Thursday, April 28, 2011

Going *bump* *boom* *bang*

I didn't get much sleep last night ... or maybe that was this morning ... not really sure. I just know I've not slept well, and here it is 8:18 in the morning, and I'm sitting here during my planning, trying to figure out how to keep my eyes from feeling all red and itchy and blood-shot.

Mercifully, we didn't get the nasty storms that were forecasted for our area when the cold front blew through. Alabama seemed to keep them all to themselves, poor souls.

What we did get were high winds, which of course, woke my already tired butt up and kept me up until almost three o'clock. There was some sort of banging going on above my head, but a quick check of the roof this morning revealed nothing. I'm not sure if I'm just losing it or what, but exhaustion has set in to a point that I'm almost unable to function.

I'm praying for calm, peaceful sleep tonight. I need it desperately. My body is beginning to reject the massive influx of nasty weather in the last month. I mean, the upside to this is that I'm down three more pounds. However, I'm not entirely sure if that is a healthy three pounds down.

I will contemplate that while I suck on the coffee cup full of liquid gold and attempt to make some sense of the jumbled mass that is my brain this morning ...

Monday, April 25, 2011

Blowing in

UGH! Three more days of wicked weather.

Can I just tell you how SICK of this I am?

In case you weren't aware ... in case you've been living under a rock and haven't been privy to my HOURLY updates on how sick of this weather I am, let me just fill you in.

I. AM. SICK. OF. THIS. WEATHER.

I am sick of seeking shelter.

I am sick of the fact that my yard looks like amber waves of grain ... only in the shade of green.

I am sick of the awful, howling sound the wind makes on my roof.

I am sick of worrying about stray limbs and trees that *might* fall on top of me.

And, quite honestly, I am most sick of the headaches. It's a constant, 24-7 vice grip on my head that just won't ever stop. I am constantly sick. And for some added pleasure, I'm even contending with dizziness ... all the time .... and when I least expect it ... and all at the same time.

Really. Can we just stop with all the weather dramatics? PLEASE!

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Doing the happy dance

It's been a relatively boring day in anticipation of another stormy, rainy week ahead ... so I've been laying low and napping.

However, I am celebrating for two reasons:
  1. I am down another pound, and I am one pound away from meeting my 5% weight goal!!!
  2. I received my grades for this semester. I GOT AN A!!!! Let's do a count on the letter grades so far, shall we?
  • A's = 5
  • B's = 1

Friday, April 22, 2011

Weeds

My yard is a sea of old dandelions.

It's ridiculous, really, the amount of them in my yard.

When you survey the rest of the neighborhood, the yards are green and lush and weed-free. And then there's my yard.

Yesterday was one of THOSE days. You know the ones ... 15 million meetings ... exhaustion sets in early and leaves you a gigantic mass of skin and blubberiness with a nervous twitch.

We are suppose to get rain from now until the end of time, it seems, according to local meteorologists. So, really, I should have pulled my Big Girl Panties on and just mowed the lawn. But it was 7:30 p.m. when I got home, and I was hungry ... and tired ... and cranky ... and I didn't feel good ... and I was headachy ... and I didn't want to.

So, I ate dinner and sat on the couch, and that's when I noticed that someone had shoved a flyer under the handle of my front door. It was a flyer from SCOTT'S LAWN CARE, and it had a little handwritten note that said I could contact Todd for more information.

I used my context clues to figure out what Todd was really saying, which was: "Geez, lady! Your lawn is a HOT MESS! Call me now before it grows right over the roof of your house, and you and the cat are never heard from again."

Todd offended me. Remember ... I was hungry ... and tired ... and cranky ... and I didn't feel good ... and I was headachy ... so I threw his flyer away. And I sat there ... and I dared the lawn to grow more ... and I decided I would rather deal with it later.

Take that, Todd!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Bruised feelings

I'm fat.

