A couple of years ago at the sprite age of 76, my Dad decided to take the Mensa Test.
And passed fabulously.
All my life he's lorded over me how much smarter he is than I am, and now he has a piece of paper to prove it.
He just called to bug me once again about taking it. And recently attending all his parties (at the various clubs he belongs including Mensa) has probably brought this about because he must be running out of stuff to brag about. So the bugging is getting more intense.
If I take it and pass - he'll be like "so what"
If I don't....
Rock. Hard place.
Should I or should I not? That is the question. (help!)
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Half the battle is NOT getting there.
They should post a sign over any hospital door:
Your heart and dignity will be removed as soon as possible, please just get over it.
Well, after standing around with the corn fed boys of the rural fire brigade for 20 minutes or so (they were expecting to haul the skid loader out of the ditch, but my husband foiled that...) the ambulance finally showed up.
Now we live on the county line, so they wanted to take my husband to the rural hospital in the county we live in instead of the city hospital in the more metropolitan area where they have state-of-the-art care available. Sensing that this was no run of the mill broken leg, I did what any self-respecting woman would do in a moment of extreme stress.
I threw a hissy fit. Tears and all.
Eventually they agreed to take him to the city hospital. They didn't even look at my husband's leg, they just took his vitals and put him in. I even got to the hospital BEFORE the ambulance.
Now, I forgot to mention that exactly one week before this event, my husband had been to the same emergency room - with a KIDNEY STONE. The on call doctor for this event looked at me and said that I looked familiar, and keep in mind a state of extreme stress will make you say some pretty odd things...."Well, you did such a good job with the kidney stone, we just wanted see what you could do with this..." Don't ask why I said that - I call it "word vomit" - sometimes statements just come out and I can't stop myself (I'm sure there's a competent therapist with my name all OVER a folder somewhere...) The look on his face was priceless indeed.
When they finally got my husband into the trauma area, we pieced together what had happened... Apparantly, when the skid loader pitched forward into the ditch, to keep from sliding out and under the machine and being killed (as he was NOT buckled in) my husband stuck his right leg out to prevent himself slipping out. But in his frantic state to brace himself with his left leg, it hit the controls to bring the bucket down, and it scissored his right leg between the cross member of the arms that control the bucket.
His leg was basically amputated in place. CRUSHED. Smushed. But it didn't come off. And even more weirdly, no bones protruded. But it began to swell, and swell...
After they took him into the MRI tunnel, the doctors looked very grave indeed. Because apparently, a crush is not like a break, or even an amputation... you have this little problem associated with the death of tissue called "compartment syndrome" which sets up another little problem called "gangrene" which can quickly translate into "DEATH."
Educational moment in Cliff's notes format - there is an envelope that encases every muscle that feeds blood and oxygen to the tissue - compartment syndrome is when that envelope is damaged, and the tissue begins to die (gangrene). This puts poison into your entire body.
The doctor looked at me and said:
"We have to take the leg off or he'll die."
All I could say was "NO." And I nearly passed out dropping into a chair.
Your heart and dignity will be removed as soon as possible, please just get over it.
Well, after standing around with the corn fed boys of the rural fire brigade for 20 minutes or so (they were expecting to haul the skid loader out of the ditch, but my husband foiled that...) the ambulance finally showed up.
Now we live on the county line, so they wanted to take my husband to the rural hospital in the county we live in instead of the city hospital in the more metropolitan area where they have state-of-the-art care available. Sensing that this was no run of the mill broken leg, I did what any self-respecting woman would do in a moment of extreme stress.
I threw a hissy fit. Tears and all.
Eventually they agreed to take him to the city hospital. They didn't even look at my husband's leg, they just took his vitals and put him in. I even got to the hospital BEFORE the ambulance.
Now, I forgot to mention that exactly one week before this event, my husband had been to the same emergency room - with a KIDNEY STONE. The on call doctor for this event looked at me and said that I looked familiar, and keep in mind a state of extreme stress will make you say some pretty odd things...."Well, you did such a good job with the kidney stone, we just wanted see what you could do with this..." Don't ask why I said that - I call it "word vomit" - sometimes statements just come out and I can't stop myself (I'm sure there's a competent therapist with my name all OVER a folder somewhere...) The look on his face was priceless indeed.
When they finally got my husband into the trauma area, we pieced together what had happened... Apparantly, when the skid loader pitched forward into the ditch, to keep from sliding out and under the machine and being killed (as he was NOT buckled in) my husband stuck his right leg out to prevent himself slipping out. But in his frantic state to brace himself with his left leg, it hit the controls to bring the bucket down, and it scissored his right leg between the cross member of the arms that control the bucket.
His leg was basically amputated in place. CRUSHED. Smushed. But it didn't come off. And even more weirdly, no bones protruded. But it began to swell, and swell...
After they took him into the MRI tunnel, the doctors looked very grave indeed. Because apparently, a crush is not like a break, or even an amputation... you have this little problem associated with the death of tissue called "compartment syndrome" which sets up another little problem called "gangrene" which can quickly translate into "DEATH."
