When faced with Anger
Note Anger with a capital "A".
Every once in a while I'll read a post on a blog that's so packed with anger and venom that I know better than to respond because nothing I say will penetrate the red haze. Any argument I make will be torn to shreds and discredited simply because it's not spouting the party line. I grew up in a similar environment - with my Dad - and I learned to choose my battles. When he was in a relaxed mood, we could argue religion, politics, culture, or family relations in a constructive, informative manner. When he was in one of his ranting modes, duck and cover was the only safe response. Unless you felt like being verbally crushed into the ground...
Education is one of my passions. I believe - however naively - that I can make a difference in the public school system. Maybe not for every student, but for enough of them. How many is enough? One. Just one. Well, maybe one a year. I'm not greedy, see.
Homeschooling is not for everyone. Some parents don't have the education themselves to assist their children. Utah has one of the highest percentages of homeschooled children in the US. Why? Because there is still a large, if quiet, population of traditionalist (polygynist) Mormon families in this state. Homeschooling allows them to keep their children isolated from mainstream culture. Is that a good thing? Well, I suppose it depends which side of the Temple you're standing on.
Public education is not to blame for all the ills of our country. Public schools, at least in Utah, are not brainwashing children to be Liberal parrots. (Quite the opposite, in fact). Not all teachers are stupid, illiterate bumpkins who can't find another job.
How are the parents who don't support their children's education in the school system supposed to homeschool these same children? Half the problems with the schools today result from the lack of parental and community support. If you expect something to fail, it usually won't disappoint you.
So maybe I'll just young and foolish and don't know what I am talking about. And maybe I would think differently if I had children of my own. And maybe not.
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
And BOOM click
I am employed. Only part time, 2-4 days a week. But. It's at the beautiful Goldener Hirsch Inn. 20 rooms, totally gorgeous, super expensive, friendly staff. My new boss is the cutest little girl. I say little, because I'm only 5'5" and I towered over her.
She says she never just hires people on the spot, but we just clicked. Anyway, I'm excited, even if it is only part time.
I am employed. Only part time, 2-4 days a week. But. It's at the beautiful Goldener Hirsch Inn. 20 rooms, totally gorgeous, super expensive, friendly staff. My new boss is the cutest little girl. I say little, because I'm only 5'5" and I towered over her.
She says she never just hires people on the spot, but we just clicked. Anyway, I'm excited, even if it is only part time.
Hmmm...
Well, at least the pictures posted well. Went on another interview this morning. Not sure I want to work there, though. I'd be the youngest by about 15 years or more. Place just seemed a bit too stiff for me.
This afternoon though, I have an interview at this place for a front desk supervisor position. It would be a bit of a commute, but the scenery is gorgeous and a business hotel it ain't.
And I'm in a better mood also because last night I finally prodded at the boy until he spit out what was really bothering him. Damn cranky self-sufficient over-achieving nimrod. Oy. Like squeezing milk from a stone. I know, I know. It's the Y chromosome - it blocks the communication gene.
Well, at least the pictures posted well. Went on another interview this morning. Not sure I want to work there, though. I'd be the youngest by about 15 years or more. Place just seemed a bit too stiff for me.
This afternoon though, I have an interview at this place for a front desk supervisor position. It would be a bit of a commute, but the scenery is gorgeous and a business hotel it ain't.
And I'm in a better mood also because last night I finally prodded at the boy until he spit out what was really bothering him. Damn cranky self-sufficient over-achieving nimrod. Oy. Like squeezing milk from a stone. I know, I know. It's the Y chromosome - it blocks the communication gene.
Wedding Present
So... Jay took these pictures of the wedding gift I made for Dave and Sharon. Hopefully they will look okay here. But I suppose there's only one way to find out.
Jay makes tea and I like to paint stuff, so together we put together this tea box with some basic ingredients and tea recipes. Chamomile, Peppermint, Licorice, and Lemongrass as base flavors. Cloves, Orange Peel, Lemon Peel, Fenugreek, Cardamom, Cinnamon, Fennel, and Catnip as additional flavors.
So... Jay took these pictures of the wedding gift I made for Dave and Sharon. Hopefully they will look okay here. But I suppose there's only one way to find out.
Jay makes tea and I like to paint stuff, so together we put together this tea box with some basic ingredients and tea recipes. Chamomile, Peppermint, Licorice, and Lemongrass as base flavors. Cloves, Orange Peel, Lemon Peel, Fenugreek, Cardamom, Cinnamon, Fennel, and Catnip as additional flavors.
