Category Archives: Stream of consciousness

Happy New Year, peeps!

We brought in the New Year with me letting the dog in the house (she was out doing doggy business) and Frank saying, “Happy New Year, sweetie.” Then we kissed, of course. We actually went to my in-laws’ place and had snacks and games and watched Harry Potter GOF. But we were sleepy by 11:30, the parents were in bed, Joe & Denise were gone, and Sarah One was also a sleepy head. Even Rowdi was zonked. So we came home before midnight, because we’re old. But the good thing is, we were home before all the parties let out and the crazies started driving. I don’t know if they actually have crazy drivers here, come to think of it.

Yesterday I got to have lunch with two musees. Long-timer “lottiedottie” and newish musee who comments as “lottiedottie’s SIL.” I never did get their real names. Or know which was which for that matter. Haha, just kidding. I do know who’s who and all that, but I’ll never tell! Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera with me, so I can’t post embarrassing pictures of us. OH! OH! Get this. We went to a place called Costa Vida, which is very much like Chipotle but with a little more selection and lesser salsas and guac. The guac is still good, but it’s not Chipotle’s (or mine, yo). The salsa I had was eh. But the rice is good, beans are good, chicken is super-yummy, and the cilantro lime dressing for your salad? So so good. If it were closer to our house, I’d eat there every day just for that dressing. Ok, so I’m not missing Chipotle nearly as much as I have for the last three years; I have found a suitable replacement. Watch, now we’ll get a Chipotle here.

I still have to buy a suit. For interviewing and such. I went one day to look, but I found nothing and didn’t want to get into that I-hate-my-body rut that fluorescent dressing room lights and giant mirrors tend to cause, so we didn’t go multiple places. Plus, I’ve been avoiding the mall like the plague that it is at Christmastime. Now that everyone will be going back to work, I might actually be able to get something done!

Ok, I’m rambling. So now I’m gonna clean the livingroom before my FIL comes over to watch football with Frank.

movie mania… and whence came that snow, yo?

We’ve seen more movies at the theater since arriving in Idaho than we saw this entire past year at the theater in Florida. It helps that Sarah One is here and goes to the movies so often. We’ve seen Enchanted, 3:10 to Yuma, and tonight we saw Charlie Wilson’s War. We went into the theater around 5:00 this evening (and it was beautifully cold, couldn’t have been much above twenty degrees out), and when we came out after 7:00, it was snowing and had been for a while. It was coming down fairly heavily, and we were all surprised. By the time we finished dinner, we’d gotten a good half inch or so. Yay! Of course, on the way home, we had a little moment where I kind of gently slid off the road and onto the grassy patch next to it. No biggie, only a half spin or so. And the drivers here are so stinking nice! The cars behind me just paused and waited for me to get back onto the road (I just drove a couple of feet on the grass and moved right back). Not one single car passed me. I heart Idaho drivers. When you signal? They actually let you over! I’ve not been cut off one time since arriving.

Anyway. Nice evening. And snoooooow!

whew

Wow, so I put us on a schedule that started Monday. Every day is mapped out in the extreme. What each of us is doing at each set time. We have gotten so much done. Packing, last bit of staging, applying for jobs, cleaning ceiling fans, cleaning out the fridge, cleaning up and cleaning out the garage, cleaning various parts of the house… Frank painted the first half of the garage today. Tomorrow, the other half.

We were sad Fred Thompson came to Florida today. If only it were next week. We hope he’ll wait to go to Idaho after we move.

What else. I saw the gastro, Dr. Awesome. My BP was 90/70. Weight? 159. So I gained three pounds from when I weighed at Publix, and I’ve only lost three total since going off gluten. BUT. Alice did show up today, and I already look less swollen and bloated in my face. Should I start expecting that now? Off gluten, I have cramps for a whole day instead of thirty seconds on gluten. Not a fan of that side-effect. And I bloat up horribly for about a week ahead of time. Never had that problem before. Ugh.

So. I told Dr. Awesome that all of my symptoms have drastically improved (migraines, hand pain, foot pain, nosebleeds, easy bruising, and more after getting off gluten, muscle aches and nerve pain and seizures after getting off all dairy and starting probiotics). But I still am constantly bloated, TMI ALERT!!!, have clinical diarrhea at LEAST 75% of the time, and spend twenty-four hours a day discomforted to the point of misery from the bloating and gas pains. Fun fun stuff. Dr. Awesome slipped to Dr. Awesome Minus (A- for short) because he said he’s completely satisfied with my improvement and doesn’t think I need to do anything else except maybe Immodium (I’ve been quite clear with him that bandaids are NOT okay). Dude, you heard the part about all that diarrhea, right? Because I can’t do overnight hikes in that condition. I’ll never be able to hike the Grand Canyon again if I’m just satisfied with the status quo. He was perfectly happy with everything though. Drs. amaze me. Anyway, the probiotics seem to be working their magic. I found gluten-free, dairy-free ones. So there you go.

I’ve put in several short breaks each day (funny, I barely have time to read blogs in that time, much less blog myself). Also Bible study every day, which we actually have to schedule in, because otherwise we keep saying, “We really should do that,” and we never do. Sad. And we have half an hour of playing games and drinking hot tea after 9:30 p.m., because no one is supposed to call after 9:00 p.m. (it really annoys us, we’re like, “Who died?”), and certainly not after 9:30 p.m. The first night we played Scattergories. The past two nights, we played one game of Phase 10. I used to be so addicted to Phase 10. And the last two nights, I had so much fun playing (though, admittedly, it’s more fun when there are three or four people playing). Tonight before dinner, Frank asked, “Can we play Phase 10 again tonight?” “I told you it’s addicting,” was my response.

Have had no time for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Monday I will be able to get back on it. Am reading Goblet of Fire at bedtime every night. We have half an hour scheduled for reading in bed. I usually fall asleep after ten minutes, and Frank can spend twenty or thirty on his comic books. Today I said, “Hey, maybe you should try reading books that have words.” “Comic books have words. They just have pictures, too.” Yeah, pictures that take about ten minutes to interpret. “What is happening in that picture?” “I think he’s falling off a building.” “Are you sure?” “Oh. Yeah. Because four frames later, someone mentions him falling off the building.” Then why didn’t they just say that??

Frank, a lifetime insomniac, has slept very well this week. I’m convinced it’s the hot tea. He isn’t sure.

Rowdi is scratching one of her n!ppl3s so hard that it has bled, scabbed over, and bled some more. I don’t know what to do for her. Watch this be the only part of the post that gets comments.

When we move to Idaho (Lord willing), we will become huge Boise State fans. It’s pretty much a requirement, especially if I want to stay in my in-laws’ good graces. Plus, they’re an easy team to like. I once knew a guy who was so obsessed with Tennessee football (because he went there) that he tried to recruit people. This was in the Texas Metroplex. I don’t think he converted many. But considering that Texas Tech and Boise State are the only college football games I’ve been to and bothered watching on TV (I’m a Cowboys fan, and it’s pro sports all the way for me, yo), those are the only teams in which I’m interested, and… BSU is much closer to Boise than Tech… yeah, I will actually become a big BSU fan. Once upon a time, my dear friend Scott told me that I would be a fan of the teams located in the city I live. That it was a requirement. No. I assured him, I will always root for the Metroplex teams. I suppose I’ve picked up a couple of college teams, but it’s still Stars, Cowboys, and bless my heart, the Texas Rangers. I liked the Mavericks when Mark Cuban wasn’t financing Loose Change the movie (which I think fell through), but now I can hardly stand to think about where all that Mavs money is going. I can’t wait to snark his Dancing with the Stars performances. Oh, and yes, the Metroplex still has metric football in the form of the Dallas Sidekicks, but… it’s so… metric.

I wrote my awesome Gloatation Boo-Bye Super-Fantastical Speech today. Finally. Go read it, it’s some of my best work ever!

Anyway. I’m late for game time. Ta!

vanity! and stream of consciousness conversation.

FRANK J.: Would you take the puppy out?
SARAHK [scowling my "as if!" scowl]: No.
FRANK J.: But I always take her out.
SARAHK: Yep. Why can’t you take her out now?
FRANK J.: Because I’d have to change out of my paint clothes and into my other clothes.
SARAHK [baffled]: Um… why would you have to change out of your paint clothes?
FRANK J.: Because I’d look silly walking all the way down the street in my paint clothes.
SARAHK: Yeah, people might think you’ve been painting or something.
FRANK J.: I’d look stupid.
SARAHK: Oh. Well, I was going to say yes, I’ll take her out, but I’m not gonna take her out because you’re vain
FRANK J.: Also my legs hurt.
SARAHK: You didn’t mention your legs hurting. You just mentioned your vanity. Did you take your vitamin?
FRANK J.: Yes. And I look like a twelve-year old in these clothes.
SARAHK: You always look like a twelve-year old. :-P
FRANK J.: You shut up.
SARAHK: And I’m not even wearing a bra! And my shorts are too short! I’ll have to change clothes, too. And you don’t even have to change clothes, because it’s just your vanity.
FRANK J.: So go put on a bra.
SARAHK: Ok, I’ll take her out, but you have to make dinner tonight.
FRANK J.: I’ve been painting doors all day. [Yeah, I got him to do it instead of me, since I'm still packing and cleaning.]
SARAHK: And I’ve been packing and cleaning. Have you seen how clean and empty the guest room is?
FRANK J.: Yeah. I can actually walk in there! You act like I haven’t been doing anything all day.
SARAHK: I’m not acting like that. I’m just saying I have too. [Though only one of us got a massage, and it wasn't him.] Did you see all the boxes and bins I packed?
FRANK J.: No.
SARAHK: No? Right, then. I’ve been building a fort over there.
FRANK J.: Where?
SARAHK: Behind you.
FRANK J. [acts like he's glancing behind himself but doesn't actually turn his head]: I don’t see a fort. I can’t see it for the forest.
SARAHK: You said you liked the plants.
FRANK J.: What?
SARAHK: You can’t see the fort for the forest?
FRANK J.: I can’t see it for the trees in the forest.
SARAHK: What?
***

I took the puppy out.
***

FRANK J.: Whatcha doin’, Sweet-Sweet?
SARAHK: Blogging about our stupid conversation earlier.
FRANK J.: Which one?
SARAHK: The one about your vanity.
FRANK J.: I’d look twelve in those clothes even if they didn’t have paint all over them.
SARAHK: Whatever.
FRANK J.: And you wouldn’t go out without a bra on.
SARAHK: Sure I would. I’d cross my arms over my chest, but I’d do it.
FRANK J.: See? You’re too vain, so you have to cross your arms.
SARAHK: Um, no. I’m too modest.
FRANK J.: You’re vain.
SARAHK: YOU’RE vain.
FRANK J.: You shut up.
SARAHK: YOU shut up.
***

It went on much the same after that.

new lights!

These are the new light fixtures we installed over both bathroom vanities. Actually, Frank did most of the work, I just helped. The one in the master bath (pictured below) has four globes, and the front bath fixture has three globes. All bulbs are incandescent, of course (don’t y’all want to know what kind of lightbulbs the Js use? Yes, you do.). Those fluorescent bulbs aren’t so good for people with epilepsy (me included!), not to mention that I drop stuff all the time, and if you break a fluorescent bulb, a HazMat team has to come clean up the spill for you. Oh, and if global warming is real (it’s not — you know, in the ’70s, “they” were convinced we were heading for an ice age), we’re not going to fix it by running our cars on corn and putting ugly fluorescents in our houses. I’m convinced that anything we do to try to fix it will just make it worse — did y’all know that whatever it is that replaced CFCs in aerosol sprays is so much worse for the ozone layer than the CFCs were? Yeah.

Wait, how did my light fixture post go from there to global warming? I just want to show y’all a picture. Here it is.