Educational moment in Cliff's notes format - there is an envelope that encases every muscle that feeds blood and oxygen to the tissue - compartment syndrome is when that envelope is damaged, and the tissue begins to die (gangrene). This puts poison into your entire body.
The doctor looked at me and said:
"We have to take the leg off or he'll die."
All I could say was "NO." And I nearly passed out dropping into a chair.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
The wait is over
Well, Gizmo didn't win the big photo contest :o( But hey! nothing ventured, nothing gained... And talk about the longest wait in photo contest history!!! Geesh!
All the pictures are beautiful, I know couldn't pick just one (IF I was objective ;o)
I thought she would at least make tops, but she didn't (she usually does) Losing IS a bit merciful in a way - I can quit entering her for awhile (okay I could quit before I just didn't want to because, well, she was winning...)
Honestly, it gets VERY addictive when your kid wins because well... it's a fundamental concept - winning is fun, losing sucks. Period. That's why gambling can be such a problem...and I admit playing these photo contests are very much like gambling. And even the ads for these things are a bit Vegas-esque. But what else are you going to do with a picture that costs more than your monthly electric bill? And you can't even put it on your desk at work LOL
The loot report this year?
- 1 Holiday Collectible Barbie
- Free entries into other contests
- 1 Build a Bear with Outfit
- Monogrammed Tote Bag
- $325
- California Barbie Doll
- A Free photo shoot with a top pageant photographer
- and a write up in the premiere National Pageant Magazine
I'm not greedy - just thankful we get to play!
..Oh and yesterday I found the most FANTASTIC hot pink hat for her next shoot - no time to waste preparing for the next pictures!! There's necklaces to buy! and hair accessories! and gloves! and feathers! and earrings...and fuzzy scarves..... to the next shoot here we gooooo......
All the pictures are beautiful, I know couldn't pick just one (IF I was objective ;o)
I thought she would at least make tops, but she didn't (she usually does) Losing IS a bit merciful in a way - I can quit entering her for awhile (okay I could quit before I just didn't want to because, well, she was winning...)
Honestly, it gets VERY addictive when your kid wins because well... it's a fundamental concept - winning is fun, losing sucks. Period. That's why gambling can be such a problem...and I admit playing these photo contests are very much like gambling. And even the ads for these things are a bit Vegas-esque. But what else are you going to do with a picture that costs more than your monthly electric bill? And you can't even put it on your desk at work LOL
The loot report this year?
- 1 Holiday Collectible Barbie
- Free entries into other contests
- 1 Build a Bear with Outfit
- Monogrammed Tote Bag
- $325
- California Barbie Doll
- A Free photo shoot with a top pageant photographer
- and a write up in the premiere National Pageant Magazine
I'm not greedy - just thankful we get to play!
..Oh and yesterday I found the most FANTASTIC hot pink hat for her next shoot - no time to waste preparing for the next pictures!! There's necklaces to buy! and hair accessories! and gloves! and feathers! and earrings...and fuzzy scarves..... to the next shoot here we gooooo......
Friday, December 29, 2006
The Emergency Circus
Okay, sweater and slippers are on... back to our story.
Well, our neighbor's daughter, startled as she was, drove me up to the door of her house where she ran and grabbed her mother - who upon seeing me in my muddy,disheveled and frantic state became equally anxious about the whole situation. All I could do was blurt out: "Husband!" "In ditch... I think his leg is off....please I think they'll need to pull him out - heavy equipment involved" "Please just CALL 911...."
And I ran back. By now I could hear my husband hollering for me "GET DOWN HERE - WHERE AAARRREEEE YOU???? ARRRRGGGHHH......"
It actually sounded a little better (if you can believe that!)
Apparently, in the meantime, our neighbor who called 911 for us, called upon two of the most "useful" people that live on our street (out of what was like, all 8 of the houses on our street.) I like to call them Hansel & Gretel. Now, they are really sweet people, he's VERY British, and she's VERY German. Talk about your odd couples. He has a Poirot mustache and wears a lot of tweed, and she is tall and thin and very drawn looking and chain smokes constantly. They both have made a hobby of telling everyone that our street would not be NEARLY as clean and beautiful if it weren't for them laboring to pick up all the "litter" on their daily walks. And never mind their hatred of any animal that isn't a cat or anyone that can't play bridge... Anyway, I digress. This was actually my first meeting of these two - he brought a crowbar with him and she brought her cigarettes. How useful in an emergency. (Although I'm now convinced they're both former Russian spies still putting on an act along with the rest of the characters in the witness protection program on our street.)
So by the time I got back (again the whole slow motion time thing going on) they had driven down (Gosh, thanks for stopping and giving me a ride...) and my husband was...
NOT in the skid loader.
He apparently had enough wits, er, adrenaline (and a LOT of it) to get out of the skid loader and hop almost 50 yards up into our truck at the top of the driveway. The side of the truck was the picture of desperation as the muddy hand prints left a track of obvious clawing to get up into the vehicle.