Monday, July 28, 2003
Blech
Survived the wedding weekend. Actually not as horrific as I had anticipated. (How could it have been?)
But. Today... two job interviews, two more strike outs. Haven't heard back from the consulting company.
Now I must run out and fax my resume to five more people who won't want to hire me.
Sigh.
Survived the wedding weekend. Actually not as horrific as I had anticipated. (How could it have been?)
But. Today... two job interviews, two more strike outs. Haven't heard back from the consulting company.
Now I must run out and fax my resume to five more people who won't want to hire me.
Sigh.
Friday, July 25, 2003
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Helpful tips
If you are running low on gas, in the middle of the summer, in triple-digit heat, don't forget to fill up before stopping at home to pick something up.
I just walked 2 miles round trip in 103 degree F heat (that's something like 41 degrees celsius). With a gas can. Naturally, the way back with the full gas can was all uphill.
Crap, I can't stop shaking. Must replace electrolytes. Gasp.
If you are running low on gas, in the middle of the summer, in triple-digit heat, don't forget to fill up before stopping at home to pick something up.
I just walked 2 miles round trip in 103 degree F heat (that's something like 41 degrees celsius). With a gas can. Naturally, the way back with the full gas can was all uphill.
Crap, I can't stop shaking. Must replace electrolytes. Gasp.
Generation Gap
Honestly, this IM was so disturbing to me, I had to share. My baby sister's IMdentity has been changed, since she's underage. Mlle D'Or would be me. A mere 10 and a half years separates our ages... but the culture gap? Shocking. Just shocking.
K3: have you heard the song "right thurr"
mlledor: Gaaaahh I fricking HATE that song!!! AAAGgghhhhhH!!!!
K3: hahahaha. it's the song right now....me and my friedns LOVE it. plus my nick name nowadays is "kurr" and in the remix of right thurr trina says kurr as care and it's so awesome!!
mlledor: You are sick sick puppies. That is the worst song I have ever ever heard. And when I was your age, Vanilla Ice was popular, so what does that tell you?
K3: hahaha lol. yea you def listened to some weird ass shit
mlledor: you know, a "cur" is a mean dog, right?
K3: nope
mlledor: I never said I actually *listened* to Vanilla Ice. Just that he was on the radio when I was in HS
mlledor: PLEASE.
K3: hahah. shush
mlledor: How did you stray into rap music anyway? You live in the suburbs?
mlledor: It just seems wrong
K3: haha..lebo has gotten really ghetto
mlledor: What? What do you mean, "ghetto"? Like, on purpose?
K3: umm....
mlledor: Tell me that the boys don't wear their pants under their asses. Please, for the love of god, NO!
K3: a whole bunch of black kids go there now....and we have many wannbes
K3: haha. we have everything
mlledor: Oh my god. there's... diversity? Is that allowed?
K3: like you see every kinda dress
mlledor: But the whole pants under the ass thing started in the prison system.. so they would know who the... uh... bitches were.
K3: yea mom told me that!
mlledor: Don't they know that? It's like asking someone to assf**k you. Duh.
K3: and i think she said that to rob (new boyfriend) tonight actually. duh
mlledor: tell me he knows which side of his ass his pants belong on... please.
mlledor: Your silence makes me wonder. Is he an assboy?
K3: hahaha. he's rather skinny so they fall sometiems but usally there's up
mlledor: I'm looking at that picture of you and me on the couch... you look so sweet and innocent. What happened? ;-)
K3: hmm... i was like 4 kate
mlledor: You were like 2, Kerri. Because I stopped wearing that sweater when I was 13 - at the latest.
K3: good. it was ugly
mlledor: You're still only 7 in my mind. Leaning out the van window saying "Go ahead, talk to someone"
mlledor: Shit. that was 9 years ago. I'm getting old.
K3: yea. you're showing it too
K3: haha i'm joking
mlledor: thanks.
mlledor: you little Cur
Honestly, this IM was so disturbing to me, I had to share. My baby sister's IMdentity has been changed, since she's underage. Mlle D'Or would be me. A mere 10 and a half years separates our ages... but the culture gap? Shocking. Just shocking.
K3: have you heard the song "right thurr"
mlledor: Gaaaahh I fricking HATE that song!!! AAAGgghhhhhH!!!!
K3: hahahaha. it's the song right now....me and my friedns LOVE it. plus my nick name nowadays is "kurr" and in the remix of right thurr trina says kurr as care and it's so awesome!!
mlledor: You are sick sick puppies. That is the worst song I have ever ever heard. And when I was your age, Vanilla Ice was popular, so what does that tell you?
