Art Projects in My Brain

I could spend all day puttering around.  I have tools handy, I’ve got a stereo and a big…ass…fan so it’s not overly hot (with the exception of the current heat wave going on) and I’ve always got piles of stuff laying around for my many art projects. I usually look at the stuff and wait for inspiration. Lots of times, I don’t know what I’m going to use it for – I just know that I need it.

 My stash currently consists of 3 or 4 gnarly twisted vines and some crazily bent pieces of wood and lots of bee wood. What’s bee wood you ask? I’ve already written a story about taking some to work but I’ll tell you again. Bee wood is a branch of cedar, which has wood bee holes bored through it. I’ve got a couple of cool projects going using that stuff. I try to find things in nature and make them into something cool. Right now, I also have a long running project that uses dirt dauber nests. I’ll let you know what I’m doing with them once I’m done but it might be a while. I only have one spot where I can collect the nests and I’m at the mercy of the creatures to decide when and how many to build. I was working on one today and kept getting whiffs of something really stinky. I couldn’t figure out where the heck it was coming from until I took a smell of my hand. Holy crikey! My hands smelled like something had died! Then, I got the bright idea to smell the dirt dauber nest. BIG MISTAKE. My nostrils were stuffed full of dead, rotting dirt dauber babies and let me tell ya…they stink!

 My mom told me that when I was young and encountered something new I’d have to touch it and then smell it. You’d think that after a lifetime of smelling some pretty rank things I’d learn my lesson. Um, yeah. NO. I’m 60 and I’m still making the same damn mistake. So let me be a warning system for you…don’t take a huge snort of a dirt dauber nest that’s been opened. It smells worse than ass.

 I’ve also been playing with leaves. They’re so interesting and come in so many varieties. I can’t resist pressing them into wet concrete or mud and I love to arrange them by color. Sort of like a natural color wheel only I line them up into a line. See?

I’m very inspired by the artist Andrew Goldsworthy. If you’ve never seen his work, look him up. He does some amazing work using items found in nature. He doesn’t use anything that’s man made. I’ve seen some of his work that used his own spit as glue. He must be psychotically patient because some of his stuff takes weeks or months to make and then he purposely lets them fall apart and go back into nature. If I’m going to spend hours and days and weeks on something, I want it to last for infinity.  Mr. Goldsworthy is a true artist.

I take forever to be inspired or slap something out on an impulse. I’ve got stuff on the front porch, the back porch, by the fire pit and in various places around the garage and of course, I have stuff scattered about in the house.  So really, I only have 8 or 10 piles of stuff that's waiting for artistic inspiration. I don’t think I’m ready to appear on the hoarders show just yet.

Right now my mind is whirling around some new ideas. I need a mannequin, some zebra wood, a French horn or two, some old bed springs and some chicken wire if anyone has any of those. I’d also down right beg for a band saw. I could do 20 new projects if I had that baby. So, if you ever have some weird junk lying around or you see a crazy crooked piece of wood and you can’t figure out what to do with it, send it my way. I’ll use it eventually. Oh, and I could use some metal pipes or any kind of iron so I can bust out the welder and make something awesome.

I’ve got to go now. I see some moths laying around and I was just struck with an idea as to what to do with their wings. See, I just exploded with a few new ideas. Dream big people. And be sure to look for me at the weird-o artists convention one of these days. Because if you know me, you’ll know that I’m weird. And proud of it.

If I didn't love you, I'd never agree to this!

My mom and I have decided to combine households. I can help her out, she can help me out, we can take care of one another and best of all, she won't be alone and lonely. We have a great relationship and I'm honored that she will be living with me. After searching for another home that would be configured in a way that she would be happy with, we came to the realization that it would cost a boatload of money plus, there aren't that many houses for sale in the neighborhood we would like to live in. The decision was made to update my house then I would move out of my master suite and give it to her, and I will live in one of the "regular" bedrooms. Easy peasy, right?

One of the blessings about having Mom move in with me is that my entire house is going to be updated. How cool is that?!? Being on full disability means that I am no longer able to work on my home like I'd like to is I can't do the updates myself. I can't get up on a ladder to paint the exterior or interior for that matter. I am unable to bust up old tiles for a new backsplash or pull up old carpeting or replace countertops or anything else that requires manual labor. So having a remodeling company descend on my house and make it new(er) and prettier is a great thing.

We are beginning week 7 of a 3 month remodel and I...am...over...it!!! I've been camped out in my bedroom this whole time. I don't like to leave while workers are here, so 5 days a week - 8 am to 5 pm, I hide out in my bedroom. My kitchen is torn apart so no cooking has taken place and I've been living off cereal and peanut butter sandwiches most of the time. 

Every single day I listen as workers go in and out and in and out and in and out - every time, slamming the front door as they come and go. It drives me insane! You would think that after 35 days of using that door, they'd figure out that it closes very easily but they do not. I'll be surprised if they don't break the glass inset because the whole house rattles when they slam the door. Like I said...it makes me nuts. I can handle dirt and dust, but that door slam is gonna kill me!