But I STILL wasn't sure what happened. Except his leg was hanging at a very odd angle. A very, very, very, odd angle. With traces of blood beginning to seep.
But at least the screaming had died down to a gutteral moan at this point. Hansel had reached my husband before me, which apparently just managed to piss my husband off terribly... and Gretel was trying to console me (but she never dropped her bloody cigarette) while we were waiting for an emergency team to arrive.
At this point, as odd as it might seem, we got into an argument.
"Take me to the fucking hospital" he demanded. Now, being the hopeless romantic that I am I responded with basically "No, you idiot, what if you go into shock?? I can't help you... I am NOT taking you to the fucking hospital, I've called an AMBULANCE".... He was not in the mood to listen to reason.... "FUCK THE AMBULANCE, TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL!!!!!"
Weeeyooooo Weeeeeyooooo Weeeeeeeeeyoooooooooo
Thank God for Laurens County's finest. Our Volunteer Fire Brigade. But no Ambulance.
It sounds like everything was okay...but it was NOT.
The worst was yet to come.
Well, our neighbor's daughter, startled as she was, drove me up to the door of her house where she ran and grabbed her mother - who upon seeing me in my muddy,disheveled and frantic state became equally anxious about the whole situation. All I could do was blurt out: "Husband!" "In ditch... I think his leg is off....please I think they'll need to pull him out - heavy equipment involved" "Please just CALL 911...."
And I ran back. By now I could hear my husband hollering for me "GET DOWN HERE - WHERE AAARRREEEE YOU???? ARRRRGGGHHH......"
It actually sounded a little better (if you can believe that!)
Apparently, in the meantime, our neighbor who called 911 for us, called upon two of the most "useful" people that live on our street (out of what was like, all 8 of the houses on our street.) I like to call them Hansel & Gretel. Now, they are really sweet people, he's VERY British, and she's VERY German. Talk about your odd couples. He has a Poirot mustache and wears a lot of tweed, and she is tall and thin and very drawn looking and chain smokes constantly. They both have made a hobby of telling everyone that our street would not be NEARLY as clean and beautiful if it weren't for them laboring to pick up all the "litter" on their daily walks. And never mind their hatred of any animal that isn't a cat or anyone that can't play bridge... Anyway, I digress. This was actually my first meeting of these two - he brought a crowbar with him and she brought her cigarettes. How useful in an emergency. (Although I'm now convinced they're both former Russian spies still putting on an act along with the rest of the characters in the witness protection program on our street.)
So by the time I got back (again the whole slow motion time thing going on) they had driven down (Gosh, thanks for stopping and giving me a ride...) and my husband was...
NOT in the skid loader.
He apparently had enough wits, er, adrenaline (and a LOT of it) to get out of the skid loader and hop almost 50 yards up into our truck at the top of the driveway. The side of the truck was the picture of desperation as the muddy hand prints left a track of obvious clawing to get up into the vehicle.
But I STILL wasn't sure what happened. Except his leg was hanging at a very odd angle. A very, very, very, odd angle. With traces of blood beginning to seep.
But at least the screaming had died down to a gutteral moan at this point. Hansel had reached my husband before me, which apparently just managed to piss my husband off terribly... and Gretel was trying to console me (but she never dropped her bloody cigarette) while we were waiting for an emergency team to arrive.
At this point, as odd as it might seem, we got into an argument.
"Take me to the fucking hospital" he demanded. Now, being the hopeless romantic that I am I responded with basically "No, you idiot, what if you go into shock?? I can't help you... I am NOT taking you to the fucking hospital, I've called an AMBULANCE".... He was not in the mood to listen to reason.... "FUCK THE AMBULANCE, TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL!!!!!"
Weeeyooooo Weeeeeyooooo Weeeeeeeeeyoooooooooo
Thank God for Laurens County's finest. Our Volunteer Fire Brigade. But no Ambulance.
It sounds like everything was okay...but it was NOT.
The worst was yet to come.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Christmas
Well, since I can't sleep. (I either end up over-posting or under but never in-between)
I'm feeling guilty, because all the other bloggers have given their commentary on Christmas and I didn't really say a word.
That's because there wasn't much to say.
Christmas used to be a lot more fun when I didn't have to do so much work. But this year, I threw in the proverbial towel. Only a tree in the living room and some garland on the balconey upstairs. Didn't overspend on the kids. Got everything I wanted and here's what I got:
Gift card to Ulta
Gift card to Cache
Some decorative plates for our kitchen wall
an ipod Nano (in PINK!)
Issey Miyake perfume
and some really, REALLY, cool snow boots (lace up black suede with pom poms at that!!)
We ate leftovers from the family gatherings collected on Saturday and Sunday, and never even changed out of our pajamas.
It was a great day.
I'm feeling guilty, because all the other bloggers have given their commentary on Christmas and I didn't really say a word.
That's because there wasn't much to say.