It's taken me a while to admit that, but I have. In doing so, I've acknowledged that I need to do something about it.

That is why I have been so public about Weight Watchers and the struggle that I know will be my journey to a healthier me.

A lot of stuff led up to me deciding that it was definitely time to turn the table of The Fat.





  1. The Fat had sucked up my entire 30s. I didn't want it being a major player in my 40s. The Forties are Fabulous, and The Fat had no place in my fabulous.


  2. I need to be more mindful of my health.


  3. I feel like The Fat has been a major road block in the things that I want to do and accomplish in my life. The good news about road blocks is that they can be moved. There is a correction to be made.



That's what makes what happened recently so hurtful.




I was not asked to join in a group event that others were asked to join, on the QT, by the way, because I am fat.




When you make the concerted effort NOT to include everyone, you automatically send messages to those ommitted persons that they are some how not worth it ... that they don't matter. I'm not upset because I would have liked to do it. Truth be told, this particular event is not good for my bad knee. However, would I have liked the option to say, "Thank you so much for thinking of me, but I'd rather do this alternative ... or thank you, but I'd rather not?"


Yes, I would have.


I'm fat. But I'm working to change that. Thank you to all that support me in my fight ... that encourage me daily ... that somehow see me as an inspiration. And thank you for not judging me because of it. Your love and support are like diamonds to me!



Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Storm-sickness

The weather is in a real, funky pattern these days in the Bluegrass, and I don't mind admitting that I dislike it immensely. So much so, that I'm willing to put it in all caps ... DISLIKE. There. I did it.

The pattern? We get two or three days of lovely weather, if not overly warm, and then we get walloped with a storm system that brings a cold front, just in time for another warm up for two or three days and then a wallop that drags with it a cold front, just in time for another warm up for two or three days ...

Do I sound like a broken record?

Hey! Do you know that most people that are younger than me don't know what the figure of speech sounding like a broken record even means?

That is so sad.

My sister and I both had record players and plenty of records growing up. I had a Winnie the Pooh record player. Hers was, of course, Strawberry Shortcake. Girl had a thing for Miss Shortcake.

Anyway, we'd get so excited about ripping a record off and replacing it with another one, that we'd rake the player needle over the record, subsequently scratching it, and pretty much ensuring that it would skip on those one set of lyrics every single time you played the record from then on ... usually, your favorite song.

I know, I know. Some of you are sitting in front of your computers, reading these words, and you're thinking, "Dang it! I gotta google this RECORD PLAYER thing. Sounds like something a cave man used!"

So, yeah ... our weather.

Let's just say, it has sucked every fourth day or so for about a month and a half. Not as bad as the weather system that ripped through North Carolina, mind you, but it has had it's own brand of suckage. Let's just say that.

For days leading up to last night, the weather folks have been yapping about this volatile storm system to the point that it actually sounded akin to the Apocalypse or something.

You know, what I've come to realize? When a weather person yaps and yaps, the weather system is gonna be all talk and no show. It's the quiet ones you've got to worry about.

At any rate, they'd been yapping about it, and I must admit, I started getting a little nervous as my head began banging a good deal ahead of when the storm was suppose to hit ... inconveniently, in the middle of the night, when weather-phobes like me will not be able to properly fret and stew about it, inevitably working themselves up into a good lather.

Like a brilliant, first-rate brain surgeon, I went to bed without taking any medicine for my full-blown migraine, and I ended up tossing and turning with the violent headache until the time that the wind starting howling across my house like a freakin' freight train. It was at that point that I decided to check the weather, discovered that we did, in fact, have a weather situation on our hands, and then grabbed my supplies to head to the basement.

Seriously, I need to create a kit and set up a cot down there. It's getting to be that much of a pain. Even the cat sighed like my fourth graders do when I assign homework, as I dragged her down the steps. She was misinterpreting the middle-of-the-night-wake-up as a chance to play with me.

