2011 was truly a roller coaster year for the ol' Huff. It began happy, with a (I then thought) great guy and a promising future. By Valentine's Day I was engaged to aforementioned-supposed-great-guy. 2 weeks later BAM! No ring, no future. With him at least. (Not a great guy after all.)
Then came spring, Huffy's birthday, and a swell vacation with the parents to Myrtle Beach.
The summer arrived with mild weather and a dog who no longer cared for the confines of his backyard, as he diligently escaped 6 times in 4 weeks. Back came the feelings of rejection as the Life of Huff began to sound like a country song... "I lost my man, I lost my dog..."
Another awesome mission trip to Haiti in July. I always look forward to the opportunity to serve, and also to see my brothers in sisters in Christ in a different light. I wouldn't trade the sweating, weird food or hot van trips for all the money in the world. (Well maybe. I could just BUY Haiti then. I'd rename it Huff-ati! Free ice cream for everyone!)
The fall saw a new man enter my life, grudgingly at first (on my part). It's been fun getting to know him and his family (Sunday dinner with the parents tomorrow, oh my!)
Tonight, on New Year's Eve, I am alone, by choice mostly. John Deere had made plans with some friends, assuming I'd be with my friends. A friend of mine invited me to go with her to her sister's, but I think I'll let them have time alone to reflect on their roller coaster year as well.
I like being alone. (It's a good thing, eh?) I like to think, to reflect, and to play Bejeweled :) But I digress. I like silence, or the opportunity to do whatever I need or want to do. Don't feel like showering? No problem. Don't feel like getting dressed? Don't have to. Wanna drink soda straight from the 2-liter? Can do.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is... things aren't too bad in Huffyland. Nope, things are pretty ok.
And that's all I've got to say about that.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
All Christmas-ed Out
Yesterday John Deere and I attended my family's Christmas gathering. As usual it was loud, crazy and full of good cheer. John was polite and the family was nice to him. Much better than last year when most everyone ignored The Ex. But they usually also ignore me, so it was ok.
Today I attended John's family gathering. They are louder, maybe equally crazy but in a different way, and full of good cheer. Well, most of them.
I only have one more Christmas celebration, that with my Friday Night Gals. It will be a Wine and Cheese celebration with gift exchange. I can't wait!
I am so glad Christmas is over. Not because I bought so many presents and am now considering filing bankruptcy. Nor because I baked so many pies, wrapped so many presents, and hostessed myself into a tizzy. No, I'm glad it's over so I can finally stop singing or playing piano every time I turn around. I've been in 4 services/ performances in the last 2 weeks. I lost my Christmas spirit back in October after I'd already been singing Christmas songs for a few weeks then.
Being in church music ministry, I tend to lose focus of how important the event was that I'm celebrating. I feel like I'm going through the motions. Jesus was born, blah blah blah, he died, yadda yadda yadda. NO! This is NOT how I want to feel. I want it to be real, to hit me like a ton of bricks every year. That hasn't happened in quite a while now. And I'm kinda sad about it.
Next year I will participate in my church's read through the Bible in a year again. I did last year, and am a bit excited about it again because I bought a new Bible. Also the Rockettes, the ladies of my Sunday School class, will be doing another Bible study starting in January. I'm hoping this rekindles a fire in me.
I need it, because right now, I feel cold.
Today I attended John's family gathering. They are louder, maybe equally crazy but in a different way, and full of good cheer. Well, most of them.
I only have one more Christmas celebration, that with my Friday Night Gals. It will be a Wine and Cheese celebration with gift exchange. I can't wait!
I am so glad Christmas is over. Not because I bought so many presents and am now considering filing bankruptcy. Nor because I baked so many pies, wrapped so many presents, and hostessed myself into a tizzy. No, I'm glad it's over so I can finally stop singing or playing piano every time I turn around. I've been in 4 services/ performances in the last 2 weeks. I lost my Christmas spirit back in October after I'd already been singing Christmas songs for a few weeks then.
Being in church music ministry, I tend to lose focus of how important the event was that I'm celebrating. I feel like I'm going through the motions. Jesus was born, blah blah blah, he died, yadda yadda yadda. NO! This is NOT how I want to feel. I want it to be real, to hit me like a ton of bricks every year. That hasn't happened in quite a while now. And I'm kinda sad about it.
Next year I will participate in my church's read through the Bible in a year again. I did last year, and am a bit excited about it again because I bought a new Bible. Also the Rockettes, the ladies of my Sunday School class, will be doing another Bible study starting in January. I'm hoping this rekindles a fire in me.
I need it, because right now, I feel cold.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Christmas Card Envy
This must be the year of Family Picture Christmas Cards. I have at least 10 of them from my church alone. I know it's special to commemorate what the kiddos looked like in 2011, but come on people, if I'd have known I would have bought stock in shutterfly.com!
So, in the spirit of the family Christmas card, I attempted tonight to get Budzo in a few shots. Candid of course, since his attention span is less than that of a goldfish. I thought the webcam would be easiest for uploading, and maybe Bud wouldn't recognize it as a camera, which he has learned to shun. Here are the results:
So, in the spirit of the family Christmas card, I attempted tonight to get Budzo in a few shots. Candid of course, since his attention span is less than that of a goldfish. I thought the webcam would be easiest for uploading, and maybe Bud wouldn't recognize it as a camera, which he has learned to shun. Here are the results:
This was in the early stages, before Bud got spooked, wondering "Why is she holding me?"
After this decent shot, I decided he might be more comfortable if I moved the computer to the floor.
Apparently I had forgotten that he likes to roll on my head as if it's a dead animal. One of those cute but weird quirks of a neurotic dog.
It only hurts when his tags pull hair out!
He finally gave up. I did too.
At least I know how he feels about the whole process!
Anyway, Merry Christmas from Huff and Bud!
Monday, December 12, 2011
This Means War!
This evening my parents, who happened to be in town, stopped by for a few minutes. While here I showed them the picture of The Ex and his new lady. They were as amazed as I to see the changes he's made. But then, they said the unthinkable. The worst thing they could have ever said. The thing that made my heart drop and my palms itch. They said, are you ready for it?
They said it looks like he's lost weight.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
It's not that he didn't need to, because honey, he made me look fit AND trim. It's not because it's healthier for him and will lead to a longer, happier life. It's bad because, because...sniff sniff...I've gained weight since he dumped me. Like a lot. Like a small child. Like a sack of potatoes on steroids.
So, never to be one-upped, this means war. And not with him, because he's not in my life anymore and could look like Richard Simmonds for all I care. (hee hee) But it's war with myself, my emotional eating, and with those pesky fat cells who have grown so comfortable on my person.
It's war with the fact that Christmas is coming, and all the deliciousness that comes with it.
It's war with the fact that I now know how simple it is to make chocolate-dipped potato chips, and I have the makings for a ginormous batch in my kitchen. Right. Now.
It's war with laziness, not wanting to get out in the cold to travel those long, long 4 blocks to the gym.
It's war with giving up because I'm going to die fat and alone anyway. (That's my fallback excuse.)
It's also war with resisting temptation, both with food and looking at The Ex's Facebook page to see if he's posted a new pic. Again not that I care, just that I don't want him to win.
In other news, John Deere and I attended my Sunday School class party last Saturday. He behaved himself marvelously, got to talk shop with a few other farmers, talked about hunting with a few others, and stayed even though I could tell he'd rather have left before I got involved in a game of trivia (always dangerous!) This Friday he's attending my Church staff dinner with me. Such a trooper.
They said it looks like he's lost weight.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
It's not that he didn't need to, because honey, he made me look fit AND trim. It's not because it's healthier for him and will lead to a longer, happier life. It's bad because, because...sniff sniff...I've gained weight since he dumped me. Like a lot. Like a small child. Like a sack of potatoes on steroids.
So, never to be one-upped, this means war. And not with him, because he's not in my life anymore and could look like Richard Simmonds for all I care. (hee hee) But it's war with myself, my emotional eating, and with those pesky fat cells who have grown so comfortable on my person.
It's war with the fact that Christmas is coming, and all the deliciousness that comes with it.
It's war with the fact that I now know how simple it is to make chocolate-dipped potato chips, and I have the makings for a ginormous batch in my kitchen. Right. Now.
It's war with laziness, not wanting to get out in the cold to travel those long, long 4 blocks to the gym.
It's war with giving up because I'm going to die fat and alone anyway. (That's my fallback excuse.)
It's also war with resisting temptation, both with food and looking at The Ex's Facebook page to see if he's posted a new pic. Again not that I care, just that I don't want him to win.
In other news, John Deere and I attended my Sunday School class party last Saturday. He behaved himself marvelously, got to talk shop with a few other farmers, talked about hunting with a few others, and stayed even though I could tell he'd rather have left before I got involved in a game of trivia (always dangerous!) This Friday he's attending my Church staff dinner with me. Such a trooper.
Friday, December 09, 2011
Audit this!
This past week the counseling agency I work for had it's triennial audit for accreditation. So a clinician from Florida spent three exciting days in my town looking at files, interviewing clients, and perusing our policy and procedure manuals. At the end he gave us a report of his findings. While it wasn't horrible and most of the mistakes were easily correctable, the fact that someone, whose job it is to find your mistakes, is even in the building lends an air of stress and foreboding.
I got to spend almost all of Tuesday with him and a bit of Thursday. By that point I had had my fill of having my short-comings pointed out. There were a few times my blood pressure spiked, and a few times I had to fight back tears. He was not being mean or even condescending, but I put a lot of effort into my job, and to have someone criticize what I do and tell me I need to work harder when I already don't have the time or resources to do what I do, well, it just frustrates me.
Oh a brighter note, John Deere not only called on his regimented Thursday night, he also stopped by for a few hours. When I told him about my week, he did offer to go rough up the auditor, but I didn't think it necessary. He agreed to accompany me to my Sunday School class Christmas party tomorrow night. I just hope he adheres to the dress code!
Also this week I discovered, via the wonders of Facebook, that The Ex has a new woman. Or at least his profile picture is of him a some little.....ahem.....a lovely lady. My first thought was "Well good for him." That was quickly followed by "I hope she enjoys my ring." I have never wished him harm, but there is a small place deep inside Huff that is vicious and vindictive, hoping that he was wallowing in misery and lamenting the day he sent me away. And maybe he did. For a day or two. Then he got over me, colored his hair, trimmed his beard (he has dimples, who knew!) and reinstated that Match.com profile he swore to me he deleted. (I did see him on there recently, right before I deleted mine. Again.)
There was a lot of drama in my boring little life this week. I'm glad it's over. On to another busy week with two dress rehearsals, two concerts, one more church Christmas party John Deere is attending with me, and two work Christmas luncheons. If I make it out alive and not 20 pounds heavier, I'll be one happy Huffy!
I got to spend almost all of Tuesday with him and a bit of Thursday. By that point I had had my fill of having my short-comings pointed out. There were a few times my blood pressure spiked, and a few times I had to fight back tears. He was not being mean or even condescending, but I put a lot of effort into my job, and to have someone criticize what I do and tell me I need to work harder when I already don't have the time or resources to do what I do, well, it just frustrates me.
Oh a brighter note, John Deere not only called on his regimented Thursday night, he also stopped by for a few hours. When I told him about my week, he did offer to go rough up the auditor, but I didn't think it necessary. He agreed to accompany me to my Sunday School class Christmas party tomorrow night. I just hope he adheres to the dress code!
Also this week I discovered, via the wonders of Facebook, that The Ex has a new woman. Or at least his profile picture is of him a some little.....ahem.....a lovely lady. My first thought was "Well good for him." That was quickly followed by "I hope she enjoys my ring." I have never wished him harm, but there is a small place deep inside Huff that is vicious and vindictive, hoping that he was wallowing in misery and lamenting the day he sent me away. And maybe he did. For a day or two. Then he got over me, colored his hair, trimmed his beard (he has dimples, who knew!) and reinstated that Match.com profile he swore to me he deleted. (I did see him on there recently, right before I deleted mine. Again.)
There was a lot of drama in my boring little life this week. I'm glad it's over. On to another busy week with two dress rehearsals, two concerts, one more church Christmas party John Deere is attending with me, and two work Christmas luncheons. If I make it out alive and not 20 pounds heavier, I'll be one happy Huffy!
Sunday, December 04, 2011
The Redneck and The Nerd
So he listens to Country and I listen to Classical.
So he reads Outdoor Living and I read Agatha Christie.
So he tinkers with tractors and I tinker with the human psyche.
So he drinks Mt. Dew and I drink Trinidadian Coconut Coffee.
So he has never seen a Mel Brooks movie and I can quote them word for word.
So he shoots deer for fun and I cried like a little girl when I accidentally ran over a cat.
So he's never heard of NPR and my weekend isn't complete without "A Prairie Home Companion."
Does that mean we're too different?
So he reads Outdoor Living and I read Agatha Christie.
So he tinkers with tractors and I tinker with the human psyche.
So he drinks Mt. Dew and I drink Trinidadian Coconut Coffee.
So he has never seen a Mel Brooks movie and I can quote them word for word.
So he shoots deer for fun and I cried like a little girl when I accidentally ran over a cat.
So he's never heard of NPR and my weekend isn't complete without "A Prairie Home Companion."
Does that mean we're too different?