Christmas used to be a lot more fun when I didn't have to do so much work. But this year, I threw in the proverbial towel. Only a tree in the living room and some garland on the balconey upstairs. Didn't overspend on the kids. Got everything I wanted and here's what I got:
Gift card to Ulta
Gift card to Cache
Some decorative plates for our kitchen wall
an ipod Nano (in PINK!)
Issey Miyake perfume
and some really, REALLY, cool snow boots (lace up black suede with pom poms at that!!)
We ate leftovers from the family gatherings collected on Saturday and Sunday, and never even changed out of our pajamas.
It was a great day.
Still no word :o(
Well, there's still no word on the stupid photo contest :o( They were supposed to announce winners Monday, but I have a feeling it won't be until Friday.... Even the name of the contest is cheesy: "Unforgettable Faces" LOL
But hey! who doesn't want to have an "unforgettable" face?? Of course, with all the retouching, who could forget what ANY of these pics look like....
I'm swearing off these things for awhile after this one!!!
They have these stupid prediction boards (www.voy.com/189998/) that I watch just to see who everyone is "picking" to win. And it's frustrating, that even though my daughter wins a good bit, she rarely gets predicted. It's like she's invisible sometimes. I know I shouldn't worry about it, but some of these other moms must hire PR teams from New York to set up the kind of publicity their kids get. It's kind of like a popularity contest from high school - there are kids who are popular for some particular reason, and others that well, aren't. I do like to read the boards though, these bitches are something else sometimes - and if you can catch it before the moderator does.... They should call it the MOMs from Hell board LOL
I rarely post (except to sneak in a prediction for MY kid!!!)
I don't mind putting my daughter in these types of photo contests, because if you could pick my kid off the street from her glitz pics, I'd kiss yer butt at high noon and give ya three hours to collect a crowd... (and no, these pics are not the ones that go on Grandma's mantle. )
But it's fun in a weird kind of way, a bit like extending Christmas. And Gizmo knows the drill:
Win photo contest = Shopping trip
p.s. I must be getting old, we took a day trip skiing yesterday, and I can barely MOVE....
(will continue other story tomorrow)
But hey! who doesn't want to have an "unforgettable" face?? Of course, with all the retouching, who could forget what ANY of these pics look like....
I'm swearing off these things for awhile after this one!!!
They have these stupid prediction boards (www.voy.com/189998/) that I watch just to see who everyone is "picking" to win. And it's frustrating, that even though my daughter wins a good bit, she rarely gets predicted. It's like she's invisible sometimes. I know I shouldn't worry about it, but some of these other moms must hire PR teams from New York to set up the kind of publicity their kids get. It's kind of like a popularity contest from high school - there are kids who are popular for some particular reason, and others that well, aren't. I do like to read the boards though, these bitches are something else sometimes - and if you can catch it before the moderator does.... They should call it the MOMs from Hell board LOL
I rarely post (except to sneak in a prediction for MY kid!!!)
I don't mind putting my daughter in these types of photo contests, because if you could pick my kid off the street from her glitz pics, I'd kiss yer butt at high noon and give ya three hours to collect a crowd... (and no, these pics are not the ones that go on Grandma's mantle. )
But it's fun in a weird kind of way, a bit like extending Christmas. And Gizmo knows the drill:
Win photo contest = Shopping trip
p.s. I must be getting old, we took a day trip skiing yesterday, and I can barely MOVE....
(will continue other story tomorrow)
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
911
When I came around the corner, the skid loader was pitched forward into the ditch.
You haven't lived until you've heard the screams of a human being in mortal agony.
Especially a loved one.
My husband was clinging, convulsing, to the cage of the skid loader screaming - making sounds I have never heard from a human and never wish to hear again... and no actor can make the sound that comes out when the pain, and terror, are real. I don't care how much they try. (I can pretty much watch any horror, war, or science fiction movie quiet peacefully now.)
"My LEG!! OH MY GOD!!! IT'S OFF!!! I DON'T KNOW. PLEASE GOD HELP!!!!"
I didn't know what else to do, I knew there was nothing I could physically do at the scene, so I just ran for help. The next closest house was a mile down the road, and cell phones don't work where we live. No time to think, or feel, just RUN.
I felt like the preview of the six million dollar man running in slow motion. Not knowing what was really happening, not being able to feel, the surreal nature of the moment overcoming me like a bad dream. One leg pumping in front of the other, but going nowhere - as if time began to stand still.
Fortunately, the teenage daughter of our neighbor was out in her golf cart.... All I could do was jump in to the passenger seat and babble incoherently about needing to dial 911. I am quite sure I frightened her to death, as she still acts funny around me to this day. But in the meantime....
You could still hear my husband screaming from where we were.
I still didn't know what, exactly, was happening. But I was about to find out.
You haven't lived until you've heard the screams of a human being in mortal agony.
Especially a loved one.
My husband was clinging, convulsing, to the cage of the skid loader screaming - making sounds I have never heard from a human and never wish to hear again... and no actor can make the sound that comes out when the pain, and terror, are real. I don't care how much they try. (I can pretty much watch any horror, war, or science fiction movie quiet peacefully now.)
