boo

Nearly a year. And why now? Because tonight, I experienced the famous straw as never before. Tonight, my favorite lamp was the straw, and I was the camel's back: We broke nearly simultaneously.

There was no reason for me to react the way I did. As disappointed as I was that the lamp broke, and as frustrated as I was about the circumstances that led it to break, and as panicked as I was about all the broken glass, none of those things -- even in concert with each other -- was enough to prompt the full-on tantrum/meltdown that ensued.

Ted was bewildered, concerned... a bit scared. The wife he's known for so many years usually maintains a freakishly even keel. And tonight, she suddenly hit rough seas and near-about capsized!

He tried to calm me down, but was unsuccessful. The cats rapidly made themselves scarce, which was good because they avoided the millions of shards. And in the middle of this wildly disproportionate fit, I found myself wondering why I was pitching it, why there was no OFF button. And so I, too, was something of a witness to the whole episode.

Didn't last long -- a couple minutes, after which, I regained my composure and set about to vacuuming up the bits too small to pick up by hand (Ted got all the big pieces while I was morphing into a crazed puddle). It was an arduous task to be sure. The lamp had truly shattered.

It's done now, and I've since found several places online where I can get replacement shades. So now life goes on. Right? I've folded laundry, chatted about my day with my husband, checked email, read the news, and written a blog entry. Is it necessary for me to analyze all the pieces of straw in my life? Is that the only way to keep my back from breaking again the next time a fly buzzes by and inadvertently adds a speck of straw dust? There are many pieces of straw these days. And my back hurts enough that it's tempting to openly list and/or complain about them (though I might contend that the list itself would be a complaint). This strays way outside my usual optimism, and although it may explain tonight, I know better than to go there. It's time to climb up the slope, not slide down it.

So, let's talk about something more upbeat. Holidays! Here's a great Thanksgiving poem:

"Yam" by Bruce Guernsey

The potato that ate all its carrots,
can see in the dark like a mole,

its eyes the scars

from centuries of shovels, tines.

May spelled backwards

because it hates the light,

pawing its way, paddling along,

there in the catacombs.

Love it. And then there's Christmas.



I'm not ready for Christmas in any way. Some gifts have been procured. But when my hard drive crashed, it ate my list. That means I have to start from scratch as to who gets what and how much budget is left for everyone, and therefore how much more shopping needs to be done. I'm braving Black Friday with my sister and my Christmas Club money. But I'm not appropriately prepared for it. At a time in the process when I'm typically done or close to it. And I'm still trying to imagine Christmas without my own personal Santa -- Dad.

Oops. Just slipped down a bit. I should call it a night, an entry, a year, and get some sleep. Maybe I'll blog again next August.

who needs to fly 6000 miles?

UPDATE: MSNBC reviews this product

Originally posted 2/21/2008

random thoughts

I have a headache. The kind that starts at the forehead and runs Mohawk-like across the head, down the neck, onto the spine, out onto the shoulder blades, and radiating across the back. It sounds like more than a headache, but it's really just a headache gone mad. Just for good measure, each temple throbs, my throat is sore, and my wisdom teeth feel like they're migrating, too. I haven't taken any aspirin or other pain reliever. I always feel like I should be in more significant pain before I get to that point. So I suffer in silence (blogging about it is silence?!).

It's really well past time to go to bed. All creatures great and small in my home have been out like lights for hours now. The air is heavy with sleep. It should have dragged me in long ago. Ted will be starting his day in 40 minutes. I'm still finishing up yesterday. I thought I left all this behind when I quit my second shift job. My plans for tomorrow (uh, today) are going to be all out of whack -- whenever I get around to waking up.

My hair smells like pomegranate and berries, my clothes smell like fresh laundry, and my hands smell like Island Mist. Whatever Island Mist is supposed to smell like. It's an aroma I can imagine having encountered when I was in Hawaii, so I guess its name isn't too far afield, though I would have preferred "Guava Coconut" or whatever actual scents were used. Perhaps the non-committal name means that there are no real, natural ingredients in it. That wouldn't be surprising. I've washed my hands twice, to get rid of the smell of dish sponge. I'm not sure why that scent was so offensive, I only had four dishes to wash tonight. Time for a new sponge, I guess. Doesn't seem like it was that long ago that I changed it.