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
To Infiniti and Beyond
This afternoon I felt like the biggest hypocrite on the planet. I led a group on worry and anxiety, relating how to plan worry time, postpone worry, and fix the problems that you can , thus alleviating much unnecessary worry. And yet although these sound like good ideas, I can personally guarantee you I could perfectly perform each step and still worry.
I asked the clients what they worry about. Money. The Future. If Medicaid will be around to pay for meds. What if I lose my home. What if my power of attorney dies before me. All great topics for worry. I encouraged them to not worry about the past, since you can't do anything about it anyway, and plan for the future, solving what problems you can, and researching and planning for those you can't.
What do I worry about? All of those things, plus stuff like: what if I fall and break my leg while I'm alone in the house and my doors are locked? What if I I live to be 112 and out-live all my family and friends? What if I lose my hearing and never get to listen to music again? What if I gain so much weight they have to cut a hole in my house to folk-lift me out?
A ha! To this problem, I have found another solution, and a whole passel of more worries!
I had been doing step aerobics two days per week, but my knees just can't stand it anymore. So, tonight I did it. I made the plunge. I joined another gym. And not the "beefcake" gym. No, the snobby, snooty, all the ladies there are pencil thin and wear designer work-out gear. Oh yeah, Huffy's about to invade their territory!
So now my worries consist of overwhelming feelings of inferiority, will I have to wait on a treadmill, and hoping no one is watching my fat jiggle as I walk. (Because we ALL know that is SO entertaining!)
But if nothing else, maybe I'll get back into the swing of exercising, possibly lose a few, and have a few stories to blog about. Yes, it's for you, my dear reader, that I am doing this.
And so my jeans don't constrict my breathing anymore.
See ya on the treadmill!
I asked the clients what they worry about. Money. The Future. If Medicaid will be around to pay for meds. What if I lose my home. What if my power of attorney dies before me. All great topics for worry. I encouraged them to not worry about the past, since you can't do anything about it anyway, and plan for the future, solving what problems you can, and researching and planning for those you can't.
What do I worry about? All of those things, plus stuff like: what if I fall and break my leg while I'm alone in the house and my doors are locked? What if I I live to be 112 and out-live all my family and friends? What if I lose my hearing and never get to listen to music again? What if I gain so much weight they have to cut a hole in my house to folk-lift me out?
A ha! To this problem, I have found another solution, and a whole passel of more worries!
I had been doing step aerobics two days per week, but my knees just can't stand it anymore. So, tonight I did it. I made the plunge. I joined another gym. And not the "beefcake" gym. No, the snobby, snooty, all the ladies there are pencil thin and wear designer work-out gear. Oh yeah, Huffy's about to invade their territory!
So now my worries consist of overwhelming feelings of inferiority, will I have to wait on a treadmill, and hoping no one is watching my fat jiggle as I walk. (Because we ALL know that is SO entertaining!)
But if nothing else, maybe I'll get back into the swing of exercising, possibly lose a few, and have a few stories to blog about. Yes, it's for you, my dear reader, that I am doing this.
And so my jeans don't constrict my breathing anymore.
See ya on the treadmill!
Monday, November 28, 2011
Come Skype with me...
You know, I've had this "new" laptop for almost a year, and have yet to Skype with anyone. I'm not even sure how. I've also not used the webcam save for a few playful pics using the tools to put a hat, beard and other cool accessories/backgrounds in the shot.
This morning I got my third (and last!) shot of Hepatitis B vaccine. I decided to get that particular vaccine before going to Haiti last summer, though it is much more likely I will contract Hep from work than a week spent in another country.
When I arrived at my office this morning, I couldn't get the door open. I offered to go back home, but after my boss pushed a pulled for a few minutes, he got the door open, fixed the latch, and welcomed me back to work. Dang, so close!
While walking down the hall at work I saw something fall off me, I kicked it, picked it up, and realized the button just fell off my pants. I put it in my pocket, knowing today was going to be just dandy!
I called the tire place, wanting to schedule the installation of my brand new tires for sometime this week. They said they could do it this afternoon. I no longer drive a huge skate, I grip the road. You hear me, GRRRRRRIP! Good thing too, with all the standing water I'll have to drive through to get to work tomorrow!
Community choir was actually kind of good tonight. Kind of. As an Alto I should know that the whole world bows to the Sopranos. But after all these years, it still ticks me off when the rest of the choir has to change what we're doing to the Sopranos can get their moment of glory. Or just get the note. They're not known for their ability to hear what isn't melody.
Buddy has had issues with fleas all summer, the worst I've seen him biting and scratching. I gave him his prescribed flea and tick dope, but I guess it didn't work. While I felt badly for him, I didn't do anything more for his flea situation. But now he's invited his little friends into the house. Now something MUST. BE. DONE. I itch as I type this.
I had to work both Saturday and Sunday this last weekend. While I appreciate the extra money (for my tire fund) I really didn't get a chance to just hang out at home. I need my down time. So now I'm a few bucks richer, but a few hours of sleep and a whole lot of book-reading/coffee drinking/bonding with Buddy hours deprived.
I did, however, manage to squeeze in a few hours with John Deere. He asked me what I want for Christmas. I didn't really give him an answer. I don't think he yet appreciates my sense of humor enough to pop off with "something shiny" and know I'm teasing. I don't know. What do you ask from someone you barely know? Any suggestions?
This morning I got my third (and last!) shot of Hepatitis B vaccine. I decided to get that particular vaccine before going to Haiti last summer, though it is much more likely I will contract Hep from work than a week spent in another country.
When I arrived at my office this morning, I couldn't get the door open. I offered to go back home, but after my boss pushed a pulled for a few minutes, he got the door open, fixed the latch, and welcomed me back to work. Dang, so close!
While walking down the hall at work I saw something fall off me, I kicked it, picked it up, and realized the button just fell off my pants. I put it in my pocket, knowing today was going to be just dandy!
I called the tire place, wanting to schedule the installation of my brand new tires for sometime this week. They said they could do it this afternoon. I no longer drive a huge skate, I grip the road. You hear me, GRRRRRRIP! Good thing too, with all the standing water I'll have to drive through to get to work tomorrow!
Community choir was actually kind of good tonight. Kind of. As an Alto I should know that the whole world bows to the Sopranos. But after all these years, it still ticks me off when the rest of the choir has to change what we're doing to the Sopranos can get their moment of glory. Or just get the note. They're not known for their ability to hear what isn't melody.
Buddy has had issues with fleas all summer, the worst I've seen him biting and scratching. I gave him his prescribed flea and tick dope, but I guess it didn't work. While I felt badly for him, I didn't do anything more for his flea situation. But now he's invited his little friends into the house. Now something MUST. BE. DONE. I itch as I type this.
I had to work both Saturday and Sunday this last weekend. While I appreciate the extra money (for my tire fund) I really didn't get a chance to just hang out at home. I need my down time. So now I'm a few bucks richer, but a few hours of sleep and a whole lot of book-reading/coffee drinking/bonding with Buddy hours deprived.
I did, however, manage to squeeze in a few hours with John Deere. He asked me what I want for Christmas. I didn't really give him an answer. I don't think he yet appreciates my sense of humor enough to pop off with "something shiny" and know I'm teasing. I don't know. What do you ask from someone you barely know? Any suggestions?
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Huffy Thanksgiving
Hey you. Yes, you!
Don't you know it's Thanksgiving?
It's time to gather with family
and share in food and fellowship.
Get here however you can
and don't forget to give thanks before the meal.
It's allowed if you want to stuff yourself
but try not to eat like a
Be sure to eat lots of fiber
and also include an afternoon nap.
And if you don't want to join in all the Thanksgiving-y fun, then I only have one thing to say to you...
Have a happy, safe and blessed Thanksgiving everyone!
*I stole these pictures from all over the internet, so I can't really give them photographic copyright blah blah blah. I'm sorry if I stole your intellectual property. But thanks anyway!
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Rules of the Road
When I was in high school, yea, those many, many years ago, we had something called Driver's Ed. We went to a semester long class, then had driver's training for something like 9 weeks. Then we got a permit that allowed us to drive with someone over 16. Then, on that blessed day when we turned 16, we got a real, genuine, driver's license. And we were official! No stopping us now! Cruising Main Street, here we come!
Now I know a lot of you are nodding your heads in agreement. You did too. But that was Fairfield. Apparently Olney doesn't have the same system. Maybe Olney didn't even have Driver's Ed. Maybe those poor, uneducated youth didn't even get the handy-dandy book called Rules of the Road. I sure did, and read mine. Cover to cover.
I've lived in Olney for 10 years now, and couldn't begin to count how many near-misses I have had with other motorists. (None my fault, naturally!) But I have noticed a blatant disregard for a large red, octagonal sign that merely suggests one stop. Luckily I am a defensive driver and when I see a car approaching an intersection at a high rate of speed, I slow down. I don't trust that idiot, ahem, other driver to actually stop. Or bicyclists who decide to totally disregard the Rule that says bikes are to follow the Rules of the Road, meaning you also ride with the flow of traffic, on the RIGHT side of the road, not down the middle, veering back and forth between lanes, or on the sidewalk.
4 way stops are a particularly sore spot with me. I avoid them if possible, but I must go through a large highway junction with a 4 way stop to get to work. I noticed this week the Stop sign was bent again, signifying yet another accident at this intersection. Why? It's a 4. Way. STOP! Why are there so many accidents here??? You stop. See if there are other vehicles. If not, proceed. If so, wait until they go. Sometimes there are more than one car and you all wait on the other, finally ending in a contest of who can wave the best for the other person to go. I've sat at this intersection many a time, allowing everyone to go before me. Hey, I'd rather arrive late than injured. My guess is that as there is a large amount of Semi traffic, cars try to sneak past a turning truck, only to get smacked when the approaching car is trying to do the same thing.
I witnessed an accident at this intersection a few years ago. I was coming down the hill, approaching the intersection and I noticed two cars, one driving north, the other driving east. I didn't note which one got there first, they were both going to be gone by the time I got there. Or so I thought. As I was slowing the East-bound car T-boned the North-bound car. WHY?!? Did the dude assume the chick would stop? She was already half-way through the intersection! Was he high? Was he playing with his phone? I don't know. All I know was that it was freakin' cold that day and I had to stand outside giving assistance to the hysterical chick who had a 2-month old in the back, then give my statement to the butt-hole officer who arrived and made me feel like a moron. (He told me to proceed through the intersection, and when I did yelled at me and told me to turn around. Jerk face.)
Anyway, my simple lesson for today is : Stop means Stop. Yes you. It's not a suggestion. If you see my brake lights, it means that I'm going to stop. That doesn't mean you can pass me, honk at me, or ride my bumper. Speed limits are made for our safety. Yield means slow down and possibly stop, not speed up. One way means one way. Same for Do Not Enter.
It's not a hard thing. Just pay attention folks. Put down the cell phone, you're not that important. You know you're just gabbing to a friend anyway. Put down the Big Mac and pull over. Select your radio station before you put it in Drive. Discipline your kids when you reach your destination. And unless your dog also has a driver's license, don't have them in the driver's seat.
Now I know a lot of you are nodding your heads in agreement. You did too. But that was Fairfield. Apparently Olney doesn't have the same system. Maybe Olney didn't even have Driver's Ed. Maybe those poor, uneducated youth didn't even get the handy-dandy book called Rules of the Road. I sure did, and read mine. Cover to cover.
I've lived in Olney for 10 years now, and couldn't begin to count how many near-misses I have had with other motorists. (None my fault, naturally!) But I have noticed a blatant disregard for a large red, octagonal sign that merely suggests one stop. Luckily I am a defensive driver and when I see a car approaching an intersection at a high rate of speed, I slow down. I don't trust that idiot, ahem, other driver to actually stop. Or bicyclists who decide to totally disregard the Rule that says bikes are to follow the Rules of the Road, meaning you also ride with the flow of traffic, on the RIGHT side of the road, not down the middle, veering back and forth between lanes, or on the sidewalk.
4 way stops are a particularly sore spot with me. I avoid them if possible, but I must go through a large highway junction with a 4 way stop to get to work. I noticed this week the Stop sign was bent again, signifying yet another accident at this intersection. Why? It's a 4. Way. STOP! Why are there so many accidents here??? You stop. See if there are other vehicles. If not, proceed. If so, wait until they go. Sometimes there are more than one car and you all wait on the other, finally ending in a contest of who can wave the best for the other person to go. I've sat at this intersection many a time, allowing everyone to go before me. Hey, I'd rather arrive late than injured. My guess is that as there is a large amount of Semi traffic, cars try to sneak past a turning truck, only to get smacked when the approaching car is trying to do the same thing.
I witnessed an accident at this intersection a few years ago. I was coming down the hill, approaching the intersection and I noticed two cars, one driving north, the other driving east. I didn't note which one got there first, they were both going to be gone by the time I got there. Or so I thought. As I was slowing the East-bound car T-boned the North-bound car. WHY?!? Did the dude assume the chick would stop? She was already half-way through the intersection! Was he high? Was he playing with his phone? I don't know. All I know was that it was freakin' cold that day and I had to stand outside giving assistance to the hysterical chick who had a 2-month old in the back, then give my statement to the butt-hole officer who arrived and made me feel like a moron. (He told me to proceed through the intersection, and when I did yelled at me and told me to turn around. Jerk face.)
Anyway, my simple lesson for today is : Stop means Stop. Yes you. It's not a suggestion. If you see my brake lights, it means that I'm going to stop. That doesn't mean you can pass me, honk at me, or ride my bumper. Speed limits are made for our safety. Yield means slow down and possibly stop, not speed up. One way means one way. Same for Do Not Enter.
