If you got it....

This woman is totally naked. Her clothes, or what you see on her have been painted on her. Well, except for the high heels...they're real. How funny is that?

Hello!

I was recently reminded of a situation where my hands ended up getting thrown in the air and my eyeballs hit the ceiling. On July 2nd I was vacationing in WNY and I went to my brother's house for a pre-July 4th party. My mother, who everyone was expecting at Ed's house, decided she wasn't up to going so it was just me and my dad. We walk into the back yard together and head out to the tent where everyone is sitting, standing, drinking, what have you. This women who I do not remember looks at me and says, "Mary!" Mary is my mom and yes we look like mother and daughter but to be accused of being her seems to me to be a stretch.

"Um....she's 70!!!" I find myself saying out loud. "Hello!" This does not set well with me all night.

****

Yesterday my husband and I went to Target to get a few things. This is one of those Target Supersavers so you can buy all kinds of stuff. Phil goes to the grocery section while I check out the sports bras (started to jump rope at the Y...yeah...need a little support there.) I meet up with Phil in the frozen foods. We go to the check out. I start to read the magazines but I remember the bra and I know Phil is embarrassed to be buying it without a woman with him. I head to the other end, next to where you sign your name on the credit machine thingy. I'm watching the checker lady. Phil had placed the bra on the check out belt. Had I been in line, I wouldn't have even set it down but I know Phil is too embarrassed to do that. The bra is the last thing to go get scanned. Checkout lady puts it in the same sack as the bananas! I'm like "Hello!"
"Did you not show up for 'purchase packing' class?" I step up and remove the bra from the bananas and ask for another bag. "She's 70!" rings through my head.

Stop the world, I want to get off

There is so much bad stuff in the world today I just feel like ignoring it and burying my head in the sand and hoping it just goes away. I know I should be more socially conscience but I just don't want to be. Ignorance is not only bliss, it's what gets me up each day. I feel if I turn a deaf ear or a blind eye to what I have no control over, I'll do better for me. Now, this is not to say that if something were happening right outside my door, I would act the same but events thousands of miles away..I just feel it's okay to be ignorant. Does anyone agree with me? It's okay if you don't because I can pretty much turn a deaf ear/blind eye to that too. I feel bad for all the turmoil terrorists are doing but what really can I do?

I was at the Y today and there was a couple in their, I imagine, 70s doing some exercises on little blue mats right off the indoor track. I found myself so drawn to them. I really wanted to ask them if they needed anything; if they could use a little instruction...anything. I wanted to talk to them. Now, here is something I know I can help out - I can make a difference (albeit on a much smaller scale). I love working with seniors and I really should find a place where I do that. Or more of it. They were laying down and when they got up, I so much wanted to race to their sides to help them steady themselves. I didn't feel comfortable but I did watch them to see if they were at all wobbly...fortunately they were not. (Had they been, I would have gone over to them in a heartbeat.) I did finally ask the woman when she came over to the machine I had finished with if she needed any help. She said, "No, it's all programmed into the machine, but thanks for asking." So she knew more than I thought she would know. I wanted to congratulate her for her dedication to exercise. It's over 100 degrees here and it's uncomfortable to be out in it even to run from AC to AC.

Anyway, I guess what I am trying to say is that I need to be in some control. I certainly don't have any on world issues so I need to just concentrate on the local.

The lady at Walmart

The lady at Walmart was named Alberta. I was so tempted to ask if her sister was Ontario and her brother was Nova Scotia. I really was!

Awfical Blues

I'm sitting at my desk in my Awfical (Office+Cubical=Awfical) and I'm going nuts. Love the work. Just can't stand snorting co-worker of substance. He snorts every 60 seconds or so. Grabs whatever bile is in his lung and snorts it into his head so, I imagine, he can swallow it. It is so disgusting! I have complained but apparently it's a "medical condition" and "he can't help it". Yeah, right. I remember a time when I cried a lot at work. I was told it was unprofessional and tears weren't allowed in the workplace. I used to be ashamed of it. Intellectually I knew it was stupid but emotionally...I couldn't stop. Well, by golly it's a medical condition! I can't help it. Don't think nothing of it. It's just my illness. Guess I can save the money on my Zoloft..cool. That's what I'm going to do. Weed of the drugs and just let the tears roll.

