Don't Know What to Call This One

I've debated with myself about whether or not to write this post. As Freebird said in her last post, sometimes it's easier to talk about something with people you don't really know in person (except for my daughter, of course).
I started into counseling again several weeks ago. I wanted to deal with some family issues, but there was something else I thought I needed some help with. I've been having, not really memories, but brief flashes of things that make me feel terrified, sick, and every other bad feeling I can think of.
It's of being in a house that was next door to us when I was very little. I'm standing in a dark hallway, and I can see the kitchen through a doorway, and I'm scared, really scared. And other than that I don't have any memory. But I dream of this, too, and I can't shake these horrible feelings about it. So the counselor and I have been discussing this for a few weeks. I lived there from the time I was born until four, I think. Everytime the counselor and I talk about this, I start crying, and people who know me can tell you I never cry.
Today in counseling, I told her that my parents kept the house we lived in after we moved, and for years they rented it out. When I was about ten? my mom and I went over there to check something about the house, and this man approached us in the back yard, and I was so scared, I couldn't look at him and I went and sat in the car. As I remembered it, he gave my mom some pictures that day that he had taken of me when I was little.
So the counselor said I should have a candid talk with my mother and sister, and I told her that my mother won't talk about anything unpleasant. She asked about other family members who would have remembered me when we lived there, but I don't have any. She suggested I go back over there to that house, but I don't want to do that.
So, I decided to call my mother tonight. I've been scrapbooking and we've been talking about family pictures, etc, in the last few weeks, so I told her I was making a scrapbook of my life to give my children. I told her in doing the scrapbook journaling, I was trying to remember about when we lived in that house. I asked her who the neighbors were.
She said, "Well next door, there was that older couple, the Minors, and they had a grown son in his thirties who lived with them, but he was cr--, uh, well that whole family was funny."
I asked, "Funny how?"
She said, "Well even the old man was flirty acting."
I said, "And the son lived at home?"
She said, "Well he met this young schoolteacher and they got married, but she only lived with him for about a month, and she divorced him."
I said, "Mama, did he make pictures of me?"
She said, "Oh yeah, he did. Well not pictures, but he gave us some boxes of slides once he had made of you when you were little."
Then I couldn't talk about it anymore and I changed the subject.
So the obvious questions are, Why am I terrified of the thought of that man and that house; why did he have boxes of slides of me but not my sister? And from what mother said, I guess he was a pervert.
I guess I know the answers to all that, but I can't bring myself to say it. I'm still very upset about all of it, and trying to sort this out.
The counselor also said today I may never remember anything that happened that young, but those emotions will not go away, and that's why I have these feelings I can't explain about the house there. She also thinks that may be why, according to my mom, I began to wet the bed at four and it continued for several years in my childhood.
Well it made it better just to write it. If my daughter reads this, please don't call me about it, because I don't think I can even talk about this.

Peeee Ewwwww (This one's a stinker)

I found this and just had to share.

THE CURTAIN RODS

A man and his wife decided to divorce because he was having an affair with a younger woman. The wife packed her belongings into boxes, crates, and suitcases. The next day, she had the movers come and collect her things.

On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining room table by candlelight, put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar, and a bottle of chardonnay. When she had finished, she went into each and every room and stuffed half-eaten shrimp shells dipped in caviar into the hollow of all of the curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left for her new apartment.

When the husband returned with his new girlfriend, all was bliss for the first few days. Then, slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything: cleaning, mopping, and airing the place out. Vents were checked for dead rodents, carpets were steam cleaned, and air fresheners were hung everywhere!
Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which they had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting. Nothing worked. People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit. Finally, they could not take the stench any longer and decided they just had to sell the house so they could move. A month later, even though they had cut their price in half, they could not find a buyer for their stinky house. Word got out, and, eventually, even the local realtors refused to return their calls. Finally, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place. The ex-wife called the man and asked how things were going. He told her the saga of the rotting house. She listened politely and said that she missed her old home terribly and would be willing to reduce her divorce settlement in exchange for getting the house back.

