Here's the Dish.....

After 23 years of marriage, we finally broke down and bought new dishes this weekend. It seems the Mikasa everydays took a beating, and while we still had a decent place-setting for 4, it was embarrassing to have to use chipped dishes if we had more than a couple of friends over.

I have this thing about paper plates---I won't use them at home. I have no problem using them anywhere else, but at home....it's the nice dishes. And one of things that pushed us over the edge of buying new dinnerware is the requirement that we have service for 12.

Is it me or do I sound like Martha Stewart here?? Sheesh.

It's sad, but I would rather go shopping at Crate and Barrel than go buy clothes for myself--everything fits at the Crate and Barrel. I stand there touching vases and bowls like they were diamonds. I oohed and ahhed over glasses and candle holders. I think I even said out loud "If I had cabinet space, I'd be dangerous". To which Joe just nodded and the saleswoman just stared.

What is it about my life that getting new towels or new dishes completes me? At what point in our marriage did all of these serving pieces excite me or just knowing that I have service for 12 moves me to invite people over? Is this normal?

And the only other person more excited than me about the new dishes is Joe. Not kidding. Every single time he grabbed a dish to use, he would go on and on about how nice these new bowls are. Or how big the new plates are. He's downright giddy about the matching mugs.

Sigh. It is official--we are losers.

Or just an old married couple.

The Cow is Dry

Like the tundra that surrounds me these days, I find myself barren of tales to tell. Well, I have stories, they just aren't good ones. I don't think my getting a bruise from acupuncture this week or us getting new dishes is exactly something to post--well, it would be except I don't have photos to go along with them. Sigh.

So, I'm taking the day off to clean house and make room for those new dishes. And perhaps find a story in the back of them there cabinets.

Recycling

So, the copy machine needs a new toner cartridge the other day, so you know what that means, don't you? Yep, craft time at work.

Irene runs over to show me the funny bubble-wrapper that it came in and it just screamed "Add eyeballs and little hands on me"---so, of course, that's what I did. Damn, I am really creative when it comes to that kind of stuff. Irene was just super impressed that I cut those snappy hands out of post-its without even drawing them first. Some people are just talented that way.

I have talents, people. I just don't like to brag about them.

And oh--guess who had their office call me and beg me to not-break-up-with-her-anymore? Yeah, I got a call from the p/t's office wanting to schedule another 12 weeks of treatment. What???!

Emma says they always come crawling back and sure enough.....

So, I brought up the fact that we were broken up and I think something is amiss. They played it off like it was some communication error on their part. Yeah, that's what they all say. I knew she'd miss me.

It's finally Friday. Gees, was this the longest week ever??! And how come the weekends fly by so quickly?

Here's to a good weekend, pallies. May it be a slow one.

I Love Hobbes Thursday - Bored!

Ugh. It's that time of year when we all have cabin fever. The cats are absolutely bored to tears as going outside isn't really an option. Oh, Hobbes will go out alright, but it is short-lived when he realizes how freaking cold it is. Snow is one thing, cold is another.

While laying by the fire is cozy, Hobbes is still looking for a bit of fun. Grace doesn't think fun is all that necessary anymore as her old bones are telling her laying by the fire is enough entertainment. So, as those two lifestyles collide, so do the kitties. It's madness around here, with spontaneous cat fights breaking out at every opportunity.

Oh, there is hissing. There is spitting. There are swats and showdowns. There are endless chases tearing through our tiny abode--which is lovingly referred to as "Horses in the House". Anyone who lives with a cat knows why we call it that. The otherwise stealth feline, will suddenly thunder through the house clomping away like he's 800 pounds. I haven't figured out why it is so much fun to run like that, but they do apparently enjoy it so.

There are no winners and there are no losers. It is just one giant battle that lasts from January straight through to April--when outside is a tad more palatable again.

And there is no use yelling or telling them "no". You just cling to your chair and hope that you are not on the path of destruction.

Sigh. These are the days when winter seems eternally long.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

I miss the frogs.

Every day I look out at the ice-covered pond
and the footprints of squirrels
who walk upon their frozen home,
and I wonder
what they dream of all winter long.

The Break-Up

I made the decision to quit physical therapy this weekend. I've been going once a week for months now, with little improvement. I've learned some coping strategies, but alas, the physical therapy was not the cure for my butt pain like I had hoped. I'm discouraged, but it is time to move on and pursue other options--whatever they may be.

