CafeChatNoir

If the reports are correct, Beyonce Knowles gave birth to her baby girl this evening, which is wonderful cause babies are awesome.  (Especially when they’re not mine.  Cause I don’t think it’s a spectacular idea to have my DNA scattered about.  One of me is quite enough.)

What bothers me a bit is the rumor that she was able to rent out an entire floor of the hospital for 1.3 million dollars.  I don’t know how many rooms that is at Lenox Hill Hospital, but I don’t like the idea that people who may have needed one of those rooms couldn’t get one because they were basically outbid…  I understand her desire for privacy, but any people who may have actually *needed* a room on that floor probably wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about who may or may not have been down the hallway, because they may have been more concerned with getting medical care.  My other rumination on this is that if you’re THAT concerned about privacy and you’ve got that kind of money to spend, why not just have a birthing room set up at home?

Where I’m especially conflicted is that I’ve essentially done the same thing with my grandmother in the past 17 months, which makes me just as much of an asshole.  And I’d rather not be, but there you go.  Until this month, my grandmother been a single resident in a semi-private room – what the care center bills as a “suite”.  Did she need a suite?  Absofreakinloutely not.  But she landed in  one when she got there, I wasn’t smart enough to tell them to move her to a regular private room immediately, and by the time I figured it out, moving her would have been detrimental to  her mental health.  (She’s now to a point where moving her to the regular room across the hall won’t bother her.  She is now in the room across the hall.)  So, much like Beyonce, I managed to have my grandmother taking up two beds rather than one, and someone might have needed that other bed, especially since it would have been at a semi-private rate.

I’m still mad at myself that my decisions basically took up a bed in the care center that someone else may have needed.  Beyonce pretty much cleared out the entire wing.

If this isn’t a sign that there is something not quite right with health care, I’m not sure what is.  I have no problem with being able to get what you need.  But my grandmother never needed a suite, but because she could pay for it, screw anyone else that may have needed that other bed.  And Beyonce didn’t need the whole floor, but because she could pay for it, screw anyone that may have needed one of those rooms.

Still nice and shiny and I’ve done well to not poke it too much lest it get smudged.  I’m counting today as the real New Year’s Day since there is outdoor hockey being played.

Can’t say I’m sitting here thinking, “Gosh, 2011 was so great, I wish it could have been longer!”  (Been a LONG time since that thought was in my head at the turn of a year…)  Perfectly content to have this one in the rear-view mirror.

But, 2011 wasn’t all bad.  Got on the road to being a full fledged history nerd.  Only 1 trip to Phoenix that was “OMG, oh shit gotta find a flight NOW!!”  Not once did my phone ring at 3AM with my grandmother on the other end asking, “Are you sure you did my taxes right?”  I’m sure there were other things, but I can’t think of them right now.

The downsides were many trips to PHX, which while they are getting easier, still wear me out.  My grandmother is in a pretty bad way at this point – general consensus of the nurses is 1-2 months.  Given my grandmother’s adherence to such timelines so far, I’m still planning on being back in April & August.

Though the chances are high that I’ll be making my final trip to PHX this year, there are good things ahead.  Registered for two more classes this semester.  Hitting the beach again!  Lots of resolutions made that will likely be broken in a week.

So, here’s to 2012 going well.

Honestly, I think just one instance of a pepper spray wielding customer should be enough for stores to say, “You know what, let’s not do this 10PM or midnight opening crap and actually let our employees have the WHOLE day off for Thanksgiving.”  Because guess what?  People will still shop between now and Christmas.

As it is, studies have shown that prices aren’t necessarily the best on Black Friday anyway.

Part of the problem is that we’re a very consumer driven society.  If a store is open at any hour with good deals, then someone will show up.  This gives retailers the only reason they need to open.  Problem is, it also gives retailers the only reason they need to tell their employees that they have to cut their Thanksgiving day short so they can be at the store for the late night opening.

I’d love to see one of two things happen:  1. Consumers say, “No, we’re not going to go shop on Thanksgiving because it’s Thanksgiving.  We can wait until normal opening hours on Friday just like we used to do, and the world certainly didn’t come to an end back then.”  or 2.  Retailers say, “We’re not opening until our regular opening time on Friday because Thanksgiving is a DAY of thanks and doesn’t end just because dinner is over and then everyone can go to work.  That, and it’s not right to expose our employees to lunatics with pepper spray.  We’ll see you on Friday.”

Though I suspect we’re long past the point of no return.

ETA:  I’m not anti-Black Friday.  It makes sense that it’s a big shopping day since so many people have the day off.  I’m anti-midnight-psychosis.

Got a call this afternoon, “Your grandmother is not doing well, do you want her to go to the hospital?”  Insert string of unprintable language here.

Push for a slightly more comprehensive version of “not doing well” and the symptoms line up perfectly with her aneurysm finally rupturing/leaking, which is something that we certainly saw coming.  Doctor is talking 24 hours.  Hospice nurse called in.  Discover upon having the paperwork faxed to me that of course, the care center doesn’t use the hospice services that are in the building they share. (Of course not, that would make sense.)  Regardless, she will not be going to the hospital – her wishes have been made exceptionally clear over the years.

Booked a flight for tomorrow.  Sharyn is a bona fide wreck – she doesn’t want to admit at all that this could be the aneurysm, and keeps insisting that it’s not that bad.  (While not even remotely arguing with my coming out west less than a week after I left, so it ain’t good.)

So, I’m flashing back to this time last year where I was headed out to PHX on 24 hours notice with two versions of what is going on, with reality likely falling somewhere smack in the middle of things.

So, tomorrow I head out and probably move her to the hospice center just down the hallway and wait.  Now, knowing my grandmother, I’ll probably walk in and she’ll be sitting up in bed asking, “Why the hell is everyone hovering over me?”

Ready for what, I can’t say I’m exactly sure, but I feel like whatever it is, damned if I’m not ready for it.

I truly cannot remember a year when I have been packing up from the oceanside sojourn feeling more recharged and ready to take on whatever nonsense Karma, the Fates, the Universe, et al decide to chuck at me.  Granted, saying this out loud probably sets me up for a shitstorm of magnitudes I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams, but I’m feeling pretty chilled out regardless.  Truly chilled out is a state of existence that I can honestly say I haven’t felt in a good, long time, and I am certainly enjoying the hell out of it.

I’ve got some seriously busy times ahead of me, but for the first time in a while, I feel like I’m ever so slightly ready for it.  Damned nice feeling if you ask me.

First, gotta tag the spectacular Kelly Bowers in this because she’ll read it and nod her head and say, “Yes, that’s what I’ve been telling you all along…” :)

It was a bit odd to be heading south when I was already fairly well chilled out – that hasn’t happened in I don’t know how long.  There is definitely a difference between chilled out and beach mode – and if you’re already chilled out, beach mode happens instantaneously as soon as you get here.  I had gotten used to it taking a good 3 to 5 days to simply unscrew myself from the ceiling before I could even approach beach mode.