Knowing his ex-wife had no idea how bad the smell was, he agreed on a price that was about 1/10th of what the house had been worth, but only if she were to sign the papers that very day. She agreed, and, within the hour, his lawyers delivered the paperwork. A week later, the man and his girlfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home, including the curtain rods. I just love a happy ending, don't you?

Watch Out for Taz

I'm writing down my intention today, so all of you can ride my butt if I don't follow through! I want to get my house organized this week. For one thing, I haven't skipped an anti-depressant pill now for over two weeks and feel better than I've felt in so long! (Taking one every three days just doesn't work, I've found out.ha.)
I have more energy, so figured I should take advantage of it!
So today, I plan to organize our bedroom. I figured my problem is I have always moved around a lot. (In my first marriage, we moved fourteen times in nineteen years.) And when you move a lot, you get really great at sorting, tossing, and packing. I'd end up getting rid of half of our junk every time we moved. But I've lived here now for six years! And I've collected more junk than I will ever have any use for. And it drives me NUTS. So I thought, why can't I do this like I was moving? Get some boxes, go through everything, and either throw it away or put it into a box. Then when I finish a room, and have all these nice empty drawers and an empty closet, just go through and put the stuff away! I don't know why this brilliant idea hadn't come to me before. (They never do!) Today is my day to work in the bedroom, as I said. I'll let you know how it comes out. I'm beginning to wonder if, after I pack everything up, it wouldn't be a good time to paint in there.....
I found some pictures of how my living room looked BEFORE my husband moved his stuff in. I LOVED it then. Now I HATE that room. So I think I need to paint it back the original color and buy new furniture to get it back like it used to be. I'm even going to look for furniture the same color. I'm on a roll here.
And yesterday, I bought new cookware. A whole set. A whole set that MATCHES, and HAS ALL THE LIDS to the pots. I've been cooking for thirty five years with terrible cookware. I'm going to toss the old stuff and put my new stuff in the pot rack.
I think this is probably the most boring post I've ever done. But I feel like the Tazmanian Devil today.

That Man of Mine....

I'm getting revved up to write again. I want to continue the idea of a book I started awhile back as to the characters, because I have those pretty much down, but I need a story line. So...if you could choose what the next fiction book you were going to read were about, what would be your choice?
One idea I had was about a woman who is in supposedly a happy marriage goes through a midlife crisis and decides to leave and find herself. Does that sound at all interesting? I'm open to ideas.
I'm selling some of my work clothes on Ebay. It's amazing how they are buying suits. Guess there are a lot of career women who buy clothes on Ebay, although I was the only one in my office who did. Anyway, I thought it would give me some extra money for books and other stuff.
My husband has been sick with a sinus infection, and he has taken off some days this week, and left work early on others. My usual plan of doing what I want to all day, and then starting supper and making a mad dash to straighten up the house before he gets home, isn't working when he just comes home at a surprise time. Ha. Guess the surprise is on him! Yesterday, he came home a little after three. I hadn't even made the bed, the bed was covered with laundry I needed to fold, my diet coke cans piled on the table by the recliner, and the open Valentine candy box on the coffee table. I started saying how I didn't expect him home and I was just getting up to straighten up everything. He looked around and said, "Huh? Looks ok to me now!" That's why I love that man.

How Cute is That?