UPDATE: I’m stupid. But I was really tired when I wrote this. Thanks Rod!

stream of migraineness

Ok, so while we’re on the subject of cussin’… If ever there is an appropriate time for it (and no, I think there’s not, but play along!), it is when you are sitting on your lovely new couch/sofa, suffering from a massive migraine due to yesterday’s glutenous, gluttonous buffet (more on that in a minute, y’all), waiting for the Excedrin Migraine to kick in, and this freaky ant/wasp/termite hybrid decides to plant itself next to you on your Auto Repair for Dummies book (no commentary, please, Pinky needs a new starter) and pretend it’s ok for it to be there! To me, this wretched insect looks like a giant-winged flying ant, except with a longer, darker, more segmented body and transparentish wings like a termite. FREAKSHOW! So of course, I immediately jump off the couch and start flailing my arms and moving my legs in marching-band-high-step fashion (overdrive version) just in case I missed the whole army of them that are marching across my body (because I’m looking at the one on the Dummies book, because yo, you never take your eye off the enemy), yelling, “Eeee! Eeeee! Yaaaaa!” and so forth. You get it, I’m a girl. Frank is used to this type of behavior and has learned to follow my eyes toward the problem. And I’m an instructions-barker, so I was coaching. “Don’t smear him on the new couch!” “What? He has a stinger? Don’t get stung! But smush him! Don’t just let him go like you let the one go from the other night. It’s probably the same one!” And Frank and Rowdi had just come in from outside, so I wonder if the freakshow hybrid came in on Rowdi. She’s been acting all sick this evening, so it’s possible she got stung.

Or it’s possible she’s Rowdi.

pathetic.

Back to that buffet from yesterday. I am all about the food. Ok, so we went to Whistle Junction down in Palm Bay. It’s apparently changed hands a number of times, and the food is finally yummy (we can’t speak to the food before it was WJ, we’d never been). Their fried green tomatoes made me just want more fried green tomatoes, forget the dessert. Frank actually said to me at one point, “Is that a whole plate just of vegetables?” “Yep. Is that a problem?” “I don’t get the point of an entire plate of vegetables.” “I don’t get the point of YOU!” HaHA! Don’t worry, I did get around to dessert. I figured it’s most likely my last time eating out without having to ask the waiter or chef what’s in everything I’m eating (and the last time I can eat any restaurant dessert other than creme brulee, sorbet, or flan until more restaurants catch on to this whole gluten-free thing, or until we get to Austin, whichever comes first). It was funny, dessert was a total girl moment. We were there with a group from church, and Mary asked three different women if they were going for dessert. They all said no. I was the only one she didn’t ask, don’t know why, I was only sitting directly across from her. Maybe it’s because Mary is the one that previously told me, “You’ve been hanging out with us too much. You’re getting that black body,” so perhaps she just figures I don’t need dessert. Anyway, I’m not shy. I said, “Oh, you don’t wanna be the only woman going to the dessert line? I’ll go with you, I’m not proud. I like dessert. Bring it on.” Or something long and rambly like that. We went, and eek. As we studied the desserts, I said, “I would normally have banana pudding, but the banana pudding looks funky.” She agreed, and I had to settle for cheesecake. I didn’t notice the bread pudding until I was loading the cheesecake up with fudge and cherries. Oh well, it looked dry. Oh yeah, Mary also said at one point, “Frank just sits there so quiet, and then Sarah… you just talk…” “Oh, I know, I’m a talker. It’s why he never says anything, he figures what’s the point? I won’t hear him, I’ll be in my own little world talking anyway.” The truths I speak over food.

Whoa, I just got an email from wRitErsbLock, and one of my comments at her place made her laugh out loud. As someone who has seen her in person many times, I will tell you honestly that she seldom laughs out loud at anything. This must make me stinking funny. Hopefully more funny than stinking. What’s even funnier? I just wrote “hopefully more stinking than funny” and totally didn’t mean that.

Way cool. If Frank searches google images for “nuke,” the bottom picture on this page is one of the top returns. It’s because The Sizzle and I are awesome.

Another appropriate time for cussin’ is any time the name Johnny Sutton comes up. He makes me want to throw darts at his face. But then my TV would be all broke. And look at me, in solidarity with Rachel Lucas, I didn’t cuss. Yay me!

Wow. We’re just NOW watching January’s Dog the Bounty Hunter season finale, or I don’t know, I think they were reruns when we were recording them. His daughter died the day before his wedding day, how awful is that? Not to mention that his extradition-to-Mexico status is still uncertain because of our President’s secret evil pact with the president of the brown people (whom I apparently hate, according to President Bush). Oh my goodness, wasn’t that little mullet-toe-headed ring-bearer of theirs the cutest thing? I know, I should have asked y’all this like two years ago. Whatever. It’s how I what? Say it with me. Roll.

Today the migraine is so bad that I had those scary flashes in my vision where I had teeny black holes in the vision surrounded by lightning rings. So descriptive you can picture it, I know. Here’s a better description: I wasn’t even hungry for dinner. Yes, that bad! I took the EM a few hours ago, and it made most of my head stop hurting, but the insides of my eyes never stopped. Oh well. I guess now it’s bedtime. Maybe sex will help. It does occasionally get rid of the migraines.

ok, so wow

Regarding last night… huh.

Yeah. I went back and read what I wrote at 1:30 or so this morning. Koo-koo! Sorry about that. If I were a post deleter, this is one of those posts I would either delete or revise to make myself look less insane. Unfortunate thing (for you folks) is that I am a yeah-I-wrote-that-crapper, not a deleter. I’ve deleted one or two posts over the three plus years I’ve blogged, but I had good reason each time, and other people were involved. I’ve never deleted a post that embarrassed only me. At least I can’t remember doing such.

Even my mom thinks I’m Britney or Whitney.

So. Bikermommy called me this morning.

BIKERMOMMY: How are you? [You know. Like when people ask in that tone because they know you're to the point of using skillets for mirrors instead of the real thing because you just can't bear to see the true visage because wow, check out that stress acne you're sporting!]
SARAHK: Oh, I’m good, how are you? [all casual-like]
BIKERMOMMY: I’m good. I… read your blog this morning.
SARAHK: Oh. Yeah, I read that too. [Very fast] I didn’t sleep night before last, and yesterday I only got a 2-hour nap, and on gluten, power naps just don’t work for me the way they do off-gluten [no, I'm not crazy, that's true], so yeah, I was just rambling. I’m fine. Seriously. Every part of my body hurts, but I’m totally ok. I’m not even stressed or anything.
BIKERMOMMY: And you shouldn’t be. Did you get the livingroom painted?
SARAHK: Most of it is primed. But it’s fine, it’s totally fine. Right now I’m making sure the room is cleared out so the furniture people will have a place to put the new furniture.
BIKERMOMMY: And yeah, just put plastic over the furniture when you paint, no big deal.
SARAHK: Yep. Not worried about it.

So yeah. I think Bikermommy was a tad worried that I was going a little bonkers. I’m totally fine, I was just rambling and so stinking tired. And Rowdi was so bad yesterday, that stupid dumb escaping dog; that just added to the tiresomeness of painting. More on that later. Bad dog. But when I was talking to Bikermommy, she asked about the drug that makes me dopey and incoherent at times, though I only notice that side effect when I’m completely exhausted.

SARAHK: [long, incoherent, rambling sentence with a lot of words only half-finished]
BIKERMOMMY: Are you still on the Topamax?
SARAHK: Yes. But you know what? It’s because I have hardly slept. When I am this tired and on the Topamax, yes, I am completely incoherent. But right now I am on gluten and not having migraines, so I’m not getting off the Topamax. After my biopsy, I’ll start getting off Topamax, but for now, I’m staying on.
BIKERMOMMY: No, that’s not what I meant.
SARAHK: Uh-huh. It’s because I sound completely crazy and can’t talk. I know.
BIKERMOMMY: No, I mean because you don’t feel well. [Suuuure.]
SARAHK: Well, I’m not having headaches, it’s just my whole body hurts. We’re doing a lot of physical work. A lot of moving, a lot of painting, a lot of [incoherent who knows].
BIKEY: Oh, I thought you were having headaches.
SARAHK: Not that many. I get twinges, and they are migraines, but the Topamax keeps them from going full-blown and lasting for days.
BIKEY: Oh, I thought maybe you were off the Topamax because you didn’t feel well.
SARAHK: [Very fast] No, I feel awful because I’m eating gluten and we’re doing all this work, and I’m so tired, and I’ll be so glad when we get notified that the COBRA payment has been received so I can call the doctor and ask him if we can please move the biopsy up any earlier, because I’ll be so glad to be done with this evil crap forever, but then again, I feel like I should give it the full three months to work, because what if the biopsy is negative, and then I’ll always wonder if maybe I should have waited just two or three more weeks.
BIKEY: Yeah, that’s true. When is it?
SARAHK: June 15th, and I can’t wait, and oh. [New subject.]

I was all over the place. I’m sure she felt so much better about my mental status after we hung up. By the end she was all, “Well, um, ok, love you, talk to you later, go take a nap, don’t worry about anything!”

What a perfect day to have a talk with your son about the rest of his life.

Here’s what happened with Rowdi yesterday, whom we should have dubbed Bullet McSprinty when we got her from the shelter 15 months ago. Not that I’m counting the months. 15.5 months. Frank took Rowdi for a very long walk, because the preacher’s son was coming over to help with everything. Oh, and this is funny. We had made arrangements on Sunday with Alcazar the preacher’s son (more on the name later, that’s not his real name) to come yesterday morning. Told his mom, told his dad, they all knew he was coming to work and to learn; by the way, we decided to pay him $12 an hour plus a little extra for gas since he’s driving 45 minutes each way. Well, he drops off his sisters at school, so he could be leaving his area of town at 8:30, and he said he’d come right after that and stay until around 3 when he needed to leave for his other official job, which was good for Frank and me, because that made us be on a schedule and set goals and me stay up all night. Ok, so Alcazar called at 9 to tell us that he was going to have breakfast with his dad and would be here a little later. That’s fine, we’ll be here all day. He got to our house at 11:25; it turns out that the preacher, we’ll call him Brother A for anonymity’s sake, picked yesterday morning to have the come-to-Jesus talk with Alcazar about how he really needs to be serious about college and not just chase chicks. Hahaha. I thought it was funny that Alcazar totally got one of the big life talks, because those are so uncomfortable, and don’t we all delight when kids get those talks? But at the same time I was like, he doesn’t start school until September, and our furniture gets delivered tomorrow. But I still thought it was stinking funny, all the dadding that his dad did yesterday. So yeah, Alcazar was only here for 3.5 hours. Oh, and I fed him lunch before he left, and I was listing off quick stuff I could make (daylight was a-wasting), and Alcazar gasped in delight when I said Totino’s pizza. Ha! Good kid.

Winner: Bad Dog of the Year

Back to Rowdi. Frank tired out Rowdi good, because she was going to meet a new guest, and she was pretty good when Alcazar arrived. She greeted him and sniffed all over him, and she only tried to jump up to about his hip level, and that only twice or thrice before she finally got the point that mommy is not ok with that. He petted her, and then she totally leaned up against his legs and rolled over on her back and asked impolitely for him to please rub her belly forever and ever amen. (Later he asked what kind of dog she is. “Oh, she’s a shepherd / pit bull / lab mix or something. We don’t really know.” His eyes got huge like “oh crap! she’s a pit bull!” when we said pit bull, but then he remembered that he’d already met her and was totally cool with her.) Well. Rowdi decided she wanted to show off her mad sprinting powers to her new friend. Frank and Alcazar carried my cedar chest out to my car, and I called her to me, and she came and stood calmly on the carpet until we were all out the door, never once went onto the tile of the entryway. Very good dog, very sneaky dog who just wanted to catch us off guard. Next item of furniture: Queen Anne chair. She went to the door, and I called her to me on the carpet. She did not come, and I said, like I always do, “No, Rowdi, you have to stay inside.” Normally my saying this is enough. She knows that this means she is not going outside, so she doesn’t even try to escape. But she was like, “Forget y’all! I want Alcazar to see how fast I can run!” So the first chance she had to get between the chair, Alcazar, and the door, her sprinty little butt was wriggling past, and all I saw was muscles and that dumb little stub she has where her tail should be.