I went to my appointment early yesterday and I sat down to discuss my pain this week, which is typical of each visit. And while we chatted about football games and pain numbers, I noticed a post-it on my file, it read: "Needs to be last visit." Or something like that. Either way, I got the message.

Damn, my physical therapist was breaking up with me! What???! But it was me who wanted to break up with her!

Crap.

Okay, so it was the end of the 12 week session, and at the end of those 12 weeks, you evaluate if any progress has been made. Being that we both felt it wasn't helping anymore, I guess it was a mutual decision, but dang....she broke up with me.

Sigh. It was like I was revisiting high school all over again. And my pride was shattered. Here I was, practicing my "Why I have to leave physical therapy" speech all the way there and I didn't even need to use it. Bummer.

I went into work after my appointment and I unloaded on Irene. And I love Irene because she listens politely and then she says "Don't worry. We all know it was you who broke up with her." --like I just broke up with my boyfriend. Irene is great for back-up and her loyalty is comforting.

And so we went back to work, she in her cube and me in mine.

"Uh, Lin? Did she at least give you one last good-bye back rub?" she asks meekly.

And I lose it. Irene just never fails to make me laugh.

"Yeah. It's all good. We left on good terms, Irene."

Pom World

While I'm used to marching bands and colorguard, Em has started a new adventure on Dance Team this year. And while you think Marching Band competitions are interesting.....





Okay, so I had the giggles. Whenever I'm trying something new--whether it is dance team competitions or acupuncture--I've got to giggle. I just do.

This is what I learned about the world of dance team competitions:

1. There are categories--we were in the "poms" category. This involves the use of poms, needless to say.

2. There are more bump-its than Jersey Shore at these events

3. Apparently spelling things with your poms is a requirement. Really, it is.

4. Deciphering what they spell with their poms is a whole 'nother story.

5. Men can enjoy dance team competitions. Just ask the dude behind me who sang along with the theme from "Speed Racer" that one group used. He was very excited and told me that was his favorite cartoon like 8 times.

6. While we were on bleachers, it was climate controlled. Sweet!

7. The lines for the ladies restroom is ridiculously long. Uh hello? Could we not have figured out that mostly women go to these things? And maybe we should account for that?

8. They can load a football field with marchers, instruments, equipment, and dozens of parent helpers faster than ten chicks with some poms can get out onto a basketball court.

9. Em is really a good dancer. Who knew she could shake it like that??! (She is the tall blond in the back to the right. Then she is in the very front to the right at the end)

10. Another major requirement is the transfer of poms from one girl to another. This got to be really creative with some teams. One group actually pulled poms from the rear ends of their costumes. Not kidding. It was weird and I giggled.

11. I giggle. A lot.

I'm Freaking Freezing, Mr. Bigglesworth

I thought about taking a photo of the thermometer in my car on my way to work yesterday--that sucker was marking below zero temps. But then I thought I'd probably crash and I couldn't bear the thought of standing out there in the frigid weather exchanging insurance information with the dude I just crashed into. And I don't have a hat in the car because they just mess my hair and then my ears would freeze.

Okay, so I didn't take the photo. You'll just have to take my word for it that your car thermometer really does show that little negative sign when the temperature drops below zero.

I just thought you might want to know that.

Have a great weekend, pallies. Stay warm and snuggle with those you love. I'll be doing that AND hosting Dance Team breakfast at our house 6:00 a.m. Sunday morning. Nothing like feeding 20 girls pancakes and bacon when I should be sleeping. Ugh.

Vacancy in Cube 1?

Do most people have photos of themselves sitting at their desk at work? I think not. But I do....thanks to Irene, the best co-worker of the universe. You can tell we work really, really hard, can't you?

I guess it was imminent, but Jim is tossing bout the "R" word these days. Irene and I are polite and talk to him about retirement, but deep down, we are bummin'. You see, it is only the three of us back there in that room and losing Jim is gonna be like losing the helium out of your snappy new balloon. We are just sort of anticipating the deflation.

Irene and I have talked about it and we have decided that if Jim absolutely HAS to go, then we absolutely have to replace him with some good-looking, young dude with a cute butt. Well, Irene added that part. I just want him to smell good. (I've been on that kick lately, have you noticed?)

