Talent Search My Ass!

My oldest child is a real beauty. I know, I'm biased but she really is! She has naturally curly hair, hazel/green eyes and alabaster skin. A relative of mine always says she looks like a china doll.

She has always wanted to be a model but the only problem is that she's teeeeeeennnnnnnyyyyyyy. Like, 5 feet tall and 90 pounds soaking wet teeny and as you know, supermodels are way tall. Like, 9 feet tall and 70 pounds teeny.

We've been to our share of talent searches over the years and I've learned that most of them are scams. They're a way of getting hopeful young men and ladies tricked into shelling out hundreds of dollars for "professional portfolios" in the hopes of landing a big modeling/talent contract. These "talent scouts" neglect to tell the hopeful starlets that they're too short or too hefty or not pretty enough. They simply sign them up, collect the money, take a few crappy pictures then ignore them.

Recently my girl filled out a "talent search competition" form in a nearby mall and was thrilled when she got a call informing her that she had been "chosen" to compete. I knew in my heart of hearts that it was the same old model/talent/dream killer shtick that we had been through so many times before but my girl begged me to attend and I wanted to support her so I went along with her. The "competition" consisted of a small catwalk erected in the middle of a mall with large TV screens on either side of the stage so the company could blare their shiny, "success stories" to suck in even more gullible people.



Contestant # 1 on the left and my girl on the right.

 Flimsy portable chairs were aligned to look like the "competition" had an audience. It was all spotlights, loud music and hype for broken dreams and it was with dread that I sat down and watched my daughter compete. She should have been clued in when there was only one other contestant. Or that the beauty team was more than happy to cheer her on as she stood next to the other contestant, while gazing at her waistline at eye level.

She got to speak a line to show off her mad speech skills, then she got to rock the catwalk and the whole thing lasted about a minute. That was it. Immediately afterwards, the beauty team hustled both girls to their counter so that they could collect some money and arrange for some flimsy photos to be taken. Because, this company would make all of their dreams come true! The brochure basically said so!

What eager young person is going to read the fine print and notice that for $150 they'll only get ONE photo and a cheap t-shirt? What eager young person is going to think it strange that a fly by night company swoops through second rate malls, selects each and every contestant, and demands payments immediately? Right there, on the spot? No think it over time allowed. Payment due immediately!

Being the skeptical mom that I am, I started asking the beauty team questions. I asked them where else they would be selecting talent from - what venues. I asked them who would be styling and applying makeup for the photo shoot (that's the responsibility of the hopeful starlet I found out). I asked enough questions for them to start dancing around the subject and repeating the lines that were the same as the flashy video being played.

Disgusted, I walked away, leaving my kidlet sadly shuffling along behind me. I knew she was going to be disappointed when I refused to give those snake oil salespeople one red cent. I knew she was going to be disappointed when it was left up to me to explain that the chances of her making it as a supermodel were one in a million due to her size, and I hated those people for giving her false hope.

I have decided to show you the actual "registration" form that was given to my girl in the hopes that if you ever see this company at a second rate mall in your town, you'll know to turn tail and RUN away. Reputable agencies provide photos to their models without asking for payment up front for a photo shoot that has already been scheduled. And I don't think most reputable agencies have contests in second rate malls where everyone wins to find their talent. I'm not a vindictive person, but I would love to see these types of companies shut down once and for all. They're shams and they milk the money out of hopeful, hard working people who probably can't afford it in the first place. The only thing authentic about them is that they are certifiable dream crushers. Damn them all.

Slickery's quest for freshness

I can't claim this story as one of my own but it comes from a friend and it's so horrifying that it's worth repeating. I'm going to call my friend - "Slickery."

One day, Slickery decided that she needed a little "freshening" assistance in her nether regions. She's a high fallutin' executive and she has to deal with some powerful people so she didn't want to spend her day wondering how fresh she was down there. She had to be in tip-top shape so she found a product that you could - how can I say it delicately...put "in" down there and it was supposed to make her as fresh and flowery as a summers day.