Retrieval: Closing the door and pretending we didn’t want her back didn’t work. I watched out the window, and she was like, “I just sprinted, so I need to poo!” Totally disinterested in the fact that we were disinterested in her. Dangit. Frank never could find the poo next to that neighbor’s mailbox. I hope they don’t find it on their shoes. Next trick: Bag of biscuits. She never gets biscuits anymore, because of the food allergies thing, so I shook the biscuits loud and proud, good bait, embarrassed though I was. Not interested. I hate that female dog sometimes. So Frank started walking down the street, calling her. She was just soooo happily sniffing everything she could get that stupid sniffer on. She’d be the world’s best drug dog, I swear. I walked around the back of the houses toward the gator pond, because I figured the last time it took this long to get her back, she went for a swim. I was all calm, just waiting for her to come my way so I could calmly entice her with biscuits and then ground her sorry butt. Talk to me all you want about “you never want to punish them when they come back to you, because then they think they’re being punished for coming to you and it makes them less likely to come when you call in the future.” Bullcrap. Maybe with your dog, not with this princess. She always knows exactly what she’s being grounded for. She does something bad, and if I can’t catch her and then finally just give up and call her and wait for her to come to me? I ground her. She comes to me now more than ever. Unless she’s outside, because y’all, she’s only ever been off-leash outside of the house four times now, and they were not planned excursions. Dog spa doesn’t count. No back yard, nowhere to train her, and we have nosy neighbors that would have her impounded by animal control in five seconds if we regularly practiced offleashiness with her. These people have nothing better to do. Ok, so every single yip-yap dog in the neighborhood (besides Rowdi, the dogs next door, and the lab across the street, they’re pretty much all yippers and yappers) was screaming “Mommy!” at the sight of her. Over and over, too, like the seagulls screaming “Mine! Mine! Mine!” on Finding Nemo. So now we had a quietly sniffing mutt running all over the place and a bunch of attack-watch-yippers interrupting The View and Fox News. Rowdi ran right into the garage of some of the yippy dogs, and Frank was able to corner her there. She didn’t actually run to the yippy dogs, she just ran over and started sniffing one of their dog beds. The dogs themselves were behind a gated-off section in the garage with their owner, barking mad, and Rowdi was completely ignoring them so she could sniff their sleeping spots. Frank and Alcazar walked into the garage to grab the dog, and the owner jumped out from behind the gate and started walking toward Frank, Alcazar, and Rowdi, glaring at Frank. Frank said, “Sorry. Dog got away from us,” grabbed Rowdi by the collar, and started walking her out of the garage and back home. The owner of the house didn’t even respond. He didn’t say, “KEEP YOUR EVIL VICIOUS DOG OUT OF MY GARAGE!” or “No problem, dogs are hard to catch when they get away from you, especially when they are faster than a speeding bullet. Dogs will be dogs, and she obviously didn’t want to hurt me or my dogs,” or “I’M REPORTING YOU AND YOUR DOG TO THE HOA, AND THEN I’M CALLING ANIMAL CONTROL!” Just continued to glare at Frank without acknowledging that Frank had spoken. I asked Frank if it was Neighbor Bill, and he said it was quite possible, because the guy was just weird and totally could have been Neighbor Bill.

Whatever. Anyway, I was about a block behind the guys and the female dog, so I was yelling, “As soon as you get her in the house, you GROUND HER!” And he did, and when I got inside the house, she knew exactly what she had done wrong. And today, when Frank and I were taking boxes and things to the car, we had the door open to get the boxes out, and Rowdi looked hopeful, and I looked at the dog, and I said, “Don’t even think about it, or you are so grounded.” She hung her head so low that her nose was almost on the tile, and she did not even think about trying to escape the pit of despair. Maybe the dog spa should have tried alpha rolling her. I’m thinking it would have taken about four times before she finally got it.

Renaming Alcazar.

Alcazar’s name: No sleep + Topamax, right? Ok, so Alcazar’s name is really Alister. And every time I said his name before he got to the house, I would cycle through the names. And here’s how it went yesterday when I told Alister why I am officially changing his name to Alcazar.

SARAHK: Hey, I can’t remember your name today. You know I know your name. But every time I try to come up with it today, first I think Alcatraz. No idea why.
ALISTER: Alcatraz? What?
SARAHK: I know! I’m insane. Then I go to Alcazar. That’s because he’s on my soap opera, not that I watch soap operas [you can't tell a PK that you watch soap operas, because PKs tell their mamas or their sisters, and then the whole church knows!]. Anyway.
FRANK J.: Alcazar. [He says that in a sinister way every time he hears it, because he thinks it's hilarious and would make a good alien name, just like Lipitor.]
SARAHK: And then finally I get to Alister. But you know how when your grama is trying to say your name, she cycles through all the names of your aunts and uncles first and then finally gets to your name? [Not necessarily his grama, but both of mine are like that. I'm always Karen, Sandra, Terry, Wanda, Carol, Linda, and Kyle.]
ALCAZAR: [laughing at how truly craaaazy I am] Yeah.
SARAHK: Yeah, that’s how I feel today. So I’m sorry, but you’re now Alcazar.
ALCAZAR: Wh… That’s… um… Ok.

You know he was thinking, “White people are crazy. Alcazar? What the heck?”

More of that stupid bad dog.

So Rowdi also chewed a hole in one of my kickboxing gloves. Yep, she’s never chewed up anything that wasn’t one of her toys or Sydney’s mice, but she picked yesterday to decide to be bad bad bad. And she decided that in order to eat one of Sydney’s new mice, she would have to be super-secretive about it, because if we catch her, she gets grounded and rolled, and I will crank those pit bull jaws open, stick my fist in her mouth, and pull out that mouse if she doesn’t swallow it before I get to her. Of course, usually she just knows what’s best and drops it as soon as I say to. But I accidentally bought catnip-filled mice (I try not to, because I don’t want my cats any wackier than normal–they’re crazy enough), and Rowdi wants them badly. So badly. So she’s been finding them, slinking off with them, holding them between her paws, and quietly licking / nibbling them so that we don’t catch her. She got two of them yesterday, but I totally caught her the second time when she had barely gotten started.

Yeah, she spent about eight hours in her crate yesterday. I’m starting to feel a lot better about leaving her crated up in the house for an entire day when we go to Disney or the Space Center. Not joking. She stays in there 12 hours at night anyway. As long as we give her a long walk beforehand, yeah, why should she keep us from having fun?

I’m mean to Brian the Sailor because I’m SICK IN THE HEAD!

Then at the end of a very looooooong day, I got an awesome comment from Brian the Sailor, nice guy, Navy man himself, friend, etc. Oh, and he’s blogging at Pereiraville because this one time, wRitErsbLock made a comment on one of my posts, and Brian thought she was insulting me, and he came back at her in the comments to my defense, and I emailed him to tell him that she is my friend and was not insulting me… long story short, they became friends, and he blogs with her now. Isn’t that cute? Yes. So Brian left this comment at IMAO on my post about how I accidentally hung up on the Navy vet calling for money.

I’m drying my eyes, here.

I read that: “Wah, wah, wah. SarahK is always whining. What a crybaby.”

I’m surprised Frank lets you crosspost here. He’s supposed to be the funny one.

I read that: “I’m surprised Frank lets you crosspost here. You’re not even funny. He’s the funny one.”

Girl, you’re getting your comic chops down!

I read that: “Girl, you’re not funny, and you’re bringing the readers down. You get less funny by the day.”

I wouldn’t worry so much about the Navy call. They’ll call back.

I read that: “Quit your worrying about the Navy call, Miss Worrypants. They’ll call back.”

Yes, I’m a complete dimwit. So I sent Brian a very ugly email. Boy, am I glad I didn’t fully embarrass myself by responding in the IMAO comments where everyone would see what I wrote. So I’ll post it here.

um, if you didn’t enjoy the post, which i thought was hilarious and was really meant to highlight our funny bickering and my bad timing (and didn’t i say at the very beginning that i was still going to say NO? we’re not donating right now to any charities other than church, and if we were, we would research and pick out our own charities to donate to, we wouldn’t be donating based on a phone call.), you feel free to refrain from commenting. i don’t understand the purpose of negative comments. and he lets me crosspost at IMAO because last TV season proved that my AI and 24 blogging generated an extra 1500 hits a day in traffic. and there’s no LETTING me crosspost. i read him something that i’m writing, or he reads it on my blog after i’ve posted it, and he says, “hey, you should put that on IMAO.” there have also been times when i’ve tried only posting my TV stuff on my own blog, and he’s like, what’s going on? why didn’t you post that on IMAO?

any questions?

And he’s still speaking to me! Editor’s note: I think it was actually more like 1000 hits last TV season, and I don’t think I’m bringing in anything this season. Brian responded.

“any questions?” Yes, Sarah. Did you actually read what I said? That post was absolutely hilarious. The only reason I was wondering why Frank was letting you post is because you generate more belly laughs than him. Hence the compliment which was posted. Love, Brian

I still got LOVE from him after being a total gritch like that! What is wrong with that guy? I emailed him again and again explaining how I’m such a terd, and Frank’s response to the whole situation.

Frank and I had a giant laugh at this and hope you are laughing at how stupid I am too. Of course Frank’s like, “He bought 6 books! You can’t be mean to him!” Actually, you bought 7, but I didn’t correct him. I said, “I know who Brian the Sailor is! He blogs on Rachel’s blog now! We’re friends! So when I got this mean, nasty comment, I was just like, what the heck? Why so mean?” And I am crying laughing so hard at how I took absolutely every sentence exactly the opposite of the way you meant it. I chalk it up to being a woman on no sleep… Actually, the first thing Frank said was, “You have to blog that.” And when I read everything that you wrote in your comment and then my response, he was laughing so much by the end of it. He’s like, “You’re CRAZY!”

Brian told me it’s just one of those things to write off and laugh about, but I corrected him and told him it’s one of those things to write about and laugh off. Pretty good, huh?

Furniture delivery: Some men are dense.

Oh. The furniture people came today, and when the guy walked in and saw the ladder and the primed walls, he asked if we were painting. Why, yes we are. We wanted to have it all done before the furniture got here, but whatever. Then he told us if we would like for them to leave the plastic on the furniture, because it is all kinds of covered in heavy, thick plastic and cardboard for shipping, and they can just leave that on for us. “Oh yes, that would be awesome!” And it is way better than paper-thin plastic dropcloths, and the cats can’t scratch through these plastic covers without significant effort. I was so happy with the furniture delivery people. And so sad for the one guy who twice hit his head on the chandelier over the new sitting area.

Now we have motivation, because we can’t uncover and sit on our new couches until we finish painting this room. Not that we weren’t motivated before, but yay! I can’t wait to use the furniture! And the color looks awesome in here and with the decorations! Score! One thing about the delivery guys though. They picked the wrong person to ask about age.

SARAHK: [to Frank] We’re clear that the ottoman is mine, right?
FRANK J.: Yeah, sure, whatever.
FURNITURE GUY: Are y’all married?
SARAHK: Yeah. I just wanted him to know that I claim it for purposes of use.
FG: Yeah, usually the boss does that. [HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That is not how things are!]
SARAHK: Oh, he’s totally the head of the household. I just want that ottoman.
FG: How long have y’all been married?
SARAHK: Almost two years.
FG: Really? Wow. He looks like a little kid! [Frank hates it when people say that. Hates it.]
SARAHK: He’s almost 28. [And totally in the room!]
FG: Yeah, you just look way too young to be married. You look like you’re 17 or something. [Frank looked utterly unamused and went into the kitchen to pour more coffee.]
FRANK J.: Yeah, add 11 years to that.
SARAHK: Um, I’ll have you know that when I haven’t just gotten out of bed and, you know, I’ve showered [in the last month], I look about 22. So it’s not just him. I look young too.
FG: Nah, you look old enough to get married, but he looks like a little kid. [It's pathetic when you are begging people to tell you how young you look, and then they still just deny it to your face. Ratface.]
SARAHK: Yeah, you know, guys don’t really love hearing that. Women do, though.
FG: [Now there's that look of comprehension I've been waiting for. You're lucky y'all got a tip after all.] Oh, yeah, I see. You’re right, you look young too. [And I can tell you mean it.]

Random.

Prepare yourselves, people. We have some of the most adorable animal pictures coming your way soon. I found the camera.

TMI below the fold.
Read more »

talk about the weather (and other things), baby

Wow. Low 60s. And a red sun. It’s awesome here in Melbourne. Loverly.

Ok, enough with the adjectives.

Alright, so I drove my violent / aggressive / exotic beast to the dog spa this morning for pond party and overnight stay so we can get these massive livingroom walls done today. I talked to my stepdad on the way to pond. We talked about how superior Tropicana OJ is to all the other OJs. And they’re coming out with orange / mango or already have?? Hello, I’m there already. Yumtastic.

