Thursday, May 31, 2007

Wednesday, May 30, 2007


I called my cousin Margot to wish her a Happy Birthday (a day late), and the following was a snippet of one of our many conversations:

During the course of the conversation, Margot starts to sort of giggle.

"I'm sorry," she says. "It's just that as you've been talking, I can hear that you're losing the hard Michigan accent. It's getting softer. You're getting a slight Kentucky thing."

"Oh no! I'm assimilating!"

More laughter from Margot. "It's okay. It happened to me when we lived in Dallas. My friend, Lark, used to tease me about it all the time."

No, No, NO! This is unacceptable. You can take the girl out of Michigan, but you can't take Michigan out of the girl! No! I've got to make a trip home soon. I just can't lose that harsh, nasally Northern accent that grates on every one's last nerve!

Sunday, May 27, 2007


I had an epiphany today ...

The other night, Christy called me to see if I was feeling any better. During the course of conversation, I told her that I had run out to the store, but probably shouldn't have as I really didn't have all my faculties yet, and almost killed myself twice while driving. It was that, or all the drugs I've been given to knock out the ALLERGIES ON A RAMPAGE, part 2.

Christy responded with a heavy sigh and, "Megan! I could have done that for you. You are just too stubborn and independent!"

She's right, really. And here's where the epiphany comes in ... I think my stubborn independence is getting in the way of my really letting my guard down and finding that really deep relationship. This is brilliant that I suddenly realize this about myself. It means I can work on it, right?

This is a genetic component woven into my inner being. I've been this way forever. You need only ask one of the parental units to get the full picture.

There was the time I practically electricuted myself to death because, as a toddler, I didn't give two hoots what the parents said, I was going to stick my slobbery finger in the electric outlet behind the sofa!

Or the Sunday morning I was about 4 or 5 years old, and my father and I started WORLD WAR III because I was going to wear the floral print skirt with the plaid blouse, and I could have given a rat's you-know-what if I looked like a rag picker.

Or the summer I had to take summer school before entering kindergarten because I absolutely refused to walk along the balance beam. I vividly remember thinking, "Ummm ... everyone can do this! Why must I prove it to you, lady?"

This streak of self-assured independence goes back a long way. I just need to figure out how to overcome it. I'm guessing it's going to take a special guy to deal with the likes of me ...

... And of course, I had this grand epiphany while staring at the sort of good-looking police officer (sans ring, ladies!) that came to church on his break this morning! Good glory! I need to attend some sort of Uniforms Anonymous meeting or something ...

Saturday, May 26, 2007


It's prom night in Frankfort.

At a staff meeting the other day, the high school moms in the group were discussing prom, and it was mentioned that everyone goes to the Capitol for pictures.

Now, I'm thinking to myself, "yeah, right! Not EVERYONE goes to the Capitol for pictures, and honestly, what's the point?"

Well, tonight, after sleeping three hours (this is how run-down I've been), I went out for one last errand, and, upon completion of said errand, I decided to drive around the Capitol, seeing as it was such a beautiful night.

Ummm ... HELLO!! There needed to be crowd control. EVERY BODY, indeed, goes to the Capitol to get their prom pictures taken, because EVERY BODY was there! I almost ran over a set of parents, because they walked out in front of me, after taking a GAZILLION photos of their little darling in front of the Floral Clock!

I saw no less than three limos in various forms of stretch, and every color in the rainbow was represented in the form of ball gowns. Apparently, girls in the south carry nose gays rather than wear corsages. Who knew?

All I've got to say is, Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore ...


Today, I visited the Dodge dealership. This wasn't a social call. No, no. I had to have my window regulator replaced. You see, in my infinite wisdom, I attempted, one frigid morning, to engage my driver's side power window ... on one of the coldest Kentucky days on record.

This is not recommended. It doesn't end well.

My appointment today was at 8 a.m. I've been sick all week, but I drug my butt out before the rest of the world had awakened because not having the window functioning was a safety issue.