Open doors are another thing that drive me crazy. Here in Texas, we are experiencing a record breaking heat wave. Temperatures of 109 are not uncommon, and that heat is putting a strain on everything, with the A/C being a biggie. Construction workers do not give a shit about my A/C system or electric bill. That's evident by the number of times they leave the doors wide open. They operate by moving my thermostat down to 72 degrees (an impossible temperature to obtain when it's 109 outside) then they leave the doors wide open. I can understand propping the door open when they're carrying things in and out, but leaving it open for an hour after they're done is just stupid. And it's driving me crazy. In fact, there are about 27,000 things happening that drive me crazy.

I keep telling myself that it's all going to be worth it once they're done. It will be beautiful and I can go back to normal life however...I'm living in this mess and will be for some time to come and it's really wearing me down. I'm sick of strangers in my home, I'm sick of camping in my bedroom, I'm sick of the infernal, eternal door slamming, I'm sick of dirt and dust, I'm sick of worrying constantly about what will break that's unrelated to the remodel, I'm just sick. There's one thing that I would never say to Mom but in my head I'm screaming 'if I didn't love you I'd never agree to this!!!!!'

Grief

Grief is something that can wash over you out of the blue and knock you on your ass. It isn't something that can be controlled, not really. You can try to ignore it, deal with it, wallow in it but you can't make it just go away.

2022 was a really rough year. I lost 2 beloved pets that had been with me for 19 years. I lost my ex, a dear friend and father to my children and I was still dealing with the loss of my stepfather and worrying about my mom and how she was coping.  In addition, there were other stressors like roommates and money worries and health issues and so on and so on and so on. All these things added up to one sad, shitty year.

I tried to handle my grief by crying when I felt like crying. When I got mad, I went outside and did some hard labor to work it out. But the frustrating thing is that I couldn't control how and when I was going to become overcome with emotions. I'd be doing fine and then the grief would wash over me and I wouldn't be able to do anything. To top if off, my girls were going through the same thing so I had to stay strong, look happy and try to help them through their own grief.

When you've lost someone or something important to you, everything seems to remind you of it. For months, I kept thinking I heard my cats meow even though I knew they were gone. I saw people who looked like the people I lost. I heard their voices or saw things they liked. I tried to comfort myself by thinking that my lost ones were coming back to say hello but they were still gone. 

I've started remembering good times instead of bad and strive to remain positive but the void is real. I'm not sure what 2023 will bring but with any luck it will be better than last year. And I hope and pray that my grief will fade away.

Creative Juices a-flowing!

I have been going to school on and off for years.I go because I I like the challenge of the projects, meeting new people, and using my mind. This spring, I went back to school and took another metal sculpture class which ignited my creative fire. I LOVE going to school and I love being challenged to create whatever project my teacher throws at me. Metalworking makes me feel alive! I love pounding steel into submission and watching the sparks fly when I'm welding . And in the end, hopefully I can produce an object that people admire. 

This piece is called Old Man Fish. He has lived a long, rough life and isn't the vicious angler fish he once was. I created a clay sculpture and scanned it in 3D which ultimately resulted in a 3D printed plastic piece. Next, I dipped the plastic piece multiple times in a medium that when baked, makes a hard, hollow mold. Next, bronze was melted and poured into the mold and that's when the real fun started. After the bronze cooled, I used a hammer and other tools to break away the mold. Next, I welded the various parts together to create Mr. Fish. I used various chemicals to create the patina on the body and the green on the eyes and light. It took me about 20 hours to make him and I couldn't be more proud. I think he turned out really well. 

I think it's important to challenge yourself in one way or another. Your brain needs to be used and you need to move your body to stay sharp. My metalworking hobby can be very physical - iron, steel and bronze is not light and hammering or bending metal to your will requires strength and stamina. I think about my pieces long before I begin the fabrication process, and I run into challenges while building, so my brain gets a good workout as well. 

I will continue to take classes and work on projects at home as long as I am able. It is enjoyable and rewarding to dream up an idea then make something tangible that never existed before. Hopefully after I am long gone, someone will want to keep one of the creations that I made and enjoy it as much as I did. Maybe they will get an idea and create something of their own then inspire someone else to do the same and so on and so on and so on. 

If an idea arises, I highly recommend acting upon it. It's amazing what your mind can come up with and it's very rewarding to execute and complete your idea. Get those creative juices flowing people!

Pushy People

 

I'm sure you've encountered a pushy person at least once in your life. I have. And one time being around them is enough. I have a pushy person that due to circumstances, I cannot get away from. I keep visits to a minimum but even 5 minutes is too much.

These types of people are masters at control and while they might not be aware that they're pushy, they manage to get people who aren't good at pushing back to do their bidding. I am spineless when it comes to pushing back or being confrontational. So when my pushy person starts trying to get me to do what they want, I gnash my teeth and pull my hair and get pissed off, but I don't just tell them "no". I might fight back after I've been pushed around multiple times in a short period of time but usually not. And I HATE that about me! I have found that when you do not allow yourself to be pushed around, the pusher moves along to someone else with the greatest of ease.

Why is is that these kind of people get away with it?!? Do they really know that many spineless people? Apparently they do.

I am really lucky in the sense that soon, I will be rid of the person who has caused me such frustration. I'm going to throw a party. I'm going to dance a jig. I'm going to sing a song about how happy I am that that person is gone, gone, gone and then, I will hope that I never have to see them again. And I will vow that I will never allow myself to be bossed around again. Let's hope I stick to it. Because I hate pushy, bossy, abrasive people.

How Much Is Too Much?