Okay..back to work.

What now?

Okay, my vacation is over until November. Work is busy as can be..even busier than that...they are letting me do overtime which is like so unheard of..."time and a half, what? are you nuts?" School doesn't start until the end of August...now what? Oh, I know...I could work on that short story I started to write for "TRUE STORY." Have you ever read any of those stories? They are so lame but I probably shouldn't say that since I might need to make nicey nicey with the editor (as if). You should look at them at the library. The headlines on the front cover are something like, "My mother caught me masterbating...will I ever see again?" I know I could write better stories than you will find in there. All of them have happy endings where the narrator learns a lesson.

Okay, back to the subject at hand....what's next? I know I should go to a pilates class but the Y has them at 7:45pm and it's hard for me to leave the house once I am home. Phil and I go to the Y three times/week but not usually that late. I go right from work. I hang out a work a while because if you to the Y early, it's too crowded. Everyone wants to get their workout in before dinner. Phil and I eat late usually.

Oh, I could clean my house. Yeah, there's a thought.

I do want to learn more about Access too. I could work on that. I could join the PC Users Group in OKC and go to meetings. I could learn more about investing. There is a lot to learn. I'm just not finding anything here.

I gotta think about it more.

Me and Mom

I think I have discovered how to put photos on my blog. Oh, good, something new to play with. This is me and mom at Bingo last Tuesday. You would never believe I was adopted? Okay, nice try, huh?

The Box

Randy Travis had a great song out a few years ago. I have it on his greatest hits CD which I play in my car. The song is called THE BOX. It's a ballad about a man whose father just passed on and in the process of attending to his dad's things, he comes across a wooden box in his father's workshop. He carefully lifts the top off and in it, he finds personal momentoes of his dad's life...some things he is surprised to find...a poem the dad wrote about his wife and child; a long lost pocketknife the singer gave to his dad for father's day; postcards and pictures. The singer says, "we had all thought his heart was made of solid rock, but that was before we found the box."

I had heard the song before I went back home last week. I really wanted to find the opportunity to sit down with my dad and talk about "stuff". I did try...a little but it just didn't happen.

I had noticed a wirey fake flower wrapped around a button on my dad's shirt - obviously a gift from a fund raiser he apparently donated to - when I first arrived on Wednesday night. I noticed the flower again on Thursday. On Friday...I had to say something...you can't wear a shirt for three days...you just can't. I told him he needed to change his shirt, that he had worn it long enough. "You're wacky," he said to me. He has said this to me a lot over the years.

"There's a man at work. He's 82 years old. He told me he needs his wife to tell him when to take a shower because 'when you get his age, you need to be told'. He's 82 and still works." I told him this so he knew he wasn't alone; that his thinking was normal for a man of 75 and he shouldn't feel so bad. Dad left the room. I really thought he had taken my advice. A little while later, I saw him and that same wirey flower around the same button.

"Oh," I said. "I was hoping I didn't hurt your feelings."

He walked by me on his way to the basement. "I don't have any feelings anymore."

"When did you lose them?" I asked. He laughed and kept on going. The next day he changed his shirt.

I want my dad to write his thoughts down because if I ask him he doesn't know how to answer. It seemed like everything I asked him he answered with a question or some big prologue that was so unnecessary. I must have said 15 times last week, "Dad, please just answer the question." He kept thinking his answer wasn't what I wanted to hear but the reality is, it didn't matter to me what the answer was...I just wanted an answer. Example, he was going to drive me over to my friends house so, as we were leaving, I asked him, "Should I lock the door?" To which he replied, "What for?" "Dad, just answer the question. It doesn't matter to me if it is locked or not, I just want to know what do you normally do when you leave." (They live in a small village outside of Buffalo, NY. There is a crime rate but not a high one and locking the doors when I was a kid was an option but not mandatory. I haven't lived there in twenty years so what do I know?)