I See a Flake, Pass the Little Debbies

It's been a slow, lazy weekend. My youngest son came from Little Rock to see his girlfriend here in town this weekend, and he stopped by to see us yesterday. He said we are very boring. He's the kind that never sits still, and all we do on the weekends is sit still. ha.
I've cooked all weekend, but think today may be a good "eating out" day, as I'm getting sick of cooking. Last night I made King's Ranch Casserole. Yum. Very good.
Yesterday, we went to see When a Stranger Calls. My husband and I watched the original when we were dating, but the remake was a lot better. It kept me jumping and shreeking through a lot of it, so both hubby and son laughed a lot at me. Glad they were entertained. :-)
I bought some greeting card kits and have been putting them together this weekend. I now have enough greeting cards for every holiday from now until the year 3000. Don't know what I'll do with all these cards, but they were fun to make. Anyone need some cards?
Our weather man predicted ice and sleet last night. Roads have none of it this morning. When someone predicts snow in Alabama, the lines at the grocery store get miles long. I have stood in line over an hour to pay for my "snow groceries". If the snow does come, even an inch, the roads are closed, businesses and schools shut down, and all life outside the house stops. So people stay in and eat all these groceries they have bought, and don't have to go to work. This is because, although other states are prepared for snow, own salt trucks and snow plows etc, and can get out there and clear the roads and ice, our state never has snow (once every three or four years) and so having all that equipment would not be "cost effective". Well this system has worked here for as long as I can remember. Except somewhere along the way, the weathermen must have been contacted by the grocery store owners in some back alley, and some dirty money changed hands, and now they are in cohoots. Now they say, SNOW SNOW! Everyone runs out and buys all the milk and bread and snack stuff. No snow.. The weathermen look sheepish; the grocery store people look smug. I know this must be the case because when I was a child, we didn't have doppler radar and all the other state of the art equipment, but that little weather man watching the sky and his barometer would say snow and it would snow. But who am I to argue with the weather people nowadays. At least when they say that, my husband goes out and buys Little Debbie Snack Cakes. And I love those Swiss Cake Rolls.....oh God.

Wh-wh-what?

My son used to tell everyone my favorite thing to say was "Clean your room." My husband thinks my favorite two things to say now are "Where are my glasses?" and "What day is this?"
He has threatened to nail my glasses to my head, but since I haven't given him access to any nail guns, he usually just gives in and helps me look for them on an hourly basis. But when I ask what day it is, I don't mean is it the 3rd or 4th. I mean is it Monday or Tuesday.
Since I stopped working, one day is pretty much like the next, except some days he's at work, and some days he's home. He's a government employee which means he gets off for every imaginable holiday. This confuses things. Add to that the fact that every other week he gets a Friday off. So he was off work yesterday, and in my mind, all day, I thought it was Saturday. I couldn't understand why my Saturday tv shows weren't on. This morning I woke up to try to watch my Sunday morning shows, only to find cartoons on all the channels. Cartoons? On Sunday? So, I gave in and asked, "What day is this?" And was finally told it is indeed Saturday. To make matters even more complicated, he's going to be off Monday for President's Day, which means my Monday will be on Tuesday.
I went to WalMart the other night to get a new battery for my watch, and the woman broke it while putting in the new battery. She gave me another just like it, except it has the date also, which mine didn't. My husband said I don't need the date, I need the day. ha.
In a way, it's great not to have to keep up with what day it is. Instead of thinking I have to do laundry on Monday, I can do it whenever the hamper runs over into the floor. Works for me.
I wonder, though, what will happen when he retires and both of us have to call our children long distance to find out what day it is!

Man, That's Freaky!

My middle son is a big horror movie buff. He can watch all the gore and not flinch. I, on the other hand, scream, squirm, and cover my eyes. This is why he and my husband have made it their life mission to drag me to every gross movie that comes out, so they can watch me watch the movie. And I go, because they get such a kick out of my reactions.
So...we talked the other day about what is really scary to you. I don't mean stuff like growing older, disease, etc. I mean those things that send a chill up your spine and freak you totally out!
Here's mine:
1) My ex, Satan, was traveling for business early in our marriage. He was driving home late at night and extremely tired. He said he was watching the road and suddenly thought he saw something move beside him. He looked over to the passenger seat and there sat a man, who at the same time he turned his head, the guy turned facing him, and it was his own face. In other words, he was sitting there beside himself. He said he screamed and caught himself right before he ran off the road. He said he guessed he had drifted off to sleep. That story still crosses my mind now and then and freaks me out.
2) When my daughter was a toddler, I was sleeping alone one night when my ex, Satan, was working the night shift. My daughter had a habit of waking up and coming into my room at night because she was scared or wanted water or whatever. This night I woke up and saw her outline standing by the bed. I asked what she wanted. She didn't reply. I said Honey what is it? She didn't reply. So I raised up and looked at her and she was gone. I looked all around and down the hallway, and she wasn't there. I immediately ran to her room and she was in her bed, asleep, all tucked in with her dolls. I freaked. I sat up all night with the lights on.
3) Taking a shower when I'm home alone gives me the creeps. I usually always wait until someone is home, or else I take the fastest showers on record. And no, I didn't really think the shower scene in Psycho was freaky, so I have no idea where this comes from.
4) If you ever saw the movie "The Grudge" or the previews for it, there is a scene where this man comes home to find his wife in bed, her face staring at the ceiling frozen in a look of total terror. As he approaches the bed, this little oriental boy with a very pasty bluish face, raises up behind the bed and lets out this howl like a cat. Ok, that absolutely freaks me out. Maybe that goes back to number two above.
Those are my top four. What are yours?