On the way home, I decided to finally check my cellphone voicemail, which had something like twenty v-mails on it, because I never check voicemail. I just check the caller ID. I’m bad that way. I recently changed my outgoing message, because two different people, on the same day, told me that I should change my message, because it wasn’t very nice. “I might call you back, but probably not.” So I had changed it to, “Well, isn’t everybody a critic? What would you like my outgoing message to say? Leave me a message!”

So of course, several of the twenty very important messages were telling me what my outgoing message should be. Bikermommy had a new outgoing message request for each day, practically.

The highlight of the voicemails, though: Recently, this happened, me singing full-throttle on my dad’s voicemail. Today, I heard a good two minutes of him talking and my stepmo’ laughing in the background. I only wish his phone wasn’t muffled so I could have heard what he was saying. You know when someone accidentally calls your voicemail, and you know you should just delete it, but you don’t, because you’re secretly hoping you’ll hear what they really think about you? Me too! I do that.

I would just like to inform y’all

that I think that Microsoft Word has a crack-smokin’ habit. What other reason can there be for its completely arbitrary decisions to insert blank pages where I haven’t asked for them? Not only that, why would the crack-smokin’ program choose to hide said blank pages from me so that I cannot delete them? Cannot! Huh? I mean, I want ONE blank page, not two! So I go and try to delete one of the only two markers that could possibly be causing the problems, and do you know what smokey-face does? Deletes them both! But no, see, I need one! Otherwise, there will be no blank page between the dedication page and the foreword, and the whole book will be out of whack, and the 2nd title page will be on the left side instead of the right side and I will absolutely cry when I make my PDF file and it is wrong, all WROOOOOOOOONG!!!

You explain this to me in terms other than crack and smokin’! You can’t! I’ve hit the little paragraph-symbol-y button so I can see all the behind-the-scenes stuff that’s going on.

It’s Word trying to screw with me. Word is ticked off because I finally got it over its addiction to inserting random page numbers where they weren’t allowed. I kept forbidding and correcting until crack smokey finally gave up. So now Word has moved on to messing with my layout. And people, I did not sleep last night, and I have a house to clean after I get this book to the printers, which is supposed to happen yesterday. I’m so stressed about the book, and I just want it to be over and to the printer so that our precious little publishing company can publish its first book, and we can get our proof back next week and give the go ahead at least by the day after Thanksgiving… and the book can be published and on sale just in time for Christmas presents! It’s all about the shopping!

I’m so sleepy!

Stop with the random page insertion, you crack lover, you.

In the good news department, I haven’t heard bad news from the MRIs yet, and I’m getting my hair highlighted and cut today. I’m also going to stop and get a pedicure, because the doctor ordered it. Well, the neuro ordered relaxation. The chiro did, too, and I know that listening to the chiro will rilly rilly rilly tick off Mr. Haughty Ex-Rheumo. So yes, a pedicure is in order.

Oh, fantastic. I’m seeing all these Wicked Weather pictures on TV, and Frank and I are going to be driving through all the places they’re showing. Well, at least it will be an adventure. Hey, there’s E.D. Hill. She’s in the new book.

i promise, it’s not all about my health

The first part is, so if that bores you, please skip forward to the stuff about our Thanksgiving road trip.

I’m getting the Topamax back. I’m back on it 25 mg 2x/day for a month, and as long as it doesn’t aggravate anything, we’ll go up to the normal migraine dose. Meanwhile, I suspect it will help with the seizures too. So by Friday, I’ll be back to just the thyroid med, the Lyrica, and the Topamax. I started the T-max this morning. Yay!

On the migraine front, I’ve only had one in the last 3 days (after I started weaning off the CC blocker).

Leg pain is persistent every day, but the low back feels pretty good now.

My feet and hands hurt really badly — the muscles and maybe tendons, not the joints. It helps when the chiro works all the trigger points on my feet (seriously, the foot work is worth the $20 copay), and when I work them and massage my feet and hands with Tiger Balm.

I’m going to see the neuro hopefully next week. I need to make an appointment with an opthalmologist (maybe I’ll wait and ask the rheumo for a recommendation when I see him on Thursday), because the floaters are definitely worse, and I want to make sure I don’t have inflammation in my eyes and don’t have a retina trying to escape.

I see the rheumo Thursday, and I guess that’s when I’ll find out what the bloodwork showed, if anything. And I might ask him to refer me to Mayo if he doesn’t find anything or gives me some “you’re perfectly fine” bologna.

Oh. I’ve stopped using Neutrogena T-Gel. I use Garnier Fructis conditioner (it’s the bomb! don’t listen to anything maggie katzen says!), but for 3 or 4 years, I’ve used T-Gel for my dandruff (I only wash my hair every other day) and use the Fructis shampoo occasionally. Anyway, I decided to google it, because the bottle says don’t use for a long time without consulting a doctor… Yeah, everything I read says that it’s the most toxic shampoo known to mankind. So I’m going all Garnier all the time. Hey, maybe that will fix one or two things wrong with me.

In non-medical news… I’m getting so excited about our Thanksgiving trip. We’re going to Texas, and we’re driving. I LOVE long road trips. We took a short one to St. Augustine/Jacksonville this summer and a short one last summer down to Jupiter Beach, but we haven’t taken a long road trip since our Hell On Wheels trip when I moved from Texas to Florida. Anyway, we’re going to take the scenic route (meaning not the I-10 route). It’s only an hour farther, and we get to drive through really pretty country. And I hope to eat at least one meal in Little Rock — I just have to decide which of my favorite LR restaurants we should visit! And maybe in Memphis we’ll hit Corky’s for barbecue. Yum. Maybe we can eat some decent Mexican food when we get to Texas. Ok, can y’all tell it’s all about the food for me? Ha. And I wonder why I weigh the most I’ve ever weighed in my entire life.

Speaking of that, I’m super-motivated to not be the fattest person in all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas pictures this year, so I’m actually doing this whole workout thing. Oh, and we’ll be in Idaho for Christmas, and every single person in Frank’s family is skinny, so that makes it doubly motivational. We had family portraits done in September, and I’ll be happy to improve upon my picture. Ugh.

Anyway, back to Texas. I don’t know what I’m supposed to make for my mom’s family get-together. I know Spidade wants me to make Neiman Marcus Cake for his get-together. No problem. Easy and cheap.

I’ve already printed out the driving maps. Of course, we’ll take our big road atlas, but I like to have several forms of the maps.

When we’re taking 5-minute breaks from working on the book (we’re so close to publishing I can taste it — and it tastes like paper), Frank and I have been doing this. It’s addictive, fun, and hard. But we’re smart and confident that we will finish it. Very few have, but we intend to.

Vote tomorrow. Vote vote vote.

decoration

i love decorating for Christmas. LOVE it. i have, at last count, 8 large bins + 1 ornament box + 3 small bins of Christmas decorations. oh, plus one extra large bin just for my wreaths, among which is an awesome wreath made of pine cones that a nice old man at church gave me several years back. plus wreaths that i’ve made that are pretty good, if you ask me. i love making stuff like that.

this year we’re going to Texas for Thanksgiving. normal time for decorating for Christmas is the weekend after Thanksgiving. of course, i never do it on time, nor do i take down the Christmas tree on time.

we hope to go to Idaho for Christmas this year…

so i’m wondering whether i’m going to decorate this year. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, but Christmas is a very close second… i just don’t want to decorate the house when only house sitters are going to enjoy it.

then again, if i decorate super-early, like November 1 (well, they’ve been playing Christmas music in the stores since about May, so ’tis the season, baby), maybe i’d get enough use out of the decorating to feel like it is worthwhile.

a tree, though? probably won’t do a tree, just because of the mess and having someone else water it while i’m gone and hoping the kitties don’t climb it, knock it over, and destroy it when i can’t supervise (they did knock it over for the house sitter while we were honeymooning). also, we still haven’t gotten rid of last year’s tree. hahaha. it’s true. after a certain point, when you’re not sure how to dispose of the sucker, you kinda just go, well, i guess we have to chop it up and put it in garbage bags if we want them to take it away… and that’s Frank’s job. :-)

but * sigh * i really love Christmas trees.

however… i’ll soon be back to the painting, and i don’t want that mess getting in the way…

ok, i’m trying to talk myself out of the tree. it’s only half-working.

btw, i’m already listening to Christmas music in iTunes. it’s cheery and stuff, and i need cheery things.

my T.O. theory – a stream of consciousness that’s mostly about news and politics and the state of world affairs!

Sizzle thinks he was doping. I do too. I think he was doping with the prescription meds, and they can’t call it an allergy, because the official doc report will show that’s not true. So they have to say T.O. tried to kill himself, because if they say he OD’d trying to feel good, then they have to deal with drug suspensions of a major player yet again.

Oy. My Cowboys give me headaches. Why can’t all the sports be hockey.

I don’t really know why it’s a big story for me, or anyone, when the world is on fire. He’s ok, and the big stories today should be these wildfires in California and oh, um, I don’t know the suspicious package in D.C. that had a court building evacuated when Muslims have already been told to evacuate D.C. and New York for the next big terrorist attack. Osama’s already given his 3 warnings and is expected to release his next DVD (preorder it from Amazon today!) in the next couple of weeks. “Jafer the Pilot” is missing and likely in possession of a nuke or nuclear materials within the borders of the U.S., and President Ahmajibberjabber of Iran says that the big end of the world cage match will happen in the next 2 years. Okie dokie. So let’s go on and on today about egomaniacal T.O. and his pillpopping “suicide attempt”. Forgive me if I don’t buy it or think it should be the top story.

Oh, you know how Jafer the Muslim Pilot got into the U.S.? Through the Mexican border. I have such a hard time figuring out why so many people don’t want to solve the problem of illegal immigration. LET IT FESTER! They seem to think it’s just about Mexicans coming over here and destroying hospitals in San Diego and south Texas and getting free healthcare and receiving social security benefits while not paying into the system. That’s part of the issue, yes. That part bites. But NEVERMIND ALL THE TERRORISTS JUST WALKING RIGHT ACROSS THE BORDER!

Other news bigger than T.O. is that the Dow is dangerously close to proving that the economy doesn’t suck. What? It doesn’t? What? We already knew that? Everyone knew that except the media? Hmm.

And there’s the shooter at the school in Bailey, Colorado, with bomb squad on scene. That’s bigger than T.O.’s “attempted suicide”.

And this US / Mexico / Canada shadow government thingy, which doesn’t really surprise me as much as it outrages me (American Socialist Union anyone?), considering they’re also starting to talk about legislation to build the “super-slab” from Mexico to Canada. Because that won’t cause a whole nother illegal immigration problem for us. Let’s build a highway straight out of Mexico that goes all the way across our country. With convenient exits what, at every Home Depot and every major downtown area? They’d better be toll exits.

Ummm… this is also bigger than T.O.’s big stunt, except that it happened on 10 January. Ok, why did this article not say so until the end of the article? That’s helpful info. I’ll tell you up front. I’m nice. A passenger jet’s autopilot was trying to kill all the passengers. The pilot finally had to disconnect the autopilot. And he couldn’t get through to air traffic control because of RADIO CONGESTION??? WHAT??? Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel good about flying anywhere in the world, thank you Heathrow.

Oh, and then there’s the PETA nannies. They’re all about saving the animals. Unless it’s Rowdi. Then they want to ban her, because she’s evil and kills people like guns kill people. Speaking of guns, go buy my t-shirt. It doesn’t take much to please me. Just guns and diamonds.

Same as the free speech left. They want free speech until ABC wants to have free speech that they don’t like, then they want censorship.

Hypocrites all.

I feel a rant coming on.

Is it possible

that these kids that went missing from the Montana school are the diversion? The ones who showed up are just not going to show up for the flight home. They’re going to start building bunkers in Montana like Glenn Beck was talking about on his CNN show last night. (He was asking if there are bunkers being built by Islamofascists here in the States like the ones Hezbollah has in the Middle East.). Either that, or they’re working on building a cell. The missing kids are to take the focus off of the ones that showed up. Something big is going to happen this month, before the kids are supposed to get back on the plane to go home, and they’re going to quietly disappear into America somewhere. Because after whatever big happens this month, they’ll be small fish, and hardly anyone will talk about them. Oh, Michelle Malkin will talk about them. Glenn Beck will talk about them. I’ll bring it up if my decreased mentation lets me remember. But there will be so much to talk about, and there’s already so much to talk about, that those guys that have already shown up for class and who disappear when it’s time for their visas to expire and for them to go home will quickly be forgotten. You watch.