K3: hahaha lol. yea you def listened to some weird ass shit
mlledor: you know, a "cur" is a mean dog, right?
K3: nope
mlledor: I never said I actually *listened* to Vanilla Ice. Just that he was on the radio when I was in HS
mlledor: PLEASE.
K3: hahah. shush
mlledor: How did you stray into rap music anyway? You live in the suburbs?
mlledor: It just seems wrong
K3: haha..lebo has gotten really ghetto
mlledor: What? What do you mean, "ghetto"? Like, on purpose?
K3: umm....
mlledor: Tell me that the boys don't wear their pants under their asses. Please, for the love of god, NO!
K3: a whole bunch of black kids go there now....and we have many wannbes
K3: haha. we have everything
mlledor: Oh my god. there's... diversity? Is that allowed?
K3: like you see every kinda dress
mlledor: But the whole pants under the ass thing started in the prison system.. so they would know who the... uh... bitches were.
K3: yea mom told me that!
mlledor: Don't they know that? It's like asking someone to assf**k you. Duh.
K3: and i think she said that to rob (new boyfriend) tonight actually. duh
mlledor: tell me he knows which side of his ass his pants belong on... please.
mlledor: Your silence makes me wonder. Is he an assboy?
K3: hahaha. he's rather skinny so they fall sometiems but usally there's up
mlledor: I'm looking at that picture of you and me on the couch... you look so sweet and innocent. What happened? ;-)
K3: hmm... i was like 4 kate
mlledor: You were like 2, Kerri. Because I stopped wearing that sweater when I was 13 - at the latest.
K3: good. it was ugly
mlledor: You're still only 7 in my mind. Leaning out the van window saying "Go ahead, talk to someone"
mlledor: Shit. that was 9 years ago. I'm getting old.
K3: yea. you're showing it too
K3: haha i'm joking
mlledor: thanks.
mlledor: you little Cur
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
Hoop Jumping
I just wonder sometimes... if, when I finally jump through all the flaming hoops the State Office of Education has aligned for me, will I even be able to find a school district to hire me?
I got a glowing reference letter from one of my instructors from the University of the Three Stooges and fully intend to send it and the others out to the one school district who requested more information (out of the 4 I sent the initial blitz to).
Blech... I think I'm hung over. It was worth it.
I just wonder sometimes... if, when I finally jump through all the flaming hoops the State Office of Education has aligned for me, will I even be able to find a school district to hire me?
I got a glowing reference letter from one of my instructors from the University of the Three Stooges and fully intend to send it and the others out to the one school district who requested more information (out of the 4 I sent the initial blitz to).
Blech... I think I'm hung over. It was worth it.
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Loosey Goosey Losers
Okay, if I see one more "loose" (an adjective - not tightly fastened or secured...) in place of "lose" (a verb - to be unable to find, maintain, keep, or win) I just don't know what I will do. It's everywhere - blogs, forums, emails, letters, class papers, presentations. It's starting to make me question my sanity.
Similarly, these words are not the same and should not be used interchangeably:
where, were, we're
there, their, they're
to, too, two
But I would be totally satisfied if everyone on the Internet (and elsewhere) would just master the difference between "loose" and "lose" - the first one is pronounced "loos", the second is "looz". Say it with me.
I'll even give you some examples...
My pants are loose. I must be losing weight. (wishful thinking here on my part)
Don't lose your head, you might need it later. (for hat storage or something)
Be careful not to lose my keys. The fastener on the keychain is loose.
Okay, do you see the difference now? Will you try to get it right in the future? Ack. I realize that I can't make people care about stuff like this. Hmmm. Unless I had children and I could warp them into my own image. Hmmm. Yes, someday this may prove to be a viable solution to my grammatical ranting. Hmmm. Young minds to shape and twist. Just as my dear daddy did to me.
Okay, if I see one more "loose" (an adjective - not tightly fastened or secured...) in place of "lose" (a verb - to be unable to find, maintain, keep, or win) I just don't know what I will do. It's everywhere - blogs, forums, emails, letters, class papers, presentations. It's starting to make me question my sanity.
Similarly, these words are not the same and should not be used interchangeably:
where, were, we're
there, their, they're
to, too, two
But I would be totally satisfied if everyone on the Internet (and elsewhere) would just master the difference between "loose" and "lose" - the first one is pronounced "loos", the second is "looz". Say it with me.
I'll even give you some examples...