"My LEG!! OH MY GOD!!! IT'S OFF!!! I DON'T KNOW. PLEASE GOD HELP!!!!"
I didn't know what else to do, I knew there was nothing I could physically do at the scene, so I just ran for help. The next closest house was a mile down the road, and cell phones don't work where we live. No time to think, or feel, just RUN.
I felt like the preview of the six million dollar man running in slow motion. Not knowing what was really happening, not being able to feel, the surreal nature of the moment overcoming me like a bad dream. One leg pumping in front of the other, but going nowhere - as if time began to stand still.
Fortunately, the teenage daughter of our neighbor was out in her golf cart.... All I could do was jump in to the passenger seat and babble incoherently about needing to dial 911. I am quite sure I frightened her to death, as she still acts funny around me to this day. But in the meantime....
You could still hear my husband screaming from where we were.
I still didn't know what, exactly, was happening. But I was about to find out.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
February 13
I wanted to go skiing.
But we were building the house ourselves, and we had a lot of work to do. So, under quite a bit of protest, I agreed to go work on the house instead. There was a lot of industrial trash to be removed and we didn't have anyone else to do it, so my husband had talked his father into loaning the skid loader for the day so we could move the trash into the rented giant trash bin -we really wanted to get it done, because those trash bins tend to be expensive to rent and we were trying to cut as many costs as possible. So for a better part of the day we moved trash out of the ditch by our house (sheet rock remnants, pipe remnants, old cardboard boxes etc.) - my husband would hop in and out of the loader so to expedite the process, he buckled the belt BEHIND him instead of buckling and unbuckling each time. Took too much effort and time he said. Get 'r Done ya' know.
So the day passed and we were tired. Dog tired and covered in mud and dirt. My husband asked me to go around back and lock up while he went and quickly put a load of fill dirt in the ditch. Okay, let's go.
As I locked up around back, I heard a terrible screeching noise, kind of like when an engine has metal rubbing together. Not quite machine, not quite human. So I ran around the front of the house - not worried so much, but curious. But nothing could have prepared me for the indelible impression I was about to encounter.
I will never forget what I saw. Ever.
But we were building the house ourselves, and we had a lot of work to do. So, under quite a bit of protest, I agreed to go work on the house instead. There was a lot of industrial trash to be removed and we didn't have anyone else to do it, so my husband had talked his father into loaning the skid loader for the day so we could move the trash into the rented giant trash bin -we really wanted to get it done, because those trash bins tend to be expensive to rent and we were trying to cut as many costs as possible. So for a better part of the day we moved trash out of the ditch by our house (sheet rock remnants, pipe remnants, old cardboard boxes etc.) - my husband would hop in and out of the loader so to expedite the process, he buckled the belt BEHIND him instead of buckling and unbuckling each time. Took too much effort and time he said. Get 'r Done ya' know.
So the day passed and we were tired. Dog tired and covered in mud and dirt. My husband asked me to go around back and lock up while he went and quickly put a load of fill dirt in the ditch. Okay, let's go.
As I locked up around back, I heard a terrible screeching noise, kind of like when an engine has metal rubbing together. Not quite machine, not quite human. So I ran around the front of the house - not worried so much, but curious. But nothing could have prepared me for the indelible impression I was about to encounter.
I will never forget what I saw. Ever.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
C'mon get Happy :o)
Point. Counter Point.
Upon reading another blog on my way through my regular stops through cyberspace...a popular blogger, www.suburbanturmoil.blogger.com, wrote a response to a reader who suggested that she needed to write about more things that made her happy.
That apparently did not set well with said blogger.
I will admit that her biting wit and snarky attitude about pageants instigated my start into blogland. She has a bit of "I'm so over everything" in her blogs (although I don't think she's really that way at all, her blog is more of a vent than anything.) And poor thing, she's got a sick toddler AND she's pregnant. So you'd think I'd be a bit on her side or really nasty about the fact that she basically let the commentator that suggested she should "get happy" have the third degree. I am neither.
What bothers me is the fact that so many other people are apparently "so over" things and have more appreciation for the snarky than the sparkly (that phrase sucked but it's the best I can do for now.) In other words the consensus of said blogger's reading public is the same as what I tell my husband when I have a raging case of PMS:
"Don't ruin a good bad mood"
On the other hand, negativity breeds more negativity. The news tells us life sucks, there's never really anything good going on in the world. The heartbreaking is more interesting than the heartwarming. And that's sad. I think anyone who doesn't try to see the good in life needs, well, a little re-setting of perspective. Nothing pernicious, but life changing enough to see what's really small stuff and what's really important.
February 13, 1999 was my date. The most horrible day I've ever had.
....to be continued.
Upon reading another blog on my way through my regular stops through cyberspace...a popular blogger, www.suburbanturmoil.blogger.com, wrote a response to a reader who suggested that she needed to write about more things that made her happy.
That apparently did not set well with said blogger.