So, when I hear Jim offering suggestions of folks to hire for his job, he was naming this dame or that one. And a "Oh, hey, what about her?" And I was all like "WHAT?! Why are we looking for chicks??!" and then I had to call in Irene for reinforcements. I mean, he's leaving--why don't we have say in who gets to hang with us in Cube 1? We are the ones stuck with whoever is gonna warm his seat. Sheesh.

The requirements are as follows:

- cute
- not Hispanic. Irene says she wants to be the only Latin Spice of the office.
- go pick up the office lunches every day (Jim does that now)
- be willing to sing the "labelmaker" song with us
- killer bod
- smell nice
- dress nicely so we can oogle him each day
- maybe have some accounting skills and tax knowledge so he can help Irene
- have some knowledge of old movies, politics, cable TV, and obscure references to laugh with me in the mornings

I think that covers it nicely. All qualified applicants will be subject to a strict interviewing process with me and Irene. Oh, and maybe with the CFO too.

Unless, of course, Jim decides to stay for another year. Then we will joyfully ditch said hotty for our office bud and dread the following year instead.

I Love Hobbes Thursday

It's getting discouragingly cold around these parts, darn it. Just when you think you can handle the snow and ice, the below zero temperatures sneak in and remind you just exactly what it is about winter that we hate.

Going out, whether to the store or to work requires bundling up like Nanook of the North. Hats, scarves, gloves and boots aren't fashion accessories--they are necessary survival gear in these parts. And unlike the south that gets to shut down for snow and ice--we have to gear up and endure.....like eskimos.

Hobbes has succumbed to the wintery wind whispering through the kitty door, warning him of the blustery world that awaits just beyond the screening. He peeks at the cold outdoors, deciding whether or not he dares to greet it face on, but alas, he chickens out. Anything below zero is just too cold for my orange stripey and he retreats to his basket. Snow is one thing, but cold is intolerable.

And honestly, I'm with him on that one.


Look what I found at the Art Institute a few weeks ago:

Ancient Orange Stripey!

I guess they loved orange stripeys back then too.

It's a Stoning at the Duck and Wheel!

Well, looky what I received yesterday in my comment box:

"Uh, Lin, let's say a man with the maturity of a 12-year-old boy did something really stupid at a really bad time in your life. How much would said man have to grovel to receive forgiveness? Do you believe in God? Would forgiveness even be possible?

I'm just asking out of curiosity at this point. "

Soooo, I guess the mystery of the faux publicist comments has been solved and it didn't even have to involve Scooby Doo. Which is good because I hate that Scruffy or Shaggy or whatever the hell his name is that Scooby hangs out with. And it also bothered me that someone was not very nice here.

And while MikeWJ came clean, I think it only fitting that those of us he schnookered grab an armful of sharp stones and rocks and commence the stoning.

And the Winner is......

Sorry to delay the announcement regarding the giveaway of Sharky's book "North Country Cache". I couldn't bear to send Colin back to college on the train, so we drove him down there this weekend and made sure he was all loaded up on food and such to prepare for the semester ahead. And yeah, I had a good cry over it. So, I was too sad and tired to write a post.

Anywho, enough of the excuses. Here's the process:

Everyone who commented got a slip with their name
tossed into a bowl.

Then Joe put on his snappiest lounge-wear attire
and drew a name.
(Note to self: We need to establish a dress code
here at the Duck and Wheel. This is freaking embarrassing.)

And the winner is......

BEADED TAIL!!!

Whoohooo!! Congratulations to Sadie, Isabella, and Angel! Oh yeah, and their Mommeh (Sharla) too. I hope you enjoy the autographed copy of Sharky's wonderful adventures in soft cover. I know this is a stressful time of year for Sharla as she is an accountant and it is tax time, but I'm thinking this will be a lovely distraction when those numbers are driving her batty.

To the rest of you, please think about buying a copy of Sharky's book on her blog. She has incredible tales to tell and my mom swears she couldn't put down this book because it was so wonderful. Purchase of this book goes directly through and to Joan (Sharky).

Congratulations, Beaded Tail!!!

Oh, and Congratulations to the winner of the "Best Dressed" category.....Joe in his jammies. Note how he supports not only the local high school (with his pants), but the college as well (the hoodie).

Ugh.

Don't Be Stupid, People

Here's the weather report according to Megan. Well, actually it's the weather and a little smack upside the head with some common sense. It's long, but well worth the time.