It's not a hard thing. Just pay attention folks. Put down the cell phone, you're not that important. You know you're just gabbing to a friend anyway. Put down the Big Mac and pull over. Select your radio station before you put it in Drive. Discipline your kids when you reach your destination. And unless your dog also has a driver's license, don't have them in the driver's seat.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Fat Clothes
Some women have fat jeans and skinny jeans. Some women, me included, have fat wardrobes and, well, less-fat wardrobes. I couldn't possibly say that anything I've worn since 1981 could be classified as "Skinny!"
Tonight I gathered three garbage bags full of clothing I'm taking to a local consignment store. I could give them to the Salvation Army or Good Samaritan, but folks, I'm broke! A few bucks here and there...
Anywho, in gathering these bags of clothes I inspected each for stains, tears and size. I have everything form a size 14 to 24W. Some of the clothes are name brand, some Wal-Mart, and many I purchased from the same consignment store a few years ago. (Yes, I can remember where I get my clothes, even 4 years later. Please reference "Where's the Delete Key.")
As I saw cute shirts, comfy sweaters and swishy skirts, I had a sickening feeling for a couple of reasons. 1.) That's a heck of a lot of money I spent on all those clothes over the years, and some of them I know I only wore once or twice. 2.)Who really needs that many articles of clothing? People in Haiti are lucky to have one good shirt to wear to Church on Sunday. 3.) How the heck did I allow myself to gain all that weight back? (Throughout 2008 I lost about 80 pounds. And now it's back. With interest. Stupid, stupid, stupid.)
I had promised myself earlier this year that I was NOT buying any new clothes until I stopped gaining weight. I refuse to festoon this barge of a body any longer. Now that's not to say that I might get something necessary, like something Green so I can be in a dear friend's wedding in March, or cute boots if I catch them on sale :)
This is the worst time of year for a compulsive eater. As if it wasn't bad enough the rest of the year to stay away from food, the next 2 months are full of holiday dinners, office parties and people stuffing cookies and candy in my direction. At least my office is no longer across the hall from the kitchen at work. All day long I heard folks discussing the qualities of the cookies the copier company sent us, the chocolates the psychiatrist sent us, and the "better than sex" almond toffee the car dealership sent. Althought I really don't think the short walk down the hall will stop me from indulging a bit, I might feel guilty when I pass Kathy's office for the 17th time each morning.
Tonight I gathered three garbage bags full of clothing I'm taking to a local consignment store. I could give them to the Salvation Army or Good Samaritan, but folks, I'm broke! A few bucks here and there...
Anywho, in gathering these bags of clothes I inspected each for stains, tears and size. I have everything form a size 14 to 24W. Some of the clothes are name brand, some Wal-Mart, and many I purchased from the same consignment store a few years ago. (Yes, I can remember where I get my clothes, even 4 years later. Please reference "Where's the Delete Key.")
As I saw cute shirts, comfy sweaters and swishy skirts, I had a sickening feeling for a couple of reasons. 1.) That's a heck of a lot of money I spent on all those clothes over the years, and some of them I know I only wore once or twice. 2.)Who really needs that many articles of clothing? People in Haiti are lucky to have one good shirt to wear to Church on Sunday. 3.) How the heck did I allow myself to gain all that weight back? (Throughout 2008 I lost about 80 pounds. And now it's back. With interest. Stupid, stupid, stupid.)
I had promised myself earlier this year that I was NOT buying any new clothes until I stopped gaining weight. I refuse to festoon this barge of a body any longer. Now that's not to say that I might get something necessary, like something Green so I can be in a dear friend's wedding in March, or cute boots if I catch them on sale :)
This is the worst time of year for a compulsive eater. As if it wasn't bad enough the rest of the year to stay away from food, the next 2 months are full of holiday dinners, office parties and people stuffing cookies and candy in my direction. At least my office is no longer across the hall from the kitchen at work. All day long I heard folks discussing the qualities of the cookies the copier company sent us, the chocolates the psychiatrist sent us, and the "better than sex" almond toffee the car dealership sent. Althought I really don't think the short walk down the hall will stop me from indulging a bit, I might feel guilty when I pass Kathy's office for the 17th time each morning.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
From Attorney to Pig Farmer
I know you're not supposed to compare people. You're especially not supposed to compare yourself to others. But the most important may be to not compare the person you're currently dating to your ex. But how can you not? How can you not think, if only once and a while, "Well ________ never did that, said that, wore that, ate that." What may be even scarier in when the current dude and the ex dude have similarities. Enter Twilight Zone music...doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo...
Similarities between The Ex and Set-up Dude (Hereafter known as John Deere.)
The Ex lived next door to his parents, so does John Deere.
The Ex played saxophone in elementary school, so did John Deere.
The Ex drives a Ford F-150, so does John Deere.
Both were involved in Future Farmers of America in High School.
Both attended Southern Illinois University, majoring in Agriculture.
Both waited until Date #3 to hold my hand. (awwwwwww)
Creepy, huh?
Now for the differences (obviously not all of them, that would take days to list. )
John Deere eats veggies. So far I've seen him eat broccoli and salad. The Ex never ate anything green.
John Deere opens the door for me. Every door, every time. The Ex only opened the door to his Vette, because I couldn't get the stupid thing to recognize my hand and pop open the door.
John Deere listens when I speak. And remembers. He asked me Saturday about something I said a month ago.
John Deere drinks sweet tea. The Ex didn't like tea. Freak.
John Deere doesn't start every sentence with "Mom said", "I was telling Mom", or "You gotta laugh." Nor does he end every sentence with "so..." That drove me nuts!
John Deere doesn't like ketchup. The Ex smothered all meat and potato matter with it.
John Deere reads his Bible. The Ex didn't even know where his was. (At his parent's house. Duh.)
I really am trying not to compare them They are two totally different men, thank goodness! I'm just trying to enjoy this season in my life, no expectations, no time limits, no games.
Let's just see where this goes.
Similarities between The Ex and Set-up Dude (Hereafter known as John Deere.)
The Ex lived next door to his parents, so does John Deere.
The Ex played saxophone in elementary school, so did John Deere.
The Ex drives a Ford F-150, so does John Deere.
Both were involved in Future Farmers of America in High School.
Both attended Southern Illinois University, majoring in Agriculture.
Both waited until Date #3 to hold my hand. (awwwwwww)
Creepy, huh?
Now for the differences (obviously not all of them, that would take days to list. )
John Deere eats veggies. So far I've seen him eat broccoli and salad. The Ex never ate anything green.
John Deere opens the door for me. Every door, every time. The Ex only opened the door to his Vette, because I couldn't get the stupid thing to recognize my hand and pop open the door.
John Deere listens when I speak. And remembers. He asked me Saturday about something I said a month ago.
John Deere drinks sweet tea. The Ex didn't like tea. Freak.
John Deere doesn't start every sentence with "Mom said", "I was telling Mom", or "You gotta laugh." Nor does he end every sentence with "so..." That drove me nuts!
John Deere doesn't like ketchup. The Ex smothered all meat and potato matter with it.
John Deere reads his Bible. The Ex didn't even know where his was. (At his parent's house. Duh.)
I really am trying not to compare them They are two totally different men, thank goodness! I'm just trying to enjoy this season in my life, no expectations, no time limits, no games.
Let's just see where this goes.
Tuesday, November 08, 2011
Eternal Questions
Life is full of questions. Some monumental in importance, such as what is the meaning of life, or where is the nearest Starbucks? Others are trivial, like just what were me and Julio doing down by the school yard? Some questions have easy answers: yes, no. Others have no answer. Wait, they do have an answer, but we cannot comprehend it.
We humans think ourselves evolved, highly intelligent creatures. When it comes down to it, we're just animals. Who can speak. And walk upright. And dress in snazzy clothes.
I've heard many people say "I'm going to ask God that when I get to Heaven." I used to also have a list of questions for God. I've come to realize that it's only in our Earthly form that we care about the answers. When we get to Heaven, we're not going to care about the questions anymore. We're going to be basking in God's glory for eternity. Let me tell you, when Huff gets her bask on, I'm not going to care why God made me the way I am. Sure, I'm a bit curious now, but it won't matter. Really, it doesn't matter now.
I wrote a blog a few weeks ago about the question Why. It was a response to the loss of a baby by a college friend. This week I'm responding to the question of why God would give a sweet little boy to a family, then take him away suddenly. I don't have the answer. God does, but He's not sharing secrets. Not now. Not yet.
We humans think ourselves evolved, highly intelligent creatures. When it comes down to it, we're just animals. Who can speak. And walk upright. And dress in snazzy clothes.
I've heard many people say "I'm going to ask God that when I get to Heaven." I used to also have a list of questions for God. I've come to realize that it's only in our Earthly form that we care about the answers. When we get to Heaven, we're not going to care about the questions anymore. We're going to be basking in God's glory for eternity. Let me tell you, when Huff gets her bask on, I'm not going to care why God made me the way I am. Sure, I'm a bit curious now, but it won't matter. Really, it doesn't matter now.
I wrote a blog a few weeks ago about the question Why. It was a response to the loss of a baby by a college friend. This week I'm responding to the question of why God would give a sweet little boy to a family, then take him away suddenly. I don't have the answer. God does, but He's not sharing secrets. Not now. Not yet.
Thursday, November 03, 2011
Miffed
Oh, how quickly I go to the dark side. So my set-up dude did not call me tonight. Not that he said he would, just that he has for the past 3 weeks. I immediately replace disappointment for anger and assume he's not interested and is taking the weenie way out and just not speaking to me. Guys seem to get out of potential relationships in this manner these days. No one has a pair of cojones anymore. Sad.
I try not to be Huffy, to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's busy...well, it rained all day, so it's not like he was out in the fields. He lost my number...unless he also lost his phone, totally unacceptable. He's waiting for me to call...for a (previously assumed) gentleman who has opened every door for me every time, I don't think he's expecting a ballsy broad to ask him out.
I know me and I know the extent my ire can extend. If he does happen to call me tomorrow or whenever, I'm not sure if I'll be all sunlight and rainbows and pretend it's all fine, or rip him a new one. I would hope I wouldn't tie into him, as he has no way of knowing how I feel or what I'm thinking. Though he should.
I told you I was bad at this.
I try not to be Huffy, to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's busy...well, it rained all day, so it's not like he was out in the fields. He lost my number...unless he also lost his phone, totally unacceptable. He's waiting for me to call...for a (previously assumed) gentleman who has opened every door for me every time, I don't think he's expecting a ballsy broad to ask him out.
I know me and I know the extent my ire can extend. If he does happen to call me tomorrow or whenever, I'm not sure if I'll be all sunlight and rainbows and pretend it's all fine, or rip him a new one. I would hope I wouldn't tie into him, as he has no way of knowing how I feel or what I'm thinking. Though he should.
I told you I was bad at this.
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Inconceivable!
Movie Quote Quiz: "Let me speak. No, there is too much. Let me sum up."
That's what I intend to do.
Coupons are wonderful! I now get two Sunday papers delivered to my home, I check at least 3 websites for printable coupons, have "stacked" coupons, and am getting ready to price match at Wal-Mart. I am not stocking up like the folks from Extreme Couponing do, but I do have a nice little stash of shampoo, body wash, deodorant, and enough soup to last me all winter. I have yet to join a Coupon Club in real life or on the internet. I find my couponing to be a personal journey.
I have had two dates with my set-up dude. Last Saturday was much more comfortable than that dreaded first date. And he used a coupon with dinner! I was so impressed! He's totally not my type, if I really even have one, but sometimes that's the best match, someone different I would have never noticed in the first place.
I have bitten the proverbial bullet and made an appointment to speak with the coordinator of a local graduate school. Yes, I'm going back to college. Yikes! Masters in Counseling. I have to get my Master's. My job depends on it. Actually, I was supposed to have a Master's about 7 years ago, but my boss was kind enough to let me slide. Now the State is changing all the rules and requiring a Master's degree and licensing for just about everything I do. It will take me a few years, but this is the first step.
Even though nothing super-positive has happened, I feel good. Rare for The Huff. I guess I'm finally learning what I've been teaching my clients for years now: you can choose to be happy. I'm not delaying my happiness for when I lose 50 pounds, when I get out of debt, when I get a boyfriend. I choose to be happy now, overweight, in debt and single. It's ok.
Today I had to do orientation with two new hires at work. They were a little cold at first, but by the time I got done, they were both laughing. I walked out of that room thinking, I'm awesome! I had to talk about boring and off-putting topics (HIV/TB risk, abuse and neglect reporting, yay!) but managed to throw some humor in there. I'm just glad there are people in the world who get my sense of humor.
Last weekend my Mom, Aunt and I saw Don Williams in concert. I listened to his music on LP's and 8-track as a child. I've always enjoyed his deep, smooth voice. One song in particular has stuck with me this week. I've hummed it everyday as I drive to work. Take a listen below!
That's what I intend to do.
Coupons are wonderful! I now get two Sunday papers delivered to my home, I check at least 3 websites for printable coupons, have "stacked" coupons, and am getting ready to price match at Wal-Mart. I am not stocking up like the folks from Extreme Couponing do, but I do have a nice little stash of shampoo, body wash, deodorant, and enough soup to last me all winter. I have yet to join a Coupon Club in real life or on the internet. I find my couponing to be a personal journey.
