My husband asked this morning if he wanted to come home and read this evening without the television on would that be okay with me.
“Sure!” I responded happily, finding myself wishing we didn’t have tv at times. But, I didn’t know I was going to be in a chatty mood.
I’m the kid who got “talks too much” on each and every report card each and every year. Year in and year out. No matter how many spankings I got for it, no matter how many times my dad told me I was in school to learn, not to talk, I still talked. It just happened. My mouth would open and the words poured out. What could I do?
My poor husband has probably been trying to read the same sentence over and over. That’s so frustrating. At least I know it is for me. But, my Stephen has the added problem of the dogs-every dog we have barking. Then, I’m hollering at the dogs to hush. All the while trying to produce the quiet he deserves. The poor man doesn’t ask for much.
I am, then, trying to concentrate on writing. After I finish this brief missive, I’ll go on to write more of my book,”Tales from the Ass Farmer’s Wife.” Oh heck! now he’s rattling on. I guess he gave up after all this- that’s what usually happens here! What a hoot!
Here in Texas, there has been no sun, no warmth, no energy. One must have sun to have energy, dontcha know- the vitamin D and all. Well, we have not been much above the 40’s in a week or more and the days are dreary, dank, and gray. It is a fact that folks with bipolar disorder or other mental illnesses do rather poorly on these dreary days. Lots of psychologists and psychiatrists suggest using a light box so that the depression doesn’t worsen. There is even a name for winter depression- “seasonal affective disorder.” I just call it the “wintertime blues.” Yep- simple as that- a case of the blues.
Well, on days as dreary as the ones past , I tend to feel really tired and have very little energy. I have been coming home from work only to eat lunch and take a nap- a long nap. The problem today was when I woke after an hour or so , I had one of those niggling headaches. You know those headaches- not a full blown headache, but one that is barely there- pain , but just enough to make one mad. It’s annoying, frustrating and aggravating. With a full blown headache, one can take an aspirin, ibuprofen, or some other type of pain pill. With the niggling headache, the choice is a little harder- should I take an ibuprofen or acetaminiphen or just let it run its course? Most of the time, I try to let it run it’s course, but it sure does aggravate me. I don’t know why it makes me so angry. Probably because it doesn’t seem to have the gumption to be a full blown headache. Just a baby one-there to ruin my day. Well, too bad little headache! I won’t let you do it! I won’t let you ruin my day. It’s bad enough it affects me for an hour or so.
I have to admit- not too many things aggravate me-anymore. I used to be quite the hothead. Runs in the family, I always say. Heh heh. In actual fact, it could be- could be, I say- the fact that I was a spoiled little girl. There, I said it and I will probably never say it again! I am sure, though, my husband Stephen, is happy I have mellowed out in my old age. I have to say I am glad too. My blood pressure was sky high during those rants and raves. Have you ever had the occasion to be ranting and raving and feel that vein in your neck pounding-popping out so the world can see it? It’s bad. Now, my temper is pretty much on an even keel and all I had to do was age. How apropos! It can happen to you too! All it takes is a little bit of a wait!
It seems as though I have many things I so want to do. I am approximately 12 hours from finishing a degree in Social Work, I have a children’s book that I will be publishing next month, I have more in my head -for the book series, that is, and I have been painting, crafting and stuff. I have so many things I want to do and I want to do it all! Have you ever been in that predicament? So much to do and seemingly no time to do it all. Or maybe there is.
I do have a day job. I take care of a little 74 year old lady for three hours a day. I’m finished with work early. Then, I could go finish school in the afternoon, then homework and after homework, writing, painting and crafts on a rotating schedule. There! I’ve solved it. I will be able to do it all !
Seriously, though, I do want to finish school. That I have been putting it off because of my blatant hatred of math is just flat out ridiculous . I have never been successful with math and I think it scares me. Imagine that- numbers on a page scaring an ol’ lady like me. But, it does. I don’t know how to overcome my fear other than just jumping in. If any of you have any ideas on how to pass math, I’d sure appreciate any advice.
So, next week, I’ll call University of North Texas and Texas A&M Commerce and get my transcripts, go take the math, get it over with and finally get my degree. It’s only taken me 35 years to get a bachelors degree- It may be 36 or 37 by the time I get it. Then, I may just get an LVN degree. We’ll just have to see. No use counting my chickens before they hatch, huh?
Now that Thanksgiving is almost over, the onslaught of Christmas advertisements will begin in full force. The commercial that was cute the first 5 times ceases to be cute long before Christmas comes. Are you ready for it? I suppose I am- only time will tell.Sometimes, companies will forego new ads for this year and play one from long ago. Oh my gosh! I hate that. The commercial is dated and everyone was sick of it by the time Christmas came the year or years before when it premiered in the first place! Resist the temptation to succumb to such tom foolery! It’s hard, hard to resist such cutitity. Alas, we must!
By the time Christmas comes along, I hope to have kept and maintained a list of the advertisements I liked and the ones I quickly got tired of. I’d love to hear some of yours too. I guess I am easily amused because I have, from an early age mocked commercials-first at the dinner table with my parents-enacting Excedrin commercials in the 60’s. How they would laugh-encouraging more and more enactments and morphing into reading the Sunday comics – Snuffy Smith in particular-giving everyone in the comic a different voice. I was also known as the jokester – going from one hair dressers station to another’s telling jokes and making folks laugh. I fear they only laughed because I was the bosses daughter. But, I digress into my memories.