Remember, pallies, "Don't be stupid"!



NOTE: I'm leaving this up for Monday just because she cracks me up and makes complete sense in this world of madness.

I'll post the winner of the giveaway on Tuesday. I drew the winner's name, but I didn't have the energy to do a new post after driving Col back to school yesterday. Can you stand the excitement???!

Twas Merely a Blink of My Crooked Eyes

It was an interesting week to say the least--one I'm glad has finally come to a close. Lots was going on behind-the-scenes and I couldn't bear to share.

While we were all goofing around wondering if Dr. Drew's publicist's comments were legit, our dear friends were trying to keep their son alive in intensive care. It was an illness that came on hard and frighteningly fast, involving air-lifts and ventilators. There wasn't a minute that we weren't praying for Zack, and our sleep was fitful, wondering if tomorrow was going to finally bring us the news that he was better.

Silliness ensued here, but in actuality our hearts were very heavy, knowing that a 16-year old boy was fighting for his life. We lived by text messages from the family and signs that he was improving. Needless to say, it was a very long week for everyone who loves Zack.

Friday morning brought me a forwarded message on my cell phone. It was one wordless photo of Zack, finally sitting up in bed. His hair was mussed and there were a few tubes coming out of him--but the scariest one of them all, the ventilator, was gloriously missing. At the sight of his silly drug-induced grin, I burst into tears. He was gonna make it after all.

I'm typically light-hearted here, although there is the rare serious post about righting wrongs and such. I enjoy a good belly laugh and being silly, and I find you all do too. I like when I write something wacky, you all join in and add to it--that's what I love most about my blog and the pallies. I love how we just have fun and the fun is always innocent and never mean.

I guess what I want to say is that in the midst of this horrible week, someone chose to be mean-spirited and mess with me. I guess making an ass out of me was the aim, I don't know and truthfully, I don't care. You see, I do a fine job of making an ass out of myself most days and I certainly don't need any help in that department. I didn't find the joke humorous or bothersome--it was just a waste of someone's time.

Moving on....

My heart dances for the prayers that were answered for Zack and his family. I think about my favorite quote from Michael J. Fox: "I cry for all the good in this world". Yeah, me too. I had one heck of a good cry yesterday because of Zack--all was good again.

Now, let's go back to having fun and being silly.

.........and have I mentioned the new webcam takes photos too?

Friday Fun with Lin and Em

While we are trying to figure out what the hell went on with that whole Dr. Drew comment incident, I thought we could instead entertain you with some video from our new webcam. These are really fun if you don't already have one. Em and I spent a lot of time cracking ourselves up--which is what we do best here at the Duck and Wheel.




Have a good weekend, pallies! Don't forget to leave me your name if you want in on the big book giveaway.

I Love Hobbes Thursday - Snow (sigh)

While we are all mired in the cold, white stuff and tiring of it quickly, Hobbes trudges on. He is dedicated to his routine of visiting the yard each day, no matter what the temperature. Sure, he may think twice about venturing out, but in the end, he can't resist the call of the wild.

Or the call of the basket by the fireplace when his adventures are over. Orange Stripey bellies get cold, you know.


Hey, don't forget to let me know if you want in on the book giveaway of yesterday! Just leave me a comment that you are interested. Winner will be announced on Monday.

It's a Giveaway at the Duck and Wheel!

The best blessing and most surprising thing I have encountered while blogging is the friendships I have made through this wacky venue. While most of the people I encounter in my real life have no idea what a blog is or who would write such a thing, I have found this incredible world of honest, refreshing, funny, and warm group of people who, for the most part, have not met me in person. And yet, I call them friend--or "pally" as the term goes here at the Duck and Wheel.

One of my favorite bloggers is Sharkey (blogger name: Sharkbytes). She writes the blog "My Quality Day" which is a potpourri of outdoor adventures, hiking, camping, photography, Maggie the dog, or personal stories. Sharkey's aim for the blog is to find a redeeming quality in every single day of her life--something I think she attains more than she knows. Not only are there redeeming qualities--but plain and simple, there is joy in living and nature. I like that concept and try to do the same here.

Sharkey (Joan is her real name) is an incredible woman who challenges herself to walk the entire North Country Trail, which is something like a cabillion miles (I think it was 4000???) or something. She does complete it and becomes the first woman to do the hike, earning her millions and a plethora of media attention and glory.