2022 Has been an absolute horrible, terrible, awful, rotten, stinky, sucky bitch so far. 

My ex who happens to be a very dear friend declined in health until he passed away on February 24th in the wee hours of the morning. My sister in law (his sister Laura) has been taking care of him for the last 7 years and she's been through the ringer so I wanted to help. When we found out that he was on his way out, I went to their house and held vigil 24/7 for 4 days with them. My 2 children hung around for a couple of days until they were exhausted, then went home to take a break from the sadness. It was during those days that he passed away so it was just Laura and me there. We gave him morphine every hour to ease his transition and I slept right beside him every night so he wouldn't be alone and so Laura could get a little rest. 

The last night he was alive, we medicated him and talked to him and did our best to let him know he wasn't alone. As I lay next to him, I had my hand on his abdomen to be able to feel if he was breathing. He was so thin, his ribs were sharp under his skin so I felt that the abdomen was a better place to rest my hand. His breaths were very shallow and not enough to sustain most body functions. The hospice nurse called us to say that sometimes, a person won't let go and they wait until people leave the room to let go, so we left the room for a very short time. When we went back in, he was gone.

In normal life, a hospice nurse would come over and declare him gone. In a somewhat abnormal life, the coroner would do the same thing in lieu of hospice but this was not normal life. Our area of North Texas was in the throes of an ice storm and the roads were impassible. That meant that the hospice nurse AND the coroner were unable to show up and pronounce him. Instead, 3 firefighters and two police officers came over. Then, since the normal people weren't there to pronounce him, a detective showed up. And since none of those people could pronounce him dead, 2 crime scene detectives arrived.

The firefighters were able to run an EKG which showed zero heartbeat and the police agreed that he was gone. The detectives interviewed me and Laura and the crime scene officers photographed everything to document that we did not kill him and that was that. It was surreal to have so many police in the house, milling around us and our deceased loved one. Not only were we overcome with grief, we had to deal with being interviewed and watch photographers take about 100 pictures. Normally, a police officer would have to stay with the body until the funeral people could pick him up but like I said, nothing was normal. Finally, one of the police officers talked to their superior and we were allowed to stay with him by ourselves.

For the next 12 hours we waited for the funeral service to arrive. What happened next was something I cannot mention because I don't want my girls to ever know what transpired but it was absolutely horrible. It was something out of a horror movie and I don't ever want anyone to ever have to go through anything like that ever. EVER

The next week was full of funeral arrangements, travel plans for family members and constant worry about the well being of my children. They are 22 and 28 years old which is way too young for kids to lose their dad. In addition I was worried about Laura since she had cared for her brother day and night for 7 years. I'm sure the void he left was overwhelming.

Two days after the funeral service, my boyfriend experienced shortness of breath and knew that something was terribly wrong so I took him to the emergency room. That ended in a 6 day hospital stay. He was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation and the cardiac team spent days trying to get his heart to a normal rhythm using medications.That didn't work so he ended up going in for a cardiac catherization so they could see what the problem was. The next day, they took him down for a treatment where they shocked his heart back into a normal rhythm. After two tries his old ticker was ticking regularly. The entire time we were there, I was running on pure adrenaline. I "slept' in a chair and got up every time someone came into the room to take vitals or draw blood or add medication to the IV or sweep the floor. The interruptions were constant!

Less than 24 hours after my boyfriend was released from the hospital and was able to return home, he began experiencing more problems. I headed over to his house for another vigil of indeterminate length. I don't mind taking care of him - I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, but I'm not sure how much more I can take. 

I am mentally and physically exhausted. My nerves are so shot, I constantly feel on the verge of screaming at anyone who says a word to me. All I want is to be completely left alone. No telephone calls, no visits - hell, I don't want to even see another person! I even get annoyed at people who offer to help me! It takes everything I have to be pleasant to people around me and it doesn't look like I'm going to be able to be alone for a while.  The only ones who don't bother me are my boyfriend's dog and cat (my pets died late last year within months of one another, so add that to the mix). The pets don't bother me because they don't talk. They're just furry and warm and don't ask anything of me.

I know this won't last forever but right now, every day seems like it's 10 years long. I sincerely hope that I don't go ham on someone because that will make me feel even worse. I don't know what's going to happen in the coming days. Will I pass out? Will I have a heart attack? Will I die? There's not enough meditation, booze or medication to make me feel better. It's just a constant living hell right now and I really, really want to feel better so I can help all the people that need me feel better. I don't want to be selfish but I'm really very worried about myself. I won't do harm to myself over all this, but I'm afraid that one of these days I'm going to crash and burn and there won't even be any ashes left because I'm all used up.

If this is a test, I'm over it. I passed with flying colors but now...I can only generate a low "F". And that's if I live long enough to get the grade.

Me and Mr. Ed

 

Me and Mr. Ed. Sounds like the title of a song, doesn't it? The song that comes to mind when I think of Ed is "Walking on Sunshine". We are two peas in a pod, best friends, traveling companions, adventure seekers, idiots. It's freaking awesome. I finally have someone that I'm totally comfortable with. I can say what I'm feeling without repercussion. The guy actually hears me and cares about what I have to say. We are so much on the same page, it's kind of scary. It's like our brains are somehow wired together. 