She figured that if one "item" could make her fresh, two could make her the freshest chick on the planet so she implemented two of the items. Everything was going swimmingly until midway through the day. She was at her desk when she noticed that her "fresh pods" were really beginning to melt and she knew she had to get to the ladies room right away to avoid disaster. As she stood up, she felt the dreaded release of moist freshness and discovered that she was so dang fresh, her freshness and soaked all the way through her light pink skirt!

As she was hurrying through the office to get to the restroom her (very prudish) boss came up behind her and informed her that she had some kind of strange stain on her skirt. She tried to brush him off and continue racing along but the man persisted in discussing the "mystery" stain.

Once Slickery made it back to her office after cleaning up as best as she could, she was horrified to find her (very prudish) boss in her office, examining her chair! For reasons unknown, this man had an intense dislike for the cleaning crew of the building and he was convinced that they had spilled some kind of furniture polish on her chair. He was on the telephone reaming out some poor soul - ranting and raving about how they DID TOO spill something on the seat of her chair because he was standing RIGHT THERE looking at it. He then proceeded to swipe his fingers across the stain and he took a big old whiff of it. He informed whoever was on the other end of the line that the "furniture polish" smelled sort of fresh as he rubbed his fingers together directly under his nostrils.

Now, Slickery just about had a heart attack right then and there. There was no way in hell she could tell her boss (who was very prudish) what the stain was because as she told me - 'he'd end up having to cut off his hand if he ever found out.' And besides, who wants to admit (to a man no less), that you're using some kinda alien pod in you hoo-ha so you'll smell fresh as a daisy?!? Those kinds of products are top secret lady things that are to be kept under the strictest private-ness!

The very prudish boss insisted that the cleaning crew pay the dry cleaning bill for Slickery's stained skirt, and he mentioned it multiple times, further digging the hole that Slickery wanted to climb into and subsequently bury herself. Each time the stain was mentioned, all Slickery could picture was Mr. Very Prudish swiping his fingers across the puddle of freshness and taking a huge whiff. Oh, the horror!

Luckily, Mr. Very Prudish eventually moved to a different place and Slickery was left in peace. It's nice to know that he was so ardent in his quest to protect her office equipment and clothes but it was simply so misunderstood, it turned horror into humor. And that my friends, is the horror story of Slickery's quest for freshness.

The "rustic" deer blind

Recently, Manchild got himself a fancy schmancy new deer blind. Before I got together with him, I would have had to ask what a deer blind is. Is it some poor deer who got it's eyes shot out by a bad hunter? Is it a school for blind deer? Is it an evil plot to blind the eyes of all the poor deer running around the countryside?  Poor things...they'd be running into trees and falling down into creeks and stuff.

But no, a deer blind I found out is a little house that hunters use to hide in when they're hunting. That way, they can blast any poor unsuspecting animal that walks in front of them.

The blind Manchild used to use was a teeny little box with a chair inside of it. It was a tight fit and it was impossible to straighten out your legs. I went with him a few times but figured it would be best for everyone involved (animals included) if I didn't go. But now there's a nice big, comfy blind that has a sleeping loft and a TV and a futon and I can spread eagle on the floor if I want to!!! I am SO down for hunting, yo!

Kidlet was with me when we saw it for the first time and the first thing we wanted to do was to use it to camp out. Then we devised big plans to plant some shrubs, make a fire pit and doll up the inside. Manchild was nice about the whole thing. I'm sure he was thinking to himself that we were silly city slickers and there was absolutely NO need to bedazzle the place. But then again, we'd provide him with entertainment while he was waiting for the critters to start parading past. And we'd make food. And serve him drinks. So that might not be such a bad thing having us there. And even though the shed would be in the middle of nowhere, it might still look nice with tasteful curtains and flowering shrubbery. The fire pit? Maybe not but a girl can hope.