Well, that part I made up--she really did earn the honor but there really was no millions or interviews with Anderson Cooper--only admiration from the rest of us who fully understood her drive and determination and a wee bit of media coverage. Not as much as she deserves, of course, in my opinion.

Because of this incredible woman and her story, I bought two copies of her book--North Country Cache: Adventures on a National Scenic Trail--one of which was for my mom for Christmas--which I am really, really hoping she reads quickly so I can borrow it. And the second copy (autographed, no less!) is for you....the pallies. I'm going to do the rare giveaway at the Duck and Wheel so that you too, can read all about Sharkey and her adventures.

G'ma Phyl is downright giddy about Joan's book, calling to tell me details and how much she loves her writing. "Oh, that Sharky is INCREDIBLE!" she says. "You've GOT to read this!!!"

Yeah, no kidding, Mom--will you wrap it up soon???! Criminy.

I'm not about linking, posting, and doing handstands in order to qualify to win--just send me a comment that you would love to read this book and I'll toss your name into the ring. I will pick a winner over the weekend and announce it Monday on who the luck winner is.

I'm darn excited to get my hands on that book and I hope you are too.

And in the meantime--go visit Sharkey and read more about her adventures on her blog and her book, North Country Cache: Adventures on a National Scenic Trail.

Spoonin' with Drew

I always love conversations around this house because sometimes they just lead to ridiculousness. Actually, most conversations around this house lead to ridiculousness.

And it isn't always the teens who are to blame. Sometimes Joe and I will have full conversations about whether or not the new bank location is operating or not. And we can spend 10 minutes on why the drive-thru would be open if it wasn't. Or was it? Seriously.

I'm not sure how it got started, but at dinner the other night I somehow got around to announcing to everyone that I love Dr. Drew--Drew Pinsky to be exact. You know, Dr. Drew of "Celebrity Rehab", "Sober House" and "Loveline with Adam Corolla"? Yeah, that Dr. Drew.

I dunno, but there is just something about him that I have a major crush on. Maybe it is the gentle way he talks or how he listens so intently to others--it just does me in. I kinda like his look too, with gently graying hair and snappy clothes. Sigh.

My announcement was kicked off with a "Pass the corn" and a "I love Dr. Drew" by me, which of course was met by a general consensus of "Ewwwwww" by the family. Well, criminy, everyone else can talk about who they love and such, why can't I? And why does it have to always be Joe? Can't I love some cute guy on TV too?

Col was a goner from the start, rolling his eyes, holding his ears and yelling "Awww, Mom!".

Em was fine until I talked about how I would tell him all about my day and my problems of late and he would listen (like he does so well) and then we would spoon together. Then she ran from the table screaming "Oh, god, Mom! That's just gross!".

What??! Why? What's wrong with spooning with Dr. Drew? I think he's kinda cute, actually. AND he's got a lot of money, I'm figuring. And somehow I'm guessing he smells good. He just looks like one of those guys--you know, that smell good.

Joe just sat there listening to me list all the dreamy qualities of Dr. Drew while the kids were screaming and shuddering from the thoughts of their mother snuggling with him, until he finally got his thoughts together on his wife reenacting her David Cassidy crush from 40 years ago.

"Yeah, but would he love you?" he asked all smart-alecky.

Crap. He got me there. Some people just take pleasure in bursting bubbles, you know?

I'll bet Dr. Drew wouldn't say that to me. Sigh. I imagine him snuggling closer and asking me how I feel about that comment. And that is why I love him.

Stick and Mondays Suck

Monday came too quickly for my taste. Wasn't it just Friday?? I guess that happens when you have a nice weekend.

Friday was downtown with Colin and the Art Institute. Saturday was house cleaning (Yea!), laundry, and a Wii Family Challenge with our friends, Wendy and her family. I love when we can squeak some fun into the weekend instead of always working. Add in some good food, a couple cocktails, and some belly laughs--it makes the work-week bearable.

And while there was a lot of smack-talking by Wen's family, we did manage to show them who's boss on family game night. Okay, so we had home field advantage and it was our game, but still--we have bragging rights, don't we? They are already calling for a re-match. Losers.

I love when we have company and the cats skeedaddle, but they didn't this time. They hung out with us and Hobbes even demanded that they play Stick with him. Stick sucks, just ask Joe--but Wen's son didn't mind, he played with Hobbes until he passed out from exhaustion--Hobbes, I mean, not Wen's son. Then he bailed when we all started yelling and cheering for the Wii competition.