I have had two dates with my set-up dude. Last Saturday was much more comfortable than that dreaded first date. And he used a coupon with dinner! I was so impressed! He's totally not my type, if I really even have one, but sometimes that's the best match, someone different I would have never noticed in the first place.
I have bitten the proverbial bullet and made an appointment to speak with the coordinator of a local graduate school. Yes, I'm going back to college. Yikes! Masters in Counseling. I have to get my Master's. My job depends on it. Actually, I was supposed to have a Master's about 7 years ago, but my boss was kind enough to let me slide. Now the State is changing all the rules and requiring a Master's degree and licensing for just about everything I do. It will take me a few years, but this is the first step.
Even though nothing super-positive has happened, I feel good. Rare for The Huff. I guess I'm finally learning what I've been teaching my clients for years now: you can choose to be happy. I'm not delaying my happiness for when I lose 50 pounds, when I get out of debt, when I get a boyfriend. I choose to be happy now, overweight, in debt and single. It's ok.
Today I had to do orientation with two new hires at work. They were a little cold at first, but by the time I got done, they were both laughing. I walked out of that room thinking, I'm awesome! I had to talk about boring and off-putting topics (HIV/TB risk, abuse and neglect reporting, yay!) but managed to throw some humor in there. I'm just glad there are people in the world who get my sense of humor.
Last weekend my Mom, Aunt and I saw Don Williams in concert. I listened to his music on LP's and 8-track as a child. I've always enjoyed his deep, smooth voice. One song in particular has stuck with me this week. I've hummed it everyday as I drive to work. Take a listen below!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Dating Blunders
Dating. Yeah, I heard that collective groan from here! Let me share a few gems from my extensive (minimal) dating experiences.
OK, now for those of you who know me, you'll know that I did not date AT ALL in high school, like every other normal person on Earth. Nor College. Yes, I was the fat, shy nerd, the Unholy Trifecta of Loserdom! I was 28 when a guy finally grew a pair and asked me out.
Back when I was 23 (huh? Just read.) I met a guy over the Internet, back when the Internet was a relatively safe place and certain personals sites were free, or at least free if you knew how to get the guy's user name by saving his pic and then using the free instant messenger part... not that I ever did that. He lived in a nearby town, and we were never anything but friends. It may have been because of our first meeting.
On the way to meet him I promised myself I'd be safe, I'd be smart and I would NOT get into a car with him. So after we meet, shake hands and I jump into his Mustang (hey, it was a Mustang!) we go to another town for supper. The place was packed, so we had to sit near the bar. Loud is an understatement. So we ate not speaking, because there wasn't any way we could yell over the din. After dinner came the obligatory movie. I insisted on paying (independent much?) and he goes on into the theatre. I get to the door and the lights have already gone out. I can't find him! I wait for a second, hoping my eyes will adjust quickly, but no dice. I grope my way about 4 rows down and sit in the first seat I come to. Luckily, he's there, but 2 seats over. Now here's a dilemma: do I stay seated, or move? After pondering this question through the previews, I decide to hold firm. Later I'm glad of this decision, as we saw Lilo and Stitch, and I cried through the entire movie. Shut up, it's SAD!
We remained friends for a few years, then he met another chick online, she moved from Oregon, and they're now happily (I hope) married with a little girl.
Then there was my Redneck guy who blew cigarette smoke in my face after dinner. Never heard from him again. And the dude who said I had an anger issue. Screw him and the horse he rode in on! A hem, then there was Don, whom I met on eHarmony. He seemed like a great guy, until he emailed me a week before we met, and armed with his last name ran a background check on him, and found he had just gotten a divorce 2 weeks before we were matched online. Yikes! One meal at Applebees, and no phone call since. Not that I'm waiting. Jerk.
Then there was the Ex. Within the first 5 minutes I called him both Weird and Strange. (When I'm nervous my brain and tongue often lose communication.) That was shortly after hopping into his Corvette (yes, apparently I have a thing for guys with nice cars) and heading to a local Winery for dinner. I was trying to make a joke about not getting into cars with strange men, but said weird instead. Trying to correct myself just made things worse. But obviously this was not a deal breaker as dude did go on to ask me to marry him in later months. Then take it back. (enter expletive here)
Recently I had another first date. Again nerves were on overload, but other than interrogating the poor guy (just talk, darn you!) I don't recall doing anything overly stupid. I didn't call him names, sat right next to him in the movie theatre, and didn't spill anything on my white shirt. The only awkard moment was saying goodbye. It's not as easy as the movies portray. Are you supposed to kiss him goodnight on the first date? Just on the cheek? Shake his hand? Jump out of the truck and lock the door behind you? I don't know.
Do you have any dating advice? What are your horror stories? Do share!
OK, now for those of you who know me, you'll know that I did not date AT ALL in high school, like every other normal person on Earth. Nor College. Yes, I was the fat, shy nerd, the Unholy Trifecta of Loserdom! I was 28 when a guy finally grew a pair and asked me out.
Back when I was 23 (huh? Just read.) I met a guy over the Internet, back when the Internet was a relatively safe place and certain personals sites were free, or at least free if you knew how to get the guy's user name by saving his pic and then using the free instant messenger part... not that I ever did that. He lived in a nearby town, and we were never anything but friends. It may have been because of our first meeting.
On the way to meet him I promised myself I'd be safe, I'd be smart and I would NOT get into a car with him. So after we meet, shake hands and I jump into his Mustang (hey, it was a Mustang!) we go to another town for supper. The place was packed, so we had to sit near the bar. Loud is an understatement. So we ate not speaking, because there wasn't any way we could yell over the din. After dinner came the obligatory movie. I insisted on paying (independent much?) and he goes on into the theatre. I get to the door and the lights have already gone out. I can't find him! I wait for a second, hoping my eyes will adjust quickly, but no dice. I grope my way about 4 rows down and sit in the first seat I come to. Luckily, he's there, but 2 seats over. Now here's a dilemma: do I stay seated, or move? After pondering this question through the previews, I decide to hold firm. Later I'm glad of this decision, as we saw Lilo and Stitch, and I cried through the entire movie. Shut up, it's SAD!
We remained friends for a few years, then he met another chick online, she moved from Oregon, and they're now happily (I hope) married with a little girl.
Then there was my Redneck guy who blew cigarette smoke in my face after dinner. Never heard from him again. And the dude who said I had an anger issue. Screw him and the horse he rode in on! A hem, then there was Don, whom I met on eHarmony. He seemed like a great guy, until he emailed me a week before we met, and armed with his last name ran a background check on him, and found he had just gotten a divorce 2 weeks before we were matched online. Yikes! One meal at Applebees, and no phone call since. Not that I'm waiting. Jerk.
Then there was the Ex. Within the first 5 minutes I called him both Weird and Strange. (When I'm nervous my brain and tongue often lose communication.) That was shortly after hopping into his Corvette (yes, apparently I have a thing for guys with nice cars) and heading to a local Winery for dinner. I was trying to make a joke about not getting into cars with strange men, but said weird instead. Trying to correct myself just made things worse. But obviously this was not a deal breaker as dude did go on to ask me to marry him in later months. Then take it back. (enter expletive here)
Recently I had another first date. Again nerves were on overload, but other than interrogating the poor guy (just talk, darn you!) I don't recall doing anything overly stupid. I didn't call him names, sat right next to him in the movie theatre, and didn't spill anything on my white shirt. The only awkard moment was saying goodbye. It's not as easy as the movies portray. Are you supposed to kiss him goodnight on the first date? Just on the cheek? Shake his hand? Jump out of the truck and lock the door behind you? I don't know.
Do you have any dating advice? What are your horror stories? Do share!
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Fat Girl Guidebook: Edition 3
The Fashion Police have been on patrol and it's time for more intervention, fat-girl style!
1. Muffin Tops. Unfortunately you don't even have to be a fat girl to achieve this little beauty. The first problem is your pants are too tight. The second problem is that you're getting low-cut pants that are bi-secting your butt into Upper and Lower regions, the Upper being the Muffin phenomenon. The third problem is that you pair this combo with a tight shirt that emphasizes the Muffin area. The fourth problem is that you think this looks good. The fifth problem is that there apparently isn't anyone in your world who has the chutzpa to tell you that you look ridiculous.
2. I said in the last Fat Girl post that I'd discuss Bra Size, but that may be too personal an argument. All I have to say is: Get Professionally Fitted! If you can't breathe, it's too small!
3. Plus Size Footwear. Yes, there is such a thing. I have found over the past few years a nice selection of Plus Size Socks, Plus Size Boots, and the famous Plus Size Pantyhose. Queen Size is so 1995.
At first I scoffed at the idea of Plus Size socks. But after paying better attention to the growing "Cankle" epidemic, I now see that it is needed. There is nothing more frustrating than buying a new pair of socks only to find they won't stay up your leg. And old-fashioned sock-garters are no longer an option. And Thank You to whoever invented Plus Size Knee Highs! I may have lost both legs at the knee by now if it weren't for you!
For my final thought, I'm considering a mentoring program for Fat Girls. If someone recently found herself in this area, or if she's been denying it for years, she needs a proper initiation into the Fat Girls Club. I attended a meeting yesterday and sat behind a, well, Fat Girl who needed a little help. Not only did she break a few of my cardinal Fat Girl rules (No clingy fabrics!) but she also needed basic make-up and hygiene assistance (Can we say dandruff shampoo?) If I had a mentoring program started, I could have introduced myself, given her my card, and given her the tools to access a network of other experienced Fat Girls to help guide her to greater self-confidence and a snazzy new hairstyle (Which she so desperately needed!)
*I do hope you, dear readers, can feel the sarcasm through your mouse. I know I am no Fashion Maven, nor do I think myself particularly fashionable. However, I do know what looks good and what makes me cringe, and will exercise my right to express my opinions freely.
1. Muffin Tops. Unfortunately you don't even have to be a fat girl to achieve this little beauty. The first problem is your pants are too tight. The second problem is that you're getting low-cut pants that are bi-secting your butt into Upper and Lower regions, the Upper being the Muffin phenomenon. The third problem is that you pair this combo with a tight shirt that emphasizes the Muffin area. The fourth problem is that you think this looks good. The fifth problem is that there apparently isn't anyone in your world who has the chutzpa to tell you that you look ridiculous.
2. I said in the last Fat Girl post that I'd discuss Bra Size, but that may be too personal an argument. All I have to say is: Get Professionally Fitted! If you can't breathe, it's too small!
3. Plus Size Footwear. Yes, there is such a thing. I have found over the past few years a nice selection of Plus Size Socks, Plus Size Boots, and the famous Plus Size Pantyhose. Queen Size is so 1995.
At first I scoffed at the idea of Plus Size socks. But after paying better attention to the growing "Cankle" epidemic, I now see that it is needed. There is nothing more frustrating than buying a new pair of socks only to find they won't stay up your leg. And old-fashioned sock-garters are no longer an option. And Thank You to whoever invented Plus Size Knee Highs! I may have lost both legs at the knee by now if it weren't for you!
For my final thought, I'm considering a mentoring program for Fat Girls. If someone recently found herself in this area, or if she's been denying it for years, she needs a proper initiation into the Fat Girls Club. I attended a meeting yesterday and sat behind a, well, Fat Girl who needed a little help. Not only did she break a few of my cardinal Fat Girl rules (No clingy fabrics!) but she also needed basic make-up and hygiene assistance (Can we say dandruff shampoo?) If I had a mentoring program started, I could have introduced myself, given her my card, and given her the tools to access a network of other experienced Fat Girls to help guide her to greater self-confidence and a snazzy new hairstyle (Which she so desperately needed!)
*I do hope you, dear readers, can feel the sarcasm through your mouse. I know I am no Fashion Maven, nor do I think myself particularly fashionable. However, I do know what looks good and what makes me cringe, and will exercise my right to express my opinions freely.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Why?
Every toddler asks it repeatedly. Every adult asks it repeatedly.
Why me? Why now? Why not? Why, why why?
Say it enough, it doesn't even sound like a word anymore, but it is a very powerful word, though small in stature at only three letters.
I wonder if God ever regrets inventing the word or the notion of Why? Can you imagine how many times a day he hears that question? I know I feel frustration and maybe even a touch of indignation when someone asks me why, but can you fathom His feeling when someone asks: "Why was I even born? Why are you doing this to me? Why don't you listen to me? Why don't you love me anymore? Why don't you want me to have the desires of my heart?" Ever ask one of those? Uh huh, me too.
But we humans are a curious race. We like to ask questions that can't be answered, at least not easily. And we're not often satisfied with "You'll know by and by." The heck with that, I want to know NOW! Did I mention humans are also impatient?
But don't feel bad when you ask why, even Jesus asked it, when on the cross he asked why His father had forsaken Him. There are lessons we need to learn, plans we know nothing about, and a grander vision that we are not capable of seeing.
In times when one asks why, Jeremiah 29:11-13 comes to mind. 11"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
See, God loves you and wants good things for you. Just maybe not what we want or when we want it. I know this doesn't lessen the hurt, remove the doubt or give us the warm-fuzzies, but it's true. And someday we'll understand and know it was for our own good, because Father knows best.
Why me? Why now? Why not? Why, why why?
Say it enough, it doesn't even sound like a word anymore, but it is a very powerful word, though small in stature at only three letters.