The first or second time we talked, I told him that I knew we were going to be friends for a long, long time. And we will be. We're just too much alike not to be. I guess the first thing people would notice about us is how much we laugh. We find the stupidest stuff to be amused by. We both like idiot humor. We make fun of ourselves. If one of us is acting like a goof, the other is sure to act that way, too. We are like a couple of idiots happily floating along in our own little bubble. 

At least once a month we both need to be on the open road. The destination doesn't need to be fancy or far away, it just needs to be down the road a piece. A favorite pastime is driving around all the different parks at any lake. We check to make sure the water is wet at all the stops. He determines if there's any good fishing and I search for cool pieces of driftwood. You know, real genius type stuff.

Music is another thing we both enjoy. He's a very good musician and can sing like hell. He lets me attempt to harmonize and encourages me to keep practicing. We like going to open mic nights where he can dazzle everyone with his mad skills. Sometimes, he lets me join him onstage and I do my best to stay in tune. Live music, performing music, watching music videos, it's all good.

We are big fans of stupid TV shows. Trailer Park Boys is an all time favorite. If you've never watched, do yourself a favor and find it on Netflix. It's so insanely dumb, it's brilliant. We've watched the episodes so many times, we can almost quote the dialogue.

Mr. Ed is a prince of a man and treats me like a queen. Since I've been disabled, he insists on mowing my lawn. He will not allow me to struggle through the mundane chores that have become difficult to perform. He makes coffee and breakfast for me in the morning! That's a new and wonderful treat. He just treats me better than I've ever had a guy treat me. I'll never take it for granted, but it sure is nice.

I let my blog die down for a long while because I didn't have many happy things to write about but that's all about to change. I'm lucky and happy to have things to share and can guarantee that you'll be hearing a lot more from me from now on.

He ain't a horse, he's my guy!

Disability

After years of struggling to work while feeling like total shit, I am finally on disability. I'm disabled. Funny, I don't look disabled. The average Joe on the street would never guess that I'm disabled. Heck, most of my friends don't even know. But I am.

Arthritis is one of those sneaky diseases that affects every thing that you do, but there's nothing to show for it. I've got plenty of scars where I've had surgery to repair or replace various joints but those are hidden under my clothing. Once in a while, I might get caught grimacing or walking a slow shuffle but other than that, there's nothing to see folks. Keep moving along.

I held off applying for disability because I was stubborn and hard headed and I thought I could power through the hard days until one day I just couldn't power through any more. I was completely exhausted and hurt so much and I just had to surrender. Oh sure, my rheumatologist advised me for years to slow down and file but hey, what does she know? It took her 8 years to get out of college! I had so much verification and advisement to go on disability, there was no way it would be questioned and yet I still held off. How silly of me.

Upon applying, I was approved in 2 months. Apparently, that's unheard of. Some people have to wait years before being approved. I guess that means I had the history and records and proof of suffering to simply zip through the process. I was surprised when I got the letter. I really thought I'd be denied because I could still walk and dress myself. I wasn't wheelchair bound or bedridden. And yet the powers that be decided that I was worthy.

Let me tell ya, when you've struggled every single day for years just to make the motions of being a "well" person, and then have the opportunity to rest when you need to - it's just the best thing in the world. I was a couch potato for the first month! I mean, I did the absolute bare minimum of activity possible. I didn't clean house, I didn't cook, I didn't do yard work or wash the car heck, some days I didn't even shower. I simply rested. It has been heaven! 

It's been almost a year since I was approved and there are days when I feel like a disability fraud. I travel with my best friend and have lunch with old coworkers and some days I even feel almost good. But mostly there are days (too many for my liking) when the sofa calls my name and the heating pad is my best friend. I feel poorly enough to throw some pretty epic pity parties and I give in and take enough pain medication to knock me for a loop. That's why I'm on disability for cripes sake, but I still have to remind myself that it's ok to be so. 

Swallowing the bitter pill of knowing that I will never get better - only worse is hard. I want to live a meaningful life but at the present moment, I'm not sure how to do that. My illness prevents me doing anything strenuous, so I'm going to have to find out how to make an impact in small ways. That will have to be thought for another day though. Right now I just want to recline and look at the back of my eyelids.

The End of the Beginning and the Beginning of the End

Years ago I left a marriage of 21 years. That was tough. It took me 2 years to remarry. I shouldn't have, but I wasn't used to being alone and I thought I had a chance for stability once again. I knew the day of the ceremony that I was jumping into something too soon but I went ahead and got hitched.

Fast forward about 9 years. I'm getting ready to go through another divorce. It isn't as hard as the first one because I haven't been with this man (living together) for the last 6 years. I've been alone, I just have a marriage certificate saying I'm not. I saw my guy on weekends. We took turns traveling to one another's homes for brief stays. We spoke on the phone every day until the calls became less frequent. Sometimes, there'd be a 1 day gap between calls, then two then 4 and so on.

I care about my first husband and I care about my second - I don't believe you can easily turn the switch on and off. But this time around, I care mostly about myself. I care how I feel. I don't want to be a weekend wife. I don't want to live with huge gaps in communication. I want to have fun and do it with someone who likes the same thing as me. I am doing things for me this time around.

I used to be filled with guilt when I had to say good bye to someone - I felt like I was letting them down. And then I realized hey, what about ME? They're letting ME down, too! Now, I'm looking out for number one. That's not to say that I don't take other people's feelings into account, I do. It's just that if something bothers me, I have no problem picking up my purse and leaving. I've done it 3-4 times lately and it's awesome! It's so empowering! I always had the ability to do so, but was too consumed with trying to please the other party at the expense of ignoring how I felt. No more, baby.