If you’re just chilled out, things will happen that will annoy you.  Once you’ve hit beach mode, you just don’t care.  Examples:

- A/C on the car died.  Hey, the fan still works, and we’ve answered the question of which car the dog is in on the way home.
- Bash up already bashed foot again, resulting in lovely swelling.  Eh, ice and elevation and hey, I’ve got tons of books to read.
- Dog isn’t satisfied with a quick trip to the side yard on a rainy morning and isn’t amenable to returning inside for an umbrella?  Hey, I’ve got dry clothes I can change into when we get back.
- A knowingly ill-timed trip to the drugstore resulting in being right in the midst of the Saturday afternoon northbound traffic jam?  Nothing else to do but crank up the tunes, sing along and get down with your bad self.  (This may result in drivers around you who have not achieved beach mode yet to look at you as though you have three heads, but I get that on a near daily basis anyway, so I’m used to it.)

Yup, beach mode is good, and the faster you can get there, the better.

So I’m prepping for the annual oceanside sojourn, and over the past couple days, I realized I wasn’t happily flipping out over heading to the beach.  Not that it won’t be a wonderful time, but I honestly can’t remember the last time when I wasn’t getting ready to go and thinking, “If I don’t get the hell out of town I am going to strangle someone.”  At the moment, I am actually chilled out and relaxed and heading for ocean breezes seems almost superfluous.

‘92 to ‘04 it was “I need to get away from work.”  2005 it was a combo of “I need to get away from work and fuck all, my Mom died and you can bet your sweet ass I’m taking two weeks.”  2006 was still recovering from massive job burnout.  2007 I was stressing about my townhouse being on the market.  2008 was when Grandma went off the rails and getting away really wasn’t terribly meaningful, because my phone went with me, and hence, Grandma…

But this year…  Grandma is in the care center and doesn’t have a phone in her room, so I don’t have to be “that person” on the beach frantically fielding phone calls.  School has been out for almost 3 weeks, so no “must escape my coworkers/clients*” stress.  I’m not trying to sell a house in a rapidly crumbling market.  Yes, I have a couple things going on that have me mildly mentally preoccupied, but nothing more than that, just mildly preoccupied.

Sure, I am jonesing for fresh seafood & fruity drinks with umbrellas in them (or souvenir glasses) and I’m hoping I can again achieve last year’s feat of not repeating the same beer two days in a row, but this is decidedly odd.

I don’t think I’ve ever taken a vacation when I didn’t desperately need a vacation.

*Yeah, I think of the kids as my clients.

Just hit me that my stress levels are actually back down in the range of normal people.

That hasn’t happened since, oh, January 2008.

So, the school year has come to a close, and I’m just a little thrilled.  (As is every other person I met at schools this year.)  The experience was good, the kids were pretty cool, and of course I’ve managed to come out of the school term with more questions than answers as to what my next move should be.  (There was a time in my life where though I didn’t have a full life plan, I had a good idea of what was next.  I long for those days.)

I think it is safe to say that being a full time elementary school teacher is not really right for me.  I’ve found I have many fundamental disagreements with how things are done – most of which I can sidestep as substitute, but wouldn’t be able to avoid if I pursued this full time.  So, spending 3 years attempting to get a Masters in Elementary Ed to go into an environment where I would be constantly and utterly frustrated by the way things work seems incredibly misguided at best.  This is also why I am SO happy that I spent the time in the classroom and figured this much out – it definitely was not a waste of time.  I’ll still go back next year as I continue to try to figure out WTF I’m doing, but I’ll probably focus more on high school to get an idea of the environment with the older students and see what that’s like.

I know this much:  I do like to teach.  I like being able to show someone something they didn’t know before.  I love it when I can help someone understand something.  I love research and reading and studying.  I love learning new things.

Maybe it’s time to take the advice that the spectacular Miriam Hodge gave me a couple years back and become a professional student.  Mind you, I have no idea what I would study or if I could even get into grad school in the first place – a BS in Accounting doesn’t exactly translate well to Humanities & Social Sciences.  I guess my summer project is getting that all figured out now, isn’t it?

First, no one seems to be able to tell me if it’s going to happen on Zulu time or rolling with the time zones.  5 hours important when you’re kicking off the end of the world.

I’ve RSVP’d as a “Maybe” to the Post-Rapture Looting event over on Facebook.  Cause, what if they’re wrong?  Not that it won’t happen, but what if all the folks who have just tried to be decent tolerant people and who didn’t run around telling people they were going to hell because they were of the “wrong” religion were the ones that got swept up?  You know, all of us that are supposedly going to get left for the locusts.  If that’s the case, then there is going to be one hell of a party upstairs and our pets will all be there with us, thankyouverymuch.  (Seriously, WTF, no pets allowed?  I don’t think so.)

So, I would find that pretty funny.

Now, if they’re right and I’m down here madly brushing up on my Zombie Apocalypse skills, at least I can stop dealing with people knocking on my door trying to share their religion with me.  (The religion sharing doesn’t bother me so much as the knocking on my door in the first place.  But then again, I’m a bit of a hermit.)

Now if nothing happens, then, well, we’ll just have to wait for 2012.

On the other hand, if my grandmother gets swept up, then there are going to be a lot of questions on ALL sides of the arguments. ;)

ETA: On the very off chance that someone who does hold faith in the Rapture is reading this and is horrifically offended by it…  I don’t say these things to offend.  I say these things because it’s what I feel about the whole thing.  What little faith I have carries me through these things.  I hope yours can do the same for you.

So, Osama bin Laden is dead and has been buried at sea, in accordance with Islamic tradition concerning bodies at risk of being desecrated.  Only in America would be manage to respsect the death rites of even our worst enemy.  (Yes, I understand the practical considerations as well, no need to have a shrine somewhere for him that a traditional burial would bring.)

I don’t know if anyone really noticed, but it wasn’t even a few hours after the announcement of his death that “See something, say something” was being reiterated across the internet.  I’m quite certain no one out there believes that the death of bin Laden signals an end to extremist violence around the world.  But at least give us an overnight, maybe a day to enjoy finally winning the longest damn game of hide and seek on record.  A small break from being pushed to paranoia in the name of National Security would be quite welcome.

Getting rid of one person, even if it is the guy at the top, isn’t really going to change things.  There are still followers, still people who hate for irrational reasons and who will lash out with violence or rhetoric to incite violence as their response to their own fear of a changing world.*

It will never be gone, but there is one less person advocating it today.