So You Could Have Fifty Thousand Dollars...

We watch Fear Factor even though it grosses us out. (I guess that is the idea) On a recent episode, in case you missed it, in order to go for the $50,000, you had to let them shave your head into weird almost totally bald haircuts. Girls actually refused to do it. I'd have been in that chair so fast they wouldn't know what hit 'em.
So we got into that discussion, what would you do for $50,000. So here's my answers, what are yours?

Shave your head- YES
Throw a pie at your mama- YES
Sleep with Robert Redford on his yacht-- YES AND I'D DO THAT FOR FREE.
Appear naked at the superbowl. NO WAY
Eat pig intestines YES
Eat a blended fly milkshake NO
Let someone stick needles into you (they did that on Fear Factor) YES
Jump out of an airplane YES
Go bungee jumping NO
Walk a narrow beam high in the air -YES IF I HAD THAT SAFETY HARNESS

Ok readers, what would you do and not do for 50K?

My Valentine Poem

My husband gave me a box of chocolates for Valentine's Day, and a poem. I thought I'd share the poem with you.




For My Wonderful Wife A Valentine Poem-
For telling me quite bluntly when my clothing looks absurd...
And helping me dress tastefully instead of like a nerd..
For never really minding when I'm hogging the remote...
And when I'm channel surfing, never reaching for my throat.
For listening when I babble 'bout the problems where I work-
And never saying things like "Knock it off, you whiny jerk!"
For seeing to it that I try to eat some healthy food...
And finding me attractive even though you've seen me nude...
For all of this and every other little thing you do...
I couldn't be more grateful that the wife I have is YOU.

Awww. Isn't that sweet?

Booze Booze Booze......

Today's post is about drinking. Why? Because I said so, that's why. (Typical mom answer, ask my kids.) I live in the Bible Belt. Here good Baptist churches teach us from the time we are little that smoking, drinking, cussing, and anything to do with sex are all evil evil sin. None of these things were ever allowed in our home when I was a child(Hm....probably why my parents divorced...). In fact, my mom's bowling league buddies used to tell stories of how they all went to some club while there were away on tournament, and my mom drank coke.

When I was nine, mom married step-dad and he drank a little. Kept beer in the frig and had a picture in the den that opened up and had little shot glasses and two decanters in it. One had bourbon. Which I smelled of once when he wasn't looking.

When I turned sixteen, and starting dating Satan who I later married, we went to his house one day and Satan's mother offered me a beer. I said, Wh-wh-wh-Huh? She laughed and asked had I never tried beer? I said no. So she got me one. I tasted. Yuck. Tastes like what I think pee would taste like if I was ever forced to drink it (I still hate beer.) So I filed that bit of information away, "I hate beer".

Later, as I continued to date Satan, he took me to a party where they had Boones Farm Strawberry Hill wine. For anyone who could possibly NOT know what that is, it's a cheapo wine that teenagers get when they can get someone to buy it for them. I tried it. A little yuck. Tried a little more. Not so bad. A little more. This stuff is pretty good. A little more...pretty soon the bottle was empty, and I couldn't understand why I couldn't stop laughing. So he took me home. Having the giggles and trying to get into your house without waking your parents is hard. Having the giggles and falling into furniture and trying not to wake your Grandmother who lives with you and knows EVERYTHING you think you got away with is worse. I got in bed finally, only to wake the next morning to "I HEARD you come in last night....A little late, huh?" I so badly wanted to say yeah and a little drunk but I didn't.

