?  I thought they would go away, but they seem to be hormonal.  I had a crying jag the other day while driving home, and I have no idea why.

I am nervous about this Thursday. The first person in human resources that I talked to said we would be paid August 15th, which would be wonderful.  Then other new people in my department were told that it wouldn't be until September 15th.  None of us can get a straight answer out of anyone--only that they'll TRY.  There is no TRY in payroll, people!  If we have to wait until September for that paycheck, it will absolutely suck.  My check is the one that goes for all the bills, like the mortgage. My husband's check pays for the rest, like eating, and the odd movie night.  I can afford to miss a few meals, I am not sure that my son could get by without eating.    I'm trying to take it on faith that everything will be all right, but that is something I always struggle to do!

We seem to have acquired a pit bull. He's very definitely a boy, a brindle color.  Either somebody dumped the poor thing(pets are not trash!) or he is lost.  He has decided that the bushes in the front yard are a perfect hideout.  He's skittish around people, but he seems friendly and he doesn't have any scarring or missing parts that would indicate he's a fighter.  Since it's been so hot, we've put water out for him, and I gave him some of Maisy's food.  It's puppy food, but it's all we got.  Hopefully Larry can get him into the car while I am at work, so he can take him to the local animal shelter.  I like all dogs, but we already have Maisy.  We can't afford two large dogs.  But I think it is kind of hilarious that I have a dog living in the bushes in the front yard, and a feral cat living in the bushes in the back yard.  Maybe I should just starting renting out the bushes?


Go visit Stacy's place--she is moving but she'll appreciate the company!



And maybe you might want to visit Shawn and Impulsive for Talk To Us Tuesday, although they don't seem to be doing very much talking these days. Meh, it is still summer for some people, and that means taking time off from blogging.  Don't hold it against them too much, because we've all had the doldrums before.  Just think happy thoughts and have a margarita, if it suits you to do so! 

Endlessly Random

I am back on the job as of August 1st, except that I am at my shiny new job!  I showed up bright and early for work yesterday with a tired smile on my face.  As I waited for one of my new principals to show up, I got to spend some quality time with a toad, and an actual hummingbird landed for a couple of moments to check me out!  I felt like I was in that scene in Snow White with all the animals and the singing.  Yes, it was sort of weird.  I liked it.  I felt very positive, just standing there with the birds and the toads.  I'm not used to feeling all positive and optimistic, but I think I could get used to that.

But I am still on Summer Time in my head...

I need a personal shopper.  Really.  Because I hate shopping.  Everything I like doesn't come in my size, the stuff that does come in my size is loudly colored, and I absolutely loathe meticulously going through racks looking for what I want.  It's downright humiliating for me, and I get very discouraged very quickly.  I'm also not brave enough to try new things. I need someone to go shopping with me, and at least give me a thumbs up or down at my outfit choices. I need someone to say "OMG!  That is the BEST color on you--you should really wear that color more often!" in a voice that is not at all condescending.  I like elegant clothes--clean lines and minimal fussiness.  It's one of the reasons that I love black.  Well, that and black tends to hide all the food stains on my chest. 

I have all these plastic glasses, because this is a clumsy family and I don't like cleaning up shards of glass. Is the phrase "plastic glasses" an oxymoron?   Some of the tumblers now have cracks in the bottom(Plastic cracks? When did that happen?)...except you can't see the cracks.  So I fill up a tumbler, not realizing that it's cracked, and set it down on a table.  And the inevitable happens, and there's a puddle.  That's how I figure out that the glass is now a recyclable item.  Seems to me that there should be another way to determine a glass is cracked, but it escapes me right now, because I am tired. 

Zane has announced that he will not be attending kindergarten this fall.  He's decided that he just does not want to go to school.   He does not want to do any work, he says.  I asked what he meant by 'work', but my child was fuzzy on that detail.  My boy would rather stay with his Mama at home and have all of my attention to himself, but of course, that's not how it is supposed to be.  I explained that he would have to go to kindergarten before he could move onto the first grade, or any other grade, if he didn't go to kindergarten.  Zane will be fine once he gets there and starts a routine.  He's just like me--new things freak him out a little, that's all.  Zane also told us that he will not be moving out, or ever getting married, because he doesn't want to leave us.  And Larry and I were beaming at our son and saying "Awwwww!" but in our heads we were both kind of hoping that he was kidding.   