I hate to say that I've become somewhat jaded but I don't believe that I will ever find true, pure, overwhelming love with a man. I've seen people close to me with epic love stories but never had it myself. I would absolutely love to have that, but I guess it's not in the cards for me. I'm OK with that. It's a lot easier to accept it and move on than it is to continually strive for something that isn't there.

Who knows what the future holds? I have friends who are wonderful and supportive and I have someone who makes me feel like a queen but I'm not in the crystal palace. I'm still living in a cardboard box. With time, maybe I'll get lucky. But if I don't, I'm fine. I kinda like myself pretty much for once in my life.

One is the loneliest number, sort of

One is the loneliest number, sometimes.

Due to layoffs at my dream job, I was forced to find a new job. I took the first offer that came along because after 2 months of looking, I had no good options. I wound up in an industry I know nothing about, nor am I interested to learn about it. I know what I’m doing but it’s not what I want to be doing. I want to be doing what I used to do but I lack the confidence to go out in the job market and say “yes, I am a print production artist” even though I did that kind of work for 9 years. So, I got myself in a position where I make money and I have insurance but honestly, I hate it.

I’ve been at my new job for almost 3 months. In that time I have had 2 people ask me about me – my family, what part of town I live in, what I do for fun, etc.. TWO people. The person that hired me left the company a month & ½ after I started working here so I’m sort of in limbo. I have plenty to do but I’m not really attached to any one person. I’m sort of floating until the position I was supporting gets a warm body in the chair.

The industry for my new job is very analytical and numbers oriented. Privacy is the first thing they taught me when I had my orientation. Maybe that’s why no one has tried to get to know me. They’re all privacy Nazis! All I know is I’m lonely here.

I know this is not the job for me because I start counting the hours and minutes before I can leave as soon as I clock in each morning. That’s a bad sign. I’ve had numerous people tell me ‘oh, it’s much easier to find a job when you already have one’ and that’s true but when you’re new, time off is not in abundance so how am I supposed to interview when I don’t have time off? And there’s that nagging problem I have of zero confidence. I’m afraid that I’ll find a job where I’d like to work and my employer will find out I’m incompetent and will fire me. Then, I’ll be back to square one, scrambling for a paycheck. The thought of being without insurance and a regular paycheck is terrifying. That’s probably just a big a problem as me not being confident.

So, what’s a girl to do? I guess I’ll keep slogging along at my current job and save as much money as I can for a while and keep searching on the side. Instead of having a Jolt cola, I need a confidence cola!

True Friends

True friends are hard to find. I mean real, true blue, see you with snot hanging out of your nose and not care friends. Friends who stand by you even when you're being shitty. Friends who know your darkest secrets and don't care that you're sort of a putz. Friends that you can go months without talking to and not hold it against you. Let me tell you, they are hard to find and few and far. If you have a friend like that, do not...DO NOT let go of them!

I've know that I had some real keepers but lately, things have happened that let me know that I have some new true friends. 

First, let me tell you about my oldest friends. Karen H. is my oldest friend. I've known her since we were in middle school. We've had a million sleepovers, snuck out of the house together, driven countless miles riding around town looking for boys, probably gotten into a few tiffs but always recovered, and have stories that might get one another into trouble. 

Marilyn M. is my second oldest friend. She was my first friend after being uprooted my sophomore year and forced to move to the wicked city. She knew and watched me evolve with my first love. And she helped me with the subsequent breakup and heartbreak. We did a few things that would absolutely make our mothers cringe but we survived. We were friends and roommates and pals. Marilyn was the girl that I had an unspoken standing agreement with - whenever one of us experienced heartbreak, the other would show up with a 12 pack of beer and we'd drink the troubles away for a time. We've experienced marital woes and then, being a new parent woes. She was always the voice of reason for me - the level headed one. She helped me through 2 kids and a divorce. She is and will always be my spiritual counselor.

I've been going through an upheaval in my life right now and I have 2 new true friends. These are girls who will still be associated with me, even though I'm a social pariah in some circles. They don't care that I've royally fucked up in some areas. They laugh at my stupidity and OCD tendencies,  and look out for me to make sure I don't continue to screw up my life. They have the guts to say "hey asshole - don't do that kind of stupid shit or you're going to be in deeper than you already are!" 

The coolest part is that these people know me, love me, look out for me and continue to be my friends. I'm so grateful for that! I honestly have absolutely no idea why they stand by me and why the forgive me all of the time. In my mind, I'm a total spaz and I absolutely do not deserve their friendship and yet, they continue to be there for me. 

These 4 girls in particular have no idea the depth of love and admiration that I have for them. It might be a week or 6 months since we've spoken to one another but I think about them every day. And I love them dearly. And I am eternally grateful that I have them.

Good friends are hard to come by. If you have one or three or 50, keep them close and let them know that you love them. They are priceless.

The resume fiasco

Those who know me are aware that I've been trying to find a job for the last 2 weeks. That's a whole story in itself but here's one tiny thing I encountered.

I was going to an "interview" which was actually a recruitment pep rally for a company that wanted people to become insurance agents. Since I haven't been on an interview in 9 years I figured it would be good practice to put my face in front of someone and see how I did. The recruiter had requested that I bring a copy of my resume, so on my way to the meeting I had to stop and get some printed.