Is it right that he died voilently at our hands when we supposedly are a peace loving nation?  I don’t know, but two things come to mind:
- Karma is a bitch, and
- He started it.  (OK, that’s my inner 8 year old talking, but my outer adult can’t argue with the sentiment.)

*It’s not a Muslim extremist thing.  It’s an extremist of any kind thing.  Fear leads to hate and then violence.  Any diety provides a good excuse.

So, the Royal Wedding is tomorrow.  I won’t be getting up at 6AM but I will TiVo it so I can see a few things, and skip the boring stuff.  I know a lot of folks are scratching their heads trying to figure out why anyone is fascinated, and I have a few theories:

- We don’t really have anything like the royal family here.  (Yes, I know that was part of the plan in telling England to sod off back in the day.)  Sure, we’ve got our first family, but that changes out every 4-8 years and various and sundry celebrities, but nothing quite like the royals.

- Hats.  This country does not have enough large scale events involving hats.  I especially would like to see what Grandma E busts out of the hatbox for the occasion.

- The Dress.  Of course I want to see the dress she wears.  Despite all appearances to the contrary, I do have a girly side, and she wants to see the dress!

- It’s enjoyable to watch a wedding where you know you won’t get stuck at the singles table.

- It will break the internet.

- Commoner marries a Prince!  Though I’ve long since abandoned any notions of growing up to be a Princess, I can’t help but latch on to a few of the more practical aspects, such as a very large housekeeping staff.

And for all that think the media coverage has been a touch ridiculous, just remember our media seems to only follow news and events in one of two ways:

1. Beat it into the ground like a dead horse until it turns to glue, or
2. Ignore it.

*~*~*~*~*

Speaking of beating a dead horse, the President has released his long form birth certificate…  Something that I have always felt to be a total non-issue to start with, and yet I am quite certain that this won’t be the end of it.  If it’s any consolation Mr. President, I have no desire to see your reports cards from any school you attended.  (I really didn’t care about President Bush’s grades either.  Or Clinton’s.  Or Bush Sr.’s  Or Reagan’s.)

*~*~*~*~*

Locals:  Had to go find some Rescue Remedy today, and finally found it at Felix & Oscar: Pet Food Naturally over on Backlick Road.  Of course I found it just as the storms were clearing out, but I’m guessing we’ll have a few more before the summer is over.  For whatever reason, RR is hard to find around here – Whole Foods only had the Children’s formulary – which I implore all parents of school age children to purchase, and OTPR only has it for in house use and not for sale.  (Many thanks to their giving me some samples in case I couldn’t find it today and for pointing me to F&O’s.)  Neither PetsMart or PetCo carry it.

Got two bottles cause I am sure I’ll lose the first one before it’s empty, just like I misplaced the last bottle I bought…

So, last night at a little past 0030 NORAD was doing a bit of night training which resulted in a couple of fighter jets in afterburner* flying very, very low over my residence in Northern Virginia.

I was sitting at my computer wasting time and trying to un-engage my brain and I heard *something* coming and I wasn’t even sure what it was other than the fact that I knew it would greatly upset the dog lounging out on the deck and I had to get him inside immediately.  I dashed to the back door and said, “Moxley, get your ass in RIGHT NOW!!”  (It had a sound of very severe thunder and I’d rather him inside than digging a 4 foot deep hole to take cover in outside.)  He happily complied and I went dashing to the deck to see what was up.**

I viewed what for all intents and purposes appeared to be a fighter jet in afterburner leaving the neighborhood, but sounding much more like an airplane about to lose an engine.  TO THE INTERNET!  Facebook & Twitter yielded no immediate answers other than one person on my friend list who had heard/seen the same incident and had the same questions I had.  (I am still quite surprised that there was only the two of us in the neighborhood that took to the internet to figure out what on earth was going on.)

OK, time to mine the Twitter contacts for who may be In The Know.  Well, as it happened, Nathan Hager of WTOP News (@nhagerwtop) had made a post on his account a few minutes before this Very Loud Incident above my home, so I figured he might still be up and perhaps he’d seen/heard something – and shot him a tweet.  Within minutes I had my answer of “Norad training” – and as soon as I saw Norad, I remembered seeing a blurb about a training exercise that had been postponed due to weather.  (Sadly, it didn’t stick in my head until I was reminded of it.)

So, on the Twitter side of this posting – I can’t help but give some big props to Nathan (my personal local news guru) Hager for a) paying attention to his Twitter account, even on what had to be his verge of going to bed, and b) taking the time to post a response.  It was just great to get an answer so soon.  (Really, if you’re not following @nhagerwtop, you should be!

On the “weird after-effects” side – I went to bed and damned if I didn’t have weird airplane crashing and/or end of the world dreams for the rest of the night.  I woke up at 0430 and after realizing I still had 2 hours of sleep available to me, yelled at my brain that it was just all a bunch of weird dreams and everything was OK, and that the dog, the cats, and my brother were all in and I didn’t need to worry about any of it.  Didn’t help as the weird dreams continued, but seriously, BRAIN, LET ME SLEEP.

The last time I had a couple of fighter jets go over my house in afterburner was when I lived over in Burke.  I wallked out to the porch, looked up and thought, “Cool.”  It wasn’t for a few minutes before I thought, “Wait, what??”  I can only attribute the difference in reaction to now having a dog & brother under the same roof.  (Had cats both times and all were inside anyway.)

Really, I have enough on my mind without my brain deciding to create new and non-existent disasters for me to worry on.  Really brain, chill out.

*I have forever referred to it as “on afterburner” but my Godfather (for lack of a better description) let me know it is “in” rather than “on” – WTF do I know, my Dad was on E-2’s – they don’t even have afterburners in the first place, and if you see one “on” or “in afterburner” it means an engine is on fire.

**Not sure how going outside to see WTF was happening bodes for me in the event that the Zombie Apocalypse occurs.  I may be the first one off the map.

Not bad, just a tad odd towards the end.

Meandered up to the pool hall this evening as I am taking tomorrow off, and generally enjoyed watching my brother assert his superior skills at the Golden Tee golf game.

I was approached by a young woman and her gentleman friend who were inquiring as to my interest and favor towards Afghan food.  I tap-danced enough to indicate that I had no aversion towards it* and certainly be inclined to try it given a good recommendation.  (Hey, good grub is good grub, regardless of where it originates.)  Seems the boyfriend of the young lady is a proprietor of some local restaurants whose menu originates mainly from Afghan cuisine.  She approached me because she’d seen me at the pool hall on a few occasions and I can only imagine that I have a friendly face.

Then we got to talking a bit more, and that I am a substitute teacher at the moment, and I’ve gotten to work with little ones with autism in [my very favorite school with a seriously kickass group of teachers for the kids in Special Education/Autism group] and that her son is autistic and well beyond elementary school, and we talked of the challenges and such that goes with that entire diagnosis in parenting and teaching and such.