Share some random with me!

Stacy is on a cross country move, but I'm keeping up the love


And then go see these lovely ladies, Shawn and Impulsive, for Talk To Us Tuesday, if you are inclined.

More Random Than Necessary

I have recently delved into the marvelous world of vacuum repair.  The intake hose on our vacuum keeps popping off, which considerably reduces the suction.  It's a Dyson, so it is not "supposed" to lose suction, but it is also several years old and well used.  (I was going to make a snarky comment about suction, but this is a family show, so fill in your own thought there.)  I can completely understand why a vacuum might want a rest, but Maisy sheds her weight in dog hair everyday. I can't afford to fall behind.  I am trying to decide what to do with the hose. My first instinct is to just superglue the hose in place, but that likely voids some obscure warranty clause written by trained monks in some random monastery. Does a warranty still matter after six or more years?  I will have to think about it.

There was a column on Slate.com yesterday that really ticked me off.  This woman was describing how much trouble her dog was now that she had kids.  Her inconvenience was an excuse to treat the dog horribly and blame all her problems on the poor dog.  She even discussed wanting to drown her pet!  I wanted to punch her right in the face. We had 4 cats and Sandy when Zane was born, and we managed to take care of all of them lovingly. The animals were a little freaked out by the new arrival, but then again, so were we.  We all dealt with it.  It's not the dog or cat's fault that a parent cannot handle the changes in routine, but if you can't deal with it, find the pet a nice home where they will be loved rather than scapegoats.  Except that if you can't manage to take care of a dog or a cat, you probably shouldn't have kids, either. 

Last week Zane got to meet several of the San Antonio Scorpions.  They had an autograph session followed by an small camp for the kids.  My son made himself right at home.

He marched right up there to get his ball signed, and he asked them all about Skylanders, FIFA2013, and the Gold Cup(a competition which the USA Men's Soccer Team just won, thank you very much) just like they were his besties.  For the most part, all of the players were friendly to him, although there were a couple who did not seem to know exactly what to do.  Which is normal--Zane is almost a force of a nature.  The coolest thing for me as a mom was watching how these professional soccer players interacted with the kids when the mini camp started.  The littlest soccer players had a great time, even though they were in 99 degree heat at 6pm. 

I have purchased just about all of Zane' s school supplies. There were a set of Markers that I could not find, not even on Amazon. I also did not buy the antibacterial hand sanitizer, because I do not want Zane to use that stuff.  (He can use plain soap and water, which does the same thing without resulting in a resistance to antibiotics.)  I am still irritated about the uniforms that Zane will have to wear. Who in their right mind puts a freakin' white shirt on a five year old?  I don't even own a white shirt, because my chest is a stain magnet! I guess that I will have to stock up and buy 14 white shirts to start off the year, in preparation for the stains to come.

Amazon is putting in a warehouse here, in Schertz, Texas.  Tons of new jobs is a great introduction to the area, and I think that everyone in the area is looking forward to the grand opening.  Since I order a ton of stuff from Amazon, I wonder if they would just let me drive up?  Maybe they could put in a drive-thru at the warehouse, where you can order your stuff online and they bring it out to your car.  With a side of fries.  

 Stacy is in the process of moving to the West Coast but I'm keeping the random in her honor:



You can also go and check out the fine ladies Shawn and Impulsive at Talk To Us Tuesday!



Have a great day, and if you're in the heat zone this week, stay hydrated!

Randomly Yakking

Things have been just whirling by this month--next week it's AUGUST!!!  I am of course, not ready for summer to be gone.  Most of my summer was spent recuperating, but I swear I had intended to clean out the house and take a bunch of stuff to Goodwill.  Now I will be happy if I finish cleaning out my old desk at work.   I would really love to have a cleaning lady to help me, but right now that is out of the budget.  I do intend to revisit the idea--my sister-in-law and mother-in-law both have people come in to clean up the house, and neither of them work outside the home.  Why not me?