I picked a shipping/fax/copy/printing place that looked like a mom and pop shop rather than the big name kind of store and that's where my troubles began. The sweet little lady behind the counter did know what a flash drive was, and she did know how to plug it into the printer but everything came to a screeching halt after that. The flash drive had 4 folders of images and one word document sitting all by itself and she couldn't locate the document.

After about 5 minutes of punching buttons she decided to plug it into the computer and see if she could locate the document that way. The only problem was that she didn't know how to find the USB drive on the computer to even begin her search. I tried pointing out where she might look but things were headed south from the get-go. I eventually sat down at their computer, located the USB, located my document and sending the document to print then...nothing. I made sure I was sending the document to the correct printer, tried again and...nothing.

The employee then invited me to go behind the counter, try the USB on another computer, locate the USB, located the document, verified the printer, hit print and...nothing. I don't know if the computer was hooked to the printer or if the printer even worked - all I know was that I had 4 minutes to make it to the meeting and I had no resume.

I eventually left the shop and went straight to the meeting without a resume. The dude didn't even remember to ask for it when I arrived! 2 coronary attacks in a sub par print shop and the dude didn't even ask for my stupid, unprinted resume!

Lesson learned - if you need something printed for an important meeting, go to a big name, reliable print place. And give yourself plenty of time.

Stall Standoff

When you work in a large office with lots of ladies there are going to be times in the bathroom where everyone has to "go" but no one wants everyone else to hear them. That's when the stall standoff happens. 

Today there were 3 stalls in a row with ladies waiting to let 'er rip. No one wanted to be the first so there was a period of time where no issued a peep. Or poop. You could have heard a pin drop in there! I heard grumbly guts because so many people had to poo and they felt like they couldn't.

(I figured you didn't want to see a picture of a rancid toilet)

I think by now everyone knows what a courtesy flush is. But if there are multiple ladies lined up in stalls it would seem a bit obvious to hear stall after stall firing off the flusher over and over. Thankfully, pooping in the bathroom isn't as taboo as it used to be with the invention of products like Poo-pourri, V.I.Poo, Just a Drop and others. Heck, you can find tons of information on Google that discuss why poo smells bad and multiple ways to fight the odor. And yet the stall standoff continues.

If there were a voice over of the action in that room it would have gone something like this:

In stall 1 we've got Sloppy Sally. She's holding tight, not willing to break the seal.

Stall 2 is showing signs of life but Smelly Samantha is trying to hold off as well.

Stall 3 has Horrible Hagatha who's rustling paper to cover the sounds of impending doom.

Wait, there's a plink in stall 2 and stall 3 just issued a courtesy flush. Stall 1 remains silent.

There's a sniffle from stall 2 and shuffling feet in stall 3. Stall 1 is a real warrior - she remains silent.

What's that? The bathroom door opened in it appears that 3 more ladies are walking in together.

The fog emanating from stall 1 indicates that a security breach just happened. Oh, and stall 2 just let loose, using the arriving ladies noise as cover to pound the porcelain. Stall 3 falls in quick succession but the overall noise dies down just in time for everyone to hear the great grunt. It's all over, people. 3 kerplunks have successfully landed thanks to ambient noise but the smell gives it all away. Ordinarily, there would be a photo finish to determine the winner but who wants to see that?

Now don't act all disgusted like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm sure all of you reading this has been in a stall standoff at least once in your life. Maybe some of you own a bottle of Poo-pourri and have used it. While it helps preserve the noses of other people it won't hide the sounds of plops and drops. Maybe, all bathrooms should be equipped with a loud white noise machine so legions of ladies would not be subjected to having to hold it in until the bathroom becomes vacant. But then again, if the white noise was loud enough, everyone could unload and get away with it without being embarrassed. 

Yes, this is a problem that's plagued women for millennium. I'm sure Cleopatra had to wait for her ladies in waiting to leave the loo before she felt comfortable going. It would be much easier if we were more like men. I think they pride themselves on the volume and duration of their expulsions. It's like a sporting contest form them! In this day and age of gender equality I don't think women will ever strive to match men on their anal achievements. Ever.

Microwave Guts and Wood

I'm the type of artist who views a piece of art in public, then goes home and tries to recreate it. Why spend $400-500 on a piece when I can recreate it in 25,000 easy steps and 6 months of labor?!?

 One day while surfing the net I saw something called fractal wood. It's a process where baking soda and water is applied to wood then electricity is applied and voila - beautiful, mysterious burn patterns appear. I decided this was a project I could take on and master but I needed some supplies first.









I needed a slab of wood so I got one. I needed baking soda water so I made some. I needed an electrical source and that's when the fun started. I watched an instructional video where a gentleman used a microwave transformer and I just happened to know where to get my hands on one, so I got a transformer - but I had to dismantle a microwave first.

Sounds easy peasy, right? Yes it was however - I am not well educated in matters pertaining to electricity so it really scares me, and I was about to dive into something that is capable of generating 2000 volts of the sparkly stuff. The gizmo shown above is called a capacitor and I've been told that the thing can shock the holy shit out of you if you accidentally discharge it. I had to remove it from the microwave in order to get to the transformer so I was really nervous to reach into the guts of the machine. I had one eye shut, my face screwed up with concentration and a silent prayer running through my head the entire time.