I might have to wait to find "the box." I just don't know if that's the best thing.

My Mother's Wine

I'm visiting my folks in Western NY. I have been here for four days and I am exhausted. My mother is 70, heavily affected by osteoporosis and unable to walk more than a couple steps assisted by a walker. She is also legally blind. Normally she is the most positive person you could meet even with all her health issues. She often replies, "there are people worse off than me," when I say, "my poor mama." She works for TAP (Telephone Assistance Program) where she calls shut in a couple times per week. Her big high light it so go to BINGO on Tuesdays with my dad and sister-in-law. Aside from doctor appointments it is her only chance to get out. She reads Guidepost and can quote from Dr Norman Vincent Peale. She says she can do anything if she wants to if she puts her mind to it. I once joked with her that she just might have a problem getting into the space program. "My books also tell me I shouldn't be around people who are so negative," she gruffs at me.

Mom has always liked her alcohol. She's not a drunk but I could rely stories from my childhood where alcohol played a big role in my life. Last night, Dad and I got back from visiting my brother. Mom was invited but decided she wasn't up to going. When we returned it was blatantly obvious she had gotten into the wine. I was not in the room where dad was making up a plate of food that we brought home for her but when I entered the room, dad was fuming, "How many glasses of wine did you have!" Mom went quiet which is not a good thing because you know the wheels, lubricated by the wine, are turning around in her head faster than normal. She sits in her wheelchair, behind her big thick Pre-80s style glasses, randomly sticking her fork into the left over baked beans and potato salad on her plate. After a few mouthfuls she not too forcefully throws her fork into the plate and gushes, "I can't believe you father reprimand me just because I had a little wine." By now she is crying.

My father has escaped to the livingroom after his assault where the TV volume level is set to 75 year old ears. I have traveled 1200 miles to witness this scenario no doubt a repeat of my last visit. I am mad at dad for bringing this up. Even I know you don't confront a drinking spouse about her drinking while her head is swimming. Now, I'm in this position to make everything right again. I have not deluded myself into thinking this is ever possible, but I have a need to try. I convince mom to go to bed. She agrees to that as she rolls away in a huff. I get the kitchen somewhat organized and go into her bedroom. She is halfway dressed; her exposed flesh making me gasp. My heart is breaking to see her so frail, so thin....her last weight reading was 89 lbs. This is a woman who averaged throughout her adult life around 140 lbs. I leave her to changing herself because I am not comfortable with helping her and she is by no means, even in her slightly inebriated state about to welcome my help. I return a few minutes later. She is in laying in bed, in a heap of arm, shoulder, back bones. The osteoposis is so advanced her neck extends her head down to her chest which was pigeoned chested since birth making the bone heap higher. She senses my presense. "I can not do the things you all can do," she declares between tears. "I can not go bowling, I can not drive, I can not walk much. Why does he have to make me feel bad for having a little wine?"

I sit on the edge of the bed, touch her thin arm, notice the veins therewith. "Mom, it is just so bad for you," I say softly.

"Bad for me? He smokes!"

"That's bad for him too, but wine can make you dizzy and you can not afford to take another fall," I have had this conversation before.

We go back and forth. She's not buying it. I finally say, "I don't know what more to tell you. It is just bad for you and we are never going to agree on this."

I let her go to sleep. My father should not smoke but at 75, I don't think it would make a big difference in his health if he stopped. It would make the house smell better though. I see his ice cream in the freezer and think to complain to him that there is too much fat in it but I think, "at this point, why bother?"

I can see mom's point. I don't discourage dad from his vices but I do mom. She can not see the harm...even after all the surgeries, the confidements, the pain she has entured over the past 18 years. I wish I could offer an alternative but I have no idea. It breaks my heart.

On picking a church

I have lived in Oklahoma for almost seven years. I have thought about joining a church and I have gone to a couple churches in the past two years for services, weddings and funerals. I just haven't bothered to join.

I guess I am hoping to find a church that isn't so hung up on religion....so hung up on the rules. I know, sounds more like a social club. It seems strange to me that here I am in the so-called "Bible-Belt" and yet the crime rate is so high. So friggin high. How can that be?