I wonder if God ever regrets inventing the word or the notion of Why? Can you imagine how many times a day he hears that question? I know I feel frustration and maybe even a touch of indignation when someone asks me why, but can you fathom His feeling when someone asks: "Why was I even born? Why are you doing this to me? Why don't you listen to me? Why don't you love me anymore? Why don't you want me to have the desires of my heart?" Ever ask one of those? Uh huh, me too.
But we humans are a curious race. We like to ask questions that can't be answered, at least not easily. And we're not often satisfied with "You'll know by and by." The heck with that, I want to know NOW! Did I mention humans are also impatient?
But don't feel bad when you ask why, even Jesus asked it, when on the cross he asked why His father had forsaken Him. There are lessons we need to learn, plans we know nothing about, and a grander vision that we are not capable of seeing.
In times when one asks why, Jeremiah 29:11-13 comes to mind. 11"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
See, God loves you and wants good things for you. Just maybe not what we want or when we want it. I know this doesn't lessen the hurt, remove the doubt or give us the warm-fuzzies, but it's true. And someday we'll understand and know it was for our own good, because Father knows best.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
And he called again...
Yes, I have a date. Or as I call it, a "meeting." Date implies romantic intent.
Part of me is doing the happy dance, uh huh, it's my birthday!
The other part of me is thinking "Oh crap, here we go again."
I'm not good at dating. I'm not flirty, nor am I a sparkling conversationalist. I live by my favorite line in Ever After: Don't speak unless you can improve upon the silence.
But since we're going for a "bite to eat" as he put it, I could also live by my second favorite line from that movie: "I'm only here for the food."
Part of me is doing the happy dance, uh huh, it's my birthday!
The other part of me is thinking "Oh crap, here we go again."
I'm not good at dating. I'm not flirty, nor am I a sparkling conversationalist. I live by my favorite line in Ever After: Don't speak unless you can improve upon the silence.
But since we're going for a "bite to eat" as he put it, I could also live by my second favorite line from that movie: "I'm only here for the food."
Sunday, October 09, 2011
So He Called...
...and I wasn't home. This was Saturday. I called back, left a message. No call in return.
I've learned the man-time is not the same as woman-time.
Not that I'm impatient.
Not Huffy.
I've learned the man-time is not the same as woman-time.
Not that I'm impatient.
Not Huffy.
Thursday, October 06, 2011
Dry Toes
A few weeks ago a church member mentioned to me that she had given my phone number to a young man she knows. Yeah, here we go. She had mentioned him to me a while back, like a week after the Ex dumped me, and I asked her to give me time. I guess the time has come.
This possibility of a stranger calling me has upset the delicate balance that I call safe. I have had blind dates in the past, two to be exact, and never heard from the guy again. Both times it was a good thing, but it hurts a gal's ego nonetheless.
Huff being Huff I did a little cyber-sleuthing and found this dude is divorced. Strike one. Why? I'm not sure. I have an Ex, he has an Ex, what's the difference? Well, I didn't live with mine, nor did I take his name. We had a few future plans, but nothing so substantial as a joint bank account or choosing baby names. (Ok, maybe I did, but that's another story.) There's a different level of hurt involved also.
Another strike is my assumed lack of common interests. I'm guessing this guy is into hunting, fishing, 4-wheeler riding, Country music and the whole Redneck bit. I'm not. Again, assuming, and we all know what happens when one assumes...
Strike three? I don't know yet. I'll come up with one, give me time. I'm a master at the Reject-Before-You-Can-Be-Rejected defense mechanism. I could always rely on my old stand-by "he doesn't like fat chicks" excuse. There! No reason for him to call!
Now I know what you're thinking, didn't you say it was a few weeks ago, and he still hasn't called you? Why are you spazzing? Well, this matchmaker told me he had hurt himself at work, had surgery and wanted to be healed before he called. So he is considerate. Point for him. And he has a job. Another point.
This anxiety has also brought up a lot of memories of the Ex, like the first time we met, and pointers to myself of what to do/say, don't do/say. I never had to worry about NOT talking about the Ex before, since I'd never HAD an Ex before. Geez, throw in some lettuce in the teeth and I'm ready to make a great first impression!
I'll keep you, dear readers, informed. I'll need some pointers if I ever do decide to dip my toe into the dating pool. Just remember, I can't swim!
This possibility of a stranger calling me has upset the delicate balance that I call safe. I have had blind dates in the past, two to be exact, and never heard from the guy again. Both times it was a good thing, but it hurts a gal's ego nonetheless.
Huff being Huff I did a little cyber-sleuthing and found this dude is divorced. Strike one. Why? I'm not sure. I have an Ex, he has an Ex, what's the difference? Well, I didn't live with mine, nor did I take his name. We had a few future plans, but nothing so substantial as a joint bank account or choosing baby names. (Ok, maybe I did, but that's another story.) There's a different level of hurt involved also.
Another strike is my assumed lack of common interests. I'm guessing this guy is into hunting, fishing, 4-wheeler riding, Country music and the whole Redneck bit. I'm not. Again, assuming, and we all know what happens when one assumes...
Strike three? I don't know yet. I'll come up with one, give me time. I'm a master at the Reject-Before-You-Can-Be-Rejected defense mechanism. I could always rely on my old stand-by "he doesn't like fat chicks" excuse. There! No reason for him to call!
Now I know what you're thinking, didn't you say it was a few weeks ago, and he still hasn't called you? Why are you spazzing? Well, this matchmaker told me he had hurt himself at work, had surgery and wanted to be healed before he called. So he is considerate. Point for him. And he has a job. Another point.
This anxiety has also brought up a lot of memories of the Ex, like the first time we met, and pointers to myself of what to do/say, don't do/say. I never had to worry about NOT talking about the Ex before, since I'd never HAD an Ex before. Geez, throw in some lettuce in the teeth and I'm ready to make a great first impression!
I'll keep you, dear readers, informed. I'll need some pointers if I ever do decide to dip my toe into the dating pool. Just remember, I can't swim!
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Should I walk backwards?
Twice in the past week I have been greeted from behind. Maybe it's because of my behind.
Let me explain...
For the past month a coworker and I have been walking twice per week, after work, at a local park. It's a nicely paved sidewalk, approximately 1.1 miles in length around the entire park. This park is along a well traveled street in my town, so passersby can see you.
Last week while walking I heard a honk and noticed an arm waving as a car passed by. I recognized the driver as a church member, and remarked to the coworker that I thought it strange the person knew me from behind. And today I had a fellow Sunday School member, also walking, approach from behind and say "Is that [Huffalina]?" Again, I thought it strange the back of my head is so recognizable.
Finally it occurred to me that most of the church sees my backside more than my front. As choir director, I have a small perch (a step about 3 feet square) where I lead the choir. It is on the outside of the choir loft, in full view of the entire congregation. (And let me tell you, it is a fat girl's nightmare! I've never been so concerned about VPL's in my life [that's Visible Panty Lines for you guys.]) And also scared of falling off my perch, possibly falling right through the floor down into the Children's Church area, squishing some blessed darling.
Last week I got my hair cut and colored (Big Red is back, baby!) and my lovely, talented and patient hair dresser took special care to make sure the back of my hair looks good, as she noted that most people don't have to care about the back of their hair, but because of leading the choir, I do. Isn't that sweet of her to think of that? I see a Christmas bonus in her future!
Also while walking this coworker and I are often passed by more serious and enthusiastic walkers, joggers and runners. We just let them pass, usually making the same excuse over and again, that she has cancer and I'm fat. I suggested we make T-shirts with that on them. We've yet to finalize what we're putting on the back. I'll be sure to post a pic if we ever get them made!
Let me explain...
For the past month a coworker and I have been walking twice per week, after work, at a local park. It's a nicely paved sidewalk, approximately 1.1 miles in length around the entire park. This park is along a well traveled street in my town, so passersby can see you.
Last week while walking I heard a honk and noticed an arm waving as a car passed by. I recognized the driver as a church member, and remarked to the coworker that I thought it strange the person knew me from behind. And today I had a fellow Sunday School member, also walking, approach from behind and say "Is that [Huffalina]?" Again, I thought it strange the back of my head is so recognizable.
Finally it occurred to me that most of the church sees my backside more than my front. As choir director, I have a small perch (a step about 3 feet square) where I lead the choir. It is on the outside of the choir loft, in full view of the entire congregation. (And let me tell you, it is a fat girl's nightmare! I've never been so concerned about VPL's in my life [that's Visible Panty Lines for you guys.]) And also scared of falling off my perch, possibly falling right through the floor down into the Children's Church area, squishing some blessed darling.
Last week I got my hair cut and colored (Big Red is back, baby!) and my lovely, talented and patient hair dresser took special care to make sure the back of my hair looks good, as she noted that most people don't have to care about the back of their hair, but because of leading the choir, I do. Isn't that sweet of her to think of that? I see a Christmas bonus in her future!
Also while walking this coworker and I are often passed by more serious and enthusiastic walkers, joggers and runners. We just let them pass, usually making the same excuse over and again, that she has cancer and I'm fat. I suggested we make T-shirts with that on them. We've yet to finalize what we're putting on the back. I'll be sure to post a pic if we ever get them made!
Sunday, October 02, 2011
The Fat Girl Guidebook: Edition 2
As promised I will again take up the cause of the Fat Girl and educate those of you who aren't, and commiserate with those of you who are.
1. Turnstiles.
Honestly people, now that there is laser technology, do you really need a narrow gate with oddly placed bars to count admission? Even small people sometimes have to go through these sideways. And guys, tough luck on that one!
2. Toilet Stalls
I know someone who just reads this blog without knowing me thinks I'm totally obsessed about toilets. As this is my third blog post to involve toilets, you may be right. But today I'm just talking about the stalls. Have you ever tried to turn around in one of those? Heaven forbid you try to take off your coat!
Usually there is a hook, placed conveniently (for thieves) at the top of the door. Sometimes there is a shelf taking up valuable room along the wall. And sometimes you just have to hold your purse on your lap, changing hands and balancing it like a Chinese acrobat. Some stalls also feature not only width constraints, but also length. I'm not that tall, so my knees should NEVER touch the back of the door.
And the door? Usually it swings in. How inconvenient! There is not sufficient room to close the door with me in the way. Thus I have to straddle the toilet to shut the door, all the while the other ladies in line look at me as if to say "What are you doing in there? Get on with it already!"
And to use the handicap stall is frowned upon unless you're actually handicapped. Or no one else is using it. Or you claim your fat as a handicap! (I may have done this once. Or twice.) I recently found two restaurants where the handicap stall had its own sink in there. It was like a deluxe suite! But when you leave the stall and don't wash your hands where everyone else is, they think you're nasty, and claiming "It has its own sink!" only gets further stares of doubt and a small step back as you pass.
(I said handicap and I'm sticking with that term. I didn't feel like typing "differently abilitied" throughout the toilet stall description. If you're offended, just don't read my blog anymore!)
3. Airplane seats. Don't get me started! All I have to say is Fat Butt= No Fit. Pain. Lots and lots of pain. And the added embarrassment of asking the flight attendant for a seat belt extender. Yeah skinny people, didn't even know they had those, huh?
4. Fat Girl Math
Serving sizes are merely suggestions. And the half serving in the container is just lumped in with the last serving. Haven't you ever had a ginormous bowl of cereal because there wasn't enough left for one more full bowl, so you just poured it all in one? Oh, and two small pieces equal one, even if the smaller pieces are approximately 75% the size of the full one. Because 6 big tater wedges and 2 small shriveled ones do NOT equal 8, as the bag specifically directs.
And those diets where you can only eat one thing per day? Like today you eat cabbage and tomorrow you eat carrots? As Lula from the Stephanie Plum novel series* would say, I love those diets! Today one bucket of chicken, tomorrow one extra-large pizza.
*Written by Janet Evanovich, movie One for the Money releases January 2012
Coming up in future editions: muffin tops, bra size, and plus size footwear
1. Turnstiles.
Honestly people, now that there is laser technology, do you really need a narrow gate with oddly placed bars to count admission? Even small people sometimes have to go through these sideways. And guys, tough luck on that one!
2. Toilet Stalls
I know someone who just reads this blog without knowing me thinks I'm totally obsessed about toilets. As this is my third blog post to involve toilets, you may be right. But today I'm just talking about the stalls. Have you ever tried to turn around in one of those? Heaven forbid you try to take off your coat!
Usually there is a hook, placed conveniently (for thieves) at the top of the door. Sometimes there is a shelf taking up valuable room along the wall. And sometimes you just have to hold your purse on your lap, changing hands and balancing it like a Chinese acrobat. Some stalls also feature not only width constraints, but also length. I'm not that tall, so my knees should NEVER touch the back of the door.
And the door? Usually it swings in. How inconvenient! There is not sufficient room to close the door with me in the way. Thus I have to straddle the toilet to shut the door, all the while the other ladies in line look at me as if to say "What are you doing in there? Get on with it already!"
And to use the handicap stall is frowned upon unless you're actually handicapped. Or no one else is using it. Or you claim your fat as a handicap! (I may have done this once. Or twice.) I recently found two restaurants where the handicap stall had its own sink in there. It was like a deluxe suite! But when you leave the stall and don't wash your hands where everyone else is, they think you're nasty, and claiming "It has its own sink!" only gets further stares of doubt and a small step back as you pass.
(I said handicap and I'm sticking with that term. I didn't feel like typing "differently abilitied" throughout the toilet stall description. If you're offended, just don't read my blog anymore!)