Back to the original thought. I’ve always believed that the Christmas season was not official until the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade’s Santa Claus appeared.It always seemed as if once he appeared, so did the advertisements.I believed that as a child and now, as an adult! Funny how our early memories of Christmas and other events shape our adult ideas and thoughts. I can’t wait to share more of this with you.
“The chickens need checking on, ” I told my husband after dinner. “They haven’t been laying and so I didn’t check on them,” I continued.
“Ok.” he answered, heading over to the coat, tack, and miscellaneous rack by our front door, grabbing his little head light. He loves his head light. It’s got an elastic band so that he can put it on his head and has a very bright light and a red light. The bright white light I get. The red one? Not so much. I get a kick out of him and his gadgets. He told me he liked it because then he doesn’t have to carry a flashlight and of course should he get attacked or something, well, he has two free hands instead of one. I burst out laughing at the mental image I got while he was explaining the reason he loved this little head light so much.
I must be a real girl or something because when I tried it on, it didn’t do a thing for me. I didn’t look cool, I did have another hand- two free hands (in case of attack) . I couldn’t even find the switch to turn it on. I love that guys are so attached to their “toys.” It gives me a good deal of satisfaction to know that should he laugh at my things, I can laugh at his. He does and I do on occassion. It’s fun and laughter is always good medicene- but have you ever noticed how amused guys are when they use their tools to fix things? It’s an almost macho kind of way they swing their bodies around when using said tools. It’s kinda like them beating their chests, you know. Now, I’m not comparing them to our hairy friends, the apes . I’m just sayin’.
Of course, we girls have our crafting toys, paints, makeup, clothes and high heels, purses, jewelry and countless other things we like to play with. We just don’t beat our chests when we use them. Just thinking that makes me hurt! But, men are so proud when they fix something or do something with their tools or lights or -oh here is a good one- tape measures- the metal kind.Guys always like to measure and use levels and screwdrivers and all manner of electrical things- saws, weedeaters, things of that nature. Riding lawn mowers- now there is a “beat my chest toy” every man longs to have- yard or not. A real status symbol.
It’s funny because the way I was brought up- well, there were girl toys and boy toys. A lot of people don’t do that anymore. My boy cousins had G.I.Joes, I had Barbies. They had Rock’em Sock’em Robots, I had Chatty Kathy. A world of difference yet the same result. Entertaining and a sense of pride. Always a plus in any book- feeling good about yourself and having fun at the same time. Works for me.
Paula here…posting from my phone again. So far,we have no connection yet. the other day, we were to get that new internet company and their connection- well- it was no connection.
They came and sat out in the pasture trying to fix the broken connection, alas- to no avail. They did call to say we could configure it, which my son tried to do, but the broken connection is – well- still broken.
They will be sending a level 2 tech tomorrow. Why didn’t they send out a guy who knew how to fix it in the first place? “we’ll send Mort- let’s see if he knows how to fix it yet.” Sigh. Well, I hope it gets fixed tomorrow. I’m having trouble blogging on my phone and God knows it’s all about me.
I’m posting from my phone tonight waiting for my new and improved internet connection to kick in tomorrow. While living in the sticks-away from the road and not taking the paper is quite nice- there is not a decent internet connection to be had.
We’ve lived out here about 9 years now and have had Internet through many different, but not major companies. Thus, we’ve been in search of the ultimate connection. So, tomorrow, we’ll see if the one major company is the one.
It kinda reminds me of watching “LoveConnection-the only kind of connection besides a phone call one could make back in the day. Chuck Woolery, quite the looker himself, was the host. It was a kind of dating game, but after the date was chosen and the couple went out, they then came back to the show to tell about their date and whether a connection was made or not. I saw ol’ Chuck hawking catheters not long ago. Wonder if that was a good connection gone bad? sigh. Well, can’t wait to see how ours turns out.
One night, after working at Tom Thumb with my best friend Betty, we decided to go to Denny’s (our after work hangout). We worked the 3 pm – 12 am shift and we were generally hungry when we got off. Besides, we both dated cops and that’s where they ate dinner. First, we went to my parents house to get my daughter, Amanda. It was fun to take her with- she was about four. Oh, and I also had my dog with. Muffin loved to go riding. We all ate and flirted and talked and drank coffee.- coke for Amanda because I thought I was being “cool.” Betty was always so funny. She’d pause in the middle of her breakfast , light up a cigarette , breathe a long sigh and say, “Woo, I’m getting full. I’m just going to let it all settle,” and she’d finish her cigarette. I always giggled when she’d do that. Betty was about 20 years older than me and more fun than anyone had a right to be.Sometimes, We laughed and laughed so many times about so many things. Just thinking of her makes me smile.
Anyway, I digress. This one particular night, when it was time to go home, Amanda, Muffin , Betty and I jumped in the car and I pulled out on the service road to LBJ Freeway at Preston Road. I was in the far left lane and it was the lane in which you could make a kind of u-turn on the overpass to get to the other side of the freeway . A drunk guy drove up to the u-turn lane and turned in, hitting my left front quarter panel. In those days, no one wore seat belts and even though Amanda was in the back seat, she fell forward and poor Muffin was thrown into the front seat. We were all okay, but this brings me to the reason I don’t want to step on any paws. Fast forward to the present.
I just saw a commercial for pet car seats. Really? I mean, as a animal lover, I can see the reasons for having such an item. But, I have to wonder how many people actually invest in a dog or cat car seat? What if you are taking your hamster somewhere, is there a seat for that? Or your pet rat? I once had a rabbit. Hmmm.
Surely people have a sense of humour about this notion, right? Some do anyway. Don’t they? oops. I may have to crawl back into my hole now. I may have stepped on some paws.