absence

Someday, I'll come back to blogging, Twittering, IMing, emailing, and other such electronic communications. Someday.

Meanwhile, here's proof that my mother done taught me right.



Well, at least it's proof that I'm capable of restraining myself most of the time. Because there are times I just want to verbally streak in blue proportions.

len rocks my socks

Stephen does, too.

changing of the guard

Previous words of wisdom were as follows:

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
- not Edmund Burke

New food for thought above.

happy easter

This made me LOL for a long time. Happy Easter.

props

It's been a while since I shouted out to Cute Overload. Yay, C.O.! Keep on keepin' on!



Rrroawah.

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.

so true, part ii

Simon Tofield is back. This cartoon is as funny as the first.

the photoshop world we live in

The March 10th issue of Time Magazine has a brief article about the importance of youthful appearance in the job market. The web version of this article isn't quite the assault to my senses that the hard copy version is, because it's missing the graphic that goes along with it.

In it, a snappily dressed man stands on one side, and a smartly outfitted woman on the other. The center title says, "New Ways to Tap into The Fountain of Youth." Neither of these people look even remotely old (must be because they've tapped that fountain). The suggestions include the following:

For the man
* Tooth-lengthening
* Butt lift and implants
* Neck tuck
* Knee-tightening

For the woman
* Hair restoration
* Earlobe repair
* Stiletto surgery
* Extreme hand makeover

The ones that stand out for me are the stiletto surgery ("...heels remain part of the dress code at the office"), the hand makeover ("knobby, spotted hands say old lady"), and the knee-tightening ("skin and cellulite pool around the knees -- unsightly at the gym").

Ack!

This article is chock full of ideas for making yourself look younger. Not a single word refers to how any of these procedures will make you healthier, just more attractive. After all, it is entitled "How Not to Look Old on the Job." But here's the kicker. Despite its obvious and complete focus on appearances, the article is listed in the "Health" category.

ACK!

Then, I have the TV on to catch the weather forecast, when a bra commercial comes on. I'm actually just listening to the TV while going through morning routine, and at first, it sounds like a typical bra commercial. Soft, flowy music, and a sultry voice exhorting her beauty secrets. But then some words start to penetrate my subconsciousness. "...revolutionary concealing petals for complete modesty." This brings me back to the day when I worked at a women's clothing store, and we had a customer who wanted to know if we carried bras that would hide her n1pples*. I'm thinking that "concealing petals" have something to do with that (a quick TiVo rewind verifies it).

But then, another kicker: "Feel confident and look flawless in every moment." Um, excuse me? Having n1pples* is a flaw? Wow, are we as a gender in trouble. Wait. Men have n1pples* too. No, I know. I get it. Having n1pples* that dare show themselves is the flaw. Even though it's safe to assume that, for most women, they already have at least two layers of fabric over said rebellious areolae.

AAAACCCCKKKKKKK!

Can't... speak... any... more... choking... urrgghhh........

* Updated to change the correct spelling of the referenced body part because some people are finding their way to my blog by searching for things about which I am NOT talking.

what are words for

I change the "think on it" words of wisdom on my sidebar as the mood strikes me. When I remove the old to display the new, I don't always tuck it away in a place for safekeeping and/or future reference. For some reason today, I had an idea of a simple way to do that. Any time I make the change, I'll post the old saying as an entry. Today is maiden voyage of this practice.

Previous words of wisdom:

"You must do the things you think you cannot do."- Eleanor Roosevelt

Mrs. Roosevelt was a font of wisdom, whose words will undoubtedly show up here again. Today, however, we move on to wise words for which I cannot find a definitive source. Most people cite Edmund Burke, however, this note may suggest otherwise:

"Attributed to Edmund Burke, but never found in his works. It may be a paraphrase of Burke’s view that 'When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle' (Thoughts on the Cause of the Present Discontents, April 23, 1770)."

Same concept. Popular version is more pithy.

speaking of cool

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.

onslaught