3. Airplane seats. Don't get me started! All I have to say is Fat Butt= No Fit. Pain. Lots and lots of pain. And the added embarrassment of asking the flight attendant for a seat belt extender. Yeah skinny people, didn't even know they had those, huh?
4. Fat Girl Math
Serving sizes are merely suggestions. And the half serving in the container is just lumped in with the last serving. Haven't you ever had a ginormous bowl of cereal because there wasn't enough left for one more full bowl, so you just poured it all in one? Oh, and two small pieces equal one, even if the smaller pieces are approximately 75% the size of the full one. Because 6 big tater wedges and 2 small shriveled ones do NOT equal 8, as the bag specifically directs.
And those diets where you can only eat one thing per day? Like today you eat cabbage and tomorrow you eat carrots? As Lula from the Stephanie Plum novel series* would say, I love those diets! Today one bucket of chicken, tomorrow one extra-large pizza.
*Written by Janet Evanovich, movie One for the Money releases January 2012
Coming up in future editions: muffin tops, bra size, and plus size footwear
Monday, September 26, 2011
Llama Llama, how's your Mama?
To begin my Llama story, I must set the scene. In college those of us in choir would forfeit our spring break to go on tour to Cumberland Presbyterian churches throughout the Midwest and South. Each year we went a different direction. This year was 1999. The location was just outside Houston, Texas.
While on tour we couldn't afford hotel rooms for all the choristers, so we stayed with members of the churches where we performed. This led to some interesting sleeping arrangements, and some creepy dinner conversations!
Anyway, on this particular evening we were in Houston, and there was a church member, Chet, who said he could house 6 ladies. Not as lecherous as it sounds, one of the ladies in the choir grew up with him, and he had a HUGE house! He also had a ranch, with all kinds of neat animals, including pygmy goats, horses, a kangaroo named Cassidy, and a Llama. Not just any llama, an abused llama!
Apparently the llama belonged to a friend of Chet's, and the rotten neighbor boys would throw rocks at the poor llama. Thus, the llama has developed a fear of humans, but Chet said we'd be fine as long as we didn't look the llama in the eye.
After we finished petting the goats, trying to get the kangaroo to come close enough to touch, and riding horses (Valiente, as I recall) we were leaving the corral. I felt hot breath on the back of my neck and someone yelled "Huffy! Don't move!" Well, nothing makes you want to run like the dickens as much as someone telling you not to move. Slowly I turned my head. It was the llama. We had been ignoring him (maybe her, I just assumed a deranged llama was male) all night, and now he (or she) was ready for revenge.
I began tip-toeing my way back to the gate, being extra careful not to look back and especially not look the llama in the eye. Just as I got halfway to the gate, the llama lunges forward and catches me just behind my right ear. I scream and run for the gate. Another choir member who was also in the corral just froze. The llama then went to her and grabbed a mouthful of her hair. Somewhere there is a picture of the llama with long, blond hair hanging from its mouth.
I made it through the gate, but yet another choir member, who was nice enough to open the gate for me so I didn't have to jump it like an Olympic High-jumper ( and I think I just might have, if necessary) was on the receiving end of a classic llama "raspberry." Be careful, they spit!
I don't have a scar or any nightmares about ravenous llamas, but I sure don't trust them either. It's just a nice story that few folks can share. I've yet to find another survivor of a llama attack. If you know of a support group, be sure to give them my name!
While on tour we couldn't afford hotel rooms for all the choristers, so we stayed with members of the churches where we performed. This led to some interesting sleeping arrangements, and some creepy dinner conversations!
Anyway, on this particular evening we were in Houston, and there was a church member, Chet, who said he could house 6 ladies. Not as lecherous as it sounds, one of the ladies in the choir grew up with him, and he had a HUGE house! He also had a ranch, with all kinds of neat animals, including pygmy goats, horses, a kangaroo named Cassidy, and a Llama. Not just any llama, an abused llama!
Apparently the llama belonged to a friend of Chet's, and the rotten neighbor boys would throw rocks at the poor llama. Thus, the llama has developed a fear of humans, but Chet said we'd be fine as long as we didn't look the llama in the eye.
After we finished petting the goats, trying to get the kangaroo to come close enough to touch, and riding horses (Valiente, as I recall) we were leaving the corral. I felt hot breath on the back of my neck and someone yelled "Huffy! Don't move!" Well, nothing makes you want to run like the dickens as much as someone telling you not to move. Slowly I turned my head. It was the llama. We had been ignoring him (maybe her, I just assumed a deranged llama was male) all night, and now he (or she) was ready for revenge.
I began tip-toeing my way back to the gate, being extra careful not to look back and especially not look the llama in the eye. Just as I got halfway to the gate, the llama lunges forward and catches me just behind my right ear. I scream and run for the gate. Another choir member who was also in the corral just froze. The llama then went to her and grabbed a mouthful of her hair. Somewhere there is a picture of the llama with long, blond hair hanging from its mouth.
I made it through the gate, but yet another choir member, who was nice enough to open the gate for me so I didn't have to jump it like an Olympic High-jumper ( and I think I just might have, if necessary) was on the receiving end of a classic llama "raspberry." Be careful, they spit!
I don't have a scar or any nightmares about ravenous llamas, but I sure don't trust them either. It's just a nice story that few folks can share. I've yet to find another survivor of a llama attack. If you know of a support group, be sure to give them my name!
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Toilet Dreams
Catchy title huh? Makes you want to click on it. But no, really, I've been having dreams about toilets. Read on.
Early this morning I had a recurring dream...maybe not exactly recurring, but the theme is recurring. I've had similar dreams for, oh, maybe a few years now. In the dream I'm in a public restroom, locker room, some kind of bathroom. Last night was in the old Jasper Grade School restroom, with 3 stalls. However, the stalls were all busy, so I had to use the one toilet that was out in the open, no stall. Now, no such toilet exists, but I move on.
I've had many such dreams in the past, all with me really needing to use a toilet, and none with privacy are available, so I think "This won't take long, I'll just use this one with no stall. No one will see me." And invariably someone sees me, barging in the room. This morning it was a bunch of guys raiding the girls' restroom.
I don't have my dream interpretation books here at home, they're all at work, but an online dream dictionary I just consulted said "To see a toilet in your dream symbolizes a release of emotions. You need to get rid of something in your life that is useless." Hmmmm. Who, I mean what, could that be?
I also often dream of stairs, but of staircases that lead to a blank wall, or the stairs end with the door or the rest of the floor a few feet away, meaning I need to jump to continue my journey.
So what does it all mean? Am I crazy? Nope. My personal and professional opinion is that our brain regurgitates every night, throwing little bits and pieces of memory, movie, book, and vision into a beautifully grotesque potpourri of meaningless scenes.
I try to remember my dreams. As soon as I wake I try to recall every little detail I can. I don't go so far as to write them down, as I did in college for a psych class assignment. But I do try to remember them, and eerily enough often have a sense of deja vu. Do you deja vu too?
Oh dreams. Aren't they fun?
Early this morning I had a recurring dream...maybe not exactly recurring, but the theme is recurring. I've had similar dreams for, oh, maybe a few years now. In the dream I'm in a public restroom, locker room, some kind of bathroom. Last night was in the old Jasper Grade School restroom, with 3 stalls. However, the stalls were all busy, so I had to use the one toilet that was out in the open, no stall. Now, no such toilet exists, but I move on.
I've had many such dreams in the past, all with me really needing to use a toilet, and none with privacy are available, so I think "This won't take long, I'll just use this one with no stall. No one will see me." And invariably someone sees me, barging in the room. This morning it was a bunch of guys raiding the girls' restroom.
I don't have my dream interpretation books here at home, they're all at work, but an online dream dictionary I just consulted said "To see a toilet in your dream symbolizes a release of emotions. You need to get rid of something in your life that is useless." Hmmmm. Who, I mean what, could that be?
I also often dream of stairs, but of staircases that lead to a blank wall, or the stairs end with the door or the rest of the floor a few feet away, meaning I need to jump to continue my journey.
So what does it all mean? Am I crazy? Nope. My personal and professional opinion is that our brain regurgitates every night, throwing little bits and pieces of memory, movie, book, and vision into a beautifully grotesque potpourri of meaningless scenes.
I try to remember my dreams. As soon as I wake I try to recall every little detail I can. I don't go so far as to write them down, as I did in college for a psych class assignment. But I do try to remember them, and eerily enough often have a sense of deja vu. Do you deja vu too?
Oh dreams. Aren't they fun?
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Things that have annoyed me today
1. My waitress at lunch called me "hun." Repeatedly.
2. My office was so cold I could have cut hogs and hung meat.
3. The dirty dishes on my kitchen counter did not spontaneously wash themselves. grrrr.
4. I really want a pizza, but am trying to cut back.
5. I looked fabulous today in my sequined top, and no one complimented me.
6. I could have taken a hair appointment this morning, but didn't think I should take the time off work.
7. Co-workers down the hall who talk to so loudly I know every detail of their personal lives. Even with my door shut.
8. I think my rare, undiagnosable nasal condition is coming back. (Earlier this summer I went to 2 doctors, one a sepcialist, and they both shrugged their shoulders, but were happy to prescribe anti-biotics, just in case.)
9. Gas price went down 10 cents since I filled up yesterday.
10. I didn't get to go walking after work.
10 Things I'm grateful for:
1. I have the ability to read and write.
2. I have free speech to voice my complaints.
3. I have a home.
4. I have a dog who sometimes loves me.
5. I have family and friends who always love me.
6. I have faith that God is always with me, never leaving me nor forsaking me.
7. If I really want a pizza, I have both the means and the money to go buy one. :)
8. I can access medical care, though I may have to make payments for the rest of my natural life.
9. I am healthy enough to walk to the kitchen and wash my dishes, even though I really don't want to.
10. I have a job.
*Note* It took twice as long to think of blessings as it did complaints.
Have you counted your blessings lately?
2. My office was so cold I could have cut hogs and hung meat.
3. The dirty dishes on my kitchen counter did not spontaneously wash themselves. grrrr.
4. I really want a pizza, but am trying to cut back.
5. I looked fabulous today in my sequined top, and no one complimented me.
6. I could have taken a hair appointment this morning, but didn't think I should take the time off work.
7. Co-workers down the hall who talk to so loudly I know every detail of their personal lives. Even with my door shut.
8. I think my rare, undiagnosable nasal condition is coming back. (Earlier this summer I went to 2 doctors, one a sepcialist, and they both shrugged their shoulders, but were happy to prescribe anti-biotics, just in case.)
9. Gas price went down 10 cents since I filled up yesterday.
10. I didn't get to go walking after work.
10 Things I'm grateful for:
1. I have the ability to read and write.
2. I have free speech to voice my complaints.
3. I have a home.
4. I have a dog who sometimes loves me.
5. I have family and friends who always love me.
6. I have faith that God is always with me, never leaving me nor forsaking me.
7. If I really want a pizza, I have both the means and the money to go buy one. :)
8. I can access medical care, though I may have to make payments for the rest of my natural life.
9. I am healthy enough to walk to the kitchen and wash my dishes, even though I really don't want to.
10. I have a job.
*Note* It took twice as long to think of blessings as it did complaints.
Have you counted your blessings lately?
Monday, September 19, 2011
Where's the Delete key?
I have a fabulous memory. Not for useful information, like where I parked the car or stuff I need to get done for work tomorrow. No, I remember small, useless, completely inane bits of data, and it's starting to drive me bonkers.
Tomorrow I'm supposed to attend a board meeting for my agency in another town. The meeting doesn't bother me, though I will be representing my agency and all that goes with my oh-so-important-sounding title. What bothers me is the fact that last year I did the same thing, and I remember EVERY LITTLE DETAIL about that day. Down to what I wore. No joke, I do this all the time.
It was unseasonably warm that day, so I wore black Capri's and sandals. The meeting was at lunch, so after the meeting I went through McD's drive through- McChicken value meal, Lemonade. I went to the office we have in that county, ate lunch, reviewed files, and left from there to meet the Ex in his hometown.
Now the weird thing is I cannot tell you what he was wearing, but I can tell you what he ate that night. Chicken and noodles. I did too. But I had a salad and green beans, he had potato soup and corn. Starch city!
There's a country song that says something along the line of who needs pictures when you've got a memory like mine. So true. And these aren't even memories I want to keep. I really need a delete key in my brain, to rub out all the hurt, all the minutia that clogs up the working portion of my mind.
My mom thinks I need to go on a game show. Maybe I could win a few bucks on Jeopardy, but only if the categories are "Middle names of the New Kids on the Block" or "What you wore for Christmas 1984."
Tomorrow I'm supposed to attend a board meeting for my agency in another town. The meeting doesn't bother me, though I will be representing my agency and all that goes with my oh-so-important-sounding title. What bothers me is the fact that last year I did the same thing, and I remember EVERY LITTLE DETAIL about that day. Down to what I wore. No joke, I do this all the time.
It was unseasonably warm that day, so I wore black Capri's and sandals. The meeting was at lunch, so after the meeting I went through McD's drive through- McChicken value meal, Lemonade. I went to the office we have in that county, ate lunch, reviewed files, and left from there to meet the Ex in his hometown.
Now the weird thing is I cannot tell you what he was wearing, but I can tell you what he ate that night. Chicken and noodles. I did too. But I had a salad and green beans, he had potato soup and corn. Starch city!