Sunday's highlight (after ironing) was Mom and Kitty time watching "Elsa--the real story behind 'Born Free'". I'm not sure if that was the real name, but it was a PBS show on the story of Elsa the lion and the two humans who raised her, Joy and George Adamson.

I turned on the fireplace and the TV, gathered the two kitties and actually sat down to watch this with them. How ironic it was to see George killing zebras for his lion as my Orange Stripey lay toasting his belly by the fire. Lions have come a long way since the 1960's, apparently. Look at mine--warm fire, plenty of food, and a comfy basket to relax in. Sheesh. I looked over and told Hobbes I was officially changing his name to "Elsa" and he didn't seem to care, so if I remember, I'm gonna call him that tomorrow.

I hope Grace doesn't get jealous.

We are off to start the week. Ugh. Is there nothing worse than Monday? A damn cold Monday? A Monday with a chance of snow? I don't think so.

Well, maybe being a lion who doesn't live with me. That might be worse.

My Kids' Point of Reference

With Colin's winter break ending far too quickly, I'm trying to sneak in as much "mom time" as I can these days. I took the day off work yesterday to go downtown with him and just hang out--just the two of us. In spite of the fact that we nearly froze to death, it was a swell time.

Heads up to those of you in and around Chicago--the Art Institute of Chicago is offering free admission during the weekdays in January until February 3. And while you may not spend the money to go there regularly, free admission is a good excuse to check it out. Colin and I decided to take advantage of that offer and headed there for the day.

We met Joe for a nice lunch and then walked the freezing cold few blocks to the Art Institute. I hadn't been there for years, so it was great to introduce Colin to some classics that make Chicago their home. I don't recommend the Art Institute for kids--I think that place is way too boring for little ones, so we never took our kids when they were little. I like that we could enjoy it together today without either one of us wanting to cry.

Some of the easily recognizable paintings were:

"American Gothic" by Grant Wood

"Nighthawks" by Edward Hopper

The waterlily series by Claude Monet

And,

"A Sunday on La Grand Jatte" by Georges Seurat

or better known by my kids as
"That painting in 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off'."

Sigh. I try, people. I really do.

Acupuncture Barbie

You know that the minute you are thinking "THIS is a blog post", it's gonna be good.

With my back/tailbone/butt/GERD thing plaguing me still, my physical therapist makes the suggestion of going to "Ted" the acupuncturist. Sure, I'll go--I'll try anything at this point to get over this pain in the rear--literally.

First, you have to know that I am rarely serious about such adventures. I'm the type of gal who is giggling through anything new or stuff that I am unsure about. And the whole time that Ted was asking me questions and sticking me like a voodoo doll, I was silly. Not mean-like silly, just being light-hearted and kinda of laughing about how silly I must have looked to the non-acupuncturist-going world.

Second, you have to know that Ted did not find me the least bit humorous. He is a very serious dude, and I think he found my lack of one-word answers for his pre-treatment questions a tad....well.....frustrating. I think I caught him rolling his eyes and sighing more than once or twice. I think most people are very serious when they go for acupuncture. Me--not so much. I found this whole thing wayyyy too serious, which only made me giggle harder.

So, I'm laying there while Ted is treating the front side of me for GERD--or acid reflux. He's sticking needles in my forehead, meat of my thumbs, down my abdomen, in my left upper chest, in my legs and feet. And while I didn't really feel the needles going in, I had to close my eyes for the unicorny needle was a tad bothersome in that I just wanted to laugh the whole time I saw it. I found it very hard to be serious when I have a needle sticking out of my forehead.

And as he finished up and was turning the lights down for me to sit like that for a few minutes, I had to ask, "Do I look absolutely ridiculous, Ted?"

I think he did not like that question, as he replied "I do not judge my patients."

Really?? I'm laying here giggling like a school girl with a unicorny needle sticking out of her forehead and you don't think I look like an idiot??

Then I said "You do know this is a blog post, right?"

"What????" I heard him say.

"Uh. Nuthin." I think he's just really polite or professional or something. Poor guy.

So, I laid there and relaxed for 10 minutes--or the best you can do when you look like human pincushion.