One should be careful when opening a case of Gatorade:

Cats just love boxes and small containers that they can squeeze themselves into, and Zena is no exception.  I suppose that she was attracted to the sound of the plastic, and it was nice and cozy in there.  She does the same thing with the television receiver, even though it is behind glass. But I can't get mad at that face, and she knows it.  So as long as she doesn't start chewing through electrical wiring, I don't make her move. 

Ooh!  The royal baby has arrived!  I'd feel sorry for the new parents, and sympathize with how little sleep they will be getting, except that this baby comes with a nanny, among other employees, to help out.  I am sure that a number of us would give our right arms to be able to get a few hours of shut eye, let alone watch our child while we enjoy a full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep?  I wonder if there is a Royal Diaper Changer, and if so, how much does it pay?  I expect it might be a bit more than minimum wage.  That certainly would be an interesting note on one's resume. 

My mom hands me a stretchy bracelet the other day.  It has pink and white beads. Turns out that the beads were made from flowers.  The flowers that were at my grandmother's funeral.  A memento mori, certainly. I'd rather have had something else, but I guess that everyone grieves in their own way.  I don't even know if my grandmother liked the color pink.  I suspect that she did; the entire outside of the house was painted pink.  I do know that I am not fond of pink.  When I see someone wearing all pink or driving a pink car, I automatically think of Mary Kay.  Weird, I know! 

This is an artist's rendition of my dog.  If it is stinky and in the trash, she has to have it.  Especially if it is embarrassing, like one of those --ahem--feminine products. Yeah, those items are her very favorite.  Maisy will get her nose into the can and pull the offensive item right out, which isn't the bad part.  No, the bad part is that she takes the wad to the living room and quickly proceeds to tear it into shreds.  Tiny, tiny shreds.  Did I mention that the pieces are tiny?  Try cleaning all that up in less than five minutes, when your parents have just texted that they are on the way. 



Go visit Stacy--help her stay sane while she packs!

Also, go check out these fine ladies--Shawn and Impulsive Addict for Talk To Us Tuesday!

Randomly Saved

Last week, I received a letter in the mail.  Someone had underlined a bunch of words with red, specifically so I would notice this letter.  At first I thought that I had run afoul of a bill collector, and the red ink was indicative of how irritated they were with me, but then I actually read the envelope.

Not what I was expecting, but okay.  I opened the letter.  I read the letter.  I read the letter again.  The gist was that I was supposed to take a helpfully provided picture of Jesus and place it where I thought I needed the most help.  (In an effort to be compliant, I placed the picture directly over the dishes in my sink.  They needed more help than I did.)   After a short period of time, I was supposed to take the picture of Jesus and mail it back to the church along with a short checklist, so they could pray for me.  An envelope was helpfully provided for me.

As I sat there and stared at this letter, with the envelopes and picture of Jesus, I was struck by how very similar this all was to the old time chain letters we used to get in the mail.  Although they did not specifically ask for money,  there was a distinct "chain letter" flavor to the entire enterprise.  But how could I be so cynical?  I felt guilty that these kind people sought me out specifically to pray for me, all out of the goodness of their hearts.  And then I saw the exact same letter sitting on the table at my mom's house.  So much for that!

Zane has a diet plan.  He made it up all by himself, and I have no idea why or where.  But he told his father that Larry could have whatever he wanted, but only 20 bites.  20 bites is plenty, Zane says.  He wasn't specific as to the size of the bites, only the number.   The kid may be onto something--the pundits are always talking about portion size.  Surely 20 bites is smaller than what most of us eat.  Maybe knowing that we only had 20 bites would cause us to savor those bites, chewing slowly and thoughtfully?  

I've been using my Kindle Fire to watch old episodes of Ren and Stimpy.  That show came on during my college years and was required viewing.  I loved Stimpy--such a good hearted cat!  Ren, the chihuahua, was not so nice, but it was obvious that he loved Stimpy.  Looking at it now, I can say that the show is outright weird, but it works. 