Elbow deep in pig guts

This city girl had the most amazing experience this past weekend! As you know, I spend many weekends at the little cabin in the woods (in the middle of Nowheresville) with Manchild. I'm sorry to admit it but sometimes, I wear camo and clodhoppers and I don't paint my face up nice and pretty. I DO maintain my manicure but the rest of me is slowly turning a little bit red neck. Gasp, argh, oh, the horror! Because I'm a city girl through and through.

On this particular weekend a relative came to visit Nowheresville to go hog hunting. I'm all for hog hunting because the bastards can tear up a yard or pasture in no time flat. They're a menace. Now, I'm not hatin' enough to actually shoot a pig but I'll cheer if I hear about one getting pegged. And the visiting relative shot two of them!

I bundled up kidlet and took her to see what a hog looked like up close and personal. She was timid at first but I bent over and started petting the smaller of the two so she'd see that there was nothing to fear and to prove that it was stone cold dead. She gave it a tentative touch then raced to the safety of the car so she could listen to music on her ever present i-pod. I on the other hand, was fascinated by the whole thing.

In the beginning, I was feeling sort of sorry to see a life that was extinguished and to feel that it was still warm to the touch, but I kept reminding myself that that extinguished life was probably one of the ones who had rooted up our beautifully manicured front yard and then I was no longer sad, I wanted to cut that thing up so we could have a monster barbecue!

I was expecting to see lots of blood and gore but under the skilled hands of the hunter, the flesh peeled away, there was hardly any blood and I got to see the inner workings of the pig. Once the skin was gone it was time to remove the innards. Again, I figured there would be sprays of blood and yuck but the guts all had silvery sacs they were contained in and once the cut was long enough, they almost gracefully spilled out.

I had a bit of a shock when I saw 5 pouches that I couldn't identify. I was informed that those were the sacs that piglets were percolating in. Awwwwwww, the pig had babies in her!!!!! Again, reason set in and I deduced that those were 5 less pigs that would ruin my lawn. All of the guts and undesirable parts went into the gut bucket and all that was left was glorious pounds and pounds of future barbecue.

It was odd to me to see the carcass steaming in the cold air and the cooler full of steaming meat. I prefer my meat on a clean Styrofoam plate with plastic wrap making it all nice and neat. But then again, I wouldn't have given up the opportunity to watch a big, smelly, ugly, destructive pig turn into succulent cuts of meat.

The whole ordeal excited me so much, it took me a while to come down from it all. I felt like Betsy the Big Game Butcher! (Even if I didn't shoot anything.) I'd like to thank Jay for letting me get all up in his hog while he was trying to work. I think he knew how excited I was to get to witness such a thing and help. And I bet he didn't mind too much because I kept feeding him sips of cold beer and making sure the light was shining on what he was doing.

Even though I don't want to shoot the critters, I'm sooooo ready for another hog hunt. I bet sharing this tale will help me get into the Jr. League for sure!

The packing peanut tornado

I have a brother whose middle name is Trouble. Not really, but the dude is a prankster, crazy man, fear not kind of guy. Because he's so good at pulling pranks on other people I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. It all started with a cruise through a parking lot behind a mall. I can't remember why I was driving behind a mall in the dark but I was. As I was slowly putting along, I noticed a gigantic bag of packing peanuts. I'm talking - a bag almost as big as I was! Now, any sane person would know better than to leave something like that outside where any derelict could come along and steal it but they didn't and this derelict did just that. I'm not proud to admit that I stole something but maybe I can feel better because I was in my early 20s and more than likely was buzzed from my daily happy hour and now that I'm older I would never do such a thing. Steal that is...not avoid happy hour.

I took those peanuts and put them in my car just knowing that I could do something funny with them. I just had to let a devious plan formulate in my foggy brain.

 "What to do, what to do" I wondered. I had to move quickly because it might look a little incriminating to law enforcement to see a little girl in a little car carrying a huge bag of packing peanuts in the middle of the night.