It’s honestly not a conversation I’d ever expected to have, well, ever – especially given that I’d never thought myself to be able to even be an adequate educational understudy, much less tell a parent, “I know this is incredibly hard, and I have the very easy part because I am only a substitute teacher and I get to go home at the end of the day, but you do the best you can and there’s not much more you can do beyond your best, so just be happy you truly did your best.”

But at the end of the day, it felt like I had somehow managed to provide her with some level of comfort/and or assurance that she was not alone, and/or that someone else understood that this is not an easy task by any means, even if it was just a substitute teacher who has on occasion worked with kids not terribly unlike her own.

When it comes to substitute assignments, I find I tend to look for Special Education classes.  Maybe this is why.

*I’ve had no direct exposure to Afghan food that I know of, but I have heard that it is quite good – and until now, no direct recommendations of good places to acquire it.

As of my typing this, that is what the Mega Millions lottery has gotten up to for tonight’s drawing.  Yes, I threw $5 at it.  (I know, I know, the lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math.)  But $5 is a fine amount to pay to play the “What if I won?” game.

Figure you get half in the lump sum, another half goes to taxes, and half of that goes to my brother after he gives me $2.50 for his half of the tickets.  That’s still 44 million dollars.  That’s a nice chunk of change.  Throw that into a 12 month CD at my credit union at 1.26% and that’s over $46,000 a month in interest.  (Unless something is very wrong with my math.)

Now, let’s say the utterly absurd were to happen and the winning numbers are on the piece of paper I bought today.  I’m honestly having a hard time figuring out how I would spend that kind of money.

There is some remodeling I’d like to do around the house.  I’d like a little cottage at the beach.  Might finally go get the Jeep Wrangler X I’ve coveted for a while.  Hell, let’s just say I took 2 mil right off the top and blew it.  Still looking at about 44K a month in interest income.

I can’t imagine my lifestyle exceeding $10K a month, even with two households and the ability to spend like a drunken sailor.

I think that is where it gets fun.  34K a month to go and spend on people and organizations that need it?  How much fun would that be???

First thing, every school in Fairfax County would get a very large crate of white plastic Pentel erasers delivered to their front door with instructions to destroy every Pink Pearl eraser* they have.

Oh the fun I could have.

*They do *not* work well with the newsprint paper in lower elementary schools, unless you count “destroying the paper” as being an effective way of erasing a mistake.

Today I subbed for an Instructional Assistant at Hunt Valley Elementary – awesome because it is 5 minutes away from my house, I have really been enjoying the IA gigs, and it’s the school where I spent first grade and half of second grade.

Now, it’s been…a while…since I was a student there, and I didn’t exactly expect to be overcome with nostalgia the moment I walked through the door, but I thought I might stumble upon a few corners of the school that might feel ever-so-slightly familiar. Nope. I am going to take the word of my friends that the school has been extensively remodeled since I attended.

It’s funny, because I totally remember the layout of my classroom in first grade: Mrs. Casey’s desk front and center, the chalkboard right behind her, door & coathangers on the right hand wall, my desk on the second row, either at the far left or second from the left. Yet I have absolutely zero memory of how I got from the front door to said classroom. I’m sure we also had music and PE and such – but you couldn’t convince me I ever left that classroom for anything other than recess, where I gave Billy a bloody nose one sunny and crisp fall afternoon after he decided it was a good idea to start picking on my friend. (This is how we dealt with bullying back the day. Not exactly appropriate now.)

But one thing does remain – her spirit is still floating around the school. I remember how much she worked with me on the problems I had, and cheered me on in the subjects in which I excelled. Granted, she did have to tell my parents, “Cindy doesn’t like to associate with the kids below her reading level.” The reply was, “So, you’re telling us we have an elitist on our hands.” (I’d like to think I got past that little issue.)

Granted, things would be harder if she were working today – between the SOL’s and having to suspend me for the Billy incident and the Neosporin in my desk when I split my lip and had stitches, she’d have to stop sleeping so she could teach and do all the paperwork I would have generated just on my own.

She is still my favorite teacher ever – I never remember a day where I walked out of there feeling like crap. Feeling like I could do better and was actually capable of it? Sure. Feeling like I could do great? Lots of times. Like crap? Never.

I IA’d for an autism resource teacher and her kids are doing spectacularly well. This is in NO small part due to her very hard work and the work of the mainstream second grade teacher. These kids came in happy to be at school, worked their butts off all day and didn’t leave the school feeling like they’d had anything less than a really good day and looking forward to tomorrow. That doesn’t just happen – that’s a teacher’s work right there.

Yup, Mrs. Casey’s vibes are still floating around the building.

I’ll admit that I am having a few problems getting all my brain cells facing the same direction since I’ve returned from my 11 days of adventures in eldercare that ended shockingly well. (For those that are still catching up, Grandma cracked her pelvis, 4 1/2 days in the hospital, off to a spectacular rehab center that she seems to actually like – and I LOVE.) Rehab time is undetermined, but if she still likes the place when it’s done, she can stay, otherwise it’s home w/ 24/7 assistance.)

First off, I am completely freezing my ass off. When I was in Phoenix, the highs were between 95 and 110 each day, and I was acclimated to it instantaneously. While I won’t bullshit you and say “Oh, but it’s a dry heat” because it certainly isn’t anymore, it’s certainly a heat that is a far sight drier than Virginia. I got off the plane at National and immediately felt the need for a sweater. Someone threw a switch while I was gone and we went from summer to fall damn near instantaneously. Don’t get me wrong – the weather has been GORGEOUS since I got back – but I came home prepared for more of the 90s and humid that I left, rather than low 80s and dry that has actually been here.

When I was in Phoenix, I rented a Wrangler X – normally I get a motorized rollerskate because I cannot judge what cars in the rental inventory will actually fit in my grandmother’s garage other than the super-compact. (This has not been helped with the knowledge that my Mom managed to crease a quarterpanel on a rental car in said garage the last time she was there.) No garage issues this time, so I told the rental agent when he informed me I could get an upgrade, “Well, do you have any of the Wranglers? Cause this trip is gonna suck, so I might as well have a fun car.” The only problem was it was a 4-banger, and I quickly learned that I had to stand on the gas to get any giddyup out of it. Come home to my Liberty 6-banger, and I damn near gave myself whiplash when I tried to drive yesterday. Today was somewhat better. I suspect that by Monday I’ll no longer look like a 17 year old learning to drive a stick shift. It’s especially bad since my Liberty is an automatic. (Mind you, I still covet the Wrangler X – just in a V6.)