See, you need to just sit Glenn and me down in a room together and we’ll figure it all out. The 2 most paranoid people on the planet. He reads everything and scares the poo poo out of himself. Everything he says makes me even more paranoid.

I love my P99.

And I really wish people would go read Ezekiel and Daniel. All this talk of Armageddon and End Times.

Don’t y’all know Jesus is gonna come when we least expect it? Thief in the night, people. If y’all think you can predict it, you need to go read the New Testament.

However… World War III? Yeah, full swing. Get ready.

side effects – ooh! a stream of consciousness

Since I started the Lamictal, I’ve had the tongue-tied side effect. It’s getting a little worse since the start of the Topamax. I don’t know if it’s because I’m on 100mg a day now (I was on 200 for a week or so, but I started itching all over and getting the mouth sores, and the doc doesn’t think I’m allergic to it but said to go back to 100 for a while just in case). But it actually feels like my tongue is twisting on the words, which is weird, because you know how some people can twist their tongues and show off in middle school and twist cherry stems in knots to be cool? Yeah, I always tried and could never do that.

Now I have a new side effect. Lamictal, Topamax, I don’t know. Sounds like decreased mentation like the neuro said, so probably Topamax. I’m having an incredibly hard time doing math in my head. I’ve always been able to multiply at least 3 digits by 2 digits. 2 by 1 is nothing. 2 by 2 is nothing. Today when I got home from Curves I was trying to explain to Frank how ridiculously high my pulse was, and I couldn’t even multiply 28×6. 28×6! I mean, if I thought about it for several minutes, I would have gotten to 168, but Frank got there before me, and that was so frustrating. I usually get there far before him, and that makes me so proud, because he’s the engineer. Friday night playing Trivial Pursuit I couldn’t add 3 digits plus 2 digits in my head. There were people talking, I was so distracted, and I was almost there and couldn’t get to it. The math in my head has to be the most frustrating side effect.

Typing is another. Sometimes I’ll switch letter placement, like switching the place two letters go within a word. Normally, if I did that, I would catch it with my brain (notice it coming out of my head to my finger, sorta) and already have my finger moving toward the backspace key before I ever noticed it on screen. Now, I have to see it on screen before I ever start to backspace. I look at the screen, not my fingers, when I type, so at least I still catch it quickly. And I’ve noticed my typing speed has decreased just the teensiest bit, so I’m still way up there in secretary range. Another bad typing thing is that I’ll switch the hand of the letter I’m typing. Example, if I’m typing an “i” which is done with the middle finger, I’ll type an “e” instead, because that’s the middle finger on the other hand. That’s rare but has happened several times now. And a brand new one that I’ve done several times in this paragraph is I’ll get the first letter of the word, then skip all the letters after that which come before the “t”, then go straight to the “t”? I’ve done that so many times, just in this paragraph. “switch” would have been “stch”, “catch” would have been “ctch”, “letters” would have been “ltters”. I’m not lying. Apparently Topamax loves the letter T.

To prove the typing issues, I’m not going to correct myself from here on out, and I’m normally a fabulous typer (and by from here on out, I mean till the end of this post):

Strange thing at Cruves happened to day. Normally when I go there, I have a hard time getting to the targe hart rate of 22 beats / 10 seconds, which is 132 per minute. Well, at the first taking today, I was right at 23, so I was wowed woth myself. Second taking 8 minutes later, I awa at 28 beats / 10 seconds. Target rate = 132 per minute. I was at 168. It freaked me out. I’ve never been above 23 / 10. I had to walk all the rest of the steps, because my heart rate wouldn’t come down. I wasn’t flushed or lightheaded or feeling tired at all. Sweating, yes, but I’m in Florida, which is quite south of Hell, so that’s to be expected.

Oh, funny, Natalie, the lady that works there was asking wat music I listen to on my phone and I told her it’s just good music that I like and it motivates me way more than what they play and it’s not aerobic s music. She asked if I was the girl who was talking about not liking the music that wone time. And when I said, no I keep my hate of the music to myself and just complain on my blog, and she was quite sure it wasn’t me, she started imitating the girl who was griping, and she imitated her very snippy-like. “Well, I don’t like this music!” blah blah blah. Then we got to talking some more, and it turns out it was me because an Elvis song had come on, and they’d all said how much they love Elvis and y’all know how I just cannot keep my dislike for all things Elvis to myself, so what I’d said was that I cannot stand Elvis and was quite happy that I had my own music. So I thought it was funny that she was imitating me all snippy-like when she was sure it wasn’t me, then we found out it was me, and it didn’t even bother me. Because I can be quite snippy about Elvis and I probably was bratty about it. Blah. Beatles!

On top of all this decreased mentation (that’s our new hip pharse aroud the J household), my allergies are absolutely haywire. I’m abot to voluntaryil go to the allergist’s agaim. I don’t do that on purpose. My lung is trying to escape through my espohagus, and it’s a bit uncomfortable. And I think I have arthritis in my hands and feet. They’ve been getting worse over several months. Before I started the meds. What sucks about always being on meds is that you never know which med is causing what side effects, and what ailments are actual alments rateher than side effects.

And I think I’ve been reading too much Harry Potter, becuae I’m saying “quite” quite a lot and keep wanting to call people prats. Then I remember we don’t say prat and git here. But they’re such great words, we should steal them from the Bristish. Of course nothing sounds as cool when we say it in our American accents. Sorry, it just doesn’t.

Frank’s waitng gor me in bed. Nto for bowchickawobwow because he’s tired and already half to sleep. But because he simply can’t fall asleep without me there. Funny the effect a girl can have on her man. Is it bad I can still take deep naps in the afternoon when he’s far away at work? I’m a lousy git. Oh, I wanted to tell y’all somehting, what was it.

I got a new ladder. It’s awesome. Can’t wait to use it. It weights 50 pounds. That’s not wat I wante dot say, though. Stupid mentation. Nestle’s macadamia/white chip cookies are awesome. That’s not it either. Dadgumit. Bottle bin. Nope. Lavender roses. Now I’m just looking at everything in the livingroom. Oh, I must pee. Cheer.s.

oh the places you will go!

I have one of those stay-in-bed migraines. It started around the time I left to go have lunch with Jamie, right between my eyes. Wasn’t bad until I got home at 3. Then it crushed me. Bad bad headache (probably a 9 out of 10 on the pain scale, maybe a 10). I lay on the couch. Frank got home at 4:30, and as soon as he went back to play videogames (roughly 4:32 :D ) I went to sleep. Didn’t wake until 6:20. No Curves. And I sent him for the Indian food, because the thought of driving… I’m going to take Excedrin Migraine, because I think I’m sufficiently weaned from the caffeine, so it’s not going to keep me hooked. The golden pills haven’t been helping so much lately, I should tell my neurologist that. But EM usually works.

BTW, Coca-Cola hates me. I get weaned, and they go on sale at Publix for $2 a 12-pack.

Anyway, during my migraine sleep, I had a really bad dream. I was with all of my family, including Frank, and Frank was yelling at me (which would be a HUGE deal, I don’t think he’s ever raised his voice in his life). He was really mad, because I’m a housewife, and there are papers everywhere in the house, because I can’t get the mail situation under control (which is very true, except the part about him being mad about it). Meanwhile, we were wherever we were because of a funeral for someone I didn’t know, but supposedly this guy was married to an unknown cousin of mine, and he had two little boys and a girl. They cried a lot. And Bikermommy was being absolutely horrible to me. Aunt Wanda was being semi-nice, but when Bikermommy came around, Crazy Aunt Wanda was mean to me too! And finally, I asked mom why she was being so awful. Because by this time, I was crying a lot, because everyone was being mean to me. Bikermommy told me that everyone had been avoiding me for months, because I stink. She told me no one wants to be around me, including her and Frank, because I only showered once a week (LOL!). And she said that’s why Frank was acting so mad about all the papers in the house was because he was really mad about me stinking. So I pitched a fit and asked why she waited months to tell me instead of telling me so I didn’t embarrass myself. Aunt Wanda backed me up. Bikermommy said it was because she didn’t want to be around me anyway, so she didn’t care if I stunk. My Papa & Grama had given me a framed picture of themselves (it was my birthday, and I was there at this funeral), and I went and left it on their bed, because I was confused and thought that my mom had given it to me. Grama just sighed and said, “Well, I thought it was a nice picture, but I guess she didn’t want it.” And she was still nice to me, and I went back and retrieved the picture and left a thank you note on their bed.

Amazing the dreams I remember when I’m migrainey.

BTW, I took 2 EMs, and they cleared it right up. Frank and I watched the Season 4 finale of Smallville. Season 5 comes out on DVD in September, and we’ll hopefully be able to finish it before Season 6 starts. Season 4 has been my favorite so far.

what’s on my mind

Got an email from Martha today (Martha of Hank and Martha from the cruise). Of course, I haven’t yet responded, because I’m bad, but I got such a kick when she gave me a message from Hank:  they had fish tacos this week, too. Haha, we were eating them for lunch when I read the email. Also, she called me her adopted daughter, so that put a huge smile on my face. It’s crazy how alike we are.

The goals. On the Saturday dog walk, we talked about needing to get a plan for getting out of Florida (hmm, I wonder who brought that up). The goal is to be writing for a living by the time we move. We’re suspecting either Idaho or Texas, since the next place we live is probably where we’ll have our kids, and we definitely want grandparents around.  So. This has turned into a strict schedule for me, because my #1 priority is getting the first In My World compilation edited, plus editing his short story that has received interest from a sci-fi magazine.

The schedule.  It’s strict but doable. The main reason for the strict schedule is to keep the dog on a strict schedule, but the benefit is that my days are mapped out so I’m super-productive. Tomorrow is the first day, and I’ll let y’all know how many minutes it lasts. Actually, I’m very committed, so I’m going to make this work.

Dog Yeller with SarahK. That would be the show if I were Cesar Millan. Anyway, yesterday morning we were lying in bed, and the phone rang. It was Vickie, my massage therapist. Her neighbor Vickie has a German Shepherd who pulls her all over the place, and she’s at her wit’s end, with tears and everything (sounds like me the day Rowdi made me chase her through the neighborhood and I was a big sobbing mess). So Vickie told her about me and said she should talk to me about it, because my dog is so much better now. This made me laugh so hard inside (I mean, she is better, but the thought of me being someone to go to on this is hysterical). I haven’t talked to her yet (she missed my call and is supposed to call me next), but I’ll of course tell her about the Gentle Leader, the Dog Whisperer TV show, Cesar’s DVD, and Cesar’s book. Maybe when she gets her dog under control, our dogs can play together (he’s a boy). All the dogs in our neighborhood are mean to Rowdi. The little ones nip at her nose and yap yap yap until she leaves, and the big dogs growl and bark. Poor bad dog.

Speaking of Cesar Millan. I quickly jumped ahead in the book (we received it the day it came out) to see how he got to the U.S. It turns out, he came here illegally (though he’s now legally here and working on becoming a citizen). I’m all kinds of against illegal immigration, but I did get a new perspective on it reading Cesar’s reasoning for why he had to come illegally. It had nothing to do with the U.S. and everything to do with the corrupt Mexican government. I’m still against illegal immigration, but now it’s not completely black and white for me. Yeah, I know, it’s one man’s account. But the thing about that man is that he learned English, doesn’t run around protesting with Mexican flags and throwing our hospitality back in our faces, contributes to society, and is not a tax burden.

On TV’s LOST.  I’m getting bored with LOST. Everything is a mystery. From what’s up with the island, to who’s cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, to who Kate’s going to be in love with today, to who’s going to be stupid enough to ask Sawyer for help. There’s not enough action. Jack and Locke are fighting like a couple of females. Really, why don’t they just go out to the ocean and have that peeing contest. And quit acting like girls fighting over who gets to be captain of the cheering squad. The second most annoying thing about LOST, though, is that I’m having serious Rambaldi flashbacks. The ALIAS peeps never really knew what the whole Rambaldi endgame was, so at the end of season 4, they had the stupid big red ball making people evil. That’s it? Are you kidding? And now, the writers (and probably creator) of LOST don’t have a clue what’s going on with the island, so they make it like a Monday through Friday soap opera. Nothing happens on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday (hello, Days of Our Lives), so people really only get any entertainment out of Monday and Friday. Problem is, and this is the #1 most annoying thing about LOST, they only show it every 4 weeks or so. So one week we get a decent episode, then they’re off for 4 weeks, then 3 inconsequential eps in a row, then off for 4 weeks, then one decent episode… and so on. After the most recent hiatus, I had no desire to get back into it.