Naturally, my brother came to mind. Since he had a small car also, I figured that the best thing to do with all of those packing peanuts was to completely fill his car up with them. BRILLIANT!!!!! It took everything I had to be very quiet as I was filling his car. I mean, such a genius prank was something to be seen and laughed at. This was in the days before teeny cameras and surveillance equipment so I had to either camp out in my car, hidden from sight so I could watch him discover my evil plan or simply wait it out and see if he'd ever mention what had happened.

Since my beer buzz was wearing off and it was late, and I had to work the next day I decided to go home and hope for the best. A few days later I saw my brother, in his empty car. I was dying to ask him if anything strange had happened but I somehow managed to keep my cool. I found a casual way to bring up the topic of his car and even arranged it where we went somewhere together in it and that's when I noticed one rogue packing peanut hidden under the passenger seat. I casually asked him what it was doing there and he told me that he found his car full of them. I asked him what he did with them and he informed me that he took the car to the parking lot of the very mall that I had stolen the goods from, and he took down the top and drove around until all of the peanuts had blown out. I can imagine what a sight that was!

It's really funny to me that he didn't care that he was polluting. He just wanted the stuff out of his car. And it's funnier that he didn't even make a big deal about what had happened! I guess he had been pranked so many times he didn't think much about it.

It's been years since I did something that epic and I think it's high time I come up with a good prank to pull on him again. He's probably let his guard down now that he's older, which will make 'getting' him even sweeter. I need some good ideas because my mind isn't as evil as it used to be. Do you have any?

Schwayze, how did you get in here?

I've been spooked a lot lately. No, it's not because of Halloween. I was spooked before Halloween even happened. No, for some reason I've been spooked about the spirit that lives in my house. For the entire time I've lived in my house, I've occasionally seen a young girl walk through my living room from one side of the house to the other. I can't see her when I'm looking straight at her, I only see her zip past out of the corner of my eye. I'm not the only person who has seen her either. Every member of my family except kidlet #2 has seen her so I know it's not just me being crazy. Our ghost girl never does anything scary, she just walks somewhat quickly through the living room and she's gone.

I was pretty used to seeing her and the thought of spirits in my house didn't bother me too much until recently. I am spooked by people I can't see. It's more like I feel them. As I enter my living room, I feel like someone is rushing right at me as if to say "boo" and then run off. You know how your head involuntarily jerks back when something flies at your face? That's what I feel like doing.

I find myself constantly looking through the living room and down the hall to see if I can see anyone/anything, which I never do. It's crazy and I can't explain it exactly. Kidlet #1 wakes up later than the rest of us since she's a big college girl now and doesn't go to classes until a reasonable hour of the morning. She's told me that once the house gets quiet, she hears all kinds of things that freak her out. Muffled voices talking, drawers opening, etc.. For the longest time I just poo pooed what she said, thinking that she was hearing the neighbors outside or something but my mind is slowly changing.

First I noticed that my skin was tingly and crawly and I felt like someone was looking at me. Then I started hearing random knocks on the walls. I used to play a game with little kidlet where she'd be on one side of the wall and I'd be on the other side and we'd knock back and forth. But the knocking I've been hearing happens when she's not here. No one was at home when I've heard it. Creepy, huh? Next I felt like someone was rushing towards me at a high rate of speed and stopping right in front of my face, yelling. I didn't hear anything and didn't feel a breeze but I swear, something rushed me.

This morning put the icing on the cake. I put my kitty Schwayze outside for his morning rituals then locked the doors and went to take a shower. When I got out of the shower, Schwayze was sitting on my bed. I checked the doors to make sure they were closed (and they were), I checked to make sure the windows were closed (and they were) and yet there he was in my room. I really, really, really wish cats could talk so I could ask him how he got in.