Also when I woke up that morning, I had the "Oh Lord, forgive me I got DRUNK! I can't believe I did THAT!" Inside, though, I thought it was pretty cool. But my conscience won out and I reformed. That was my only experience in my entire lifetime of ever being drunk (No kidding.)

When I married and had children, my husband would sometimes have a beer after mowing the grass, but I had children and I was a mother and mother's don't do that sort of thing! After Satan and I divorced, I decided I was almost forty and had never experienced ANYTHING. So one weekend my kids were all gone, don't remember where, and I went to the store and bought a four pack of wine coolers. I felt like a nun buying condoms, let me tell you. But I went home and drank two of them, konked out and slept really good. Drinking alone. What had I come to? Felt so guilty I poured the other two out and hid the bottles before my kids came home.

Then I started dating Mr. OldFart who was an old fart, but also bought me lot of things and had traveled all around the world and went to dinner parties and cocktail parties and liked buying me girl clothes and sparkly shoes to dress up in. He taught me all about wine. I learned which one goes with what and how to pronounce them. I was now a worldly woman. Still felt guilty though, but not as much. I learned to "have a glass of wine with dinner" which was so cool and I still love the idea of.

So then, eventually, I met Mr. Right, who I am married to now. Mr. Right met his first wife in high school, and was a bit of a party wild child until girlfriend told him it was the booze or her (her dad was an alcoholic) and he rarely has drunk since. I said, I like a glass of wine now and then. He said ok. So we'd go out to eat and I'd order dinner and a glass of wine and he'd order diet coke. And I felt like a heathen.

Still do. Every now and then we have egg nog at Christmas, and he has a taste, but that's it. So now I just look at wine and occasionally have a glass, and either he does look at me disapprovingly or I feel so guilty I imagine he does. Either way, it's a hindrance to me ever being a serious drinker. ha.Which is probably what God had in mind when he sent him to me. Otherwise, if He hadn't been watching out for me, I'd probably be in rehab now. Now where was God when I married Satan and Mr. Oldfart?

(Interesting fact since I just found out it's not like this everywhere:
Here, where I live, you can't buy alcoholic beverages on Sunday. Nor can you order an alcoholic drink in a restaurant. In fact, if you go out to breakfast late on a Sunday morning, you'll be the only ones there- every one else is at church)

Whoopie, a Birthday Party

Today is my step-daughter's birthday. My husband and I invited them over for dinner and birthday cake. On my children's birthdays, I remember them when they were little and the things they have done growing up. With step-children, it's different. You have to relate to them without that foundation, and sometimes it's hard.
On the one hand, I don't want my husband to ever feel his daughter is unloved or unwelcome here. I felt that way with my step-mother, all my life. I don't want that to happen with us.
So I have been cleaning, and I baked a cake and laid out the ingredients for dinner. I hope they feel comfortable here.

Better than Cathy's Drop Dead Fred, Almost

I know ya'll are going to read this, and say it must be something I made up. But if you don't believe me, you can ask Plumbtuckered. She'll vouch for me.
I started cooking at age nine when I first made Scalloped Potatoes from a Cooking for Kids Cookbook, and I've cooked ever since....so that makes about forty years.

When I first married at seventeen, we were lucky to have enough money to buy hamburger and chicken, and I learned to make thousands of hamburger and chicken dishes, with plenty of pasta and rice to stretch them out. My point is, I didn't have much in the way of state of the art kitchen equipment to use. However, I did have a grater and a knife. (I'm still using the same grater I have had since seventeen.)
I used my grater to grate cheese and the knife to do everything else.

Now and then people use my kitchen to cook, like when my daughter and son-in-law come. They are both pretty good cooks, and make a mean spaghetti. My son-in-law once asked where I kept my food processor, to which I handed him the hand-held stainless steel grater. He just shook his head.... So that year, when they asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I said, well, you could get me a food processor. And they did.

I was so happy with it at Christmas, nice new shiny food processor in a box. After Christmas, I sat it in the dining room, and there the box sat for a month or so. Then I unpacked it, and it sat on the counter for awhile. I'd get ready to make dinner, and either forget I had it and grab the grater, or else I'd look at it and think it would be much easier to wash that small grater then all the parts to the food processor. So after awhile, with limited kitchen space in a townhome, I got into my wild decluttering mode, and told my husband to go donate it to the thrift store by our house. He did.