My pants are loose. I must be losing weight. (wishful thinking here on my part)
Don't lose your head, you might need it later. (for hat storage or something)
Be careful not to lose my keys. The fastener on the keychain is loose.
Okay, do you see the difference now? Will you try to get it right in the future? Ack. I realize that I can't make people care about stuff like this. Hmmm. Unless I had children and I could warp them into my own image. Hmmm. Yes, someday this may prove to be a viable solution to my grammatical ranting. Hmmm. Young minds to shape and twist. Just as my dear daddy did to me.
You'd think I would know better by now...
So after I typed up my last entry, I picked up the next book in my stack from the library, intending to start it before making dinner and returning the videos to Blockbuster. Yeah. Comme d'habitude, starting turned to finishing.
Damn you, Nora Roberts. I had no idea you were really that good a storyteller. Yes, I have a mild prejudice against romance novelists. Only because I've read some real crappy ones in the past, mind you. But seriously, I could not walk away from the characters or the story.
Compare this to the Tom Robbins books I've read in the last week... I was unable to finish Still Life with Woodpecker because I didn't care what happened to the characters. Hollow, hollow, hollow. Jitterbug Perfume was better, but it took awhile to grab me, and I skimmed most of the scenes with Wigg Whatshisname because it didn't interest me or seem very central to the story. There is such a thing as trying too hard. It leaves me cold.
My standards have gotten more stringent in the last year or two. Maybe it's because I need glasses... When I pick up a book, I have to ask, "Is this worth getting a headache over?" I'm generous... usually I'll give the author fifty pages to hook me. Usually. I have a John Updike novel my mother sent me that knocked me unconscious in the first five pages. Blech.
I dunno. Call me crazy (it's certainly been said before), but maybe I just prefer the classical approach. You know, like actually putting the story ahead of the style? Shocking, I know.
So after I typed up my last entry, I picked up the next book in my stack from the library, intending to start it before making dinner and returning the videos to Blockbuster. Yeah. Comme d'habitude, starting turned to finishing.
Damn you, Nora Roberts. I had no idea you were really that good a storyteller. Yes, I have a mild prejudice against romance novelists. Only because I've read some real crappy ones in the past, mind you. But seriously, I could not walk away from the characters or the story.
Compare this to the Tom Robbins books I've read in the last week... I was unable to finish Still Life with Woodpecker because I didn't care what happened to the characters. Hollow, hollow, hollow. Jitterbug Perfume was better, but it took awhile to grab me, and I skimmed most of the scenes with Wigg Whatshisname because it didn't interest me or seem very central to the story. There is such a thing as trying too hard. It leaves me cold.
My standards have gotten more stringent in the last year or two. Maybe it's because I need glasses... When I pick up a book, I have to ask, "Is this worth getting a headache over?" I'm generous... usually I'll give the author fifty pages to hook me. Usually. I have a John Updike novel my mother sent me that knocked me unconscious in the first five pages. Blech.
I dunno. Call me crazy (it's certainly been said before), but maybe I just prefer the classical approach. You know, like actually putting the story ahead of the style? Shocking, I know.
Monday, July 21, 2003
Interview, round one
Just got home from a job interview. Yes, an interview for a job. A job with a fairly new (6 months old) consulting company as their receptionist/admin assistant.
I passed round one with their office manager - round two with one of the partners will be either monday or tuesday of next week.
Pay is decent: $10/hr, though she indicated that it will probably go salary - in other words, no overtime. To compare for the area, receptionist positions usually start at $8/hr and office assistants around $8 or $9/hr. Low cost of living out here... The office is a five minute drive or a ten minute bus ride from my house. Atmosphere seems to be professional but relaxed. I wouldn't say no if they offer it to me. (Of course, there's not as much that I would say no to as there used to be.)
Also on the bright side of my life - I figured out my transportation issues for the wedding this weekend. I just have to take a train into Penn Station and then pick up the Hempstead Line of the Long Island Railroad out to Garden City where Jay will be picking me up even if he has to walk out of the rehearsal to do so.
Yeah.
Just got home from a job interview. Yes, an interview for a job. A job with a fairly new (6 months old) consulting company as their receptionist/admin assistant.
I passed round one with their office manager - round two with one of the partners will be either monday or tuesday of next week.
Pay is decent: $10/hr, though she indicated that it will probably go salary - in other words, no overtime. To compare for the area, receptionist positions usually start at $8/hr and office assistants around $8 or $9/hr. Low cost of living out here... The office is a five minute drive or a ten minute bus ride from my house. Atmosphere seems to be professional but relaxed. I wouldn't say no if they offer it to me. (Of course, there's not as much that I would say no to as there used to be.)