We got some rain yesterday, with more on the way this week.  For once, our entire household has been rejoicing.  As a summer project, my husband has been working on the fields where my son will be playing soccer, trying to get them ready for the fall.  So far he's installed a watering system and thrown down a ton of dirt and mulch and seed. Larry has also found sponsors to donate some of the supplies, which no one else thought to do.  A few people have been out there helping, but Larry's done a great deal of work by himself, just to make sure that it gets finished.  When everything is done, there will be three full-sized soccer fields all greened up and ready for play.  I am very proud of him.  So many 'volunteers' these days do more standing around than actual work, so I feel the need to be extra thankful for the ones who are actually busting their butts to be helpful.  Like my friend Andrea over at Maybe It's Just Me--she helps out others by cooking meals for Meals on Wheels.  And I'll bet she never sneaks off with any of the cookies!

Now that I've got my new job, I'm finishing up the old one, and as part of that, I have to clear out my desk. I'm dreading that part; it's been a long time since I've gone through my desk.  I might find odd treasures, like Jimmy Hoffa, but more likely I'll find junk that I should have tossed out a long time ago.  Maybe I'll just pull out drawers and toss the contents into the trash can.  That seems to be the most efficient course of action. Maybe there's other parts of my life where that might apply?

We are heading for SeaWorld to check out the critters.  Hopefully Shamu is in an entertaining mood.  I'm still debating whether or not to just wear my swimsuit, because odds are good that we are going to be sitting in at least one splash zone.  This will be Zane's first visit to SeaWorld, and I look forward to seeing what he thinks of all this. That right there will be worth the cost of admission. I hope everyone has a great day!

Go visit Stacy, she's uncorked today!

 

Randomly Freaky

"It's hot in here." My husband says every single night, as soon as he enters the bedroom.  The thermostat is set for 75 degrees, electric bill be damned, and he's hot.  I won't let him have a fan blowing directly on him, because it will blow on me as well, and my sinuses are dried out enough as it is.  Mr. Hot wears a CPAP machine with a built in humidifier, so he's not going to have bloody noses and headaches when he wakes up, but I will.  When Zane gets in the bed with us at night, he also gets the dried out sinuses.  I've tried doing the small things, like keeping the closet doors shut, but the big things that might help, like resealing the windows or flushing out the system, is up to him.  So he gets to lay there and be hot, at least until he falls asleep. 

Yes, in case you missed that, Zane continues to sleep in our bed, no matter where he starts out.  I finally asked him why he didn't like to sleep in his own bed.  I pointed out that he has a nice room with lots of toys and plenty of stuffed animals to cuddle with.  I reminded him that his father had painted the room just for him, and had made him several big posters of Batman and Superman for him to hang on the walls.  Was his bed too soft?  No.  Was it too warm/cold?  No.  Then why? 

"Because I hear voices when I am in there."    My skin broke out in goosebumps.  Darn you, Stephen King!

"Okay."  I just changed the subject.  I'll look into it later when I'm not so creeped out. Also, when I have a 5lb bag of salt, seven bulbs of garlic, and every cross in the house. 

I have tan lines!  Yes I do! They're on my...feet.  The lower parts of my legs have been having a great time in the sun, but since I wear these slip-on shoes everywhere, well...  The good side to all of this is that maybe this year when I hit the pool, the astronauts at the Space Station won't be calling to tell me that they can see me! 

I found this app for my Kindle, so of course I had to play with it.  It was free, since the Amazon App store offers a free app each day for download.  This is my first attempt at flowers, and I had a bit of trouble because my fingers are a little bigger than I wanted them to be, but they at least look like flowers.  All of you, of course, will be seeing some of my better attempts to get arty.  Gotta work that right brain!