Finally, and the most disconcerting – I am having some real problems wrapping my brain around the fact that we are hurtling our way towards mid-September. Last night I looked at a piece of paper for a Football Survival league that said “Money in by Sept 8th” and I said out loud, “Well, that’s still a week off.” (Thanks to my brother for pointing out that it we were actually a day past it. And thanks to the organizer that took my entry anyway.) Seriously, when I left town it was still August! And HOT! Honestly, the only way you could prove to me I was gone for 11 days would be to show me my hotel bill. Other than that, it was a complete and utter blur and all the days completely ran together. It was such an expedition down the rabbit hole from start until finish, that without documentation, I couldn’t tell you if I’d been out there five days or a full month. One thing that I have never faulted my grandmother for was the fact that she had to look at her calendar to see what day it was – lord knows I had to look every morning while I was there , and by noon I still forgot what part of the week we were in. Oh, and I was the one who supposedly had all her faculties intact. It’s very weird to have 11 days basically dematerialize – probably made worse by missing Labor Day weekend – not having that ceremonial “change of season” can really muck with your brain, especially when you come back and everyone else has had it except you.

Hopefully going for a hard-core “sleep late and be a lazy bum” weekend will help me somewhat get back into sync with the universe come Monday. We’ll see!

Were there little ones in my life, apparently I could be a “helicopter parent” and would need to be chased off by some Universities.

Colleges Shoo Away Helicopter Parents

I’ll admit that the concept of “helicopter parent” is still somewhat foreign to me, despite what I have read. The rallying cry of my childhood was, “I’ll do it MYSELF!!” and my folks did everything they could to let me “do it myself” right up until the point where I would injure myself. When it came to college, my folks helped me move into my dorm room, and then I seem to recall chasing them off like they had some highly communicable disease.

I still remember being exceptionally conflicted one winter break when my Dad told me, “Hey, our office needs a receptionist over Christmas break, would you be interested in doing that instead of temping?” While the job sounded great, I also didn’t want to be “Don’s daughter” at the office, lest people think I was just a dingbat whose Dad got her a Christmas job. On top of that, everyone adored him, and I didn’t want to disappoint him, and also wanted NO treatment that was different than anyone else because he was my Dad.

I ended up taking the job and it was great – because everyone (including, and maybe especially, my Dad) was more than willing to dump any and all work on me that they thought I could handle. Right there I knew that I wasn’t a token timesheet. However, I will admit that a perk of working with your Dad is that he will make sure you get lunch before the cafeteria closes for the afternoon. The worst day was the first day – I busted my butt to accomplish anything and everything asked of me – and I wore heels. Then Dad wanted to go Christmas shopping afterwards. I certainly wasn’t going to say, “No Dad, my feet hurt!” I seem to recall walking around Tower Books & Records in Tyson’s in my aching stocking feet, and trying very hard not to cry from the pain. (I’m fairly certain I wore flats for the rest of the engagement.)

The only real time Dad intervened was when I came walking downstairs one morning with a skintone somewhere between green & grey – he took one look at me and said, “You go back to bed, NOW. We can cover the rest for the day.” He was right, as I was rather violently ill for the rest of the day. (Occasionally, parents do know what they’re talking about.)

But that was really the extent of my parents involvement in my college and professional life. Had I asked for assistance, they would have gladly provided it, but they never said, “Let us handle this for you.” It was always, “If we can help somehow, let us know.”

Now, if I had a little one of my own, I am quite sure I’d be insanely protective of them. However, I would also like to think that I’d raised them in such a manner that when the time came to do things on their own, they could do it without my intervening on every level. I really can’t comprehend getting terribly involved in their college careers other than providing $$ for tuition and board, and being a sounding board when they needed it, or getting involved in the job process other than, “Want me to fake interview you?” In my mind, beyond that, you’re not helping, you’re just hindering their independence.

First, I overslept. While you are asking, “How does a degenerate beach bum oversleep?” well yes, it can happen. Some of us like to be up and at least mildly alert when the market opens. That did not happen this morning – plus I was extra distracted by wacky dreams, so I was mildly annoyed just coming out of the gates.

Then, it took FOUR calls to Sears to get a human being to confirm delivery of my new fridge tomorrow. While their voice automated system happily parroted back everything I said, it had an unfortunate tendency to disconnect halfway through the call. Once I got to a REAL lady on the other end of the line, I found that they had not finalized the delivery schedule for 8/18/2010. Yippee… However, to their credit, their “tomorrow’s delivery announcement” call did arrive and in theory my fridge will be here between 11:15 and 1:15 tomorrow. (Donald says 4:00PM. But I have faith.)

Last night, my awesome little brother noticed a burned-out taillight on my car. It’s inspection month anyway, so – problem solved by getting the car inspected! I even told them about the light when I dropped it off for the inspection & oil change. I missed the “Your car is ready!” voicemail by TWO HOURS, but the message didn’t say “respond or we torch your car” so I think they were OK with my tardy response. I then picked up the car with the the same burned out taillight that I left at the shop. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Bonus: got the light fixed for free. Oh, and the “recommended ‘mini’ tune-up – yeah, they didn’t have the “right” spark plugs for my Jeep.

Missed the alarm on my phone to send my friend M a reminder text. I am quite certain the alarm went off, but I either missed it or was so distracted by everything else going sideways that it didn’t register.

I’ve also spent more than a few minutes sanding down my bamboo knitting needles, cause Carmen thought they were SPECTACULAR chew toys. (She doesn’t understand that the spectacularly wonderful binkie she had in the shelter came off MY knitting needles.)

Then I saw the weather report for tomorrow: I can condense it to: Monsoon. During which time my fridge will be delivered. Said fridge which has to go through the side yard and backyard to the back door to fit inside my house. The delivery men are going to HATE me. Oh, and Lily decided it would be great to explore the Great Outdoors while I attempted to measure the front (not quite wide enough) door!

All I ask is for tomorrow to be really, really quiet and uneventful.

High school reunion this weekend. I’ll fully admit that I waited until the very last minute to decide to go for a variety of reasons, ranging from the fact that my biggest accomplishment in the past two and a half years has been not taking a hit out on my grandmother, to the fact that there are always going to be some people you’d just as soon leave completely in your past. But in the end, my desire to catch up with the people that I really liked back in high school won out.

Was incredibly happy to run into some folks that I didn’t know would be there and haven’t seen ages – it was so good to see some really special people again and I didn’t call it a night until about 3:30 AM. I’d say it was a success. Maybe we’ll all do a better job of keeping in touch this go round. “Hit me up on Facebook” just wasn’t a phrase you heard 10 years ago.

The funniest thing I found was that we’re all twice the age of when we left high school – and nobody has really changed at all. It’s nice to have a few constants in life after 20 years.