Well then after I got over my cleaning frenzy, I started thinking about my daughter and SIL coming to the house and wondering why I didn't have it, and I starting feeling very bad for getting rid of it. I hoped I wouldn't get discovered, and they never did. So a few years pass, and I went to Tuesday Morning to get this Kitchenaid Stand Mixer that was on sale. When I bought it, a fellow shopper said " I used my mixer all the time, and when my daughter got married, she borrowed it and hasn't brought it back, so I'm getting another. It's great. I love it almost as much as my food processor...."

She planted the seed, and that coupled with my guilt had me bidding on one on Ebay the next day. It came, nice, new, and went on my counter. My husband just smiled.
That was over a year ago. Never used it. Today I decide to make some au gratin potatoes and got out my knife to peel and slice. Got 'em all peeled and thought I might just give that food processor a whirl at slicing them. (Husband does dishes now.)
Oh MY GOD. I did in five seconds what it would have taken me ten minutes to do by hand. Duh. I'm getting modernized now people, a little at a time!!

Don't Wake Me When It's Over

I could write about my day yesterday, but I decided instead to write about my day as I wished it had been. Much more interesting.
I woke up to find my husband had let me sleep late, and it worked. I woke up at 9:30 instead of my usual time. He had gone to work, but before he left, he had a cleaning crew and a professional organizer come in. My house is organized and spotless, and now everything is so easy to find.
As I walked by the mirror to go get dressed, I notice I have lost weight overnight, and now have a perfect size eight figure. I also don't look a day over twenty-five. I realize I can skip makeup because I look fabulous already. Going into the closet, I see I have a whole new wardrobe of cute clothes to match my new figure, so it is easy to choose something that looks great to wear.
I go to check my email and have an email from my bank. It says I am their millionth customer, and they have awarded me ten million dollars, tax free.
I call my husband and he quits his job and comes home in a limo. I'm surprised to find that he looks different too, and could pass for Mel Gibson. He picks me up and we go to the airport and get on our private jet. We fly to North Carolina where we find the real estate agent we called has found us a beautiful log cabin vacation home in the mountains, with the most breathtaking view I've ever seen. The agent has also hired us a full time maid/cook, stocked the house with everything we could possibly need, had it professionally decorated (and the decorator knew just my style I realize as I look at all the antiques). I see there is also a masseuse coming in every day.
The maid has our lunch prepared and it is all my favorite foods. I am surprised to realize that I can eat all I want, and will not gain weight. After lunch, my favorite dulcimer player drops by, and I realize I can play as well as he can. We have a wonderful afternoon sitting on the screenporch overlooking the valley playing all the old songs. After he leaves, my husband and I explore the house, and find a library just like I've always wanted, filled with all the leather bound books I've always wanted. The library has a comfortable leather chair with ottoman and a big picture window with the same breathtaking view.
The masseuse comes by and gives us each a massage. We make love, then settle down in front of the fireplace, cuddled in a blanket, with a bottle of wine, and a picnic basket dinner.. He talks to me heart to heart way into the wee hours of the night, telling me all the sweet things I've always wanted to hear. We fall asleep in our king sized four poster bed, and it is the best night's sleep I've ever had....

Anyone Smell a Rat?

1) Jennifer Anniston agrees to go on Oprah and talk about Brad dumping her. We were all surprised she'd talk about it so soon, or at all. Oprah's ratings soar!
2) Oprah announces she's veered off her new trend of recommending classic literature for her bookclub, and instead surprisingly comes forward to hype A Million Little Pieces....Book sales soar!
3) It turns out Anniston owns the movie rights to A Million Little Pieces.....and her last three previously produced movies have flopped...
Anyone besides me smell a rat? Evidently The New York Daily News does, too. Hmm....
Brad scratches Jolie's back....Anniston scratches Freys....Oprah scratches Jennifer's...Jennifer scratches Oprah's....a lot of scratching going on....