My pinkeye seems to have cleared up.  I don't have the bloodshot eyes that might or might not be misinterpreted as a sign of something else, and I am pleased to say that I have not infected anybody else.  I have done my part to protect the public, and while I don't expect a reward, I will just be happy if  Patient Zero at least went to a doctor.  Down here it takes the hand of God coming down from on high to get people to go to the doctor.  For anything.  Until it's an emergency.  I don't know what happens if a person doesn't do anything about their pinkeye, but I imagine that it involves losing vision at some point.  So go to the doctor, person who infected me with pinkeye--where ever you are!

Check out the Stacy today, please!


 

Independently Random

My son is now of the age where I think that he needs to start doing chores. So when I have laundry to take care of, I have been making him fold the towels.  He's also been helping his grandmother with her laundry, and folds towels for her.  Unfortunately, she folds towels differently than I do, and this has lead to some confusion in our house.  I know what you're thinking--there's more than one way to fold a towel?   Apparently so!  I've always folded towels in half longways first, then in half again, so that when I pull the towel out of the closet it is ready to hang on the rod.  Grandmother folds them exactly the opposite.  I've tried to work on this with Zane, as nicely as I can; I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings over a stupid towel.  But it means that Zane's folding efforts tend to look like this:

No nice, flat, pile of towels for me(yes, that is my foot the pile is covering)!  I've just been refolding all of the towels before I put them away.  At some point, when he is older, I'll talk to him about how our routines are different from others, and we'll adjust, but there's not much of a point having a battle over it now, right? 

Have you ever felt like you had thousands of things to do, but not the slightest interest in doing any of them?   I think that is the essence of summer.  Summer-itis, as it were.  I've got all these grand plans, piles of work to go through, and there it still sits.  I just don't feel like doing any of it.  Instead, I've been playing Plants vs. Zombies with Zane, reading, and some days not even getting out of my jammies.  Lazy!  Oh well.  It's summer.  I'm too lazy to feel guilty about being lazy. 

My friend Andrea, over at Maybe It's Just Me, blogged about her candy stash yesterday.  I thought about it later, and opened a few cabinets, and well...I guess I have a candy stash too!  I just randomly buy candy if I see something interesting out there. I have even tried that Skinny Cow chocolate, which wasn't that bad.  I also discovered that Zane has a stash of candy from the many parties his class had during the school year, just in case he needs a quick chocolate break.  It's nice to see that I am raising him right. 

When you have a five year old and a puppy, you may as well have a revolving door into the back yard.  Summer time means that  there are lots and lots of flies flitting about, doing fly-type things and annoying the populace. Sometimes these flies make their way into our kitchen.  Since the back yard door is in the kitchen, I'm not comfortable spraying pesticides in there, where food is served.  So we've resorted to the old-fashioned method of removing flies and other pests--the fly-swatter.  That's a non-techie way of dealing with a problem, I know, but my motto is "whatever works." 

Since this is a military town, we like to do up Independence Day right.  We've had enough rain that we can have fireworks without setting fire to the countryside.  I full expect that there will be little sleep on the fourth, especially if our dog does not like fireworks.  When Sandy the Wonder Dog was alive, we had to put her in the bathroom with the hot tub running so the sound would drown out the pops and booms.  She just could not handle all of the noise.  Maisy has done okay with thunderstorms, but she has not had to deal with fireworks yet.  I won't feel comfortable leaving her at home alone if she is going to go nuts here!  Cats are so much easier to deal with--Zena and Pounce don't even wake up! 


Go visit Stacy!  She is awesome!  Also, stay safe this week, especially around fireworks--they're pretty from a distance, but they can be dangerous. 

Random Unplugged

Last week, I turned off the computer.  I didn't go completely off the grid, as I kept my cell phone and kindle handy.  But for several days, I did not touch a computer.  I'd like to say that it was liberating, that I got so much work finished, and that I solved all the world's problems.  Not so much.  As it turns out, when you give up one activity, such as computer time, other activities just seem to pop right up to fill in those free spots.  It's as if those activities have been lurking for years, just waiting for their chance!  All that free time I thought I would have, time to get to bed early, time to walk the dog, time to just hang out--well, that just never happened.  So much for that experiment!