There are so many churchs here...as popular as 7-11's.....one on every other corner. There are all kinds of denominations too...Baptist (I went to a funeral at a Baptist Church...there were so much "amen"ing and "praise the Lord"ing the poor pastor couldn't get though the service.); Catholic (went to a memorial service at a Catholic church... the priest actually kissed the pulpit, kissed his Bible, kissed his little sash he wears. I got my arobic workout by kneeling, sitting down, standing up, kneeling, sitting, standing.); Lutherin (no slightly amusing tales to share there). Then there are so many who have to be first...First Church of Edmond; First Church of Christ; First Church of Overthinking...everyone wants to be number one! What's up with that?

I also want a church who isn't going to discriminate because you are gay or pro-choice. I am neither of these things, but I still don't want someone telling them they are wrong. My church would except you for who you are. Well, of course, there are limits there too since I still don't think it's okay to be a pediphil or a murderer...so I guess acceptance has its limits too. It angers me so when you hear on the news how church members can justify bombing an abortion clinic. It's like, what is wrong with this picture?

My church would just believe in being good; doing good things and having a little prayer now and then. My friend at work says I should read the Bible. I know this isn't going to happen. I believe what I believe and I really don't think I need to talk about it. When a friend sends me one of those emails that says, "If you love God, you will forward this to 10 people." It ain't going to happen. God knows fully well what I feel about him. I don't need to bug 10 friends about it. I also don't want my church to post the tally of my contributions. I don't think church should cost me anything...if it does, I won't go.

What I should do is Church shop...go to a new one every week and then make a decision. I'm going to sleep on that. Good night.

The birds have my name on their beaks...

They are saying, "Cheap, cheap.." I will admit, I am a cheapskate. As I had stated before, I'm really big on thrift shopping. Oh man, the deals I got yesterday just make me want to squeal. I bought this beautiful Amanda Smith two piece suit...ivory, fully lined, with pleats in the skirt and functional pockets in the skirt and in the jacket. It is in great shape. I just need to get it dry cleaned. I paid a whooping $2! Yeah...that's two bucks. Whoever owned it before me couldn't have worn it more than once. The threads on the waist band that held on the cardboard label are still intact. Those are the threads that you need a seam ripper to pull. I bought my husband a perfect pair of Dockers...his exact size for 50 cents! I also bought a jumper (made in the USA) for $1.75. All are going to the dry cleaners today (except for the Dockers which are machine washable). I may never pay retail ...or even sale price retail again. Sorry I if am dwelling on the unimportant....I just can't help it.

Work is so darn busy. I have a major mailout that has to be ready to go out Wednesday. I'm going home Wednesday morning (6/29-7/7). I'll get the mail merge done, the letters printed but someone else will have to stuff envelopes. I'm not missing my plane. Besides if I were in charge...if only...it would have been done by now...but that's another story. More later.

Bloggernauts Unite

I'm new to this blogging and I gotta say, I'm loving it. And it seems so many are on the same track. I'm so glad there are people out in cyberland who know how to write...not this "how r u doin 2 nite?" crap. When chatting with people, even those with a piece of paper that says they received an education, it amazes me how they got so far when they say things like, "Your so funny," or "There going to the beach." Aw...what a turn off. (Okay, I'm not above making an error now and then, but you know when it's an error and just plain laziness.) It's refreshing and unfortunately I have to cut this short as my lunch is over. Dang this working for a living...really cuts into your personal time. :)

My Physical Therapist is Amazing

Oh...I feel good all over. Just back from PT. Dr. Love (I'm not making this up) is so good. I said, "You must have a very happy wife," as his hands did its thing on the tension in my shoulders and neck. Then he hooked me up to these electroids...on my lower back and my shoulders/neck area. They sent electricity to my skin as I laid on hot pads. It was so fine...until the buzzer went off and I had to leave. Damn. Damn it was good.

Not much else new in my world. Snorting co-worker was still doing his thing but I managed to tune it out. Life is good.

OMG...I'm getting comments! This is so great!