I had visions in my head of making a mistake, getting shocked and watching my hair fly out of my scalp and landing on the floor in a little pile.

Sounds of "zing, zap, poof" and my hair would gently float to the ground.

Luckily, the extraction went well and my hair is still intact. I've got the capacitor in a safe place where I won't set it off, and my transformer is ready to go. Now all I have to do is figure out how to hook the transformer up to an electrical source and find a way to connect battery charger clamps to all of that so I can get to zapping. I'm thinking that maybe I should ask someone how to do that rather than plugging a bare wire into the wall socket. I'd probably have a pile of hair on the floor if I did that!  It kind of reminds me of the time as a kid when I stuck a bobby pin into the wall socket.............

Tiger Spray

A while back I took my daughters to a local big cat rescue sanctuary. It was a gorgeous place with lots of HUGE, beautiful big cats of all kinds. There were tigers, lions, cougars, leopards,cheetahs, bobcats, lynx, servals, ocelots and a few random coatimundis and lemurs and we were left awestruck to see such majestic creatures up close and personal.

We took our sweet time wandering around the various enclosures and made huge fools out of ourselves by talking and meowing and nearly every cat. As if those big kitties spoke house cat! We don't speak tiger or any other big cat language so we had to improvise.

When we got around to the tiger enclosure we noticed that there were lots of signs posted, warning us not to get on the ass end of that particular kind of cat. Apparently, they like to shower you with "love". The staff members also verbally warned us so you'd have to be deaf or blind not to know that if a tiger backs up to you and lifts it's tail, you're going to get sprayed! 

As we were watching the tigers roam around and play I noticed a lady and her child watching them, too. Now picture this...we're at a beautiful, peaceful place with exquisite wild animals and this lady's kid is behaving like a total brat. She's screeching loudly that she's thirsty and she doesn't care about tigers and the whole place is stupid. And the mother is ignoring her instead of making her shut the hell up and quit annoying all of the other guests. And then, in steps good old Mr. Karma.

I love Karma. Especially when it comes to dumb asses who bother every other person on the planet. You see, the screaming brat and her apparently Valium overloaded mother were not paying attention to the signs and staff members. And they did not notice a friendly 300 pound 4 foot tall tiger sauntering up to them, turning around, lifting it's tail and taking aim. And then it happened...

Oh yes, that tiger did it! Right in the face of that little girl and her mama. And not a little spritz either - it looked like a high pressure hose squirting out of the ass end of that tiger! Those two were sprayed head to toe with fragrant secret sauce and because the girl was busy screaming, I'm sure she got a mouth full.

I'm fairly certain that I saw a few staff members snickering and I shamelessly laughed out loud. And maybe, just maybe the tiger grinned a little bit, too. That's what those two get for being so annoying and unpleasant!

Let this be a lesson in a number of areas; don't be a loud jerk out in public, don't let a tiger back up to you and lift it's tail and don't sample the flavor of tiger secret sauce. Just ask that little girl. She'll tell you.

Massage me BRUTALLY

I was given this beauty for Christmas and man was I excited. It's got everything. Heated, vibrating seat, 3 individual back massage settings with heat and 2 settings for neck massaging. This thing is loaded!

I am very hopeful that it will help work out all of my kinks (at least in my neck and back) and that I'll be able to move somewhat normally. I mean, how could it not help  me? It's the Cadillac of chair massagers!











Once I found out that this fantastic marvel of technology would be mine I had the arduous task of waiting for it to be delivered. I waited and waited and waited and the waiting made me more and more tense because I was dreaming of a day when I would be somewhat discomfort less...not discomfort free, just discomfort less. For days I drove home from work at an above average speed, just hoping I'd find a large box on my doorstep. Finally, my waiting paid off. I got home, looked out the front door and there it was! The skies became bluer and the birds chirped louder and I enjoyed the anticipation of little shiatsu balls gently rolling up and down my back and shoulders. It took 10 minutes of wrestling it out of the box and setting it up but soon, nirvana was to be mine.

I put the massager in my comfiest chair, got situated a turned it on. The motor started to whir and I felt the shiatsu balls start moving up and down. It...was...fantastic!!! I must admit, the weight of my body against those hard little rollers was a bit much. I figured that I'd have to push against the rollers but they were so effective I ended up moving slightly away from it because the pressure was so intense. It was almost painful.

Each time my back and neck was pummeled I could feel the knots crackle and break down. Then my back started to feel a little bit beat up. Those deep knots were getting squashed right out of my body! Mr. Shiatsu ninja kicked my ass! Or rather, my back. 

I guess I sat against that thing for a good 20 minutes and by the time it was done, I felt like a limp noodle. It was heaven. I finished out my day and slept soundly all night long, but the next morning was another story. 'Who beat the hell out of me', I wondered. I was so sore it hurt to breathe! Leaning side to side was out of the question. I practically used all of the hot water in the shower trying to loosen things up and I didn't really start moving normally until the end of the 2nd day.

I guess it's not wise to go all in for a long, deep massage when you're really tight and sore. Sure, I broke up some knots but I overdid it something awful. It's been 3 days since I used my massager and I think I'm about ready to try it again. Only this time I won't go for 20 minutes. I might try 5 and see how things feel. All things in moderation people say. I guess they're not wrong because I learned it the hard way. 