He then flipped me over and treated my tailbone and back pain--with needles that had electrodes attached. And no, he did not like my question if I had smoke and flames shooting out my butt. Or if the controller for the electrodes went to "eleven". I guess he didn't see Spinal Tap. Bummer.

So the answers to your questions are: No, it does not hurt. No, it doesn't feel like you are getting a shot. They go in quickly and painlessly, and then you sit like that for 10 minutes. It is very relaxing with soft music, dimmed lights, and a calm atmosphere.

Does it work? I dunno. I didn't feel immediate relief, but that may have had something to do with my cynicism. I made an appointment for next week, although I think Ted may not be so happy about that.

I Love Hobbes Thursday - Hibernation

The holidays are over and all the boxes have been put away. Now is the time of year that seems to take forever to pass, with months of snow and cold still ahead yet.

Hobbes insists on going out each day as if he is determined to greet the first warm day--should it appear. He walks the yard and sniffs the frozen ground like a hound hot on the trail of some criminal. The most he finds is some frozen bird seed, but even that beats sitting in the house yet another day. He's bored, poor fellow, and as long as his paws can stand it, he's begging to go out.

And when the frozen world is too much to bear, he succumbs to the temptation of the fireplace and his blankie, where he dreams of spring instead.

I Like Turtles

If you think I love Hobbes, you gotta hear Irene talk about her pet turtle, Noelle. Or Noel--she's not sure if it is a boy or a girl turtle. I guess figuring that out is tough or something. I didn't want to ask.

While we have had many a discussion over the cubicle walls about such things as Bed Intruders and Eye-Spy Playing Cats, the latest topic is all about Irene's pet turtle. And what a turtle needs in the way of creature comforts. Who knew turtles are so damn fussy about their environment? I had no idea.

Yes, we logged some time on the net searching for the perfect perch and water conditioners. We found a plethora of heating lamps and tanks to keep your turtle happy. Heck, we even found shell conditioners--otherwise known as "turtle wax". Not kidding. Who knew you had to wax your turtle??

Imagine me doing the whole Karate Kid bit--"Wax on. Wax off." I don't know why, but Irene does not find this humorous. I think it may be lost in translation as that may be a bit before her time. Sigh. I hate it when my humor is outdated.

So, when I told her that I was going to post Turtley's (that's what I call him/her because I think "Noelle" is a lame turtle name) photo, she had her mom take some shots with her cell phone of the turtle at home. And while the photos were adorable, imagine her mom trying to capture the turtle's best side. That just cracks me up for some reason.

And this whole turtle thing just reminds me of this:



What is with that kid???

Now, don't be begging me for "I Like Turtle Tuesdays" or anything like that. Irene's mom is busy doing stuff at home and she can't be spending her days photographing the turtle for us.

Can I not look hot in my dreams at least??

I woke up to my alarm the other morning while still a participant in a very vivid dream. And because the dream was interrupted by real life, I kept recalling the strangeness of my dream all day long. Do you ever do that? Remember a very strange dream all day? I do. Dammit.

I'll make this brief as there is nothing as boring as other peoples' dreams....

Remember that whole Botti issue back in November? Well, I went to see him again (in my dream)--except this was a breakfast Meet and Greet. And this time, I wore my pajamas--as in, my ratty pajamas that I would not be caught dead in and I had no make-up on and I had a major case of bedhead.

And before I continue, may I add that this is not something I do--I'm never seen like this in public--not even while camping.

Anywho....

So, Botti had a breakfast Meet & Greet and I decide to go. (What was I thinking??!) And I'm sitting waayyyy up front with a curly wig on my head--because I'm embarrassed by my bedhead. (Yeah, this is soooo real) And while I'm embarrassed that my wig is blocking the view for some folks, I move to the side--where Botti now spies me and decides now is the time he's gonna talk to me.

Go figure.

So, maybe there is some deep-seated need for Botti to acknowledge me or something, because I'm freaking dreaming this. But do I really have to be in my jammies?? I mean, even if it was a dream, do I have to look like an idiot? Sheesh. And where was my signature lipstick?

Long story/dream short, he was nice and we had a pleasant visit. Of course, I didn't ask him to sign a poster or CD or anything and there was no security--so maybe that was the difference. Or maybe it was my jammies and severe case of bedhead that made the dude have pity on me. Whatever--he was the nice guy that his nut-crazed fans all blather about on his website.