Also on the bright side of my life - I figured out my transportation issues for the wedding this weekend. I just have to take a train into Penn Station and then pick up the Hempstead Line of the Long Island Railroad out to Garden City where Jay will be picking me up even if he has to walk out of the rehearsal to do so.
Yeah.
Saturday, July 19, 2003
Dress rehearsal... check!
Just finished a run through of hair, makeup, and costuming for next saturday's Long Island wedding. Though I'm still trying to decide between the black viscose wrap and the silver silk one. The silver matches the blue-violet/silvery tones in the dress better, but the black is softer and more comfortable. Decisions, decisions. Hah.
I finally figured, that if I have to be there, I'm going to look kick-ass fan-fricking-tastic. Ahem. If I do say so myself.
Jay will wish that we were not sharing our hotel room with another couple that night. Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Just finished a run through of hair, makeup, and costuming for next saturday's Long Island wedding. Though I'm still trying to decide between the black viscose wrap and the silver silk one. The silver matches the blue-violet/silvery tones in the dress better, but the black is softer and more comfortable. Decisions, decisions. Hah.
I finally figured, that if I have to be there, I'm going to look kick-ass fan-fricking-tastic. Ahem. If I do say so myself.
Jay will wish that we were not sharing our hotel room with another couple that night. Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Rule Changing
I hate it when people are constantly changing the rules. In this case, I mean a situation where I've already set my expectations for one thing and then I'm told - "oh, well actually..."
See, there's this wedding next weekend. There's also a wedding this weekend - which I am missing because I couldn't afford both trips. I had intended to go to the earlier wedding because it's for two of Jay's college friends whom I have never met. HOWEVER, the bride from the later wedding lives here in Utah and begged me to come to her deal instead. I am a sucker for such things. So I changed my plans and bought tickets for next weekend.
And since then, it's been one thing after another. First of all, Jay's in this stupid wedding, so I won't get to hang out with him much. Almost all the other people I know are in the wedding, so I won't see much of them either. Two of the people I would have enjoyed hanging out with decided that they weren't going. Hmmm. This is going to be a church wedding with a full wedding mass. Who am I supposed to roll my eyes at? Argh.
But it gets better. Jay told me to fly into Newark instead of JFK because then he could pick me up and we could spend the night at his dad's place. Except that the groom just told him two weeks ago that the rehearsal is at the same time as my plane gets in. So I have to take the shuttle to JFK (in rush hour) and then pay for a taxi to wherever the group is at that point - probably the rehearsal dinner. I checked as soon as I found out, but it would cost me as much as the tickets cost to change airports. Did I mention that I am unemployed?
Oh, but wait. I won't be able to ride to the wedding or from the wedding to the reception with Jay either because the wedding party will be traveling by limo. Fan-frickin-tastic.
And yet, I'm still going. I almost backed out. Last night was not fun. Anyway. I'll try to be less cranky in my next post. Promise.
I hate it when people are constantly changing the rules. In this case, I mean a situation where I've already set my expectations for one thing and then I'm told - "oh, well actually..."
See, there's this wedding next weekend. There's also a wedding this weekend - which I am missing because I couldn't afford both trips. I had intended to go to the earlier wedding because it's for two of Jay's college friends whom I have never met. HOWEVER, the bride from the later wedding lives here in Utah and begged me to come to her deal instead. I am a sucker for such things. So I changed my plans and bought tickets for next weekend.
And since then, it's been one thing after another. First of all, Jay's in this stupid wedding, so I won't get to hang out with him much. Almost all the other people I know are in the wedding, so I won't see much of them either. Two of the people I would have enjoyed hanging out with decided that they weren't going. Hmmm. This is going to be a church wedding with a full wedding mass. Who am I supposed to roll my eyes at? Argh.
But it gets better. Jay told me to fly into Newark instead of JFK because then he could pick me up and we could spend the night at his dad's place. Except that the groom just told him two weeks ago that the rehearsal is at the same time as my plane gets in. So I have to take the shuttle to JFK (in rush hour) and then pay for a taxi to wherever the group is at that point - probably the rehearsal dinner. I checked as soon as I found out, but it would cost me as much as the tickets cost to change airports. Did I mention that I am unemployed?
Oh, but wait. I won't be able to ride to the wedding or from the wedding to the reception with Jay either because the wedding party will be traveling by limo. Fan-frickin-tastic.
And yet, I'm still going. I almost backed out. Last night was not fun. Anyway. I'll try to be less cranky in my next post. Promise.