And on 24… I still think Audrey’s in on some bigger plot, the DHS lady (Mr. F) is evil, Tony’s not dead, and we haven’t seen the last of Walt’s widow. Oh, and the Chinese government – I’ll bet they figure out Jack’s not dead, if they haven’t already.

And in Melbourne, Florida, we got rain! It was fantastic, around 4:30 Saturday morning we started having major thunder and lightning, and the rain lasted a couple of hours. I was so happy to see the rain. And I’m pretty sure my Gerbera daisy plant outside was happy to see it too, because now I not only have the one big flower standing tall, I also have two new babies making their way up!

The weather today was fabulous. And we have mucho clouds, so I’m hoping this cooler weather will continue.

Gotta go to bed now. The new schedule says so.

i am in such a foul mood

i always reconsider posts like this, because i don’t want to get a bunch of calls and emails asking me if i’m ok, and what do i think is wrong with me, and maybe i should see a doctor about it, and am i happy, and am i still in love, and is Frank treating me ok. stupid stupid questions and statements. but it’s not like i have a friend here that i can talk about this in person with. all my friends here are either busy with work or just superficial friends that i don’t confide in. that’s probably my fault, because it requires my reaching out, or knocking on someone’s door, or picking up the phone and calling. i hate that.
my mood. awful. has been for weeks. don’t really know why. every little thing sets me off. i don’t know, it’s ever since we got back from the honeymoon, and i started having all that trouble sleeping. i’m sleeping better now, but i still wake up at least once most nights. it’s better, though. but ever since the sleeping trouble started i haven’t been able to control my emotions very well. Frank bears the brunt of it most of the time. btw, what’s a brunt?
so you can imagine how foul i am after working with Movable Type last night and this morning. like snap-people’s-heads-off-with-my-thumb-and-forefinger kind of foul.
what kind of blog software makes their interface usable in only Internet Explorer? are you kidding me? is there some switch i need to flip or some box i need to check so i’ll just be able to open it in Firefox and see a real life pretty interface instead of this ugly, disorganized, white sheet? does SixApart realize that IE sucks and kills computers?

i kind of snapped at hubby when he told me everything would just be fine if i’d open it in IE. so i did, and everything worked. but i refuse to open IE every day. i might as well just say, “dear Microsoft. please destroy my computer. thanks, SarahK.”
and what order am i supposed to do it all in? i get at least 2 emails a day, people asking for a podcast. we’re working on it, but i have other stuff to do, and i’m trying to prioritize just what i should do between headaches. my #1 priority is supposed to be editing and proofreading the IMWs for the first compilation (a moneymaker, unlike the podcast, so guess which i’m more motivated to do?). meanwhile i’m supposed to fix the IMAO blog and do all kinds of stuff to make it all better. plus i need to add bells and whistles to my own blog and Angela’s.
plus i have this house to clean, and laundry so i don’t get kidded in front of other women about my ability to get Frank clean socks every 8 weeks. yeah, that was fun. how stupid is it that something like that would make me cry? are you serious? tears over me saying, “wow, you’re efficient,” when the tablecloth is in the washing machine as soon as dinner is over, and Frank responding with, “yeah, if it was SarahK, it’d get done in about 8 weeks”? it’s so ridiculous. thank goodness i at least waited till we were in the car and almost home to cry. how stupid would that have been, crying about that in front of other people.
maybe it’s the guilt i feel over staying home. like i should be out there making everyone around me miserable so i can pick up my 55K a year paycheck and absolutely hate to get out of bed every day. not worth it. but yeah, i feel guilty over it. even though i’m doing other stuff that’s going to make money when it gets done, and i’m going to start making jewelry and flower arrangements to sell (i’ve learned i’m really good at the flower arranging), but i haven’t even gotten close to starting on all of that.

inadequate. i always feel inadequate. except yesterday afternoon. pleased my man real good. :-) didn’t feel inadequate then. but pretty much every other time, i feel that way. and it’s my own stupid fault. i know i’m not inadequate, but i let myself feel that way.

goodness, even E.D. Hill is annoying me this morning, and i totally heart her. how overdramatic can you get about “are criminals getting smarter because of TV shows?”

oh, and she just asked if the Iraqi insurgents are helping the U.S. somehow. give me an everloving freaking break.

i want a Hobby Lobby. Hobby Lobby always makes me feel better. the closest one is in the Panhandle of Florida. maybe i could make it by nightfall and have some shopping therapy. or i’ll just hop a Southwest flight to Austin and get some Louie’s 106 Prince Edward Island mussels in creamy white mariniere sauce over linguine. thanks Rachel.

Tarina’s coming to visit soon. i hope it’s February or March. i can spend the whole time she’s here just talking her ear off.

my ring finger is getting worse again. it got better for a while because i’ve been putting cortizone on it several times a day. but now it’s getting itchy again. i know i’m gonna have to go to the doctor over it.

i’m so sick of doctors. i’m sick of paying my $20 copay just so the doctor can tell me he/she wants bloodwork even though she knows what the bloodwork will say. or ask me if my meds are still working. seriously, i will tell you if my meds aren’t working. and goodness, why do i have to have the worst headaches in a long time 2 weeks after i have seen the neurologist and told him that everything is grand.

and i’m sick of the incompetent girl at the doctor’s office who doesn’t return my phone call and then acts all cutesy to try to make me forget that she’s lazy. “oh, i’m so sorry * giggle * that i didn’t call you back last week * giggle * ! giiiiirrrrl, the day just got away from me, and i was * giggle * swamped, and man… what a day. * sigh * ” and then she doesn’t call the pharmacy back when all the pharmacy needs to know is what day did you fax that doctor approval to the insurance company, and which fax number did you use?
maybe that’s it. the growth hormones are back out of my system, because i’ve been off of them for 3 months. slow healing and long-lasting bruises, check. low self-esteem, comes and goes. increased abdominal obesity, check. seriously, i have a brand new stomach shape like i’ve never had. problem with sleep quality, yep. headaches caused by associated low blood sugar, maybe. i’ve had LBS for a while now.

i’m not pregnant, i did the test. please don’t ask.

anyway. nothing’s wrong and everything’s wrong. insert expletive here.

woooo!

i’m really glad that my massage lady just forwarded me one of those million-times forwarded emails. even though she called me yesterday to remind me, it had slipped my mind that i’m getting a massage today.

i lead such a hard life, right? but really, my muscles aren’t so bad lately. i probably should be good and push them to three weeks apart now that i’m doing so well…

maybe i forgot about my massage because i actually slept last night. sleeping is good.

last night, i washed our new purple sateen sheets (oh my goodness, how did i ever sleep before these sheets?) and took the gold ones off for washing. i put on the purple sheets and cleaned all the dust off the ceiling fan in the bedroom. i also decided to look up under the bed with a flashlight so i could see if the cats had dragged something toxic under there. i found that they’ve now completely pulled the thin sheet off the bottom of the box springs (i soooo wish i’d been watching when it went kaput), and i found a kitty cat. nothing toxic, unless you count Sydney. but yay, now they won’t be keeping us up with the scratching!

Frank was really tired, so he dragged me to bed at 9:45, and i was not the least bit sleepy. so i looked forward to a very frustrating night and told Frank that if i woke up, i was getting up and watching 24 in the livingroom so i could go to sleep (noise good, silence bad). before bed, i unplugged my clock, which has a very bright display. Frank cleaned the Ionic Breeze and brought it into the bedroom, and we put Sydney’s snowman on top of the bright LED to hide that.

i only woke up once. and i looked at my clock, and it didn’t say the time, and i wasn’t mad that i was awake. then i decided to look at Frank’s clock, because the curiosity was killing me. 1:45. ugh. but i fell right back to sleep. so i think i had 8.5 hours of sleep.

aw, crud. i really want to work out today and make it thrice this week… but i hate working out on massage day, because i just twist up the muscles again… maybe i can go in the morning, since Rachel and Jim are going to promise to not arrive before 11:30.

btw, what should we do to entertain those two? the first time we went to their place, it was Halloween, and there was a party and karaoke. the 2nd time, it was really late, and we just wanted to go to sleep so we could all get up early for Disney… but tomorrow, we have no agenda and no prescribed theme. there’s not much to do in Melbourne, so i imagine we’ll hang out at the house… i don’t want the guys playing video games… we do have that karaoke game… and movies… and there’s a beach not too far from here… and the Brevard Zoo has like 5 animals (ok more, but when you’re spoiled by the FW Zoo, you expect zebras and meerkats and white tigers and mountain lions and a snakehouse and orangutans and chimps and gorillas and baboons and elephants and lions…). we could buy a baseball and some gloves and play catch in the back yard and accidentally hit the golfers who walk on the lawn looking for their errant golf balls… i suppose we can play pool…

how did we get from i’m getting a massage to playing pool?

it’s nice having an errand boy

Frank’s going to go to the post office and mail my packages.
and go to Publix for my chicken soup.
and fetch his own lunch.

i’m going to nap while watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. though i’ll only watch during the brief wakeups. i won’t actually watch while i’m asleep.

up to 8 episodes of CSI Miami season 1. no sunglasses.

we saved $358 on the remaining pieces of our china, because we got a great deal on most of it at BJ’s Warehouse. $358!! and we ended up with 2 more place settings than we were going to get. sweet sweet deal. i don’t know why i don’t shop there more often. it’s always like a ghost town. they don’t seem to have quite as big a selection as Sam’s, but close enough, and even on Christmas Eve there was no line for checkout. on Christmas Eve!

now i just have to find a place to store all that china… eh. after i’m not sick.

we got a free trial of Amazon’s prime thing. i guess we order a lot. now we get free shipping even if our order isn’t over $25, and it’s 2-day shipping instead of standard ground. and it’s free for 3 months. yay.

i didn’t sleep well at all last night.

btw, does anyone out there actually use a whole can of water when restoring their condensed Campbell’s soup? i never use the whole can, because it’s way too watery that way. i use about 2/3 of a can.

i’m in that bridal mode…

you know… the one where everyone hates you and thinks only dirty words when they think of you… where i randomly chop off people’s heads if they look at me wrong and bare my fangs any time wedding gets mentioned.

i had to tell Frank tonight… “you need to know that i really want to have this wedding, even though eloping would have been a great idea… i really want to have this wedding… so in the next 3 weeks, no matter what i say, no matter how many times i say, ‘we’re only having this stupid wedding because you want one and yitta ditta dit’, it’s not true, i really want to have the wedding.”

my sister didn’t even try chatting by the time we finished with her list that she called with tonight. when she was done with the last question, i said, “move on. what else.” “nothing, that’s it, i’ll talk to you later!” which means i’m in that bridal mode… dirty words… why do brides get this way? when it comes down to it, at the end of that day, we’ll be married no matter what, so who in the world cares if it offends some people if we don’t serve wine, and who cares if it offends some people if we do??

dangit, i don’t want wine served at the wedding. that’s final. if people can’t be happy with iced tea and soft drinks and sparkling grape juice for the toast, then they can drink their own wine when they get home, or have it in their own trunks in the parking lot. I DON’T CARE, I DON’T WANT IT, IT’S NOT HAPPENING. everyone gets awesome food and cake. enough.

and we’re not having a stinking unity candle! they’re stupid! what? if we don’t light that stupid candle, we’re not really professing that we want to be united for the rest of our lives? Sizzle points out that it’s the only thing the moms get to do, lighting those side candles… they’re just freakin happy to be there! they get their own freakin song! the groom doesn’t even get his own song!

happy to be there.

oh, and some of my best friends haven’t even responded. does that mean count them out? count them in? their mothers are coming, but they’re not? and one of my best friends’ husband isn’t coming. but then, he’s the one who thinks Frank’s been getting the milk for free all this time, and i’m not sure that i care that he won’t be there if he can’t even see who i am. he might as well have ditched me when the other half of my friends ditched me after the divorce, because he obviously thinks the same thing about me that they do. and even though i wouldn’t be getting married if my blogfather hadn’t introduced me to blogging, he wants to not come. tough luck, you’re coming.

and you know what? i don’t care who sits where. as far as i’m concerned, my mom can sit in my stepdad’s lap in the center aisle. knock yourself out. just no grinding on the dance floor.

my veil came in today, i get to go pick it up tomorrow. i got the ribbon to finish my bouquet, so now i just have to make Sizzle’s and the throw bouquet and the flowers for the parents.

i burned my fingers tonight. holy cow, they hurt. i baked cornbread in a cast iron skillet, the best way to bake cornbread. the potholder, apparently not enough to keep out the heat from the handle of the skillet, because ouch. oh, and i burned myself in the tanning bed Tuesday, my back still itches and owies from that. i told that stupid lady how many minutes Sizzle said i should… well… sizzle for, and she laughed at me. and now i’m burned. Sizzle worked many years at a tanning salon.