Well over 50% of the underlying issues with last night’s insomnia was the fact that I could not shut my brain off, and tonight, I feel like I’m right in the same place.

Part of the reason I’m not feeling particularly optimistic about the sweet escape to dreamland is that my brain has been going about 150MPH all day today, and it’s only gotten worse as the day has progressed into the evening. It’s been a day where every self-doubt, every question of choices made, and the rest of my mental flotsam and jetsam has decided to come bubbling up to the surface.

I was talking with a friend earlier about a mutual friend who had gone off and tried something new and potentially terrifying. Granted, it was a no-lose situation, but he went outside his comfort zone to do it. And we were both proud of him for the attempt, regardless of the outcome.

There was a time where I told The Universe, “Bring it on!!” Which she did, in spades. (Yeah, tempting Fate in the first place ain’t the greatest idea.)

But she’s winged about as much as she could at my head, and I’ve managed to survive it.

However, it’s left me ridiculously gun-shy. And I really hate that I’ve become a rather timid person for it – for no other reason that I’m tired of the fact that the Fates decided to have a psychotic break while cutting my strings.

But I just don’t want to discover that The Universe has more fun and games in store for me. I’ve had enough at this point, thankyouverymuch.

When you can’t convince yourself that anything new won’t end in spectacular disaster, it’s hard to psych yourself up for anything new and outside your comfort zone.

It’s quite an annoying spot to find yourself in.

I am one of those incredibly lucky people who rarely has insomnia.  I go to bed and I am out within 15 minutes.  It’s a wonderful thing.

And then that bitch of insomnia shows up last night.  I had a great plan – I was going to go to bed early, get a great night’s sleep, get up and conquer the world today.  The fact that I am talking about it likely indicates that it didn’t work out.

First, I stayed up WAY too late being a couch potato and watching TV.  Which in and of itself isn’t the worst thing in the world, but I was mildly annoyed with the fact that I’d not been paying a whit of attention to the time and turned off the TV at 3AM.

Went to bed, nice and tired, and could NOT fall asleep.  I’d start to drift off, and then I’d hear a noise.  Or some random thought would pop in my head.  Or Lily would be jumping up on the high boy again (which she knows she isn’t allowed to do) and I’d be awake again.  Then it was 4AM.  Then 5AM.  Then the Metrobuses started coming through.  The last look I got at the clock was 6AM, and I was briefly contemplating just getting up and going out for breakfast.  Apparently I finally fell asleep before I could attempt to follow through on that idea.

What sleep I did get was total crap as it was filled with odd dreams and when I woke up, I felt a bit like I’d been hit by a truck and with a mental state I’d graciously describe as cranky.  On top of it?  Craptastic weather!

It’s not a confluence of events that is particularly conducive to productivity.  I think the trip to the store should wait until there is a smaller chance of my bitch slapping a clerk.

I wish I was, I really do. But I am quite the homebody that takes great comfort in her ruts & routines. For every seemingly impetuous move I’ve made in my life, I assure you, there was a multitude of hand-wringing and soul searching and spreadsheets invovled in the process.

This is a habit made worse of late by grandma & her issues – because I couldn’t fathom up and taking off for a couple days while she was burning up the phone lines 24/7. Not because my brother couldn’t handle it, but there was no way in hell I’d hand that bit of hell off to someone else so I could go goof off. (For not being Catholic or Jewish, I have the guilt thing really mastered.)

But, now that we’ve got another local, able and willing body on the grandma situation (sounds sterile, but I don’t know another good way to put it) I FINALLY feel like I can skip out of town for a few days without feeling like I’ve dumped everything on my brother. (Or on the wonderful caregivers, since they have figured out how to split their time, so no one is getting smothered.)

And off I go. Tomorrow I am heading a couple hours south to Williamsburg to mainline some history. A trip I have been talking about since March. Of last year. But last night, I said, “Dammit, I’m going to Williamsburg for a few days!!!”`

The last time I said, “I can go do something fun and just enjoy it with no worries!” was March of 2007 when I went to the Philly Flower Show.

Three years is much too long to go without a little break from reality.*

But I’m finally being SMART and doing it. So, if there is any particular Colonial Williamsburg souvenir you’re looking for, let me know – I’ll try my best to get it for you. :)

*Yes, we’ve gone to the beach, but the call forwarding & grandma’s issues came along for the ride. I was that idiot on the beach answering my cell phone.

I’m not a particularly religious person, and I’ll be perfectly honest – my overall faith is shaky at best.  But, hey whatever works for you, works for you.  (Though I do sincerely hope it’s not based on “everyone else is going to hell.”)  When asked my denomination, the best I can come up with is “Vanilla Christian.”

That being said, I have come to appreciate the whole idea of Lent.*  Much more so when I discovered that the Vatican apparently said at some point that Lent didn’t have to be so much about giving something up as much as trying to do a little more good.  (No, I have no citation for this – it is simply something I read somewhere and it stuck with me – it could be complete manufactured nonsense aimed at getting people to stop giving up broccoli for Lent and encouraging them to volunteer at the library.)

There is a common theme out there of it takes 21 days to make or break a habit – yet studies have shown it takes more along the lines of 6 weeks.  Well – 40 days of Lent fills that bill quite nicely.  And you get a bye on Sundays to boot.  It’s perfect if you’re trying to make a few changes, regardless of whether it’s ditching a bad habit, creating a good one, or both.

For whatever reason – kicking it off in February seems to ever so slightly less arbitrary than January 1 – if only because Mardi Gras is a moving target every year.  That, and Lent has an end date, which New Year’s Resolutions do not.  If after 40 days, you say, “To hell with this, I did it for 40 days, hated it, it’s not an ingrained habit by now and obviously it isn’t going to be anytime soon!” you can chuck it out the window and give it another whirl next year.  Because you at least gave it a go for a decent amount of time, whereas with NYR’s there is no end in sight and you have no marker of “I have done well” or “I suck at this” and given that, one tends to trash it all in the space of  two and a half weeks.

That all being said, I am ditching the pool hall for Lent to get rid of a bad habit (so far, not too bad) and picking up the better habit of attempting to be a better homeowner/housekeeper/cook.  (One of the three a day, not all every day.)  Things are a tad more sketchy on that front, but I’m still mindful of it – and I’ll either have a few better routines in place by Easter and I can carry those throughout the rest of the year, or I’ll still be a slob.  But I’m still giving it the old college try anyway.

So yes, I am co-opting Lent for my own selfish personal growth.  But in the end, it should not just better for me, but others as well.  So it’s not death-by-lightning worthy, right?

We’ll know if I post on Easter.

*I certainly did NOT get this as a child.  We didn’t muck around with Lent and I could not fathom why my Catholic friends would give up things such as chocolate rather than something from the vegetable family.  It seemed quite strange to not pick a path with a better chance of success.