I've been keeping tabs on Paula Deen's situation.  People are being way too hard on her.  What she said was wrong, and that is fact.  However, other people have said worse over the years, people with more to lose, and they haven't been as villified as she has been.  Deen has apologized for her actions, and this has mattered to not a soul.  She has come out and said that she was raised in a different time and place, but that doesn't seem to matter in the court of public opinion. It should. Upbringing does play a role in future behavior.   There are still parts of the South that refuse to accept the concept of equality for all, who still consider some races to be inferior, and who are mentally still fighting the Civil War.  If you were brought up in that environment, if that's all you heard during your childhood, how hard would it be to change that mindset as an adult?  Perhaps those who are hardest on her are projecting their own issues about race onto Deen.  If we point our fingers at her and yell a lot, maybe no one will notice our own foibles and mistakes?

I did get out there to see the Supermoon--that's my thumb in the shot!

This past weekend was Zane's first soccer tournament.  We had to be there early in the morning, so we all got up and packed the car and took off down the road.  I've said before that San Antonio is a large city--seventh in the nation--but more so because this city sprawls.  That's really the only way to consider it, especially when we are driving.  The tournament was on the other side of the city, and we were in the car forever.  Then we got lost, and drove around three or four times trying to figure out where we were supposed to turn.  Zane even asked if we were still in Texas!  Once we got there, parked, unloaded the car, and dragged all our stuff to the field we were supposed to be playing on, things went much more smoothly.  Zane's team tied one, won one, and lost one, and then we were done.  That third game was played at 12:45pm, when the sun is right overhead, and the boys were just plain exhausted.  We waited to find out our standing, and we came in second!  Overall it was a positive experience for Zane, and worth the sunburn I ended up getting(using 100SPF, I might add!). 

Another woman in the news was Nigella Lawson, who was being choked by her husband in a public place.  I've seen the pictures, and Ms. Lawson looks terrified.  Her husband has tried to say that he had been joking, that they weren't fighting, etc.  A person doesn't look that terrified for a joke!  Obviously something like that has happened before, and she was afraid.  It's probably a good thing that someone took that picture.  Sure, they could have tried to intervene at that moment, but the photographs can't be shoved out of the way and told to mind their own business.  There really is no positive way to spin that, and nobody should try.  I understand that men don't always understand that their behavior or body language is threatening,  but grabbing someone by the throat?   Can't be interpreted in any other way.  It's past time that we started bringing these kinds of situations into the light, and it's time for a world-wide conversation on domestic violence.  A woman should be safe in her own home, surrounded by love and trust.

Just so you don't leave depressed, here is my new editor, who has been looking at my typing:

Maisy is getting BIG--50lbs, and she is not even a year old yet!  She still likes to nap on the back of the chair I usually sit in, at least until I start reading or trying to type.  Then she has to critique my work!



Now, go visit the Stacy--she's great!

Keep Calm and Random

Yes, we have been watching the Spurs in the playoffs. Yes, I saw that horrific game on Sunday.  I even skipped watching the season finale of Game of Thrones for that loss, and I was less than pleased.  It was as if the Spurs were just playing around, not really very serious, and of course, all of us in San Antonio are screaming at our television sets for them to knock all that off, like they can hear us.  We fans wanted the Heat stomped on, crushed in four games of complete annihilation.  Just like the Heat fans wanted their team to crush the Spurs.  It's the way of sports, that the fans get so emotionally involved.  However, complete destruction does not make for thrilling basketball.  The winning team has to look as though they earned that trophy, right?  So, I suppose that we will just have to follow the directions on this shirt.

I was happy to discover that my summer will begin earlier than expected, as in next week.  My first thought was, "Hooray!"  My second thought was "Crap, how am I supposed to get all this stuff done before then?"  Am I the only one who does that? The piles are shrinking slowly as I get files completed and sent off to be checked and refiled, and I am extremely happy about that.  I would very much like to have a somewhat clean desk when I leave.  At the very least, just a couple of small, easily manageable piles. I used to sweat those leftover items, not wanting to put them off, but I've turned a new leaf.  As far as I know, nobody was ever lauded for their paperwork completion rate, and I certainly don't want to be the first.