I DON’T WANT PEOPLE BLOWING BUBBLES AT ME. nothing will be thrown (not allowed by the chapel or by me). BUBBLES ARE RETARDED. STUPID. TRENDY. I HATE TRENDY. there’s only so much trendy i can take. I’M WEARING A VEIL, YOU CAN’T MAKE ME HAVE BUBBLES. i won’t do it.

and where does the chapel get off telling us how long each song can be? what if i want the entire song of a song, and they say it can only be 45 seconds??? we’re paying them a lot to let the songs be as long as i want them.

the flower girl dress is beautiful but way too big. but if we’d gotten the smaller size, it would have been way too small, so it’s better this way.

i’m going to bed. after the ritual. i have one. every night.
put away dinner
set house alarm
get hormones from fridge
go to bathroom, prep self, prep needle, dial dose, give myself shot
put hormones in fridge, drop needle into biohazard container
turn off all lights
take beta blocker and now bcp so i don’t get pregnant when i give away that purchased milk on the honeymoon
go to sleep

UPDATE: yeah, this is about right.
and no, they’re not throwing those either.

so tired

driving to Orlando two days in a row really wiped me out. plus the getting up early each day might help the tiredness…

i’ve been in bed since 8:00, surfing and trying to answer email and do other electronic things.

i had another run in with t-mobile’s voice response system today… i truly do hate voice response systems and wish them all to die a fiery electronic death. if anyone is looking for a voice response mercenary, i’d hire out for very little. i’d probably do it for a Coca-Cola.

i took my own Coke to the training today, so i wouldn’t have to suffer through another Pepsi. the one drinkable Pepsi product, MDew, wasn’t served.

speaking in a roundabout way of training and education and universities, our latest podcast (IMAOU) is up. i’ve been too tired to hear the whole thing yet, but what i’ve heard is funny. IMAO they keep getting funnier. but i’m a little biased, since i think i’m hilarious.

not so much in the mood for laughing. i’ve been sighing a lot today. i think i’m generally tired. just tired. i had time to stop in at Burlington CF on my way to pick up Chipotle tonight, and i was too tired even to hate my body when i looked at myself in the dressing room mirror.

i own one suit. and i’ve been recently informed that the dress code policy of suits always at a client’s office is now going to be enforced. i’m trying to decide: do i wear the same navy suit every day with a different shirt (men can do it, why can’t i?) and let the ladies i work with tease me about that instead of my tardiness issue (even though they tease, i know they’d mean it, women are vicious about fashion, but i’m really just getting to the point where i don’t give a flip about other women’s fashion opinions, because we all think we’re better than each other, no matter what we wear)? or do i buy a few suits, wear each of them each week (which will garner me hardly less teasing, because egads, who would dare wear the same suit in two consecutive weeks? i would.) and then have to buy another few suits the next time my weight fluctuates, which will surely be moments after i buy said new suits? i was hoping to hold off on suit shopping until after the growth hormone therapy gets going, but i guess i have to just go thru two waves of buying.

speaking of waves, Frank said on his blog that his muse is at the beach. i asked who she is. :-)

goodnight, i’m tired. don’t forget to tip your waiter.

wow, who messed with my blog?

egads, this is ugly. sorry about that. i’ll fix it when i have time, i was in a dark mood and wanted lighter colors the other night. i don’t think i’m going to go back to the drab colors i had from my typepad blog, but i’ll make it better.

speaking of the opposite of better, thursday night i puked from my migraine. that was awful. i decided maybe i’d start on the preventative meds that the doc had given me. i’d decided against them early on because i have low blood pressure and they’re supposed to make my blood pressure drop. but last night i was so fed up with the migraines that i decided that i’d take the meds, but first i got online to see all the side effects, and oh my. i decided that i didn’t want to kill myself, so i didn’t wanna take the meds. but then Frank’s mom, a nurse and fellow migraine sufferer, said that the med helped her and that i should never read the stuff that comes with meds. so i’ve decided i’ll start on them tonight and see if they help. and if i develop lupus, congestive heart failure, cancer, or diabetes, Frank will blame his mom and shake his fist at her. :-)

speaking of parents, my brother is a dad, as of yesterday. and from what my sister and mother say, he’s the most beautiful baby ever. must look like his Aunt Sarah. ;-) his name is Jonas.

speaking of ants, Frank was out weeding just now, being careful to avoid the ants (as last time, his hand was covered in bites and itchy for weeks). i walked outside to get something from the car, and it had been thundering from far away for a few minutes. i’d been nagging Frank to get in the house so he didn’t get struck by lightning. as i was walking back inside, there was a lightning strike so close that we heard it at the exact same moment we saw it. i jumped out of my skin, and my pulse raced as if i’d been out jogging a couple of miles, and Frank knew before i even barked “inside! now!” that i was going to make him go inside. he was right. and of course, he’s back out there now, and it’s thundering.

the cats aren’t too fond of the thunder. Minerva, who was never jumpy about such things, keeps running under my bed every time the sky rumbles. scaredy cat.

speaking of scared, we watched The Aviator this weekend, the movie about Howard Hughes, who was scared of germs. it was a good flick.

untitled

so yesterday was an interesting day. the firm i work for got sold. so there you go. new employer.

speaking of employers, the Dallas Stars signed Zubie to a 3-year contract. and made qualifying offers to 10 players, including Brendan Morrow & Jason Arnott. still nothing about Mike Modano.

in other hockey news, turns out it’s not so bad to be near the Florida Panthers (though we’re actually nearest the Lightning, my 3rd-favorite team). they signed Nieuwy yesterday. whee! and look at this list of unrestricted big names.

Peter Forsberg, Markus Naslund, Mike Modano, Alexei Kovalev, Pavol Demitra, Ziggy Palffy, Bobby Holik, Alexei Zhamnov, Paul Kariya and Teemu Selanne. The defencemen are led by Scott Niedermayer, Adam Foote, Sergei Gonchar, Brian Leetch, Derian Hatcher, Brian Rafalski, Mathieu Schneider, Mike Rathje, Roman Hamrlik and Adrian Aucoin.

the Stars have about 9 players on their roster, including Stu Barnes, Jere Lehtinen, & Marty Turco. and other huge name players. but no Mo.

speaking of no Mo, there is no mo chocolate, as i see Frank has eaten all of it. that’s ok, not much in a chocolate mood lately. i know, i know. maybe my body knows i still want to lose 20 pounds before December, and it’s helping me along by making me not want any sweets. fine with me.

i wanna be on Fox & Friends

because they get cool free stuff. of course, i get cool free stuff from readers, too, and i think that’s awesome. but they get to show their stuff on tv. that reminds me, i need to snap a picture of the watercolor that IowaSoccerMom painted for me and post it…

speaking of post-its, i don’t like the boring plain yellow ones. i prefer the cool blue ones.

wow, E.D. is wearing some funky turquoise blue weater set that looks pretty cute, but she should wear darker lipstick so she doesn’t look washed out.

speaking of washing, i had a massage yesterday and then a salt bath last night, and i can still not walk so well. of course, the not walking isn’t from the massage, though my shoulders and neck are a tad sore from that, but the not walking is from me doing the 11-minute thigh workout video Monday evening. after i was finished with the video, i told Frank that i’d have to sit for awhile before cooking his dinner, because my legs would not hold me up. they were much like Jello, but twice as jiggly.

and speaking of that, Texas is in the process of passing a law that says high school cheerleaders in my state can’t dance like whores on the sidelines. that’s excellent. now if we can just get those cheerleader skirts longer so they have some sort of modesty…

y’all have a spectacular day, and remember: Reading is Fundamental.

lunch stream

i’m having leftover chicken tikke masala for lunch, which reminds me, Frank, d0n’t eat meat today. speaking of meat, north of Melbourne is this work farm for the county sheriff. they have cows.

and 2 water buffalo. speaking of buffalo, i like buffalo wings, but only the really spicy ones. not deadly spicy like the atomic wings at Wing Stop, but good spicy like the cajun wings at Wing Stop. i miss Wing Stop.

i was at a stoplight the other day, and i was singing at the top of my lungs (yay Toby Keith and Krystal and “Mockingbird”), and i could tell the person in the vehicle next to mine was watching. i love doing that. sometimes i look over at them and make a point of “i’m singing my heart out over here, because i’m a freak”. other times i prefer to just let them gawk and pretend i don’t know they’re watching. i’m always afraid that if it’s a guy, they’ll think i’m flirting if i look. there’s only one man i flirt with these days.

speaking of days, i used to watch Days of our Lives when i was growing up. that show has jump0ed the shark so many times that i think they just keep the actors on scaffolds above the shark tank and tell them to jump up and down before each taping. ok, that was lame. i apologize.

you know what else is lame? the coke machine at work has 3 slots for diet coke, 1 slot for sprite, 1 slot for sugary caffeiny coke. and the real coke is empty more often than not. this makes for a very stressed, grumpy SarahK. my coworkers can attest.

speaking of attest, i’m an auditor (we attest stuff), and a CPA. tonight we have dinner with the people from Frank’s work again. i’m gonna walk in there with a big stamp on my forehead that says “CPA – can add”. or maybe i’m just going to be sweet and remind myself that it’s not their fault that they have no social skills. they were born that way. wow, i’m in an ugly mood. think i’ll run to the store for more cokes.

ta, have a lovely day, musees!

Florida is so cold

this morning, it’s got to be around 55 degrees. i woke up chilled. speaking of chilled, i haven’t blogged about nice cold Coca-Cola in a while. my client right now has 12 oz. cans for 30 cents, but the other day, it ate my money, so i had to pay sixty cents for a Coke.

speaking of the sixties, Frank has several Beatles CDs (i have the White album and one other). he’s done Rocky Raccoon at karaoke, and Saturday night he played it for me on the way home from sushi. i think he sings it even better.

speaking of singing, i think tonight is the last of the auditions by city on American Idol. i guess next they move on to paring it down to 32? i think this will be a good season. i hope we end up with a country-singing girl since i blew my chance at being her.

about being. i think “be” is the stupidestly conjugated verb. how do you get “am”, “are”, “is” from “be”? it’s all over the place, make up your mind!

i loved that movie A Beautiful Mind. Frank and i were talking about it last night during 24, what with the schizophrenic daughter and all.

oh, and 24 last night. i actually yelped and then squealed a lot when Tony showed up. sorry if i’m spoiling that for anyone, if i cared, i would have added spoiler space. Frank said, “shouldn’t he be in jail?” and i said, “who cares??!!!! it’s Tony!!!! eeeeee!!!”

speaking of Tony, i haven’t had Frosted Flakes in a long time. i remember liking them, but they got soggy so fast. boo soggy!!

when i would go to karaoke with the bikers and Bikermommy and Pappy in Amarillo, Pappy and his crew always got up and sang “Man of Constant Sorrow” by The Soggy Bottom Boys. they let me sing harmony, while Bikermommy and her pals all walked like chickens around the biker bar. good times.

speaking of bars, growing up i loved Hershey’s with Almonds. but then i realized i’m not such a big fan of milk chocolate. dark dark dark, baby. my favorite was when Reese’s came out with Reese’s Dark Peanut Butter Cups. i would buy 6 packages at a time and eat them in the car on the way home. ok, maybe not that drastic, but pretty much so.

speaking of drastic, i should go jump in the shower so i don’t have drastic oil head today. and so i can steal all the hot water before Frank gets to it.