Oh, I can not believe it! People are reading me! I'm so darn excited. One commentor who collects interesting imbecile stories (an interesting past time...certainly not boring) conceded that I am not an imbecile just a poor maiden in need of a life. I say, touchet but as my blog disclaims..."It's kind of mundane but I like it that way." (Okay, not all the time...I'm working on that.) Thanks for reading. It has made my intensely data-entry-laden-life-at-work bearable. I don't mind being in my "Awfical" even if my co-worker (a man of substance...how's that for a euphemism?) still insists on swallowing the bile he resurrects from his lungs every three or four minutes. (I'm just happy there isn't an odor attached to it.) So thank you.

Since I am at work, I have made my browser screen microscopic so only one short line of text is visible amongst the Access database I have open. I'm just one quick click away from not being discovered. Of course, this doesn't include the MIS guys downstairs. "Hi Steve"...in case he is watching my every keystroke. They said I can't email but they didn't say anything about blogging. I'm of the belief you sometimes need to NOT ask. Just do and apologize later if need be.

I better get back to work. More on my boring life later. Oh, and did I say, Thanks for reading?!!!

Found a book, found a bargain, got some bread

Could life get much better? I went to the Edmond Farmers Market. Didn't buy a farmer but I was looking. I did get some bread, zuchinni/raisen/nut...love it. Then I went to the library and a book grabbed me enough to actually check it out. Plus I learned how to do the self-service check out. That is so cool...scan your card, scan your book, out pops the receipt. See, I'm so easily amused.

Then I went to this thrift shop on Litter. There were a lot of cars in the general area of the shop. I found out why...almost everything was half price. I bought four pairs of slacks for a whopping $2.16. Two of them I have to hem to make into Capris...I'm just too tall and finding my inseam is a feat. One is for Phil but I might have to hem them because he's so short (not really but his legs are shorter than mine even though he is taller than me). The other...Eddie Baurer...is a good fix. My waist is 32 and my inseam is 34...the Eddie Bauer is exactly that which is amazing because clothing people, or the person who purchases the clothing for stores, usually don't have 34 inseam unless your waist is 34 or larger. Of course, I don't shop at the high end places when I am looking to pay retail. But even the cataloges (Penneys, Sears) don't think long legged people are relatively thin. Most catalogs list a tall size and state the inseam is 32...whooo whoooo. Anyway, I'm happy w/ my finds.

Since I started this Pilates exercise, my body has gone amuck. There's this one exercise where you have to squeeze the muscle that you use to stop yourself from peeing. I can't remember the muscle..I think it starts with a "K". Well, you won't believe it but I think I pulled that muscle. Something "in there" hurts a bit now. Only I could do this! Wait till I tell my Physical Therapist. He'll flip.

I gotta go...later.

Tom and Katy are getting Married!

Oh, I'm so happy for them. Really! Okay...not really. I can't believe this is headline stuff. Like Michael Jackson being found not guilty. It was the headline in the Oklahoman. Surely this can not be the most important item in the news, no? The local news this morning had a story about Tom Cruise and Katy Holmes...he proposed to her at the Effiel Tower. Okay, yes, I'm jealous but I still don't think this is headline stuff. I told Phil, imagine going some place for leisure and not having to worry about how much money you are spending. We can't do that...everything has a price. We can't go bowling, it cost a fortune...money better spend on food and clothing. I just can't imagine the ease of just buying what you want....and I'm not talking about extravant stuff...I mean just lunch and tickets to a play or a concert or simple stuff.

Oh well. Maybe in another life.

I go to the library (thank God that's free) and I try to find a book that really grabs me, throws me against the wall and screams "read me, read me!" I can't find one at the moment. I'm sure I will eventually but I have taken two out and discovered I couldn't get into them. I'm so picky. I just like upbeat happy girl meets boy kind of books. I seem to gravitate to the first person narrative. Like, The Book of Joe and Everything Changes by Tropper. I need to find one this weekend.

Oh. what to do?