Zoe's Onstage Speech

Kidlet is a huge, huge blues fan and she likes seeing her favorite band as often as humanly possible. Since I'm her driver, I end up seeing them, too. Sometimes we see them twice in one week. Let me put it this way...we see them so often they're like members of our family. Zoe is like their little sister.
She's their photographer, the social media queen and all time number one fan.

We saw the guys playing a while back and she was asked to get up on stage and recite all of the different social media sites where fans could find them.

Now, I'm a gigantic ham so I would have used that opportunity to plant myself on the stage and not leave until the entire show was over but kidlet is another story. She's pretty shy and is very quiet outside of home, so to be called out with 30-40 people watching is a nightmare for her.

She sort of got physically pulled onto the stage and placed directly in front of the microphone stand and I thought she was going to pass out right then and there. Her face was as red as a lobster and here eyes were as big as saucers! The poor girl was quaking in her boots! The guys kept asking her to name off their social media sites and she just got redder and redder and looked like she wanted to dissolve into the floor. She was so scared, she couldn't speak. (cue chirping crickets) I don't think you could have gotten a word out of her if you had reached down her throat and pulled them out!

Poor thing - she didn't know what to do (other than recite social media sites) and her throat was so closed up her voice box was down around her ankles. I think this silence lasted about a minute or so but it seemed like forever. She finally scuttled off stage and rejoined me at our table. It took 3 hours for the perspiration to dry off of her.  It took 4 hours for her knees to stop shaking. It took the rest of the night for her facial color to return to normal.

I guess she's not ready for public speaking yet. That's OK

Guitarded!

I know a person who is guitarded. I mean, he's got it BAD!

He keeps a guitar in his office. He has guitars scattered throughout his home. Any time someone stops by long enough to take a few breaths of air, the guitar comes out and he starts strumming. I think he got inspired to buy (and maybe learn how to play) a guitar when he was on a trip. He saw a dude strumming and singing and thought it was cool that he was getting all of the attention from chicks. So he decided to become "that guy" who could strum softly and sing soulful songs that would make him appear to be a cool chick magnet. Chicks would dig him, guys would want to be him, he would finally be cool!

So he got a guitar. And then another. And then another. And then another. And then he decided everyone in his family wanted a guitar too so he got one for each of them.

He has an impressive collection of pretty, somewhat expensive guitars. So now he researches guitars. And he looks at pictures of guitars. And he watches YouTube videos about guitars. And he watches YouTube videos about how to string guitars, and how to adjust the sounds on guitars, and how to tell a good guitar from a bad guitar and he's learning how to somewhat dismantle one. That inspired him to  shave the bridge part that holds up the strings. Then he monkeyed with the fret lines. Then he monkeyed with the strings some more. Then he decided to do even more work on it. I'm sure it sounds more like a sitar than a guitar now.

Now another thing about Mr. Guitarded is his playing style. There isn't one. I've never heard more than 5 notes played in succession. I've heard a couple of chords but that's about it. Lucky for him, I'm really good at knowing what song is playing just by hearing the first few notes so I know what songs he's rocking out to. I'm not sure anyone else would know.

Since he never actually plays much, he doesn't have string callus marks on his fingers. String calluses are good way to tell how much a guitarist actually plays. His don't look anything like these.

 His look as soft as this..


I'm all about having hobbies and learning new things but this guy seems to be working in reverse. Sort of like a brain surgeon digging into someones noggin then going to medical school. He's altering instruments without hearing what they sound like when they're really, seriously played. If he ever learns how to play he might not like the way his alterations sound and then it will be too late.

His addiction is becoming a problem because that's all he ever thinks about. Work isn't getting done, people are starting to avoid him because they don't want to hear 3 chords played over and over and over and they don't want to listen to a 20 minute discussion about his latest purchase. I'm sure his wife is grateful because he's out of her hair but his 6 stringed mistress is taking over his life. He needs an intervention.

Fat fingered

Anyone who has been around me longer than 5 minutes knows that I suffer from arthritis. Some days I can barely move, other days I can move but random body parts won't work, and most days I walk like an old, old, old woman. Lately I've been having additional trouble with my fingers and toes. They don't want to move or bend. Sometimes they swell up to look like little sausages. This is very frustrating because I use the computer a lot for my job and it's hard to type when you've got wonky fingers.

Today the swelling was so bad, I typed multiple letters at once. I messed up so many times the auto correct function started cussing at me. I think it started saying "you're screwed lady". I decided to do some other work until things calmed down but I felt like I looked like I had one of those foam fingers on. I couldn't pick my nose because my finger was too big!

Pintrest shows party treats modeled after my fat finger! I should get paid or credit or something! 

I'm not going to show you my toes. No one should have to see those. Fat, swollen, rigid toes will make you walk funny. Did you know that? I saw my reflection in a plate glass window as I was walking and it was an interesting sight. I was sort of hunched over and was walking on my heels a little bit in an attempt to not bend my toes. I was a sight. Not for sore eyes - I caused sore eyes!

I finally got loosened up by about 2 in the afternoon so basically my day was fairly unproductive. I hate days like that. I would have rather stayed in bed all day long but I figured that I could be miserable at home or miserable at work. And at least I would get paid for going to work which helps me avoid having to eat oatmeal or peanut butter for dinner every night. That gets pretty old. I know, I've had to do it. And my fingers weren't swelling as much back then.