* sigh * i love Frank.

short timer

i miss Frank. really really miss him. and i saw him only 10 days ago, and our record is something like 38, but i guess it’s just the excitement and anticipation of getting to see him every day that makes me miss him more. or maybe it’s because he’s not online and therefore not emailing me, not commenting on my blog, not blogging. though Harvey is doing a great job keeping the funny going over at IMAO.

speaking of Harvey, i have the old Jimmy Stewart movie Harvey on DVD, and I’ve never watched it. Jimmy Stewart is my all-time favorite actor. you know he went to war. left Hollywood to go to war, and that was considered heroic by Hollywood at the time. my, how things change.

that reminds me, i still need to change the name on my SS card. the DPS told me i could apply for the driver’s license with my new name, but it wouldn’t actually go through the bureaucrats in Austin until i changed my name on my SS card. less than a week later, my new DL arrived in the mail, and i still have the wrong name according to Social Security. i should do that before Friday so there’s no hassle with W-2s.

speaking of W-2, that rascal Frank put me through a grueling 2-hour photo shoot with him behind the camera modeling the W-2 t-shirt, among other new IMAO shirts. he still hasn’t even added a few to his scrolling pics on the sidebar, and all i told him to do was make my face not so red, and highlight my roots! i guess he doesn’t want to sell more t-shirts.

speaking of cells, i heart Excel. yes, i’ve mentioned it before, but i’m having fun with GASB 34 conversions and cash flow statements today, and Excel just makes it even funner!! i’ve gotta have something to excite me, right? otherwise, i’ll never make it through today and tomorrow. tomorrow being my last day at work.

i really should start working out again. i don’t think i’ve done that on a regular basis since Sa and i took our 10K training course at Luke’s in Fort Worth. yes, i believe my stress fracture happened in March of 2003, and i’ve been saying ever since that i’m gonna start working out again. but i should probably put it off until March 2005 so i can have an even two-year break. ’cause that would be kewl.

speaking of breaks, did y’all know i’ve never broken a bone? stress fracs don’t count. i think my Bikermommy and my big bro have each broken their collarbones, and i don’t think Sizzle has broken anything. just proves that you don’t have to drink milk to have strong bones. because believe you me, i’ve done my share of fallin’ funny, and i don’t drink the vile cow juice unless it is appropriately masked by chocolate. and that’s just too much work.

speaking of Too Much. i love that DMB song, if for nothing else but the line “traffic jam, got more cars than a beach got sand.” i think i’ve seen that song in concert twice.

so what is the difference between baked potatoes and twice-baked potatoes? i always hear people go on about the twice-baked ones, but i’ve either never had one or didn’t see the big deal.

i have a confession to make. i used to watch Let’s Make a Deal. i feel like i should shroud my face when i tell y’all that. i almost always wanted them to pick door number 2. just because that’s almost always where they’d find the llama or a piece of stale bread.

that reminds me, i have a lot of food to get rid of. i think that’s what costs most when i move. replacing the stuff in the fridge. mainly because i tend to accumulate pickles and pickled things. anything marinated or pickled can most likely be found in my fridge. and in my freezer, Chunky Monkey and Chocolate Almond ice cream. man, i’m hungry. Bikermommy and i are going to Red Lobster for lunch. ha. that reminds me of my trip to Vegas and practicing for my American Idol audition outside the Red Lobster with Tamika, Val and Reggie. good times.

that show always annoyed me. i think it was JJ’s yelling “dy-no-mite!” every five minutes. ok, get a new explosive already!

speaking of JJ. LOST. ALIAS. back to back. Wednesday nights. starting January 5. nobody call me that night. i’ll be watching and snarking. i saw a new preview for it, and Syd took a lime out of Sarkypooh’s mouth. i guess Sark likes limes with his Cokes too.

*sigh* Frank bought me limes for my Cokes when i was there at Thanksgiving. 8 more days. :)

the mountaineer would like to apologize for the length of this stream. she has short-timer’s syndrome.

my nose is cold… and other stuff

my nose is cold, and i suspect it will only get colder, because the weather forecasts call for bitter cold and snowfall tonight. all fine and dandy, because we know i heart snow, but i left my coat behind today, so getting home from the office is going to be painful.

speaking of painful, my once-debilitating back is still great, except for my sore shoulders, which are possibly a product of running through the Orlando airport on my way to my near-arrest.

does anyone here watch Arrested Development? i watched it a couple of times and enjoyed it, but i keep forgetting to record it. meh, maybe i’ll get into it when i move to Florida. but i watch too much TV anyway, perhaps i should just cut back.

i’m going back to Fort Worth this weekend, will see all the K family and have jambalaya with my Sizzle and get another fabulous Mary massage. of course, i could use this weekend for packing, considering i only have 16 days or something like that. though Somethingina and i did start the packing process back on November 13th, but that kinda fizzled out. anyway, i figure i should take this time this weekend with my family and friends, as i won’t be so close anymore. surely i can pack the whole house in a week’s time, right?

speaking of that, i only have about a week of work left. i gave 2 weeks’ notice, but the 31st and 3rd are holidays, no reason for me to return on the 4th, so my last day is next Thursday the 30th. i won’t start the new job until the 17th. sweet.

oh, sweet cookies. Saturday we had my mom’s family Christmas at my Papa’s & Grama’s house. Grama Shirley (not to be confused with Grama K) made her famous oatmeal raisin cookies, and the second i spotted the canister, i had three within 10 minutes. i cannot get enough of those. oh, anytime i go to visit Grama Shirley, she buys a jar of dill pickles for me. knows how much i’ve always hearted those things. this year, the jar was massive. and she usually has a can of asparagus waiting for me, as that was always one of my favorite veggies. everyone got all excited on Saturday when they saw the can of asparagus, but after Pappy went through the line and took several spears, Grama hid the rest of it away from everyone. till i was in the kitchen. then she took me down to the end of the counter and told me to take however much i wanted. when i tried to be nice and leave some for other people, she reminded me that the asparagus was for me. :) Crazy Uncle Robert and my cousin Misti drooled as i ate the good stuff. i felt bad, but not bad enough to share.

speaking of Crazy and share, does Cher just get a little more off every time she opens her mouth in public? that’s my understanding.

speaking of understanding. i keep hearing that i’m such an understanding girlfriend. i guess that’s true, but he’s really quite wonderful, so it comes pretty easy. :) * sigh *

hmm

so. i was going to keep up with the Carnival of the Recipes all week and add to the post every night so i don’t have so much to do Thursday night. so far, no recipes have been submitted. NONE! if we have no recipes in this carnival, Beth will never let me host again! so please! submit! submit! this should be the biggest carnival ever! we don’t want my jambalaya recipe being the only one.

speaking of that, i can’t wait for Christmas Day. not that i’ve started gift shopping yet, because i haven’t. but because we always have jambalaya on Christmas Day, and it’s my favorite dish ever.

another favorite dish of mine is Shrimp Mirch Masala, which i got to eat Saturday night at my very favorite Indian food restaurant, India Grill in Bedford. Frank and i met up with Sizzle, Big Josh, Mini-Sizzle, Big Bro, Spidade, Stepmo’, and my friends Blake and Patti. we had a lot of fun, and everyone seemed to like Frank, even Blake. Blake actually smiled some, and Patti and i told Frank that means Blake must like him. :D eh, i always give Blake a hard time (as Patti describes it, we have a love/hate relationship), but he’s nice sometimes. teehee.

speaking of love and hate. i love seafood and hate anchovies.

mmm… speaking of anchovies, Outback has the best Caesar Salads of any restaurant. just enough anchovy paste.

did y’all ever eat paste when you were kids? me either. but i would get out the bottle of Elmer’s school glue and put it all over my hands. i made sure to cover every finger, get the glue under the fingernails, etc. then after it dried, i would peel it off. i loved to peel it off. never really liked glue sticks, because you couldn’t paste up your hands. boo glue sticks!

speaking of boooo, my evening last night was quite frustrating, and i came home in a bad mood. i had 3 errands to run. get my computer checked out at Circuit City, who is usually sooo helpful if you buy stuff from them, get glasses, get an outfit for this weekend. at Circuit City, they told me they’ll have to send off the computer, but they can’t send it out until December 19, because the ‘puter fixers are taking inventory. punks. i got to the mall at 6:10, and the optometrists all close at 6. so i went to Eyemasters, where i bought my last pair of glasses, to see if my prescription wasn’t yet expired. they had my apartment address on file, the apartment i moved to August 2003. somehow, though, my prescription had expired August 2002? then HOW DID THEY HAVE MY NEW ADDRESS! i had to buy glasses since August 2003… and i walked the entire mall trying on clothes. what. a. beating. i hate shopping.

i really do hate shopping. i would rather watch hockey (i’d even rather watch badminton, if we’re being honest here) than shop any day. what i need is a body double. someone with my exact build to go to the mall for me, try on the clothes, bring me back some options, and let me pick what i like.

speaking of like, i like Frank.

i was going to finish…

fake bonus ALIAS episode #2, but i’m just too tired and uninspired to write anything that requires thought. but since my stream of consciousness just rolls off my fingers, i’ll stream instead.

today i went to the doctor, and since the anti-inflammatories didn’t work last time, he prescribed… anti-inflammatories! supposedly these are stronger, but all i know is it’s not Celebrex. * sigh * he also has me starting physical therapy tomorrow for a few weeks. he said the therapy will strengthen my back.

speaking of back, i’m so excited about going back to Fort Worth this weekend with Frank. he’s coming up so we can go see my family and friends in the Metroplex. oh, speaking of the Metroplex, how ’bout them Cowboys last night? that Julius Jones might be a star someday. and what’s his name? Jake Whitten? one of the best tight-ends in the game.

about games (you thought i was going to say something about tight-ends), Frank did win the last game of Trivial Pursuit, so for the moment he’s the smartest. he says he’s burning the game now.

speaking of burning, my back and shoulders were burning at work today. Julie was having trouble with her hand. so she came over and asked to use my Tiger Balm, and while it was out, i put some on myself. Barry walked by my cube a few minutes later and said, “wow, it smells great over here.” i offered to loan Shelley (his wife) my Tiger Balm, he declined.

have gasoline prices been declining lately? i never pay attention anymore. i fill up so seldom that i just don’t care. $35 every two weeks is fine with me.

speaking of fine, look at this picture and tell me i’m not a lucky woman.

the evil fake sarahk is a punk

i’ve been up all night…

… so this stream of consciousness has potential. i seem to ramble better when i’ve been up all night…

no, that’s not true. i took 2 20-minute naps somewhere around midnight. anyway, i hate Single Audits, have i mentioned that?

speaking of single, my friend Julie at work is not for much longer… she got engaged over the weekend. i’m so happy for her! she met her Mr. Wonderful on the internet, too. * grin * her ring is quite pretty, i kept making her show me today.

am i the only one who got super-sick of hearing “show me the money” after Jerry Maguire came out? i still hear it now and then and cringe like a ground squirrel cringes when Frank’s around.

speaking of around. i always hated the song “I Get Around”, but i loooooooved the Beach Boys. even after they all went a little nuts. can’t tell you how many times i saw them in concert.

re: concerts and nutty people. when i was in 8th grade, my friend Rachelle and i went to Six Flags for the day and were going to the Alabama concert at the Music Mill Amphitheater that evening. we bought our t-shirts early in the day and wore them upside down. yes, the neck was somewhere around or above our waist, our arms were thru the arm holes, and we had this kind of drapey thing going around our shoulders. i don’t think our midriffs were covered :-O and i’m pretty sure we didn’t make it to the concert (boy crazy Rachelle! or was it boy crazy Sarah? don’t remember.).

speaking of crazy. i think the people at the shooting range we went to Friday might think i’m a little of that. somehow the subject of how Frank and i met came up, and the guys that run the joint immediately jumped on the internet and landed at imao.us, then hopped links over to my blog, then to my photo album of the IMAO Contest Shoot (we’re talking quickly hopped, like they’d been there before. hmm…). they happened upon this picture, and one fellow walking by the computer asked who that girl was, and he sounded scared. i’m not sure how many shades of red i turned when everyone pointed at me.

oh, about shades. Frank is the only person i know who actually has his sunglasses on before he ever leaves the house. every. single. time. he leaves the house. that’s so cute. or neurotic. :) ah, now i’m smiling. thinking about Mr. Neurotic Wonderful does that to me.