OK, not really weird, but I like the alliteration.

– YAY for having friends working at a decent auto service station!  They can tell you the best time to show up to get your headlight replaced so you’re only waiting for five minutes instead of three hours.  (And bonus points for him getting the job done in no time flat despite the fact that I was seriously hovering watching what he was doing – only to come to the conclusion that had I tried to do it myself, I’d have likely broken $750+ of other car parts in the process.)

– Spring training is underway!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Enough said.

– Yet another “NBC, you do seem to WANT to lose $200M on the Olympics given the way you’re doing this coverage” annoyance.  I really enjoy Curling.  The commentators seem to like it, too.  They talk about how each throw can make a difference.  And yet NBC will cut to commercials and skip 4 ends.  That, and I have also seen the same damn interviews of the same damn medal winners multiple times.  Kids, you did good, but your 15 minutes are OVER the second the next event starts.  I don’t care how you did it for the time being, because I would like to see others do their thing to get a medal rather than an interview with you.  It’s nothing personal, I’m just trying to see as many events as I can, and your interviews are really screwing that up.

– And on another sports note, I finally can admit that I can see the advantage to HDTV.  I have a normal TV, and it’s fine.  They say HDTV is awesome for sports – my only experience with it has been up at the pub.  Yes, it’s great because I can see the scores much easier on the screen.  But I have no need to see every individual blades of grass on the field.  HOWEVER – when you’re watching Curling??!?  You can EASILY see which stone is closest to the center.  Yes, Curling of all sports has made me an HDTV convert.

– More Curling.  I didn’t get to see a whole lot of Curling in the Torino Olympics because I was still spending an inordinate amount of time trying to teach people how to use my company’s accounting software, and I was being taunted on a near daily basis by my brother sending me IM’s of “I’ve seen more Curling before 9AM than most people see in a lifetime.”  But what I did see, I really liked.  And this go round, I’m not the only one.  I have come to the conclusion that it is an Olympic event that people watch and say, “Hey, that is something I could learn how to do!” Not necessarily on an Olympic level, but it’ss something that looks fun and doable for your normal person with the desire to learn the game.  You can’t really say that about a lot of the other events.  (I would have said it about cross country skiing until Petra Majdic skidded off the course and ended up with four broken ribs and a punctured lung.  I’ll stick with being the girl at the lodge ordering everyone’s drinks.)

– Even more Curling.  It’s become a well enough known event that no one even batted an eye as I found myself YELLING at the TV at the pub watching the Canadian ladies versus the ladies from Denmark.  I even had people asking me if a point had been scored.  (Thanks to little bro for giving me the scoring/hammer refresher course when things kicked off.  There aren’t a lot of televised Curling events outside of the Games.)  OH CANADA!

– The Snow.  It really needs to seriously melt down.  We’re supposedly getting a wintry mix turning to rain on Monday, and I am all for it.  The awesomedog even moreso.  The poor little guy is losing his mind.  He has the track I cut for him through the backyard, and he is willing to go snowplowing through the rest if he sees something interesting, but it’s certainly not the same as having his whole yard to bounce around in.  So he’s going a tiny bit nuts.  As am I – I love that the snowcover makes everything brighter, which is great in the winter.  However, I am wondering about permanent retinal damage due to the snowblindness every time I look out the window.

– Lent.  It’s somewhat entertaining to watch the confused looks of people when you have given up/tried to improve/done a few more good things for Lent and you’re not Catholic  I don’t do it to mock, it just seems like a slightly better idea to try and improve things during the Lenten season than doing the 1/1 resolution thing that gets broken within a week anyway.  (Despite my lack of overt religiousness, I do still have a few shreds of faith left, so it works for me.)

– And tomorrow is Saturday, so I can sleep in with no guilt over it whatsoever.  Hoorah for weekends.

I LOVE the Olympics.  I spent the last week trapped in my house by snow, I’ll spend the next two weeks trapped by choice.  I just wish NBC wasn’t doing such a craptastic job with the broadcast – but given that they seem to be OK with losing $200 million on this, I can’t expect them to actually care about putting together good coverage.  If they cut all the damn human interest stories and in-studio commentary, they could *gasp* show more events.  Or take 2 minutes and show me how a luge sled works.  (That would be a story of interest to this human.)

I also love that it brings out such great national pride for everyone and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with politics.  Just good old fashioned feats of strength, and you’ve gotta love that.

~~~~~~~~~

I’ve put out a bunch of birdseed out on the snow on the deck.  The cats are going to lose their minds.  I really thought Carmen was going to explode when the squirrels showed up.  Speaking of the cats, I still do not understand how two rather petite felines (6 & 7.5#) can sound like baby rhinoceroses when they’re playing upstairs.  I’m never quite sure if they’re just having fun or if the roof is caving in.