Winter Blues, Jerks, and Chicken

I feel terrible today. I'm so tired and achy, and think I must be coming down with something. Plus lately I just don't feel like leaving the house at all. A friend asked me today if I am depressed. I think I tend to get this way mostly in the winter. Getting out of my sweats, putting on makeup, everything is a huge effort. The good thing is I know that once we get to the spring, I usually begin feeling better.
I ordered a scrapbook kit from QVC. If a woman feels bad, shopping usually works. ha. At least I'll be happy with the package arrives. It's a good thing that my mother-in-law isn't here, after her comments at Christmas about my packages.
I spent most of this evening doing our income taxes. I dreaded it because we sold a house this year and also don't have any dependents to count anymore. But so far, we're coming out ok. I still am waiting for one interest statement to add to it, before I know the bottom line.
I'm excited for my daughter to get home Sunday so I can hear about her Jamaica trip. So my thoughts are with her. My thoughts are also with Cathy, who is down battling her ex at the mediator's office.
I'm thinking of cancelling any obligations for the next couple of weeks, and just hibernating here at home. Then I wonder if that is just giving into this funk and not trying to get out of it. I don't know. I do think this is the most boring post I've ever done on this blog. Bear with me. Maybe I'll be more entertaining the next time.
There was some idiot jerk on Dr. Phil today saying he wants to keep his wife and have his mistress, too, but he's not sure why he feels he deserves that. Dr. Phil said its simple--he's arrogant and selfish. The guy didn't really want to hear that. He also emphasized to the wife that she shouldn't be sitting around waiting on him to make up his mind what SHE is going to do with her life. That she should make her own decision. Dr. Phil is usually pretty much on the money, although I believe I could have thought of a few adjectives more descriptive of the guy than arrogant and selfish. Much more descriptive adjectives...
My sweet husband brought home KFC today. Hadn't had that in awhile, until my blog buddies got me thinking about KFC. Been wanting some ever since. ha. My Granny used to cook dinner for us when my children were young. Once she thawed out a fryer and asked my middle son how he liked his chicken. He said in his three year old voice, "CoNul Sandaas". She laughed so hard at that. And then proceeded to make chicken and dumplings. Yum.

Forest Lady's State of the Union Speech

I watched the State of the Union address last night. I think it's amazing how a person can talk that long and say nothing. I am reminded of a Rotary meeting I once attended, where a local politician gave a speech. Afterwards he asked for questions.

One lady stood up and said she is a retired teacher, and what did he intend to do to help the educational situation. He then talked about how important he feels education is, how he has his own children and realizes its value, how he plans to make it a number one priority, yada yada yada. After his long windy answer, he asks if anyone else has a question. This same lady stands back up. She said well you didn't answer my question. I want to know what you are going to DO and how you are going to DO it.

This sent him on another long diatribe of meaningless chatter, and again she stood up. She said she was sick of politicians who talk around issues because they don't want to admit they have no plan to actually DO anything. He quickly switched subjects and ended his question segment. I have to admit the woman had balls. And she was right.

I could have given the State of the Union speech for Bush.

"You may or may not have Social Security. Don't count on it. If we handle that program the way we handle all the other government programs, there's a good chance you'll just pay into it all your life and get nothing. As for education, I'm going to talk a lot and try not to have you realize that if we want quality education for our children, we go back to teacher's pay and offer something to them to attract quality teachers to this profession. Quality teachers equals quality education. You get what you pay for. The dumb-ing down of America is a reality. When people get to that crossroads of deciding whether to get a regular math degree or a educational math degree, and they look at the salary comparisons, which way do you think the good ones go?
If you want healthcare, you'll pay through the teeth for it, have none you can afford if you change jobs, and it's a crap shoot whether you'll get a doctor who knows what he's doing. If you have no insurance, you'll get what you can pay for, nothing.
We could pull out of Iraq, but then I'd look like a big idiot for getting us into this to begin with, so I think we better just stay until I get out of office and let someone else deal with this mess. And since the terrorists use fear, I will too, and remind you often of 9/11 and how it could happen again if you don't listen to me.
The truth is I can stand up here and promise all this stuff that WE are going to do, but since our congress is so divided, and are more concerned about being different than having anything in common, they're not going to come together to actually get anything done. Good luck folks"

End of Speech