I will admit that her biting wit and snarky attitude about pageants instigated my start into blogland. She has a bit of "I'm so over everything" in her blogs (although I don't think she's really that way at all, her blog is more of a vent than anything.) And poor thing, she's got a sick toddler AND she's pregnant. So you'd think I'd be a bit on her side or really nasty about the fact that she basically let the commentator that suggested she should "get happy" have the third degree. I am neither.
What bothers me is the fact that so many other people are apparently "so over" things and have more appreciation for the snarky than the sparkly (that phrase sucked but it's the best I can do for now.) In other words the consensus of said blogger's reading public is the same as what I tell my husband when I have a raging case of PMS:
"Don't ruin a good bad mood"
On the other hand, negativity breeds more negativity. The news tells us life sucks, there's never really anything good going on in the world. The heartbreaking is more interesting than the heartwarming. And that's sad. I think anyone who doesn't try to see the good in life needs, well, a little re-setting of perspective. Nothing pernicious, but life changing enough to see what's really small stuff and what's really important.
February 13, 1999 was my date. The most horrible day I've ever had.
....to be continued.
Monday, December 18, 2006
It's the most wonderful time of the year!!!
I'm baa-aack!!!!
After two weeks of company ordered psychological training and four rotating cases of something akin to the bird flu running through my house - it's time to write again!!!
Before I go to said main subject, ya'll will have to appreciate the hopeless romantic my husband is... Wednesday night, after vomiting violently and wishing I was dead briefly from about 8-midnight, I finally got to sleep...well about 2am my son woke up destroying the upstairs bathroom like a bad scene from the exorcist - so my husband shook me awake and said "well, you're already sick with it so can you go deal with him?? I don't want to get it!"
Love ya, mean it LOL
An-y-who.
It's that time of year in the pageant world - time for one of the most anticipated events of the year!!
Is it the christmas parties the coaches' throw? no
Is it pageant slumber parties? no
Is it Christmas cards from your friends? duh
Is it the biggest Christmas pageant of the year? that is soooo over
Is it the joy of finally getting all the hairspray, makeup, and tanning solution out of everything your 3 year old owns?? No, that's an impossible task anyway...
Ladies and Gentlemen!!!! It's time for the "unforgettable faces" year end online photo contest with the "Duos Doubles" contest!!
Aaahh friends - if you haven't lived through the mad scramble to find 2 and only 2 partners - and everyone wants to pair with the best photos out there - it can get well, messy. Now, there are those moms who are resourceful enough to hire hackers to find the email addys of the kids with the best pictures. And then there are those who email the directors to ask if they know if so-and-so might like to pair. Bless the brave souls who post to the voyager boards to ask for pairings and pick up lord knows what kind of spamming.
And finally, my personal favorites. The moms who don't email anyone or try to get good partners, that commence to then sit around and bitch online about how the "regulars" will always pair up and nobody wanted to pair with them and oh the same old people win... and somebody made a deal not to get paid so they could win, and so-and-so must be related...blah,blah,blah,blah, blah, infinity
Let the "wild rumpus" begin (name that book!) oh they gnash their gnarly teeth, and they roll their horrible eyes, and they wail their terrible wails....
As they say in the South, "Bless their Hearts"
Of course a $500 purse and boxes full of gifts for the winners can make even the nicest moms go greedy ;o)
In 7 days half the pageant world will be glued to a computer screen in every corner of the US (and possibly few Canadians too...) waiting for the results as to who the "best of the best" are in photo contest competition for the year...
Now for folks who don't quite have what this is about let me explain.
In pageantry, there is another world of competition called the "online photo contest." This is where you can take the photos you paid what no normal human being would pay for a photo that doesn't even really look like your kid and win STUFF - money, prizes, gifts, PR.... You can't discount the PR needed in pageantry. It's like Hollywood - any publicity is good publicity. And this is a critical aspect. So if your kid can get great pics from the best photographers, and build their name....well...it doesn't hurt. I can't put my finger on it, but somehow, when kids start either winning photo contests, or bashed on a bash board, they mysteriously start winning everything.... hmmmm.
Along with this competition (as with National Pageants) are the prediction boards - every mom wants to see their kid "predicted" to win - although I think most predictions are from the moms, grandmas, and those forced at gunpoint to name certain kids as the front runners. I don't think race horses get this much speculation or promotion... I think it would be very enterprising of me to be the first pageant "bookie" (but then I remember I have a soul AND a concience, darn it!!) And it can turn vicious if you aren't careful. One wrong move and you can become the victim of a vicious witchhunt!!! And these girls name names LOL I'd rather take a bitch slap up side the head ANY day... But it's all part of the game.
Oh and what's that? Well of COURSE we play, duh-huh! After all, I AM "Pageant Mom."
After two weeks of company ordered psychological training and four rotating cases of something akin to the bird flu running through my house - it's time to write again!!!