Isn't that a cute little sunflower?  I'm not partial to the color yellow, but I do love sunflowers.  They are so cheerful!  A little ball of sunshine, without the sunburn.  I grew this from a seed, intending to place it in a garden spot, but now I am afraid to move it.  I don't know if you're supposed to interfere with the sunflower once it has begun its flowering.  Does anyone know?  Besides, the last time I grew a sunflower in my garden, a huge swarm of caterpillars swarmed over the entire plant and ate the whole thing.  It was rather horrific to watch, and I did try to remove the pests, but they started biting me, and I was worried that they would like the taste of human flesh and go all B Horror movie on me. Okay, C Horror movie. Or maybe D.  The sort of horrible movie that would have ended up on Mystery Science Theater 3K.  I remember cracking up over a movie with a giant Praying Mantis--what's a few hundred caterpillars?  Maybe I should get a camera rolling, and figure out a way to get the barnswallows to notice the caterpillars.  That way I'd have movie greatness AND pest control. 

Larry signed up Zane for a soccer camp AND his first soccer tournament this month.  I'm a bit nervous about the whole thing.  Right now he and his father are playing FIFA soccer on the Xbox and watching soccer on television. Way too much soccer, not enough brain building, like reading or writing or exploring.  Larry tends to get obsessive about the various topics that he is interested in, and that can end up overwhelming a kid.  I know that I get overwhelmed keeping track of it all.  I really don't want Zane to get burned out on playing soccer.  Zane seems fine now, so it's likely that I am just being my usual worrywart self.  

Johnny Depp is 50.  FIFTY.  What the heck is that man doing that he doesn't look 50?   I want it.  Yes, I know that he is rich, and he has person chefs and trainers, and all that, but the bone structure is pure genetics.  That guy is the prettiest man that I have ever seen, and he would also make a very pretty woman.  That bone structure and that skin is just that awesome.  I'm sort of jealous! 


Go visit Mrs. Stacy, who is gearing up to move cross country!

Random and Not At All Weird

Zane's teacher sent all of his projects home before the last day of school.  I asked Zane what this was, and he said that it was 'lightning'. Okay.  I think it sort of looks like an elephant or whale of some sort, but it's still sparkly.   I am thinking of scanning some of my son's better art projects and heading to Shutterfly to make a book for the grandparents.  Also, if anything happened to his art, such as a random dog chewing them up(Maisy LOVES ripping paper apart into tiny pieces that take forever to pick up!), then we still have a copy.  I'd like to start framing some of his work, and putting it up around the house.  

Natural Bridge Wildlife Ranch, which is right up the road from here, had a big announcement this past month.  One of their giraffes gave birth to TWINS!  Both are healthy and growing fast.  But let's think about this for a moment.  Giraffes are very tall.  They have rather spindly legs that look barely able to support themselves, let alone an extra bundle of joy.  That poor Mama must have been staggering around there toward the end, with all that extra weight.  And you know that babies move all over the place during gestation, so she probably listed to port or starboard at least once a day.  And then those poor babies were welcomed into the world by...falling about ten feet. SPLAT!  "Welcome to the world.  No crying.  Get up and walk it off.  And stay out of the landing zone, because your brother is on the way."  Yeah, Giraffe Mama probably doesn't talk to her babies like that, but you never know.  Giraffes are pretty hardcore.  

Everyone I know has been completely traumatized by Sunday night's Game of Thrones episode.  Don't worry, I am not spoiling a thing--I promise!  Even people who have read the books, those who knew what was coming, were completely disturbed by what happened.   There's talk of support groups, and therapy.  It was disturbing, indeed. Even as desensitized as I am, I was uncomfortable just reading about it. However, those who feel as though they've suffered the loss of a fictional character are not crazy. It turns out that it is perfectly normal to build attachments to fictional characters.  People do it all the time.  Yay me! 

June is gazpacho month at one of my favorite lunch hangouts.  I usually order 32oz  and that is my lunch and dinner.  I love that stuff.  And the other day I figured out that salsa is a form of gazpacho, and my day was complete.  It was a real epiphany, mostly because I had only a single jar of salsa left in the work fridge and I did not want to have to drive anywhere to eat lunch.  So I ate the salsa, and life was grand. 