I arrived with 10 minutes to spare, coffee in hand, ready to hand over the keys to Little Red. The nice lady at the service counter greeted me with a smile and friendly niceties and told me I could wait on the park bench outside of the service department, seeing as it was a nice day. In my mind, this was a perfect idea! I could enjoy my coffee and try my hardest to get the synapses in my brain firing all at once rather than at random intervals! So I settled in ...

At 8 a.m., the nice lady walked out to my truck and put a floor mat and plastic seat cover in my car, and Jimmy the Mechanic followed her out to "take a look at the truck." He smiled, gave Little Red a once over -- poor little thing is so dirty right now -- and walked back to the garage, taking a leisurely drag on his cigarette.

"Okay," I'm thinking. "Jimmy's going to finish the cigarette and get started. I should be out of here by 8:45 or 9 a.m., at the latest."

"Hey!" Jimmy hollered at the nice lady. "We got any coffee brewed?"

Crap! This is what I get for thinking!

At approximately 8:05 a.m., Jimmy sauntered back outside, coffee cup in hand, and decided to start chatting with me!

"I'm Jimmy, and I'm going to be taking care of your car here soon."

I thanked him, and, apparently, this was, in his mind, an invitation to start asking the "where are you from" questions. Turns out, he used to work in Battle Creek, Kalamazoo, and Three Rivers ... places, I am very familiar with, but, quite frankly, this line of conversation wasn't getting the window regulator in my truck working.

I am pretty sure Jimmy was trying to flirt with me, and I certainly would have been inclined to flirt back if Jimmy had actually started his job any where in close proximity to 8 a.m. Instead, it was nearer to the 8:30 a.m. time slot before Jimmy hopped into my truck, floored it, going from 0 to 80 in under 3 seconds, into the garage. Perhaps he gets points for making vehicles actually take flight into the garage ...

It's at this point, I must say, with much conviction, that I desperately miss my auto mechanic back home!!!!! John, and his sister, Denise, are just AWESOME! I am currently trying to come up with a convincing proposal for John ... I think they need to franchise, and Frankfort would be the perfect place to locate! I mean, L & L Auto of Frankfort sure has a nice ring to it ....

At any rate, I have to keep in mind, that folks down here move at a slower pace, and, God Bless them, they are as friendly as the day is long. This is such a refreshing change of pace from the "rush-rush-rush, don't speak to anyone unless spoken to" attitude up north. Still, could no one tell that I just wanted my truck back?

As my father wisely pointed out, as he so often does, "this was a costly lesson for you to learn, wasn't it? Think it's something you will remember?"

Ah ... yeah! At the cost of $353.22, I think I have learned my lesson!

Friday, May 25, 2007


Not the best photos, but it's my summer 'do!


I am up here blogging until my eyes go cross-eyed, which I think they are getting ready to do.

Yes, I am home sick ... again!

And I'm bored. There's just only so much TLC'S A BABY STORY one can watch before ...

A. viewing one more live birth just completely freaks a single girl out

B. you feel the urge to gag on the syrupy sweetness of it all.

C. you look at the happy couple and have a strong desire to say, "Oh yeah. Junior is a totally sweet bundle of joy, until about the 4th night of no sleep ... or when he starts getting those teeth ... or when he hits the 6th grade. Then we'll see just how sweet that sweaty, stinky, hormones in skin is!"

Tuesday, May 22, 2007


Down here in the south, when you are mad at someone, and you are telling your friends that you yelled at the aforementioned "mad at" person, you say you fussed at that them.

I suppose it's a more genteel way of saying, "I screamed at them until my eyes popped out of my head and green bile flew from my mouth." I mean, you can't really sip sweet tea and say that sentence and come out looking like anything but a flipping lunatic, right?

So, today, I fussed at someone.

I moved down here to the land of Bourbon and horses almost 10 months ago. At the time, my mother warned me, "if you don't find a doctor, with your history of upper respiratory infections, you're going to find yourself up crap creek." That's my mother's version of fussing at me.