My new toothpaste is unappealling to me. The grit factor is too high (though I'm certain there's some purpose to it), and the flavor is simply yicky. I remember hearing years ago that most people use toothpaste that is sweetened to the point of sickliness, and when they change to something reasonable, it seems terrible in comparison to the sweet. This isn't quite that sensation. But I'm stuck with it now because I bought a 4-pack of family-sized tubes of this stuff. I suppose I'll just get accustomed to it. That reminds me, I need to go online to see if I can order my favorite floss. I haven't been able to find it in any drug store for a while now. So far, I've been OK because I tend to overstock my storage closets (most of the time, thanks to Costco). But I am on my last roll. I wonder if Drugstore.com is still around.

Yesterday's forecast indicated that there was a slight chance of some snow showers overnight and into the morning. Nothing major, low chance, little to no accumulation. I had been enjoying the sun for the last couple days, though, despite it being quite cold. Winter is much more tolerable for me when it's sunny and precipitation-free. That's not asking too much, right? Last I heard, the state of New Hampshire was mere inches away from the all-time snowiest winter on record. Yay. (By the way, that exclamation was sarcasm... 'case you didn't notice.) I'm not of the mind to go see if we've actually reached that illustrious achievement.

When I went to Newport, Rhode Island a couple weeks ago, I kicked off my official Christmas shopping season. I hadn't intended to, but then it's never planned. My friend and I wandered around some of the shops on America's Cup Avenue, and several items just spoke to me. So I have 6 or 7 things in a plastic storage container, waiting for November to be wrapped. Consequently, I have also started up my 2008 Christmas spreadsheet. Weirdly, I have also acquired a gift for one niece that I will not give to her until she turns 21. She just turned 17. That's only four years to hold onto it. I once bought a 10th anniversary card for a friend before her wedding. And I managed to give it to her and her husband for their 10th anniversary. That card moved 6000 miles, but I didn't lose it!

Sadie just awakened and began rubbing against everything on my desk (she was sleeping on an afghan that sits here, right by the printer). She pushes things around when she rubs. The monitor, the cup of pens, the tower of stacking trays, the banker's lamp, the basket of hair product. I produced the kitty comb, and she practically jumped for joy. She loves getting combed. Once, long ago, she loved getting brushed. But since Woodle entered our lives with his special comb designed for long hair, every cat in the house has been converted. They are all comb aficionados now. Little else makes Sadie happier than a vigorous grooming (a warm sun beam and drips from the bathtub faucet are close).

I just wrote an update to my siblings. We keep a family blog, so everyone is in the loop on what's going on. I rambled on it, too. I love this picture too much not to include it here. No, I don't know a single soul in it. And actually, I just found it moments ago. But we've taken pictures very much like that in our family, so I can relate to it. And look how happy these people are. This is a great picture.

Ugh. Bed.


(Yeah. Right. I wish my bed looked like that.)

P.S. No real effort put into editing. Please forgive typos, odd mistakes. Much appreciated.

tweet!

Dear Twitter,

You're really cool. I mean, really cool. Like, um, one of the coolest kids on the block. Like an ice block, get it?! Ha, hah... um, huh. Anyway. So you're not really new, but newer than other older stuff like Blogger, which is also cool, in an older sort of a way (and I know you're related to each other, or at least you're connected somehow, but I don't know if a few more degrees gets you to Kevin Bacon or anything).

I saw you on some other people's blogs and stuff last year, and thought "wow, cool." I don't know why I didn't Twitterize myself then because I can always stand to be made a little cooler. But I have now. Actually, last month! I started Tweeting. How cool it is to send 'tweets?' So anyway, sometimes I tweet. Well, kinda' sporadically. OK, I'm not wicked consistent with it. But it's always fun when I do!!! And I completely plan to tweet more. I'm going to become a tweeter, er, twitterer of epic proportion!

So, this it a tribute to you, Twitter. You rock my world and make it ultra-cool (like hip cool, not cigarettes or anything gross to do with tobacco). Cool like Inc. Magazine. I couldn't say it all in just 140 characters because you're too cool to condense. You know, like condensation, which is what happens when something that's warm gets, you know, cooler.

I hope that my rockin' and wicked articulate-slash-eloquent dedication to your coolness holds me in good stead with the Head Twitterers in Charge, and that they/he/she/it don't think I'm trying to, like, suck up or anything. I really just wanted to tell my vast audience of the awesomeness of Twitter coolness.

fortune

"You have a potential urge and the ability for accomplishment."