FAO Schwarz has some interesting toys.  This is a scorpion.  It is part of a kit which also contains a spider, a mantid, a lady bug, an ant, and maybe a bee.  Zane loves bugs.  Okay, he likes to look at them, but he does not like to touch.  It's a sensory thing.  I was the same way.  I don't like how the little legs feel on my skin.  Except for cockroaches.  I disliked them on sight, and the fact that my parents let me see the movie Bug when I was probably wayyyyy too young did not help. But stuffed animals that are bugs?  Not a problem!


For goodness sakes, go visit Stacy today. She's awesome!

General Randomness

Let's see how this goes today.  My access to the internet has been a bit spotty lately.  The internet does not like to swim, apparently!  I guess if this doesn't publish on time, I will publish it when I can. 

It's that time of the year for me.  You know how there are "rolling blackouts" during the summer when the electricity usage is high?  Well, I have rolling surliness, random moments when I just want to shake my laptop like an Etch-a-Sketch and then chuck it out onto the railroad tracks.  I just want to growl and snap at everyone at least once a day.  My coworkers and I have termed this form of grouchiness our "Joe Pesci" moments, after the actor's turn at a Snicker's commercial, because that is what my little tirades look like.  I've even put the Orange Cones of Doom around my desk on more than one occasion. (What?  Am I the only one with orange cones?)  Does anyone else ever feel like this or is it just me needing way more chocolate than most people?  Of course, even with all these warnings, everyone will be completely surprised when I turn into Godzilla and start leveling Tokyo. 

I was looking through a magazine, happily oblivious, when I noticed this in the advertisement.  I was shocked.  I'm supposed to match my eye shadow to my nail polish?  When did this happen?  I got the memo about belts and shoes matching, and the white after Labor Day, but eye shadow and nail polish?  Really?  Since polish is supposed to last at least ten days, does that mean that you have to shellac the eye shadow on your eye for a ten-day-run?  Because I can tell you that purple eye shadow looks less "sexy" and more 'black-eye following serious car accident" 24 hours after you put it on.  And why would a person want to match her eye shadow to her nails anyway?  Who would notice?  Should a girl walk around with her nails strategically near her eyes so that people can comment that the colors match?  As the saying goes, ain't nobody got time for that. 

Two days after our fun with flooding, and already everything is back to normal in most places.  Especially in New Braunfels, where disasters typically are not allowed to stand in the way of a good time. The two rivers flowing through town would just have to deal with it. The tourists had already shown up for a weekend of Memorial Day tubing, and that is what the tourists got.  The water, and the things washed into businesses by the water, were all swept out the door as much as possible, and the "Open" signs were posted, and the fun got started.  People got on with their lives with as little fuss as possible, and there is something vaguely comforting about that. 

Maisy the dog got fixed last week.  She was not the best patient, unfortunately.  I had to drag her from the car and into the facility.  She growled at everyone, so they had to muzzle her.  As they brought her to us, she piddled on the floor.  Then there's the Cone of Shame, which she is expected to wear for ten days.  Poor Maisy can't do hardly anything without smacking the Cone against everything in sight.  She's not really very happy about it, and I can't say that I blame her.  But it's to keep her from ripping out her stitches and bleeding all over the place, so the cone stays. 

Has this sign, or a variation thereof, ever actually stopped a single person from taking a risk?  I can't think of a single person who ever saw such a sign and said, "Oh golly, I have to assume the risk for this ride, I'd better do something else!"  People don't even read such signs anymore, they just wave at it with a vague "yeah, yeah" and jump right into the risky activity without so much as a thought.  I guess that it is all about presentation.  Maybe these sorts of signs need to come with pictures from those Final Destination movies to add impact.  "See!  This is what happened to the LAST group that didn't pay attention to this sign!"  That sort of thing.  




 

Go visit Ms. Stacy today and give her some lovin'.  Not the kind that will get you arrested, of course.  The other kind.