Before I go to said main subject, ya'll will have to appreciate the hopeless romantic my husband is... Wednesday night, after vomiting violently and wishing I was dead briefly from about 8-midnight, I finally got to sleep...well about 2am my son woke up destroying the upstairs bathroom like a bad scene from the exorcist - so my husband shook me awake and said "well, you're already sick with it so can you go deal with him?? I don't want to get it!"
Love ya, mean it LOL
An-y-who.
It's that time of year in the pageant world - time for one of the most anticipated events of the year!!
Is it the christmas parties the coaches' throw? no
Is it pageant slumber parties? no
Is it Christmas cards from your friends? duh
Is it the biggest Christmas pageant of the year? that is soooo over
Is it the joy of finally getting all the hairspray, makeup, and tanning solution out of everything your 3 year old owns?? No, that's an impossible task anyway...
Ladies and Gentlemen!!!! It's time for the "unforgettable faces" year end online photo contest with the "Duos Doubles" contest!!
Aaahh friends - if you haven't lived through the mad scramble to find 2 and only 2 partners - and everyone wants to pair with the best photos out there - it can get well, messy. Now, there are those moms who are resourceful enough to hire hackers to find the email addys of the kids with the best pictures. And then there are those who email the directors to ask if they know if so-and-so might like to pair. Bless the brave souls who post to the voyager boards to ask for pairings and pick up lord knows what kind of spamming.
And finally, my personal favorites. The moms who don't email anyone or try to get good partners, that commence to then sit around and bitch online about how the "regulars" will always pair up and nobody wanted to pair with them and oh the same old people win... and somebody made a deal not to get paid so they could win, and so-and-so must be related...blah,blah,blah,blah, blah, infinity
Let the "wild rumpus" begin (name that book!) oh they gnash their gnarly teeth, and they roll their horrible eyes, and they wail their terrible wails....
As they say in the South, "Bless their Hearts"
Of course a $500 purse and boxes full of gifts for the winners can make even the nicest moms go greedy ;o)
In 7 days half the pageant world will be glued to a computer screen in every corner of the US (and possibly few Canadians too...) waiting for the results as to who the "best of the best" are in photo contest competition for the year...
Now for folks who don't quite have what this is about let me explain.
In pageantry, there is another world of competition called the "online photo contest." This is where you can take the photos you paid what no normal human being would pay for a photo that doesn't even really look like your kid and win STUFF - money, prizes, gifts, PR.... You can't discount the PR needed in pageantry. It's like Hollywood - any publicity is good publicity. And this is a critical aspect. So if your kid can get great pics from the best photographers, and build their name....well...it doesn't hurt. I can't put my finger on it, but somehow, when kids start either winning photo contests, or bashed on a bash board, they mysteriously start winning everything.... hmmmm.
Along with this competition (as with National Pageants) are the prediction boards - every mom wants to see their kid "predicted" to win - although I think most predictions are from the moms, grandmas, and those forced at gunpoint to name certain kids as the front runners. I don't think race horses get this much speculation or promotion... I think it would be very enterprising of me to be the first pageant "bookie" (but then I remember I have a soul AND a concience, darn it!!) And it can turn vicious if you aren't careful. One wrong move and you can become the victim of a vicious witchhunt!!! And these girls name names LOL I'd rather take a bitch slap up side the head ANY day... But it's all part of the game.
Oh and what's that? Well of COURSE we play, duh-huh! After all, I AM "Pageant Mom."
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
%#@@ **$(!& I #,(* HATE ^@#(!! TECHNOLOGY
I bought an HP3310 all in one printer last May. Of course, my son needs his paper printed for his writing class (and it's late in the evening.) So the (unladylike expletive) of a (piece of another unladylike expletive) thing keeps giving me (more expletives) funky error messages after I replaced the cartridges! The whole selling point of the (more expletives) item is you can replace one cartridge at a time! Well, you replace one, and it starts spitting up about the others. So I replaced them, followed all the instructions etc. still giving me (yet more expletives) the error.
MUST CONTROL FIST OF DEATH...
Called Best Buy - you gotta bring the (expletive expletive expletive) thing in. I tell the monotone guy on the customer not so service line DO NOT pa-tron-ize me I'm in IT you expletive idiot - so he says, well, I'll patch you to the geek squad. Yeah whatever, give me a geek... as long as he's not from expletive India (pause for clause: I have nothing against India, but when I am pissed I am NOT in the mood for the QUEEN's ENGLISH!!!!!!!) Expletive MORONS. Just tell me what the error is. So he said he'd get back in a moment... and he HUNG UP on me!!!! Expletive, break telephone, kick babies, eat nails...expletive piece of expletive printer.... He did NOT get back with me - he expletive HUNG UP!!!!! It's enough to make you want to claw your own eyes out and break the closest china (and it's probably something STUPID I'm just too angry and sleepy to deal with it!!!) ARRRRGHHHH!!!!
ARRRGHHH!!! ARRGGHHH!!! Just give me a freakin answer to my expletive expletive question!!!! Is that too much to ask??? (yes I went to the website, and yes, I followed the instructions, and yes I got Olli and his brother Krishna and his other brother Krishna to try to help me....)