I won't bore you with the details ... like the detail where I got down to the basement and realized that I needed to use the bathroom -- during the height of the storm. Quite a moral dilemma there, folks. Should I stay down in the basement so the rescue workers can find me in my own puddle of urine? Or should I brave the second floor and get sucked up in the vortex of the storm while sitting on the great, white throne? Neither way is the best way to go, I've decided ... both have a certain amount of cons involved.

Yeah, I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say that I racked up MAYBE two and a half hours of sleep, and that I am so ready for a nap that I have no clue what any of this blog is really about. So, when I leave school this afternoon, I am making a bee line to my bed, and I swear that if ANY ONE calls me and wakes me up from my nap, I will hunt them down and make them wish that those 80 mph winds had, in fact, made their way to our town last night.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

InCITEful

There are certain times in her life that, wherein my mother hears what has just come forth from my mouth ... or read what has just rolled off of my proverbial pen ... that her head hits the desk, and she moans incomprehensible words of complete disgust, all the while crying out to my father, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! I TRIED TO RAISE LADIES!"

Today, Elly and I were having a lively discussion about the merits (some may say, the lack thereof) of MLA Style.

In my long-winded rant to Elly about the merits of the aforementioned MLA Style, I made the following comment regarding said citation requirements at my own personal Hell, or what is commonly known as Grad School:

"Shoot! IF I FART, I HAVE TO CITE IT!!!!!"

I use ALL CAPS to get my point across, as you can see. Additionally, I use a lot of exclamation points. Elly, I am certain, reads that as my arms flapping, and my voice getting all high and pitchy.

Elly's reply to my genteel comment went something like this:

"How do you cite a fart????"

It's a fair question. So, of course, I had to reply:

"Murray, M.J. 2011. The gas that killed a small nation. Frankfort, KY: The Pooter Press."

Bedlam

You know my flair for the dramatic, so perhaps BEDLAM is the wrong word for today, but it seems to sum up what I see at my house as of late.

For the three weeks that I was on Spring Break, my life was organized brilliance.

Okay, for me, it was organized brilliance.

Dishes were done DAILY. If I got a wild hair, sometimes dishes were done TWICE DAILY.

My bed was made, usually right after I got out of it in the morning.

Clothes were put away.

Items were ironed and hung in the appropriate places.

Cat hair was under control and not floating all over the place.

[Insert heavy, longing sigh here] I walked into my house after class last night ... a class that went on for much longer than should be humanly possible and allowable ... and BEDLAM met me at the door. Okay, Emmy met me at the door, but by her very nature, she is BEDLAM, and since she causes the lion's share of BEDLAM, BEDLAM did indeed meet me at the door.

My floors are covered in a thin layer of cat hair ...

My sink is full of dishes (I suspect that's part of the funky odor in my kitchen) ...

My bed hasn't been made in more than a week ...

Clothes are EVERYWHERE ...

Nothing is ironed ...

Bedlam ...

I'm always amazed ... wide-eyed with wonder at the rapid speed at which my life is overtaken by the chaos of living. I'm on a constant race to control it.

I don't like structure, but I can only function when I'm under structure.

Yes, the irony of such a dichotomy has not been lost on this philosophical 30-something!

I wonder if that is how hoarding happens .... when you get to a place where you just allow BEDLAM to rule and give in to the utter lack of control.

And that is why I fight it. I realize that the likelihood of me getting married and having children is getting less and less likely. So, I realize that I will need to rely on friends and possibly some family in my old age to check in on me and make sure I'm still kicking. The LAST thing I want is for one of them to find me dead, buried under boxes of flotsam and jetsam ... next to the rotting carcases of my 20 cats.

This afternoon, after I write my last paper for this insanely, ridiculous class that has lasted way too long, I will be waging a war on BEDLAM.

That cloud of dust and debris you see on the United States radar map? That's me and BEDLAM in a headlock.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Frustration!