Monday, July 14, 2003
Saturday, July 12, 2003
Give me passion
For the Blogsnobbers out there, and for anyone else who lists a description of their blog with the purpose of having other people read it -- if you put the words "Bored" or "Boring" in your description, you can rest assured that I won't be wasting my time by clicking the link.
As a general rule - so general that it's practically cliché - people who are bored are boring. Granted, you can be unchallenged in your current environment: situationally bored, if you will. But if when you think of yourself one of the first five words that pops into your head is "bored", then you gots problems, honeybun.
I don't want to know what you did all day - unless you can spin some humor on it. I don't want to know what you ate for breakfast - unless it will make me want it, too. (Or gross me out, or make me laugh, anything but make me yawn.) I don't want to know what you are packing for your trip - unless it includes a blowup doll or the teddy bear your baby sister gave you when you went away to college.
Show me how you see the world. Show me what's funny, what's ridiculous, what's sad, stupid, borderline illegal, fricking wacked, etc. Tell me what you like to read. (I always need new authors to try.) What breaks your heart? What makes you roll your eyes? What do you hope for -- what gets you up in the morning? What do you hate more than anything else in your world? Who do you love?
I want to laugh at your funny stories, cry at your tragedies, roll my eyes at your foolish co-workers, or groan at your terrible jokes. (Which are, naturally, the best kind.) So what I'm saying here is... Passion, people. Give me passion!
Is that too much to ask?
For the Blogsnobbers out there, and for anyone else who lists a description of their blog with the purpose of having other people read it -- if you put the words "Bored" or "Boring" in your description, you can rest assured that I won't be wasting my time by clicking the link.
As a general rule - so general that it's practically cliché - people who are bored are boring. Granted, you can be unchallenged in your current environment: situationally bored, if you will. But if when you think of yourself one of the first five words that pops into your head is "bored", then you gots problems, honeybun.
I don't want to know what you did all day - unless you can spin some humor on it. I don't want to know what you ate for breakfast - unless it will make me want it, too. (Or gross me out, or make me laugh, anything but make me yawn.) I don't want to know what you are packing for your trip - unless it includes a blowup doll or the teddy bear your baby sister gave you when you went away to college.
Show me how you see the world. Show me what's funny, what's ridiculous, what's sad, stupid, borderline illegal, fricking wacked, etc. Tell me what you like to read. (I always need new authors to try.) What breaks your heart? What makes you roll your eyes? What do you hope for -- what gets you up in the morning? What do you hate more than anything else in your world? Who do you love?
I want to laugh at your funny stories, cry at your tragedies, roll my eyes at your foolish co-workers, or groan at your terrible jokes. (Which are, naturally, the best kind.) So what I'm saying here is... Passion, people. Give me passion!
Is that too much to ask?
Friday, July 11, 2003
Adding links
I've added a few more links to blogs that I've been reading. I hate to take them off once I've put them up, so usually I don't add them until I've read them consistently for at least a month.
I'm not overly concerned with increasing my own circulation, though it's fun to know that random people are reading my words, so I only add links as a way to make life easier for myself. It's much more convenient to use my page as a portal to the other blogs I read regularly than to just keep them bookmarked on the browser.
Okay, the headache is becoming overwhelming again. Time to hide in the dark.
I've added a few more links to blogs that I've been reading. I hate to take them off once I've put them up, so usually I don't add them until I've read them consistently for at least a month.
I'm not overly concerned with increasing my own circulation, though it's fun to know that random people are reading my words, so I only add links as a way to make life easier for myself. It's much more convenient to use my page as a portal to the other blogs I read regularly than to just keep them bookmarked on the browser.
Okay, the headache is becoming overwhelming again. Time to hide in the dark.
Drugs aren't ALL bad
Normally I'm not a big fan of medication - barring the whole conception prevention variety - but I am drugged to the gills (for me) and just barely regaining functionality.
See, my allergies have attacked with a vengeance, so I broke down an splurged on some Claritin-D, aka My New Best Friend. I can breathe again. Through my nose and everything. Considering that my twice-broken nose doesn't work well under the best of circumstances, this is a Very Nice Thing.
And then this fricking heat has the migraines cranking... blinding pain and nausea. So I added some Exedrin Migraine, aka My Long Time Lover, to the mix and now I can actually see well enough to look at the computer again.
I really need to make an eye appointment and get new glasses. My last trip to the opthalmologist was back in 1997, so I am a wee bit overdue. But now that I have health insurance, I can go! Yay! So exciting.