If I didn't have $500 in the whole thing (including accessories and service plan) I'd push it out the expletive window!!!!!
>o(
p.s. For some reason they are sending me to "how to get along better with others class next week...." so I can be sanitized and politicized appropriately.... dunno why....
MUST CONTROL FIST OF DEATH...
Called Best Buy - you gotta bring the (expletive expletive expletive) thing in. I tell the monotone guy on the customer not so service line DO NOT pa-tron-ize me I'm in IT you expletive idiot - so he says, well, I'll patch you to the geek squad. Yeah whatever, give me a geek... as long as he's not from expletive India (pause for clause: I have nothing against India, but when I am pissed I am NOT in the mood for the QUEEN's ENGLISH!!!!!!!) Expletive MORONS. Just tell me what the error is. So he said he'd get back in a moment... and he HUNG UP on me!!!! Expletive, break telephone, kick babies, eat nails...expletive piece of expletive printer.... He did NOT get back with me - he expletive HUNG UP!!!!! It's enough to make you want to claw your own eyes out and break the closest china (and it's probably something STUPID I'm just too angry and sleepy to deal with it!!!) ARRRRGHHHH!!!!
ARRRGHHH!!! ARRGGHHH!!! Just give me a freakin answer to my expletive expletive question!!!! Is that too much to ask??? (yes I went to the website, and yes, I followed the instructions, and yes I got Olli and his brother Krishna and his other brother Krishna to try to help me....)
If I didn't have $500 in the whole thing (including accessories and service plan) I'd push it out the expletive window!!!!!
>o(
p.s. For some reason they are sending me to "how to get along better with others class next week...." so I can be sanitized and politicized appropriately.... dunno why....
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Can Money Buy you Love?
Okay, now I'm over posting, but I have to write this down before I forget it.
Last night we went as a family to the movies - we saw "The Santa Clause 3 - The Escape Clause" - btw very cute, but very cheesy - I liked it better than the others really though... Anyway, we went to the 9:00 showing, so we didn't get out until like 11:00!! Well, right across from the Cinemas is one of those shopping centers with stores like Old Navy, Bed Bath Beyond, etc.
Definitely the Heart of Middle Class Suburbia...
As we passed through the parking lot, there, in the middle of the deserted Old Navy lot was a guy parked, in an actual, for real, abso-pos-lu-tive-ly stunning, silver colored Lamborgini Gallardo!!!! No SHIT!!!
Not that the car parked in the center of the Old Navy lot at 11:00 on a Saturday night wasn't weird enough by itself, but the guy had both doors wide open cleaning the inside of the passenger side door.
He had a vanity plate that just said "Chad."
Now Gizmo was out cold, but this was just more than the rest of us could resist. So we started up surmizing why "Chad" was out cleaning the windows of a 6 figure valued car in the middle of a middle class area shopping mall almost in the middle of the night.
Husband: "I was really impressed until the 'Chad' plate. Must be some self absorbed dick who lives at home with his mother using it to pick up chicks."
Wife (uh, i.e. Me): " Maybe he was so into himself his date spit on the window before he shoved her out the door so now he has to clean it to go out" or "Maybe he's a serial killer or a pimp..."
12 year old son: "Uh DU-UH!!! Who needs a GIRL when you have a car like THAT???"
Altogether now sing!
"..Can't buy me lu-uve, lu-uve, no no, no, no no!"
Last night we went as a family to the movies - we saw "The Santa Clause 3 - The Escape Clause" - btw very cute, but very cheesy - I liked it better than the others really though... Anyway, we went to the 9:00 showing, so we didn't get out until like 11:00!! Well, right across from the Cinemas is one of those shopping centers with stores like Old Navy, Bed Bath Beyond, etc.
Definitely the Heart of Middle Class Suburbia...
As we passed through the parking lot, there, in the middle of the deserted Old Navy lot was a guy parked, in an actual, for real, abso-pos-lu-tive-ly stunning, silver colored Lamborgini Gallardo!!!! No SHIT!!!
Not that the car parked in the center of the Old Navy lot at 11:00 on a Saturday night wasn't weird enough by itself, but the guy had both doors wide open cleaning the inside of the passenger side door.
He had a vanity plate that just said "Chad."
Now Gizmo was out cold, but this was just more than the rest of us could resist. So we started up surmizing why "Chad" was out cleaning the windows of a 6 figure valued car in the middle of a middle class area shopping mall almost in the middle of the night.
Husband: "I was really impressed until the 'Chad' plate. Must be some self absorbed dick who lives at home with his mother using it to pick up chicks."
Wife (uh, i.e. Me): " Maybe he was so into himself his date spit on the window before he shoved her out the door so now he has to clean it to go out" or "Maybe he's a serial killer or a pimp..."
12 year old son: "Uh DU-UH!!! Who needs a GIRL when you have a car like THAT???"
Altogether now sing!
"..Can't buy me lu-uve, lu-uve, no no, no, no no!"
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