There's a country song that says something along the line of who needs pictures when you've got a memory like mine. So true. And these aren't even memories I want to keep. I really need a delete key in my brain, to rub out all the hurt, all the minutia that clogs up the working portion of my mind.
My mom thinks I need to go on a game show. Maybe I could win a few bucks on Jeopardy, but only if the categories are "Middle names of the New Kids on the Block" or "What you wore for Christmas 1984."
Sunday, September 18, 2011
I Left My Heart in Haiti
Today the mission team that went to Haiti in July gave our presentation to the church. Getting to talk about our experiences and seeing the photos was such a great reminder of what we experienced, and brought back a lot of emotions that I have already managed to shove into the back of my heart and brain.
So I'm not exactly what you would call a "kid friendly" person. In fact, kids scare me to death. I don't know what to do with them, say to them, how to react to what they say and do, etc. This was the second year in a row that the mission work I got to do involved Vacation Bible School. Do ya think God is trying to tell me something? I didn't think that was what we were going to be doing this year, in fact, they told us we would be doing maintenance type work. Fine with me. But when we got there, guess what! VBS. Yippee.
So how ya think ol' Huff handled 200 kids who didn't even speak English? We quickly learned you don't need words to communicate. The first day we were there we were told to remain aloof, not to grab and hold kids, to let them concentrate on the Bible lesson, and no pictures. While some had a problem with this, I completely understood. We were distraction enough just being white and obviously American.
After that first day, when they figured out we were there to help and not to judge, and we figured out that a combination of sign language and mime worked wonders, we felt much more at ease.
We also had wonderful translators, who understood that we were unfamiliar with the culture as well as the language. They let us know when we said or did something that might not fly with their culture, such as painting the boys' fingernails!
Last year in Trinidad I found that even though I'm not a kid person, most kids don't seem to care, they just love unconditionally anyway. This was my experience again this year. I'm not sure why, but while I hesitate (or flat out refuse) to work with children in the U.S., I have no problem with it in other countries. Maybe it's because I know I probably won't see them again. Maybe it's because I'm in an environment of love and peace, where guards are let down and everyone is working for a common good. Maybe it's because there's no one to point and laugh when a kid comes up to me a hugs me! And maybe it's because these children have so little by way of material possessions that I try to love them a little bit more than these X-Box brats back home!
When I was in Haiti in 2009 I came home with a strong feeling that I could be a missionary in Haiti. That lasted about a week until I really got to thinking about the little bit I had to actually do while I was there. I had my meals prepared for me, my laundry washed for me, and I sure didn't have to drive down those crazy roads. This time I went with more intention to see how the missionaries live, how tired they are all the time from working from sun up to sun down, and let me tell you, there is no Wal-Mart to get your groceries!
I had a good experience both trips. The little inconveniences did not bother me. I was not expecting the Hilton. As long as I have a toilet and a bed, I'm good. I didn't like all of the food, but a little fasting sure wouldn't hurt me! I would definitely go back again and again. It really is like an addiction. It's that mountain-top experience with God that I want everyday, and while away from all the "conveniences" and distractions I seem to be more in tune with Him and with myself.
I wouldn't recommend everyone go on a short-term mission trip to Haiti. If you're going to complain the whole time, you're not going to get anything out of it. Yes it's hot. Yes the electricity goes out a lot. And yes, it is dirty, smelly and generally behind in technology. But the people are so genuine, so friendly, so caring for their family and friends. It breaks my heart everytime I go there, and more so everytime I leave. A bit of my heart will always be in Haiti and with Haiti.
So how ya think ol' Huff handled 200 kids who didn't even speak English? We quickly learned you don't need words to communicate. The first day we were there we were told to remain aloof, not to grab and hold kids, to let them concentrate on the Bible lesson, and no pictures. While some had a problem with this, I completely understood. We were distraction enough just being white and obviously American.
After that first day, when they figured out we were there to help and not to judge, and we figured out that a combination of sign language and mime worked wonders, we felt much more at ease.
We also had wonderful translators, who understood that we were unfamiliar with the culture as well as the language. They let us know when we said or did something that might not fly with their culture, such as painting the boys' fingernails!
Last year in Trinidad I found that even though I'm not a kid person, most kids don't seem to care, they just love unconditionally anyway. This was my experience again this year. I'm not sure why, but while I hesitate (or flat out refuse) to work with children in the U.S., I have no problem with it in other countries. Maybe it's because I know I probably won't see them again. Maybe it's because I'm in an environment of love and peace, where guards are let down and everyone is working for a common good. Maybe it's because there's no one to point and laugh when a kid comes up to me a hugs me! And maybe it's because these children have so little by way of material possessions that I try to love them a little bit more than these X-Box brats back home!
When I was in Haiti in 2009 I came home with a strong feeling that I could be a missionary in Haiti. That lasted about a week until I really got to thinking about the little bit I had to actually do while I was there. I had my meals prepared for me, my laundry washed for me, and I sure didn't have to drive down those crazy roads. This time I went with more intention to see how the missionaries live, how tired they are all the time from working from sun up to sun down, and let me tell you, there is no Wal-Mart to get your groceries!
I had a good experience both trips. The little inconveniences did not bother me. I was not expecting the Hilton. As long as I have a toilet and a bed, I'm good. I didn't like all of the food, but a little fasting sure wouldn't hurt me! I would definitely go back again and again. It really is like an addiction. It's that mountain-top experience with God that I want everyday, and while away from all the "conveniences" and distractions I seem to be more in tune with Him and with myself.
I wouldn't recommend everyone go on a short-term mission trip to Haiti. If you're going to complain the whole time, you're not going to get anything out of it. Yes it's hot. Yes the electricity goes out a lot. And yes, it is dirty, smelly and generally behind in technology. But the people are so genuine, so friendly, so caring for their family and friends. It breaks my heart everytime I go there, and more so everytime I leave. A bit of my heart will always be in Haiti and with Haiti.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Letter to Single Ladies
Dear Ladies,
Without being partonizing, placating or using warm-and-fuzzy words am I going to tell you that I know how you feel. But I do, I really do know how you feel. I feel it too.
I know how the sight of happy couples make you want to either cry or run the couple over with the nearest car.
I know the yearning for a strong pair of arms to hold you and tell you it's going to be ok.
I know the desire for someone to fix all the crap that's going wrong with your car, your house, and your life.
I know how nice it would be to not have three jobs and know that another paycheck was helping to pay the bills.
I know how wonderful it would be for someone to take over the lawn work, taking out the trash, and hanging shelves.
I know you often need another set of hands to help with difficult chores.
I know how hard it is to cook for one, so you opt for a hot pocket instead.
I know how you feel when another lady gets flowers and you don't.
I know how it feels to go to church, be surrounded by couples and families, and you are alone.
I know how scary it is when you hear someting in the middle of the night, grab your phone and a baseball bat, and pray you don't need either one.
I know that in moments of desperation you think that Mr. Right Now is acceptable, but that he's really not what you want or need.
I know that you think God forgot about you, that He is ignoring the desires of your heart and that His plan for you involves a convent.
But ladies, please listen for a moment. No matter what they say, Something is NOT better than Nothing.
Don't sell yourself short just to say you've got a man. If he's not treating you like a Queen, respecting your body and your mind, and being the spiritual leader of your relationship, he's not worth it.
Don't jump from one relationship to another. Get to know you first. Spend some time alone with you. What do you want? What do you enjoy? What are your dreams? If you can't answer those questions, don't get into a relationship. Don't allow him to answer them for you, or assume his wants, pleasures and dreams are good enough for you too.
It's tough being a single lady in this world. But you know what, it sure beats getting saddled with a jerk, a lazy man, or an abusive man. And if he's not what you want now, don't think you can change him. You can't love the alcoholism out of him. You can't motivate the laziness out of him. And above all, you can NEVER compete with his mother. So don't even try.
It's okay to be single. You're not a loser. You're not an outcast. You're just you, and that's perfectly fine. If you find someone, great! Just make sure he's worth it. But if you don't, then paint every wall in your house pink and wear a tiara! Because you can. That's one of the many perks of being single!
Sincerely,
Huffalina
Without being partonizing, placating or using warm-and-fuzzy words am I going to tell you that I know how you feel. But I do, I really do know how you feel. I feel it too.
I know how the sight of happy couples make you want to either cry or run the couple over with the nearest car.
I know the yearning for a strong pair of arms to hold you and tell you it's going to be ok.
I know the desire for someone to fix all the crap that's going wrong with your car, your house, and your life.
I know how nice it would be to not have three jobs and know that another paycheck was helping to pay the bills.
I know how wonderful it would be for someone to take over the lawn work, taking out the trash, and hanging shelves.
I know you often need another set of hands to help with difficult chores.
I know how hard it is to cook for one, so you opt for a hot pocket instead.
I know how you feel when another lady gets flowers and you don't.
I know how it feels to go to church, be surrounded by couples and families, and you are alone.
I know how scary it is when you hear someting in the middle of the night, grab your phone and a baseball bat, and pray you don't need either one.
I know that in moments of desperation you think that Mr. Right Now is acceptable, but that he's really not what you want or need.
I know that you think God forgot about you, that He is ignoring the desires of your heart and that His plan for you involves a convent.
But ladies, please listen for a moment. No matter what they say, Something is NOT better than Nothing.
Don't sell yourself short just to say you've got a man. If he's not treating you like a Queen, respecting your body and your mind, and being the spiritual leader of your relationship, he's not worth it.
Don't jump from one relationship to another. Get to know you first. Spend some time alone with you. What do you want? What do you enjoy? What are your dreams? If you can't answer those questions, don't get into a relationship. Don't allow him to answer them for you, or assume his wants, pleasures and dreams are good enough for you too.
It's tough being a single lady in this world. But you know what, it sure beats getting saddled with a jerk, a lazy man, or an abusive man. And if he's not what you want now, don't think you can change him. You can't love the alcoholism out of him. You can't motivate the laziness out of him. And above all, you can NEVER compete with his mother. So don't even try.
It's okay to be single. You're not a loser. You're not an outcast. You're just you, and that's perfectly fine. If you find someone, great! Just make sure he's worth it. But if you don't, then paint every wall in your house pink and wear a tiara! Because you can. That's one of the many perks of being single!
Sincerely,
Huffalina
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Cliches
Stop and smell the roses. You only live once. Carpe Diem.
As 9/11 is commemorated today, I avoided media as much as I could. Not that I don't remember (how could I not?) or that I don't care (I do). I guess I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it all. Like I'm not sure how I feel about roadside crosses, or people why have "In Memory" stickers on the back window of their cars. I get the point, but there is something about it that also feels tacky, or at least irreverent.
Facebook was a flood of "what were you doing when you heard" updates. Now, here's where the not caring comes in. I know where I was, but I don't really care were YOU were. That's why I left mine off today, because no one cares. A few mature ladies (I'd hate to call them older) were talking at lunch today about how they also remember where they were when they learned JFK was shot. Well, I certainly don't remember that since my mother was only 12 when that occurred!
In my lifetime the only other national happening that seemed to affect everyone was when the Challenger space shuttle exploded. I was in 1st grade that year. I won't tell you where I was, because I know you don't care. (Recess)
But getting back to cliches... Times such as this, as do most natural disasters, wars, or anything that shakes you to the core, causes you to re-evaluate your priorities, tell those you love that you love them a little more often, and maybe even literally, stop and smell the roses. All the things we forget about or take for granted suddenly become important again.
Tonight I spent a full minute just taking in the full moon. Then I watched a plane blink its way all across the sky. I said a little prayer for the people in that plane, just in case they were nervous about flying today. Anytime is your time to smell the figurative roses, sip that wine slowly, and linger over a great work of art or music.
By all means, do your job, mow your yard, and get the house clean. But remember, these are not the big things in life. These are the necessary things. Be sure to leave ample room in your hectic schedule to spend time with God, with your loved ones, and with your furry friends!
And maybe zoom over to youtube and catch a tear jerker. I've listed a few below. (grab a hanky!)
"Live Like You Were dying" by Tim McGraw, "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack, and "My List" by Toby Keith. (Strange, I really don't listen to Country that often!)
This is "One Life to Love" by 33 Miles
As 9/11 is commemorated today, I avoided media as much as I could. Not that I don't remember (how could I not?) or that I don't care (I do). I guess I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it all. Like I'm not sure how I feel about roadside crosses, or people why have "In Memory" stickers on the back window of their cars. I get the point, but there is something about it that also feels tacky, or at least irreverent.
Facebook was a flood of "what were you doing when you heard" updates. Now, here's where the not caring comes in. I know where I was, but I don't really care were YOU were. That's why I left mine off today, because no one cares. A few mature ladies (I'd hate to call them older) were talking at lunch today about how they also remember where they were when they learned JFK was shot. Well, I certainly don't remember that since my mother was only 12 when that occurred!
In my lifetime the only other national happening that seemed to affect everyone was when the Challenger space shuttle exploded. I was in 1st grade that year. I won't tell you where I was, because I know you don't care. (Recess)
But getting back to cliches... Times such as this, as do most natural disasters, wars, or anything that shakes you to the core, causes you to re-evaluate your priorities, tell those you love that you love them a little more often, and maybe even literally, stop and smell the roses. All the things we forget about or take for granted suddenly become important again.
Tonight I spent a full minute just taking in the full moon. Then I watched a plane blink its way all across the sky. I said a little prayer for the people in that plane, just in case they were nervous about flying today. Anytime is your time to smell the figurative roses, sip that wine slowly, and linger over a great work of art or music.