So with all this added incentive to crawl into a dark, cool hole and die, my trip to the gym this morning should gain me extra weight-loss points, neh? If only.
Normally I'm not a big fan of medication - barring the whole conception prevention variety - but I am drugged to the gills (for me) and just barely regaining functionality.
See, my allergies have attacked with a vengeance, so I broke down an splurged on some Claritin-D, aka My New Best Friend. I can breathe again. Through my nose and everything. Considering that my twice-broken nose doesn't work well under the best of circumstances, this is a Very Nice Thing.
And then this fricking heat has the migraines cranking... blinding pain and nausea. So I added some Exedrin Migraine, aka My Long Time Lover, to the mix and now I can actually see well enough to look at the computer again.
I really need to make an eye appointment and get new glasses. My last trip to the opthalmologist was back in 1997, so I am a wee bit overdue. But now that I have health insurance, I can go! Yay! So exciting.
So with all this added incentive to crawl into a dark, cool hole and die, my trip to the gym this morning should gain me extra weight-loss points, neh? If only.
Thursday, July 10, 2003
Were you the 1000th visitor?
According to my sitemeter, I have had exactly one thousand visitors since I started in October. Well, maybe a few more than that because I didn't discover site meter until November, I think. Granted, most of those visits were for zero minutes and zero seconds, but still...
So back to the party - it was at this little corner bar in Clinton, New Jersey called Johnny's. We walked in through the front bar area - narrow, dark, smoky, with a few older, raggedy-looking, beer-gutted men sitting on the stools. The back room holds about a hundred people and was almost as dim as the bar. Decorations from the fifties for sure, and nothing more modern than the seventies. Horrible carafes of wine - Burgundy, Chablis, or White Zinfindel. The red tasted like vineger, the white like piss. The White Zin was drinkable, but only because it's supposed to be sickly sweet, right? No worse than a wine cooler, I suppose. And certainly better than the watery Budweiser that was the other choice.
The paid entertainment - a lounge singer-type in a periwinkle blue tux and a dyed black, slicked-back pompadour. He sang every song, including "The Electric Sliiiiiide". He had an okay, if totally lifeless voice which made the whole thing too too funny. I seriously could not stop laughing.
The unpaid entertainment - the Saturday night Elvis impersonator stopping by to pick up his check - Dottie, one of Jean's (grandma's) friends, singing show tunes - Dottie, grabbing Jay's butt and giving him a kiss - Jay telling me afterwards that Dottie had tried to "slip him the tongue" - one little old man harrassing everyone to join in the line dancing - Jay's Dad telling me that the man was a line-dancing instructor for the blind - the "white trash Italian" food - Jay's brother Forest showing up looking like Andy Gibb, but with a full beard - the parade of old ladies coming up to Jay and saying "Forest, no Jason! Jason!" and planting a kiss on him - Forest dancing with Jean to "Tequila!"
We spent the night at Jean and Lou's house (the grandparents). Jean collects cats. Not live ones, just figurines, stuffed animals, pictures, paintings, etc. Lou says, "Yeah, I live in a Cat House." Jay couldn't figure out why I was laughing until I explained that Cat House = uh, how to say? House of Ill-Repute. From the look on his face, I think a lot of his grandfather's jokes suddenly came clear.
Anyway, enough for now. I must eat lunch. Mmmm.
According to my sitemeter, I have had exactly one thousand visitors since I started in October. Well, maybe a few more than that because I didn't discover site meter until November, I think. Granted, most of those visits were for zero minutes and zero seconds, but still...
So back to the party - it was at this little corner bar in Clinton, New Jersey called Johnny's. We walked in through the front bar area - narrow, dark, smoky, with a few older, raggedy-looking, beer-gutted men sitting on the stools. The back room holds about a hundred people and was almost as dim as the bar. Decorations from the fifties for sure, and nothing more modern than the seventies. Horrible carafes of wine - Burgundy, Chablis, or White Zinfindel. The red tasted like vineger, the white like piss. The White Zin was drinkable, but only because it's supposed to be sickly sweet, right? No worse than a wine cooler, I suppose. And certainly better than the watery Budweiser that was the other choice.
The paid entertainment - a lounge singer-type in a periwinkle blue tux and a dyed black, slicked-back pompadour. He sang every song, including "The Electric Sliiiiiide". He had an okay, if totally lifeless voice which made the whole thing too too funny. I seriously could not stop laughing.