Later in the day I was comparing notes with big kidlet because she has been having issues as well. She keeps hearing voices, seeing things out of the corner of her eye and feels like someone is hovering around her. I feel watched as well so the spook factor just ratcheted up a few notches. Together we decided to take action. First, we drug out the Ouija board and tried to communicate with "whoever." The little pointer thingy moved a little bit but we figured we were inadvertently moving it. Next, I did a little online research to find out how to cleanse the house and we took a little trip down the road to a spiritual connections shop and picked up a bundle of sage.

While we were there, the shop lady started talking to us to gather infomation to figure out what we needed. As we were talking she closed her eyes and got silent then proceeded to tell me that someone close to me who had recently passed away was trying to tell me/us to slow down and think about a big decision one of us was trying to make. She said that whoever it was, had to act in a big way to get our attention. She didn't think that "it" was menacing, "it" was simply trying to get our attention. We got our sage and headed home.

We racked our brains trying to figure out what decision we were trying to make and so far we've come up empty. I'm not saying I totally buy into all of the spiritual stuff but I figure it can't hurt. We lit the sage to cleanse the house and asked the spirits nicely to refrain from scaring us. Then we had to come up with some kind of symbol or sign and ask my deceased relative to let me know if it's them that's trying to get my attention. Strangely enough, I don't feel so skittish in my home since I spoke to the shop lady. Maybe it was her power of suggestion - that the thing that haunts me isn't out to hurt me. All I know is I hope to put an end to my jitters. If it takes waving sage smoke around my house and talking out loud to the air, I'll do it. Now, if my kitty mysteriously winds up inside or outside of the house when I didn't facilitate it, I'll get the shivers. I might wave sage smoke around again. Whatever it takes. I want my peaceful home back.

Instruction manuals are great for guys

Manchild has been in the process of training me and I have been training him for the last 4 years or so. He is teaching me to speak out when something bothers me, rather than stewing about it for hours on end.  I am teaching him to temper his words and be a little more diplomatic if he's bothered about something. We're getting there - ever so slowly.

One thing he told me that has been invaluable, is that men have one track minds. They can only think about one thing at a time where us ladies juggle 10,000 thoughts at a time. I used to get bent out of shape when I'd try to talk to him as he was working on something and I'd end up feeling like he was ignoring me. He'd get bothered because I wanted to talk deep philosophy as he was cleaning his gun. He literally had to stop what he was doing so he could think about what I was saying and to formulate a response. I didn't realize until he told me (for the millionth time) that a man is a one track thinker.

I have also been trained (not always successfully) to spell out what I'm expecting in certain situations. For example: this past weekend we had a date night and I was very excited because we have not had one in forever. I wanted to feel all special and lovey dovey and I wanted his complete attention and affection. Simply hoping for it wasn't going to cut it - I'd end up disappointed. So I followed his suggestion and spelled out exactly what I was hoping to experience that evening. I told him I wanted lots of hugs and kisses, and that I wanted him to hold my hand as much as possible and that I wanted to be his QUEEN and treated as such. And you know what? It worked! I almost felt as giddy with him as I used to feel when we were dating! He followed my instructions to a tee and we had a wonderful evening. He got to feel like he was the most handsome, important, studly dude in the entire place and I got to feel like he was really into me once again. Before this weekend, I was getting to the point of making a Pros and Cons list about us being together but all it took was a few well spoken expectations and I'm back to thinking that the list can wait.

Ladies, it might not be the most romantic thing the world to have to tell your man exactly what you expect but it sure does work. Most guys aren't cinema style romantics and they need to understand what it is that you crave. If you can vocalize what you need most guys will jump at the chance to please you. Their one track minds need a blueprint. They aren't mind readers and I've found that no amount of hinting is going to get you what you want. You've got to lay it out on the table for them. But once they have the game plan, they're Superman on a mission. Learn this and you'll have it made.

Yucky Chowms

I was reading a post on one of my fave blogs (Happy or Hungry) and it was about the author's love of Lucky Charms.  That got me to thinking about how we say 'Lucky Charms' at my house. And then I thought about all of the words my girls mispronounced when they were young.