A few years ... listen, don't do the math on me today. I'm in no mood. A few years ago, there was this show called THE PEE WEE HERMAN SHOW. I wasn't a fan, mainly because it was below me in terms of television viewing ... I was soooo mature then, don't you know. However, every so often, on a Saturday morning that my parents weren't hounding me to get up and do something with the day, I would catch a glimpse of the annoying antics of Pee Wee Herman. Among the many things that Pee Wee and his cast did was to have the word of the day. Every time someone said the word, they'd all scream and shout and generally act bizarre. It's in that spirit that I introduce my word of the day. FRUSTRATION! Two months ago, I started Weight Watchers. I did so publicly, because I needed to be accountable. I was skeptical about whether the program would work for me. Nothing ever had. So, you can imagine how excited I was, when within four weeks of being on the program, I'd lost 10 pounds. Insert screeching wheels here. That's where it stopped. Hit a brick wall. With an ugly crash. Mangled wreckage everywhere. Okay, perhaps a tad melodramatic. You get my point though. For the past four weeks now, I've been losing and gaining the same one to two pounds, and it's now getting to the point of being maddening! I know that I need to up my exercise, but it's difficult when you are attempting to juggle a full work week, tons of meetings, AND a full load of grad classes with all the STUPID assignments that go along with them. So, if throughout the day, when someone utters the word FRUSTRATION, and you hear screaming and crying and gnashing of teeth? That's me. It's my word of the day, and in the spirit of Pee Wee Herman, I'm making it known.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Multi-tasking




She can take a nap AND talk on the phone. Yep! Just that talented!

Semantics

Today was my grocery shopping day. I didn't plan it that way. It just ended up being that I would grossly misjudge the time I had available this morning, completely miss church (both services), and spend my morning organizing coupons, planning meals, and getting a grocery list together.

You would think, with all this organizing going on, that ...
A.) my house would be immaculate
B.) my grocery shopping list would be entirely checked off.

You would be wrong on both counts.

But that's a blog for another time.

So, while I was grocery shopping through the brand new Save-A-Lot....

We have TWO Save-A-Lots in town now... yes, we're THAT blessed.

While I was wheeling my cart through the brand-spanking new Save-A-Lot, my eyes rested upon a case filled with Tombstone pizzas, and that brought a smile to my face.

Not for the reason you might think.

See, I know how you reason through my blogs. You read the word pizza, and you think, "Ahhh ... she's got a thing for pizza!", which is not entirely untrue. However, in this case, I am smiling because my mother outright refuses to eat Tombstone pizza. She will eat any other frozen pizza variety out there, but absolutely, positively NOT Tombstone pizza.

Why, you may ask?

Well, for obvious reasons, obviously. It's because of the tombstones. She can't bring herself to eat anything that is called tombstone.

I can't bring myself to eat anything that has the word POOP in it.

I suppose it's semantics.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Recalibrating

I've been pretty quiet in recent days.

Oh ... you hadn't noticed? Well, I have been.

I'm calling it a Recalibration. Sounds fancy, doesn't it?

So what does it mean?

In case you missed it, for the past three weeks, I have been enjoying a well-needed break. We like to call it Spring Break. It was not so much SPRING as it was just a break. The weather wasn't always cooperative.

What did I do on my Spring Break?

Why so kind of you to ask me!

  • I spent money! Boy, did I spend money!
  • I worked in my yard.
  • I drank a lot of coffee.
  • I read a lot of magazines.
  • I had some wonderful lunch dates.
  • I spent a GREAT deal of time in Lowes.
  • I turned my brain off, and I coasted.
That last one was the most important one.

NO! Going to Lowe's, practically, every day was NOT the most important thing I did.

Okay ... maybe a close second.

But turning my brain off and coasting was what I needed. I have spent the better part of my school year stressed beyond the point of humanly healthy. Lest you think I am really being a drama queen, allow me to paint you a picture. My jaw would start hurting, and I would immediately start getting a KILLER headache ..... ummmm .... yeah. NOT. GOOD.