And while that freaky dream was still replaying in my head, I received notice that there was a comment to be approved on an old post of mine on the blog. Sure as shoes, it was from someone who wrote about her experience at the same concert I went to. How weird is that??! And yes, she had the very same experience I did with all the security, rules, disappointment, and rudeness and all that.

Isn't that freaky? The timing of the comment--not the comment itself.

And how does your resting brain come up with this stuff?? Freud would have a field day with me.

Note to Self: It's 2011

Reality set in at 5:30 this morning when a voice from over there is yakking about time and temperatures--but mostly about winter sport scores that I don't give a hoot about. Ugh. It's Monday, the New Year, and back to non-holiday mundaneness.

So, what did I do with my life for the past few weeks? Uh, run around like a nut. I mean, past running for gifts and all that jazz, we did a lot of hanging out with friends, going out to eat just the 4 of us, and having fun. Of course, there was work and work outings crammed in there--making the days just a little more jam-packed than I would have liked.

I have a holiday hang-over, feeling stressed putting all this stuff away and trying to clean the house, do the laundry and the ironing, and all that other stuff we need to prepare for the work week ahead. I'm still wondering why, as a nation, we don't just declare the week between Christmas and New Year's a holiday and give all of us poor souls a break. Would it be so bad if we all just ate PB & J instead of ordering pizzas and carrying out food? And who needs any more crap from the stores? Didn't we all just get enough for Christmas?

So, I welcome the New Year with grumbles and a back-ache to make me walk like an old man. I drag my weary bones into the office to earn money to pay the bills and to pretend I'm productive. I'll smile past the steam of my coffee--but I'm secretly wishing I was still in my jammies, having that holiday week off and relaxing. Sigh.

It escaped me, those two weeks of Christmas and New Year's. There are still people I want to see and things I want to do! I'm not ready for xeroxing and emails. I don't want to talk HR talk and process 401(k) loans. I don't even want to flip my calendar over at work to find new obligations and places I have to be.

The mere absence of Jim's twinkly lights sets my mood. Why does the New Year have to come in so hard and fast? If I had my way, it would come in on comfy slippers and a warm robe.

Yes, Petula, there are hobos

Before I took the tree down yesterday, I managed to snag a few good shot of the hobos in action--my favorite part of the train village this year.

There is something about hobos that speaks of freedom for me. Freedom from rules and constrictions. Freedom from responsibility and routine. Freedom from the demands of others and obligations. I like that all you own is in a kerchief above your shoulder and when life sucks, you put it all in there and catch the next train outta there. I like an escape plan.

Petula and I are hobos at heart. We came up with this plan to be hobos when life was getting us down--when responsibilities, kids, and bills were sucking the life out of us and we needed a dream to get us through. And even if Petula doesn't like the idea of sleeping under the stars or eating cold beans out of a can, I've convinced her to join me in my plans to ditch it all.

I was about ready to ditch it all yesterday taking down the damn tree. Sheesh. Why do we forget that it takes a whole day to set it up when we want it to come down in an hour? I have to move furniture, pack the ornaments carefully, pick all that damn tinsel that I thought was swell two weeks ago off every. single. branch. and stuff it in a bag for next year's hell. But first we have to pack up the train and the village before all that fun begins. Ugh.

While I love setting up the train, taking it down is beastly. We are picking up cows and reindeer while ditching tree needles. There are miniature people laying on their sides everywhere and the houses have to be very carefully packed into labeled boxes--and there is tinsel stuck to everything. While I have time to giggle over every nuance setting it up, I'm a bit snarly taking it down.

"Where's Mrs. Santa?" I'm crabbing to Em.

"She's at the store....on the porch with the 'blue people'" she snips back. She's not having fun either.

"Well, then where is Santa? And why isn't he with Mrs. Santa?"

"Oh, he's by the train station. Mrs. Santa had to do some shopping while Santa was greeting travelers" she calmly explains.

Oh. Well, that makes perfect sense. She passes both to me and we pack them with miscellaneous town folk and farm hands. Toss in a few hobos for good measure and we are slowly moving on.

And this is all in the first hour. Add like 5 more hours of all of this and I'm wishing I was a hobo--and we haven't touched the rest of the holiday crap sprinkled around the house.

Yes, Petula, today is one of those days when I wanna be a hobo. Instead of cleaning, washing, and packing holiday knickknacks, I wanna be eating cold beans and tellin' tales of ridin' the rails. It's got to be better than this.