The unpaid entertainment - the Saturday night Elvis impersonator stopping by to pick up his check - Dottie, one of Jean's (grandma's) friends, singing show tunes - Dottie, grabbing Jay's butt and giving him a kiss - Jay telling me afterwards that Dottie had tried to "slip him the tongue" - one little old man harrassing everyone to join in the line dancing - Jay's Dad telling me that the man was a line-dancing instructor for the blind - the "white trash Italian" food - Jay's brother Forest showing up looking like Andy Gibb, but with a full beard - the parade of old ladies coming up to Jay and saying "Forest, no Jason! Jason!" and planting a kiss on him - Forest dancing with Jean to "Tequila!"
We spent the night at Jean and Lou's house (the grandparents). Jean collects cats. Not live ones, just figurines, stuffed animals, pictures, paintings, etc. Lou says, "Yeah, I live in a Cat House." Jay couldn't figure out why I was laughing until I explained that Cat House = uh, how to say? House of Ill-Repute. From the look on his face, I think a lot of his grandfather's jokes suddenly came clear.
Anyway, enough for now. I must eat lunch. Mmmm.
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
Home at LAST
Well, I'm home, out of the atrocious humidity of the East Coast, and mostly alive. However, I am becoming my mother. Yes, the genetic kiss of death strikes again!
I would hear myself saying things that were funny to me but clearly unfunny to EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ROOM... and then I would slap my own cheek (lightly) while they stared in confusion.
Actually, all in all, it was a lovely trip. I got to see friends I hadn't seen in three or four years as we made our whirlwind trip through New England - slept in a different bed the first five night of the trip - NJ at Jay's Dad's, NJ at Jay's Grandmother's, MA at Kev and Leann's, NH at a little B&B, and VT at Molly's (my college roomie's) family's camp for people with special needs. Just so you know, every single one of the Down's Syndrome camper can throw a frisbee more accurately than I can. I have what is politely referred to as a "trick" throw. Meaning that the trick is to guess where it's going to land...
Spent four nights at the family cabin in the Adirondacks... spent most of the time scratching at the mosquito and black fly bites. Grrrr. So, instead of being pasty white, I am now tan with red spots. Yes, I'm sexy.
Thankfully, everyone in Jay's immediate family is perfectly reasonable, if a little obsessed with organic foods... it's just some of the hangers-on who are scary. Scary, in this case, meaning too into exploring spirituality and wanting to talk about it all the time and taking themselves just a wee bit too seriously. In other words, they didn't think I was funny. Pshaw.
Anyway, I'm wiped from the flight and the traveling. I just want to shower the grime away and put some food in my belly and pass out. However - a few teasers about the party - which was fricking HILARIOUS:
New Jersey Italians - including an actual Cousin Vinny, bad wine, watery beer, a seventy year old line dancing instructor, a periwinkle blue tuxedo, and a performance from the Wedding Singer's competition.
Well, I'm home, out of the atrocious humidity of the East Coast, and mostly alive. However, I am becoming my mother. Yes, the genetic kiss of death strikes again!
I would hear myself saying things that were funny to me but clearly unfunny to EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ROOM... and then I would slap my own cheek (lightly) while they stared in confusion.
Actually, all in all, it was a lovely trip. I got to see friends I hadn't seen in three or four years as we made our whirlwind trip through New England - slept in a different bed the first five night of the trip - NJ at Jay's Dad's, NJ at Jay's Grandmother's, MA at Kev and Leann's, NH at a little B&B, and VT at Molly's (my college roomie's) family's camp for people with special needs. Just so you know, every single one of the Down's Syndrome camper can throw a frisbee more accurately than I can. I have what is politely referred to as a "trick" throw. Meaning that the trick is to guess where it's going to land...
Spent four nights at the family cabin in the Adirondacks... spent most of the time scratching at the mosquito and black fly bites. Grrrr. So, instead of being pasty white, I am now tan with red spots. Yes, I'm sexy.
Thankfully, everyone in Jay's immediate family is perfectly reasonable, if a little obsessed with organic foods... it's just some of the hangers-on who are scary. Scary, in this case, meaning too into exploring spirituality and wanting to talk about it all the time and taking themselves just a wee bit too seriously. In other words, they didn't think I was funny. Pshaw.
Anyway, I'm wiped from the flight and the traveling. I just want to shower the grime away and put some food in my belly and pass out. However - a few teasers about the party - which was fricking HILARIOUS:
New Jersey Italians - including an actual Cousin Vinny, bad wine, watery beer, a seventy year old line dancing instructor, a periwinkle blue tuxedo, and a performance from the Wedding Singer's competition.
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