It all started when one of my kidlets was pretty young. She liked Lucky Charms  (who doesn't) but couldn't say it properly. She pronounced it "Yucky Chowms" which I thought was just the cutest thing ever. We tried to teach her the correct way to pronounce it but her version was the one that won. And now, we all call them Yucky Chowms.

Another favorite mispronunciation of mine is the word "Friday."  Kidlet #1 used to pronounce it 'Fri-der-day.' Each week, she'd ask me what day it was and when Thursday rolled around, she'd gleefully let us know that the next day would be Friderday. To this day, I still call Fridays - Friderday.

There are other words that way say improperly/on purpose at my house and here is a sampling of some of our favorites:

concreke (concrete)
hamburgler (hamburger)
pooter (computer)
TB (TV)
psycus (psychosis)
flied lice (fried rice)
chickie fry (chicken fried steak)
Collard Creep (Collin Creek (a mall))
wash mouth (mouthwash)
Wally burger (Whataburger)

There are others but of course, when I'm trying to remember them all to write them down I'm drawing a blank.

Anyway, I don't know if any of you say words the wrong way because it's funny or not but I'd love to hear some if you have any.

My "dream date" dancer

This weekend Manchild and I went out on a long, long, LONG overdue date. We did what we normally do when we go out...we picked one of our favorite musicians and went to hear him play. Most of time I'm content to sit with my beloved and simply listen but on occasion, I am overcome with an urge to get up and bust a serious move on the dance floor. Now, my man does not dance. We tried it - ONCE and I must admit, he was pretty terrible. And he looked so dang uncomfortable I decided right then and there that I'd never try to get him out on the dance floor ever again. Because of this, I am forced to find alternative dance partners. Most of the time, there's usually someone I know who will dance with me but I have been known to approach a total stranger if the desire to dance is strong enough.

On this particular night the music was good but I didn't feel the need to trip the lights fantastic. Besides, I was afraid if I did, I'd strip out all the bolts holding my shiny new hardware in my neck and I didn't want that to happen. But if I had wanted to dance, there was a dude in the club who could fit the bill, sort of. He could not resist hitting up every person with breasts to dance, and he was not taking no for an answer.

We watched him spin and twirl and jive and...fall down. I can only think of one other time in all of my years going to bars where I've seen a dude fall down but this guy was about to make up for it. When he fell, it didn't seem to phase him. He simply popped up and kept on dancing. Then a minute or so later he fell again! It was then that we noticed that he was a little unsteady on his feet. Actually, he was down right sloppy. When he approached a female to dance with him, he sort of fell all over her. He got all up in her personal space. He put his hands on her (probably in an attempt to hold himself up) and practically ripped her arms off while trying to drag her to the dance floor. He was annoying.

At one point in the evening, I went up to the bar for a drink and Mr.Happyfeet was there as well. He slurred an invitation to dance which I politely declined. He then asked me a little more ardently which I again declined. Then he tried pulling my arms and dragging me to the dance floor. I managed to slip out of his grasp but the guy didn't give up. I pointed out my husband (who is sort of intimidating looking) but the guy's beer goggles were so fogged, I don't think he could tell which direction I was pointing in. At one point, I gave a beseeching look to another bar patron for help but I guess he had on beer goggles, too because he didn't do anything. I finally ran out of patience and gave my admirer the old 'talk to the hand' action but he was not swayed.

He kept on pleading and pulling on me and generally making me pissed off until I finally shoved him away and went back to where I had been sitting. I was just waiting for him to stumble our way so Manchild could put the old 'kick his drunk ass out the door' and relieve all of the women of that guy but
he kept his distance.