Well, as per usual, and one of the many reasons, she says, she has so many gray hairs, I put off finding a doctor ... a dentist ... an allergist ... an auto mechanic ... a brake and tire guy ... a ... well, I think you see the list is endless ...

Then I got tonsillitis, and well, I decided that perhaps it would be prudent, finding a doctor and dentist and what not.

My new doctor handed me a release form and told me, that easy as that, they would get my records from my old doctor. This, in my mind, sounded simple.

NOBODY, and I do mean N.O.B.O.D.Y. told me I would need to pay to have those records, which I find out today, I can't really ever have, no matter what the amount of money I would pay to get them, even though they are about M.E.! Yes, I need to pay someone to copy them, send them in the mail, and deliver to my new doctor. Even if I traveled up to Michigan myself, walked into my doctor's office, signed the release form in their presence, I still would have to pay for them to have a service come in and copy all those documents, and they STILL would not let me take MY OWN RECORDS ABOUT MY BODY with me to my new doctor in Kentucky. Amazing, right? And not in the good way ...

And because she could tell I wasn't buying the argument, the billing lady at my old doctor's office says to me, just to sell me on the whole process, "Really, you are getting quite a deal. These people are highly trained in copying these documents."

HIGHLY TRAINED! What sort of machine are you running!? Does it make Xerox copies and cook a 7-course gourmet meal? Cuz, I would be totally on-board with that one! That would seem like money well-spent.

However, it's just me. I have no major medical problems, other than the fact I am carrying around weight that amounts to a small child in the form of my butt. Really, nothing all that note-worthy or important in those documents. Certainly, nothing that needs the attention of HIGHLY TRAINED COPY MACHINE SPECIALISTS.

Oh yeah, I fussed at her ....

Sunday, May 20, 2007


I think that I have a pterodactyl living in my back yard.

I didn't think this was possible what with pterodactyls being all prehistoric and stuff, but then Christy told me that she's got one in her neighborhood, way over there on the west side of town. She knows this because she find the evidence of him all over her car each morning!

That would explain the reason I find bird-like excrement all over my truck, my front door, my patio ... the list is endless, but folks, it's usually the size of a mutant bear paw!

That would also explain why, every Sunday morning, sometime around 5 and 7 a.m., I hear a half-human, half-crazed animal sound that falls somewhere in between sheer terror and maniacal pleasure and that the pierces the early morning air, and my otherwise sound beauty sleep.

It's either a pterodactyl, or some crazed lunatic escapee from an unsavory assylum that only urban legends are made of. Perhaps, because it's Sunday, he's come out from under his over-grown hide-away and is suddenly filled with the spirit and has no other recourse but to shout at the top of his lungs!

That or he's been spending an exorbitant amount of time down the road at the Jim Beam plant, licking up the left-overs from the sour mash vats.

Friday, May 18, 2007


I am bone tired.

I always get this way during the last few weeks of school.

The kids sap all my energy. The paperwork saps all my energy. Breathing saps all of my energy.

A bunch of us from work went to our favorite hang out, Casa Fiesta, after school. It was sad ... there we all sat, chins resting on hands, trying to have conversations, but all we could really do was fight yawns between sentences. P.I.T.I.F.U.L.

So goes another exciting Friday night when you're a single girl in Kentucky! The big news will be if I can manage to stay awake while reading my news BETTER HOMES AND GARDENS.

Seriously, folks! I am too exciting for my own life!

Monday, May 14, 2007

Sunday, May 13, 2007



I can't remember the last time I could breathe, unfettered, through my nose. I can't remember when I didn't wheeze during some sort of physical activity. Sometime around my senior year of high school, I was diagnosed with allergies (later on, exercise-induced asthma) -- allergies to cats (which does nothing to explain why I own the orneriest cat alive), grass, dust, various trees, and pollen of many different varieties.