This break, I made a concerted effort to unplug ... to de-stress ... to not worry. For the most part, I was successful.

If I am going to make it to FAB BY FORTY, then I need to do more of that.

Yes, I have priorities.

Yes, I have important obligations.

But no, none of those things define me as a person.

I am heading into tomorrow more than likely not fully prepared. Balls will be dropped. But you know what, I'm not going to stress about it. Life is more than deadlines and emotional outbursts of other people.

Life is good and should be enjoyed and savored ... like a great bottle of Moscato ... by new favorite wine, by the way!

To Spring! To renewal! To recalibration!


Friday, April 01, 2011

He didn't count on a 12-pound cat in his relaxing scenario

Four residences ago ... by the way, that's how I count time in my adult life ... by the places I've lived in. Considering that I've been on my own since I was 23 or 24 (I was a late bloomer -- don't judge), I have occupied six apartments and/or houses. That's a lot of years in either cat or human years. It doesn't matter which you're counting.

So, four humble abodes ago, I decided that I needed to expand my horizons as well as limber up my aging muscles, and I purchased some yoga DVDs.

Oh who am I kidding? In the spirit of full disclosure, I purchased a few VCR tapes. Good grief! Four houses ago, I was probably 29 NOT my current 39, and I didn't have the first clue what stiff muscles were back then!

But I purchased this VCR tape (I might want to upgrade to the DVD, considering the tape was making a weird crunching sound this morning) entitled AM Yoga. I purchased this tape despite the fact that yoga dude on the front was in a black Speedo.

Can I just digress for a moment here and say .... EEEEWWWWW!

Gentlemen, really? There is only one time that I can see that sporting a Speedo is necessary, and that would be if you are an Olympic-caliber swimmer, and heck! Even those dudes are sooooo over the Speedo. You've noticed that they are starting to wear body suits, right? Even those guys are grossed out by their own scantily clad bodies ... and they are FIT! Absolutely no body fat whatsoever. No beer gut, and let's also come to terms with something else here, guys. Drinking light beer isn't going to reduce the belly fat any further and allow you to squeeze into one of those fashion nightmares.

Please, male readers, please. Spare us all (and yourselves) a stomach revolting view. Just invest in some board shorts, please. I beg of you.

Despite the fact that the yoga dude was in a Speedo, I bought the tape because it claimed to help transition a person from waking to day in 20 minutes, and let's face it. Who doesn't need such a transition? I mean, I've got my coffee, but if I can gain the help of the dude on the beach with sun rising over his ... well, his Speedo, then sign me up!

And the natural setting they used is breathtaking ... gorgeous lake ... sun rising ... waves lapping onto the golden beaches ... relaxing mood music ... it's serene, and honestly, if I could do AM Yoga every morning in that sort of a setting, mornings might not be so difficult to come to terms with.

What you don't see in the video is a 12-pound cat that comes out of NO WHERE and stretches out lazily on the yoga mat in a blink of an eye and then refuses to be removed from said yoga mat without the use of force ... claws ... bared teeth ... and a few well-chosen curses.

What you don't see in the video, as yoga dude is relaxing into reclined mountain pose, is the aforementioned feline sticking her tongue in the yoga devotee's nose, because for some unknown and inexplicable reason, there is an urgency in licking the inside of the human's nose.

What you don't see in the video is the 12-pound cat racing around the individual, who is desperately trying to relax and transition from wake to day, batting at toys that she has turned her nose up at for three days straight, but for some reason MUST. PLAY. WITH. THEM. ALL. AT. THE. MOMENT. HUMAN. ATTEMPTS. DOWNWARD. DOG.

I'm not sure how well I transitioned from wake to day, but I did narrowly escape serious injury to my neck. For that I can be eternally grateful.