After falling down another time or two - including one slow fall onto a couple's tabletop, the guy settled down. Later, I was outside gulping in fresh air when I saw the fella slosh and sway down the sidewalk and away from the club. I have no idea where he went because we were in a semi industrial area and there weren't too many other establishments he could enter. Luckily, I didn't see him try to drive away but he did walk (sort of) off in 20 degree weather with no coat. He had enough liquid anti freeze to last a while but I can't help but wonder if he's frozen behind a dumpster somewhere. I bet that drunk fool had one hell of a hangover the next day and I bet he wondered why his legs and ass were covered with bruises. Tiny drunk dancer...ugh.

Oh, my holy hell!!!

Well, I've officially lost my mind. I have Alzheimer's, I'm sure of it. I also suffer from absentmindedness, scatterbrainedness and ADHD plus 15 other letters. I'm cer-tee-fiable! Why the self diagnosis you ask? Because I lost my wedding ring. I have turned my house upside down looking for it and have found nothing but cobwebs, fur balls, grass, hunks of dirt a shoestring and a piece of cat food but no ring. And I am about to shoot myself for it.



This is my ring. Honkin' big, right? How could a girl possibly lose something so beautiful?

 I admit that I'm a slob but I keep my messes in central locations, usually in piles. I always put my keys in one of two places and if I take off my ring, it usually lands in one of 4 places because I know how I am. But apparently, I didn't.

I took kidlet out for a night of blues music and I had the ring on. When we got home I took it off but I don't know where. I even had my kid help me remember our exact steps when we got home (because she drank Dr. Pepper not beer like me) and she couldn't shed any light on things. What the hell could I have done with it?!?!?

I'd like to say that I'm never quite that forgettable but since my surgery, I have a really really bad case of CRS. I ask the same question 3 times, not remembering that I've already asked it. I misplace things. I have the hugest, nastiest brain farts of anyone i know. Well, those people that I can remember. I left the front door standing wide open because I forgot to close it. I buy food for meals that I'm planning to cook then forget what I was going to cook, and I end up opening the refrigerator wondering why I have a 3 pound leg of lamb in there. I have been forgetting peoples names - some of whom I've known for years!

i can accept most things but losing my prized possession - my big ol' honkin' wedding ring that manchild (who has only bought 1 wedding in his entire 53 years of life) bought me is horrible!! I'm sick. I'm nauseated. I'm banging myself over the head with a frying pan. What if I don't find it? It'll be like the Mayan calendar...maybe the world will end. Oh, silly, stupid, forgettable, swiss cheese brained me!

And so it begins again

I am "ready" to return to work after being off for 6 weeks on medical leave. I know I'm ready - I'm just not ready. I am actually afraid to return. Not because of how I'll be treated - I work with really great people I'm just scared that I can't pull a full day of actually working. For the past couple of weeks, I've made myself get up and get dressed and apply my warpaint for the day. I head out into the big old world and do pretty good. For a couple of hours. Then, the noise and hustle and bustle start getting to me and by the time I get home, I'm exhausted. I'm not sure why because I take things slowly but all the action just wears me out.

I had my first evening out on the town and stayed out for about 3 hours then I hit the wall. And when I hit it, I hit it! I wasn't sure I even had the energy to make the 20 minute drive home. And the day afterwords felt like I had a horrible hangover minus the headache and sour stomach. I hurt from head to toe! Why???? All I did was sit at a table with friends and listen to good music. But while I was out, I was so excited to be out I must have shouted and used every muscle that hasn't been used for a long time. How pathetic is that? I'm a go-getter kind of girl. I hate to sit at home and do nothing! And yet, I dread having to go somewhere where I'll have to do something for 8 hours.

I'm sure everyone has job jitters at some time or another. Like, on the first day. I've been at my job for almost 5 years! So why do I have the jitters? I think it's because I worry that while I don't look sick or injured I am and I'm afraid people will think I'm trying to pull the wool over their eyes. I'm afraid that I can't produce the quality of work I did before I left for medical leave.

Getting well is serious business. I believe that now. All I can say is to ask for luck. I think I'm going to need it.