By all means, do your job, mow your yard, and get the house clean. But remember, these are not the big things in life. These are the necessary things. Be sure to leave ample room in your hectic schedule to spend time with God, with your loved ones, and with your furry friends!
And maybe zoom over to youtube and catch a tear jerker. I've listed a few below. (grab a hanky!)
"Live Like You Were dying" by Tim McGraw, "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack, and "My List" by Toby Keith. (Strange, I really don't listen to Country that often!)
This is "One Life to Love" by 33 Miles
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Wisdom
Wisdom is the application of knowledge, in my humble opinion. It is better to be wise than knowledgeable. You can know a heck of a lot of facts, but unless you actually use them, they are useless.
Case in point, my clients. We staff ask them about every 2 months about their goals, what they want to achieve in their mental health recovery, their daily living skills, their relationship and communication skills. Invariably they suggest we work on something that we just covered. I have spent the last 3 months teaching them about self esteem. We've read about it, talked about it, role played, constructed plans with small, achievable goals that will help to boost their self esteem. Yet when another staff asked what they want to learn about, they say self esteem.
I can't count the number of budgeting classes they have attended. I finally gave them the bottom line last week and informed them that by simply attending budgeting class, money was not going to jump into their wallets. You must practice what you learn. Apply the knowledge we give you, use the tools we supply, and NOT buy stupid crap! (Yes, I actually said that.)
Same goes for nutrition class. I can preach about that one, as a personal expert on nutrition facts myself, I choose not to apply the knowledge I have learned by reading and trying just about every diet and eating plan on the planet. No matter how many diet books I own (a lot) and exercise videos I have gathering dust (poor Richard Simmons, we never spend time together anymore) I will not lose an ounce unless I apply that knowledge or use those tools.
Another part of wisdom is learning from experience. I've heard it said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. Tuesday morning as I spilled hot tea all over my kitchen counter and floor, I spontaneously learned some awesome Irish step-dancing moves, and learned NOT to fix hot tea when I'm not completely awake. I will not make that mistake again.
A friend and I were discussing the sacrifice requirements of the Israelites in the Old Testament earlier this week. We agreed that we are thankful we live under grace, because I'm just not sure if the words flying through my mind as I was dodging hot tea would have been a pigeon, dove, or maybe even a lamb's worth of sin!
Case in point, my clients. We staff ask them about every 2 months about their goals, what they want to achieve in their mental health recovery, their daily living skills, their relationship and communication skills. Invariably they suggest we work on something that we just covered. I have spent the last 3 months teaching them about self esteem. We've read about it, talked about it, role played, constructed plans with small, achievable goals that will help to boost their self esteem. Yet when another staff asked what they want to learn about, they say self esteem.
I can't count the number of budgeting classes they have attended. I finally gave them the bottom line last week and informed them that by simply attending budgeting class, money was not going to jump into their wallets. You must practice what you learn. Apply the knowledge we give you, use the tools we supply, and NOT buy stupid crap! (Yes, I actually said that.)
Same goes for nutrition class. I can preach about that one, as a personal expert on nutrition facts myself, I choose not to apply the knowledge I have learned by reading and trying just about every diet and eating plan on the planet. No matter how many diet books I own (a lot) and exercise videos I have gathering dust (poor Richard Simmons, we never spend time together anymore) I will not lose an ounce unless I apply that knowledge or use those tools.
Another part of wisdom is learning from experience. I've heard it said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. Tuesday morning as I spilled hot tea all over my kitchen counter and floor, I spontaneously learned some awesome Irish step-dancing moves, and learned NOT to fix hot tea when I'm not completely awake. I will not make that mistake again.
A friend and I were discussing the sacrifice requirements of the Israelites in the Old Testament earlier this week. We agreed that we are thankful we live under grace, because I'm just not sure if the words flying through my mind as I was dodging hot tea would have been a pigeon, dove, or maybe even a lamb's worth of sin!
Monday, September 05, 2011
The Fat Girl Guidebook: Edition 1
I often have thoughts, call it a persecution complex if you like, that the world is against fat people. Fat women in particular. Below are some observations I have made over the past few weeks that support my theory.
1. Fashion
Every woman knows that few women actually fit into Small, Medium and Large. So to help us out, they invented Extra Small and Extra Large. They (and I'm talking "fashion designers" here) decided that we're too dumb to pick out a size, so they created One Size Fits All. In recent years this size has changed to One Size Fits Most. Thank you so much for reminding me that I'm not "normal"!
Ok, now let's talk Plus Size. Now I'm not one to get into political correctness here, but Plus what? Plus a few pounds? Plus a few chins? Plus a few rolls in the middle? I guess it's better than Fat size, Obese size, or as I call it, Tent size.
Sometimes I wonder if the people who make Plus Size fashion (and I use that term loosely) have ever seen a large woman. It is NOT as simple as taking a cute piece of clothing from the smaller sizes and making it bigger. There are special considerations here, folks. No horizontal stripes. No poofy anything. No short skirts. (I'll get into the feminine sexual revolution at another time.)
There have been advances made in Plus Size clothing in the past 10 years, namely for the teen-young adult who finds herself in XXL territory. Welcome the Junior Plus section! YAY! Let me tell you how glad I am that someone figured out that 15-year-olds don't want to be wearing leaf or nautical print to school. And thank you for naming it something cool (ish.) When I was around 10, JCPenney had a cataolg called Big Kids. Yes. Yes they did.
2. Chairs with Arms
Why? Why does my chair need arms? If I'm at a restaurant, do I need to rest my arms? Heck no! They're busy transporting my food. Let me see a raise of hands if you've ever sat in a chair with arms, then stood up, taking the chair with you! Come on, be honest!
3. Public restrooms with toilets that stick out from the wall
Oh man, these suckers freak me out! I'm SO scared that I'm going to break one right off the wall. And it can be done, I know a lady who did. I've sat on one and heard it creak. Nope, you just can't relax after that. I've patented a way to hover over those stupid toilets that not only gets the job done, but gives me an awesome quad and tricep workout at the same time. I'm considering compiling a list of establishments with wall hung toilets. Curse you Kohl's!
Coming soon in Edition 2:
Airplane seats, turn stiles, and toilet stalls so small you have to stand over the toilet to shut the door.
1. Fashion
Every woman knows that few women actually fit into Small, Medium and Large. So to help us out, they invented Extra Small and Extra Large. They (and I'm talking "fashion designers" here) decided that we're too dumb to pick out a size, so they created One Size Fits All. In recent years this size has changed to One Size Fits Most. Thank you so much for reminding me that I'm not "normal"!
Ok, now let's talk Plus Size. Now I'm not one to get into political correctness here, but Plus what? Plus a few pounds? Plus a few chins? Plus a few rolls in the middle? I guess it's better than Fat size, Obese size, or as I call it, Tent size.
Sometimes I wonder if the people who make Plus Size fashion (and I use that term loosely) have ever seen a large woman. It is NOT as simple as taking a cute piece of clothing from the smaller sizes and making it bigger. There are special considerations here, folks. No horizontal stripes. No poofy anything. No short skirts. (I'll get into the feminine sexual revolution at another time.)
There have been advances made in Plus Size clothing in the past 10 years, namely for the teen-young adult who finds herself in XXL territory. Welcome the Junior Plus section! YAY! Let me tell you how glad I am that someone figured out that 15-year-olds don't want to be wearing leaf or nautical print to school. And thank you for naming it something cool (ish.) When I was around 10, JCPenney had a cataolg called Big Kids. Yes. Yes they did.
2. Chairs with Arms
Why? Why does my chair need arms? If I'm at a restaurant, do I need to rest my arms? Heck no! They're busy transporting my food. Let me see a raise of hands if you've ever sat in a chair with arms, then stood up, taking the chair with you! Come on, be honest!
3. Public restrooms with toilets that stick out from the wall
Oh man, these suckers freak me out! I'm SO scared that I'm going to break one right off the wall. And it can be done, I know a lady who did. I've sat on one and heard it creak. Nope, you just can't relax after that. I've patented a way to hover over those stupid toilets that not only gets the job done, but gives me an awesome quad and tricep workout at the same time. I'm considering compiling a list of establishments with wall hung toilets. Curse you Kohl's!
Coming soon in Edition 2:
Airplane seats, turn stiles, and toilet stalls so small you have to stand over the toilet to shut the door.
Saturday, September 03, 2011
2011 Reading List *updated*
Every year I have a goal to read 50 books. I stole this idea from a friend back in 2007. Today, in a rare cleaning/pitching frenzy, I found my 2007 list. I only read 37 books that year.
2008: 50
2009: 46 (but some of those were, like, major works of literature!)
2010: 30. I blame the ex for that dismal performance. He'd rather watch tv than read. Troglodyte!
2011: 26 thus far. I don't think I'll reach 50, but I'll sure beat last year!
Here is my list for this year thus far:
1. Poppy Done to Death, Charlaine Harris
2 . The Book Borrower, Alice Mattison
3. Let the Rocks Cry Out, Rachel Picazo
4. Man’s Living Religions, Wayne Ham
5. The Night They Raided Minsky’s, Rowland Barber
6. Cemetery Dance, Preston & Child
7. Homicide and Old Lace, Dolores Johnson
8. Buttons and Foes, Dolores Johnson
9. Funerals Are Fatal, Agatha Christie
10. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, Erving Goffman
11. Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe
12. The Insanity File, Mark E. Neely, Jr., R. Gerald McMurty
13. Things Left Unsaid, Stephanie Hemphill
14. The Inferno, Dante
15. The Madness of Mary Lincoln, Jason Emerson
16. A Red State of Mind, Nancy French
17. It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It, Robert Fulghum
18. The Shining, Stephen King
19. Fearless Fourteen, Janet Evanovich
20. Finger Lickin’ Fifteen, Janet Evanovich
21. Sizzling Sixteen, Janet Evanovich
22. Smoking Seventeen, Janet Evanovich
23. Food: The Good Girl’s Drug, Sunny Sea Gold
24. Mrs. Jeffries Pinches the Post, Emily Brightwell
25. Murder Can Stunt Your Growth, Selma Eichler
26. The Flight of the Falcon, Daphne du Maurier
27. The Hundred Secret Senses, Amy Tan
28. Bitter is the New Black, Jen Lancaster
29. Absalom, Absalom!, William Faulkner
30. Such a Pretty Fat, Jen Lancaster
31. The Secret Adversary, Agatha Christie
32. Pretty in Plaid, Jen Lancaster
33. My Fair Lazy, Jen Lancaster
34. Comentary on the Gospel of Luke, Norval Geldenhuys
35. Grace for the Moment, Max Lucado
I try to read a variety of books, from murder mystery (my favorite!) to cultural, religious, educational, and historical non-fiction. I have about 500 books in my house, maybe 200 that I haven't read yet. It's so exciting to finish a book, then get to decide where I want to go, where I want to travel next!
Have you picked up a good book lately? (Or a Kindle, a Nook, an eReader, etc.)
2008: 50
2009: 46 (but some of those were, like, major works of literature!)
2010: 30. I blame the ex for that dismal performance. He'd rather watch tv than read. Troglodyte!
2011: 26 thus far. I don't think I'll reach 50, but I'll sure beat last year!
Here is my list for this year thus far:
1. Poppy Done to Death, Charlaine Harris
2 . The Book Borrower, Alice Mattison
3. Let the Rocks Cry Out, Rachel Picazo
4. Man’s Living Religions, Wayne Ham
5. The Night They Raided Minsky’s, Rowland Barber
6. Cemetery Dance, Preston & Child
7. Homicide and Old Lace, Dolores Johnson
8. Buttons and Foes, Dolores Johnson
9. Funerals Are Fatal, Agatha Christie
10. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, Erving Goffman
11. Robinson Crusoe, Daniel Defoe
12. The Insanity File, Mark E. Neely, Jr., R. Gerald McMurty
13. Things Left Unsaid, Stephanie Hemphill
14. The Inferno, Dante
15. The Madness of Mary Lincoln, Jason Emerson
16. A Red State of Mind, Nancy French
17. It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It, Robert Fulghum
18. The Shining, Stephen King
19. Fearless Fourteen, Janet Evanovich
20. Finger Lickin’ Fifteen, Janet Evanovich
21. Sizzling Sixteen, Janet Evanovich
22. Smoking Seventeen, Janet Evanovich
23. Food: The Good Girl’s Drug, Sunny Sea Gold
24. Mrs. Jeffries Pinches the Post, Emily Brightwell
25. Murder Can Stunt Your Growth, Selma Eichler
26. The Flight of the Falcon, Daphne du Maurier
27. The Hundred Secret Senses, Amy Tan
28. Bitter is the New Black, Jen Lancaster
29. Absalom, Absalom!, William Faulkner
30. Such a Pretty Fat, Jen Lancaster
31. The Secret Adversary, Agatha Christie
32. Pretty in Plaid, Jen Lancaster
33. My Fair Lazy, Jen Lancaster
34. Comentary on the Gospel of Luke, Norval Geldenhuys
35. Grace for the Moment, Max Lucado
I try to read a variety of books, from murder mystery (my favorite!) to cultural, religious, educational, and historical non-fiction. I have about 500 books in my house, maybe 200 that I haven't read yet. It's so exciting to finish a book, then get to decide where I want to go, where I want to travel next!
Have you picked up a good book lately? (Or a Kindle, a Nook, an eReader, etc.)
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