Lunch time in my "awfical" (used to be 'Offical' as in a combo of office and cubical...now an awfical). I have the heater blasting. I had my back on ice until it melted. Thank God for reuseable ice packs. I was surfing the many blogs on the net. Some are very interesting. Some just want to sell something, some just want me to know about their sex life. Not necessary....Thank you very much. I wonder if anyone ever just comes upon my blog. I hope they leave a comment.

I have PT tonight. Phil's getting a pizza. That works for me. His sister's birthday was yesterday. They got pizza and I think Phil felt bad to not be there. He said we should have pizza tonight because they had it yesterday back home. I said, we should celebrate Kathy's birthday, too. Phil doesn't let on what he's feeling or when he's missing his family. He should tell me more. He did say he was jealous that I was going home in two weeks and he wasn't. "I didn't plan my vacation, right," he said. I didn't tell him what I was thinking...that I wanted to go back without him. Nothing personal...I just want to concentrate on my visit w/ my mom and dad. If he were there too, I'd have to spend more time at his family's and I really don't want to. I will see his mom for sure. I'm not sure if I will stay the night though. I'm at someone's mercy for a car or a ride. Anyway, I'm glad he shared his feelings with me.

I better go. Later....

I need an Attitude Adjustment

No, doubt! I can't get people to understand that the world does revolve around me. What's wrong with them...all of them? Surely they know the sun rises each day for me, no? I want more than I'm getting. I want people to know where I'm coming from before I have to explain it. I want to be in control. I want to work more. How crazy is this? I want to work but my boss won't let me. Budget issues, she says. OH, then she says I'm being too perfect...spending too much time on my project. She knows it won't ever be perfect but I want to make it as perfect as possible. Surely management can understand that? No? I want a job where I can work till my hearts content. Is that so much to ask for? I want to be in demand, by golly...I'm worth it.

I need to remind myself....the world doesn't work the way I want it to work no matter how illogical that may be.

Saturday headache

There ought to be a law against having a monster headache on a Saturday. This headache was definately a "call in sick to work" headache. It's gotten better but it's still there. Caffeine doesn't seem to touch it. It's a sinus thing no doubt. The weather is freaky too; a barometric change happening. Phil had said the models were setting up unusually according to the National Weather Service. There is a hurricane in the gulf...storm Arlene is brewing. I think she's messing with my head.

I am going to physical therapy. My therapist, Mr. Love, has told me the bad news on Thursday. My structure is really out of whack. I need to do Pilates...a series of exercises designed to help with my posture. Most of my aches and pains can be linked to my poor posture. The good news....I'm not a worse case scenerio. I need to do my strength exercises too tonight.

I would really like it if I had someone to blog with. I have one friend, Rob but he's not very reliable. I also have Liz but she is too busy too. Everyone has a life but me.

Went to a party at Kathy and Al Wheelers. It was fun but it would be more fun for me if people paid a little attention to me. Yes, I am sure that is a defect in my persona that probably is a catch 22...this need no doubt turns people off, even if I don't come out and say so. There was one girl there I talked to, Christa or Christin or something like that. I told Phil I didn't care for her personality. The truth is though, it's probably one of these "don't like you" before you make it clear you don't like me. I'm whacked.

Newsletter disaster

I finally got the word that I could copy and distribute my newsletter "The Illuminator" to everyone in the department. Debi said it was a go. I had to redo the letter on Publisher, which I had been doing on my own time. Something happened when I was saving it. Apparently I was updated an older version. I printed it out, in a hurry because I knew the time situation was an issue for Debi. It was wrong! Debi brought it back to me. I was so mad at myself. I fixed it but then after I sent it out again, it was still wrong! Here was this chance for me to shine a little, to show off my creative skills and I frigged it up. I started to cry. I talked to Debi about it. I told her, "I'm not trying to make excuses but I didn't want to spend too much time on it so I didn't review it again. I thought I had made those changes weeks ago." She looked at me and I could see the wheels turning...the expression said, "well you didn't check it and now it's wrong." Debi is not good at supporting you when she thinks you're slightly wrong. Aw.....I was so upset. I was trying to tell Flora. She understood. Aw....more later.