One of the symptoms of my particular allergies is that, on certain "bad" allergy days, I feel run-down ... almost drugged.

I woke up yesterday morning with all sorts of ideas on how to spend my day ... laundry ... dusting ... vacuuming ... scrubbing ... polishing ... being highly effective.

Guess what!? It didn't work. Turns out yesterday was a BAD ALLERGY DAY. I was reduced to a sniffling blob of human flesh that moved from one piece of living room furniture to another, exhausted at the mere activity of turning the pages of a magazine!

The end of the day left me feeling very guilty.

  • Guilty because I didn't get my laundry done.
  • Guilty because my house was still a pig sty.
  • Guilty because I sat on my butt all day long.

This morning, it occurred to me. Why feel guilty about actually enjoying a day of complete and total relaxation?

We run so much, we tend to forget to stop and smell the roses (provided you can smell, which I can't). We have a bad habit of just racing through a day ... a month ... a year ... a lifetime, and we find ourselves at the end, saying, "Well, shoot! I thought I would have more time!"

I'm no longer going to feel guilty for enjoying a day of doing nothing. Our spirits and our souls need that every now and again.

Thursday, May 10, 2007


I had a horrible realization last night. I have turned into my sixth grade teacher. Miss S. was mean, and I intend M.E.A.N. MEAN! She was so strict that you dared not breathe without asking her permission first. She was ridiculous with her ability to be strict.

As I think back on it, I believe she was the age I am now, 35, and she was single like me. In fact, the only difference between us was that she had long chin hairs, and I pluck my chin hairs before they get too long!

Great! I've turned into Miss S.!

Monday, May 07, 2007


I love to go to antique shops. I love to look for bargains. I love to look for those hard-to-find items and unique, funky things.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day to do just that. I went to Shelbyville with Christy, and we hit two of my favorite stores; JUST FOR FUN and THE RUBY ROOSTER.

I found this very cool, very funky creamer at JUST FOR FUN. It's Czechoslovakian, very unique in and of itself because ... well, last time I checked, Czechoslovakia no longer exists as a country, right?

Anyway, I think I may have found my new obsession!


Sunday, May 06, 2007



Unless you live under a rock, you know that, beyond being CINCO DE MAYO, yesterday was the 133rd running of the Kentucky Derby. If you lived in Kentucky, you knew it was THE event of the year! If you lived in the state capitol, like I do, then you went to the Derby Breakfast on the Capitol Grounds. I went with my friend and teaching buddy, Erin. Here are some photos of the day ...

President and Mrs. Lincoln

Not sure who these people are ..


One word for my dear readers ... it is the reason why I've been silent these last few days ... and why I've been so crabby ... tonsillitis. Yep! I had tonsillitis!

It all started Monday ... a slight sore throat. It snow-balled into a TERRIBLY sore throat and culminated in my going to an after-hours clinic on Friday to get drugs. Gotta tell you, though, Cefprozil is the BOMB! One pill, and my throat was just slightly sore. Two pills later, and the soreness and swollness were completely gone.

Gotta love them drugs!

Tuesday, May 01, 2007


A short explanation ...
Maddie the Cat doesn't like my dad. In fact, she despises him ... abhors his presence ... loves to hate him with every fiber of her being. My father, coincidentally, loves to pester her, just to make sure the love-hate relationship is firmly embedded. They are the epitome of oil and water.
While the parental units were down visiting, I put an order in for a travel coffee mug (big surprise there, right) that my old church is selling as a fundraiser. My mother sent it down, and, during the process of packing, they got the bright idea to send a baggie full of "Papa Scent" just for Maddie.
So, today, my travel mug arrive, and, with it, a Ziploc baggie with two cotton pads saturated in my dad's cologne also arrived.
Here's where it gets weird ... Maddie LOVED it! She rolled, licked and bit the snot of of the cotton pads!!! I was beginning to feel a little badly about the possibility of "cologne poisoning." So, the pads were promptly picked up and hidden.