~~~~~~~~~

I’ve been playing a lot of Scrabble this past week on Facebook, because there’s not a lot else to do when snowed in and I figure it’s good for my brain.  I used to think I was a relatively intelligent person, but given my win-loss record and ranking, I’m starting to think that perhaps it’s unsafe for me to be left unsupervised.  Today I actually had to play the word cat.  CAT.  I think that automatically knocks 50 points off your ranking.

~~~~~~~~~

We’re supposed to get more snow on Monday.  Just a clipper, maybe 3-6″ – basically a normal snowfall for around here.  I find myself completely scoffing at it.  This is what a winter with 70″ of snow will do to you.

Or, why I really, REALLY cannot shop without a list, and especially when it has been snowing and more snow is on the way.

Ran up to the store to do a quick restocking as we are getting perilously low on dog biscuits and while the soda situation is OK for now, little bro is on his way home and we can plow through them.  Easy enough.  HAHAHAHAHA.  This is how I shopped today:

Hit dog biscuit aisle.  Get biscuits.  Hey, Mox doesn’t have any Beggin Strips.  Or Pupperonis.  Or those little steak things he likes! I should probably grab some more cat treats, too…

Hit soda aisle.  Grab Cokes.  Spy mixer aisle.  I do have that big assed bottle of tequila and no Margarita mix…and I should grab some more OJ cause it’s kind of crappy tequila.

Walk by beer section.  Well, can you really have too much beer on hand?  It’s not like it will go bad before its consumed…

Swing by bread aisle just for giggles.  Wait, there is still regular white bread?  When I make the ham salad, the white bread we do have will disappear before we run out of ham salad.  And OMG, Pita bread!!  I can make fake paninis!

Realize it’s getting ridiculous and head for the checkout.  OOHHH!!  Peanut butter crackers!  I love those!!

First, I’ll be perfectly honest – I thought JD Salinger was already dead. But hey, that’s what you get when you become a recluse.

I read Catcher in the Rye in high school. I didn’t have to read it for a class, though. (It’s weird, it seems most of my English classes didn’t have the traditional reading lists, and every year I’d get, “Didn’t you read this last year?” “No.”  Made college fun, too.)

But, I read it anyway. Personally, I found it to be a victim of the hype. It seriously had zero impact on me.  This could be an indicator that I was a complete unfeeling bitch at the time, but all I remember thinking was, “Your life sucks, we get it.”  I really could not fathom what the big deal was over the whole thing.

Whatever your point may have been JD, it was lost on me.  Sorry about that.

Yeah, I know, it’s technically Tuesday, but the muse is still on PHX time.

– Carmen is about 91% back to normal. She still looks at the ceiling fans with a suspicious eye, but is back to hanging out in the living room, and decided food was the winner in the fear of ceiling fan vs. eating in the bedroom. It may seem silly that it worried me as much as it did, but it’s just a tiny bit heartbreaking to not be able to explain that the ceiling fan is not a predator. Lily still looks at the ceiling fans and then looks at me with an expression of, “Seriously, I don’t get the issue here.” Or it’s, “WTF, why is the fan off?” I’m not quite sure which it is.

– Is it wrong that when I come in and want to know where the kittens are I say, “Where are my single ladies?!” and then sing a few bars from Beyonce’s Single Ladies song? They do show up when I sing it. (And I use the term “singing” loosely.)

– Sharyn* called today, and I’ll admit my first thought when seeing her number on the Caller ID was, “WTF has my grandmother done???” Yes, I know I’m going to hell for that. But, it was just an update. First being that the hot water heater is ON – and to expect some calls about that. (I couldn’t even get her to voluntarily leave it on when we stayed with her. So I just turned it on and didn’t tell her.) But, she’s not been super great about showering of late, for several understandable reasons that I am completely speculating upon because she won’t actually tell anyone:

a) Afraid she’ll fall & hurt herself
b) Not like she’s out running a marathon
c) Doesn’t give a rat’s ass, cause she’s 87 years old
d) Hot water costs money

But Sharyn is getting her a shower seat (the shower has a built in bench, but she could quite easily slide right off it it – hell, *I* could slide off it were I not paying attention) and will be there so my grandmother knows if she has any issues, help is immediately there. (And as Sharyn said, “Hell, if she wants me to get naked too, I’ll do it.” God bless this woman.)

Additionally, we’d previously talked about Meals on Wheels for more hot food options**, but they’re kind of insistent on “coming in & helping” and my grandmother just is NOT comfortable having strangers about (which I think is a good thing) and Sharyn did a little more poking around and one of the local hospitals does a pretty kick ass meal plan that can be picked up, which is better for all helping out. Given my grandmother’s good financial situation***, it will cost……$4 a meal. Christ, our Chinese takeout tonight cost way more than that. And she was reading one of the menus to me – Swiss steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, salad & milk. Hell, where do *I* sign up for that?

I’m very glad she found this, cause she has been cooking up things to take over to my grandmother, which is awesome, but I’m really glad to have this off her plate (so to speak) because I do worry that she’s doing too much already, despite her protestations to the contrary.

* The angel sent from heaven to Sun City to prevent me from tossing my grandmother into the middle of traffic on Bell Road.
** My grandmother would live on sandwiches & ice cream if left to her own devices. I am at the point of “Whatever the hell she wants” but I am outvoted, LOL. She will eat *anything* you put in front of her, but will never admit that she’d like anything beyond sandwiches & ice cream. As I have said before, she’s taken self deprivation to an art form.
*** I have told my grandmother on more than a few occasions that if I had her resources at her age, I’d be ordering Lobster Thermador & a Cabana Boy every night. I will be getting the contact info for this hospital meal plan and a nice donation will be made so they can help a few more people who *can’t* afford it, because frankly, she’s being ridiculously undercharged for this service.

First, I have to thank my dog for always making me feel better about myself.  This morning as I made my coffee, I looked at the dog & kittens and said, “OK, what shall we all work on this year?”

Kittens: “What is this ‘work on’ thing you speak of?  We are perfectly cute, there is nothing to ‘work on’.”
Me: “Good point.”

I looked at Moxley.
“Well Mox, you’re the awesomedog and really, there isn’t a thing you need to work on either.  Guess it’s just me that needs to improve.”
Mox: *UUURRRRRPPPP* as he barfs.  (Fortunately in the kitchen, easy cleanup.)
Me: “Aww, OK, that’s nice of you.  You can work on not drinking your water too fast and then running around like a banshee and barfing.”

Beyond the dog not barfing up his water and the cats continuing their quest for world domination via cuteness, there are some other things I’d love to see in 2010.

– Lord Stanley’s Cup coming home with the Washington Caps.  (Who should be playing in the Winter Classic today, but NBC and the NHL are full of morons.)

– Civility in the political arena.  There is this really nifty concept where people “agree to disagree” on various subjects that works quite nicely in lieu of ridiculous name calling.  (Note to all parties: The minute you play the Nazi card, you automatically lose the argument.)

– For the economic recovery to actually make it down to regular people and not just Wall Street.  It’s great that the markets have come back, but until people can go to bed at night without worrying that they will lose their house/job/everything, the recovery isn’t complete.

– More reading.  I need to find my library card again.  (Or just suck it up and pay the $2 for a replacement, which will guarantee I find the old one.)

– More patience with my grandmother.  Things are only going to deteriorate, and she’s never going to get that prescription for Valium that the rest of us so very much need her to have.  On the flip side, I also need to remember she has never, ever called with an actual emergency, and she hasn’t died as a result of getting my voice mail instead of me, so the guilt needs to go out the window.  (Probably all easier said than done.)

– For the awesomedog & superkittens to continue to get along so incredibly well.  And for Moxley to not be quite so nervous when Lily is in “Oh Moxley, I LOOOOOOOOVE you!!” mode.   (Right now she is cuddled up next to him, on her back, fast asleep.  Shame she doesn’t feel secure around him.)

– To learn how to clip the cats’ nails.  I chickened out and had the kennel do it while we were in PHX.  (Which also reminds me, the kitty clippers were the item I forgot to get at PetCo yesterday.)  I suspect this may be the easiest of my 2010 endeavours.

– Improve my housekeeping skills.  OK, the skills are there, just getting off my lazy ass and doing it.  I just have a knack for finding a million things that are more interesting than cleaning.

– Finally, to find a bit of direction in my life beyond just keeping my grandmother from calling 911 to ask what day of the week it is.  I think this will be the most challenging task of this year, as my grandmother’s situation has become a bit all-consuming to me as I have been having a very hard time convincing myself that I do not have to make myself available 24/7, and this has put a real dent in my doing anything new or different.