good luck, class of 2010.

(first off, thanks to all who emailed and left comments on my bringing in da funk. my intent was to call my doctor this week, but settling back in to a routine after Vegas proved more challenging than even i anticipated. next week is looking much better - and i'll let you know what comes of it. feeling the way i did scared the hell out of me...i'm a person usually in control of those emotions and buddy, feeling out of control was.not.pleasant. moving on...)

next week, one of my best friend's kids graduates from high school...roughly coughcoughchoke30yearscoughcough after her auntie did. and while she's readying for the next phase in her life, i'm currently working with some of my fellow alumni on our next reunion this summer.

and that, of course, makes me feel nostalgic. not only for the youthful optimism we all had back then, but for that youthful metabolism.

dammit.

but again, i digress.

back in the day, when i dreamed of fame (and Donny), i only thought of accolades. awards. making amazing strides in the world of literature...which is what i thought i was gonna do.
life, as always, had other plans.

(but now i have a blog. take that, life!)

looking back, as i'm doing this a.m., i think of niecey-poo...beginning the next Big Adventure, and, as i am wont to do, am imagining myself giving a commencement speech. THIS should keep 'em off drugs, eh?

here goes.

Good evening, and congratulations Class of 2010...you made it! (wait for whooooops to die down)
I realize as you sit there, wearing those stupid hats...seriously, who thought 'hey, let's design a hat that can also double as a coffee table' was a good idea...not to mention those robes, because nine times out of ten, you graduate on a hot June day. And while layers, normally, are good, they're not so good when you aren't sure if you're on the field graduating or in a sauna, sweating.

Sorry. Old people like me tend to ramble on.

Tonight, as you've been hearing for the last few weeks, if not months, while it is an ending, is also a beginning. You'll leave this place different than when you came in - you'll have graduated and will be moving on to the next big adventure...whether it be college, military or working. You may never again be faced with this many choices for your life. Drink it in.

As you do move forward in your life, you'll make choices. Here's some things to ponder about those choices:

1) You will make crappy decisions in your life. Guess what - that's just the way it goes. Like the song says, every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. Some of the choices you make will rock the world. Others, not so much. Just try to remember to learn from all and glean something out of the experience.
And while we're talking about bad decisions....

2) You will fail at something. What - this isn't the happy feel-good commencement address you were expecting? Wait....
You, you, you and even you waaaaaay in the back, will fail at something. Some will fail miserably while others will fail spectacularly. As the Husband will frequently say - 'you're gonna step on your dick'

Colorful, no?

Here's the good news: despite what the media in all forms will tell you - failure IS an option and is not always bad. After all, a chemist at DuPont failed in an experiment he was working on and ended up creating Teflon. Failure is good - learn from it and move on.

3) Love what you do. Some wag once said if you love what you do, you will never work a day in your life. Those people also have money up the wazoo. It's very likely you will have to work, and you ain't gonna love it. But find a passion. Find something that makes you happy and excited to get up in the morning. Photography, writing, gardening - whatever trips your trigger - if you find your passion and aren't lucky enough to make it your life's work, you can still be lucky enough to do it...and to share with others.

4) Happiness is not a birthright - it is a daily choice. If you ain't happy, guess what - it ain't your parents fault, not your siblings, your friends or even your dog's fault. That blame, my friends, lands squarely on your shoulders.

Every day we make choices, remember? You can choose happiness, too, even if your situation sucks. You don't have to be happy with the situation, just know that optimism goes a loooooong way in this world - you will live longer and not only that, you will be a thorn in the side of the nay-sayers who will lose their minds wondering what you're on because you're so damn happy all the time.

I'm not saying you should go around with a maniacal smile all the time, plucking daisies like some Ophelia, but choose your attitude daily. Choose to be optimistic. Choose to be proof positive that smiling people are up to something.

There you have it. Four little nuggets and only four because I'm somewhat OCD and I like things bookended. Go out there. Fail. Step on it...and in it. It's the only way you'll really learn, and besides, the adventure is so much more exciting living it than reading about it.

Good luck, and God bless.

alive. well. not living in Peru.

in the beginning - there was a blog. and it was updated regularly.

and it was good.

then cameth writers block and it verily sucketh.

then cameth a trip to Vegas, tickets to see Donny and Marie and a visit from my sister in law with her two kids. and a death march for three days across Disneyland.

and it was good, too. yea, verily.

but behold - i am still aliveth and will posteth more on the morrow.

and pictures shall follow.

washing my hands. again.

here in Mostly Smoggy So. Cal., because we do have such mild winters, we also get a lot of conventions during the winter.

a.lot.of.conventions.

makes sense - we are notorious for, among other things, mild winters, no snow and some of the most egotistical & vain peeps this side of the Hollywood city limits.

so it's really no surprise that the Craft Hobby Association, otherwise known as CHA, generally holds its winter meet here.

and it's really no surprise either that they hold it across the street from the Happiest Place on Earth.

last year, i almost had a chance to volunteer at the show...i had signed up to help in a booth but unfortunately due to an email glitch, i didn't make it. which, in a way, is OK, when you consider that unless you've got a resale license, you ain't buying diddly.

talk about a tease.

generally, there are a lot of scrapbooking celebs at this show. some to work, some to play and check out what's new for this year.

and apparently there was a whole new celeb appearing there this year.

Paris Hilton.

yep. the O.C. Register.com ran an oh-so-small story on their website stating that Paris attended the show this weekend, touting her new line of (wait for it) scrapbooking products, aimed at the 'tween' age.

isn't that great, America? not only can your 11 year old girl dress trashy, now she can scrapbook that way as well.

in all fairness, i haven't seen the line. not that i would expect her to send photos in an email blast to anyone that signed up for twopeasinabucket.com. but i have to admit i'm curious as to what it looks like.

and i gotta say that although i wouldn't buy anything from the line, even if i did like it, based only on moral grounds (chick has more than enough cash, she doesn't need any more from me), i'm so seeing a trend here. not only can you have hair extensions & clothing by Paris, you can also smell like her (the perfume she designed). now you can scrapbook like her.

not that i'm seeing her surrounded by glue dots and deckled scissors anytime soon.

but i do see that for years she's had an interest in memory making. after all, she's documented
parts of her life.

lucky us.

cheers & jeers

remember that from TV Guide? (or actually they DO still run it, whatever) the reviewer would cheer & jeer (duh) the best and worst of TV that week.

once again, art imitates life.

Cheers:
Mike's is having a 50% off sale on their Cricut cartridges.
Jeers:
they won't have anything i want, just what i do have.

Cheers:
the Cricut.
Jeers:
oooops. i've been calling it a cree-cut. found out it's really cricket. d'oh.

Cheers:
the price of gas is coming down a little here under the Smogberry Trees.
Jeers:
dagnabbit, it's still over $4/gallon

Cheers:
i survived the layoffs at work.
Jeers:
rumor is, there's another one possibly coming down the pike, but this one will be company wide.
hey - we're bleeding money, i guess you gotta do something to stop it. and dang it, the severance package now won't be nearly as generous as this last one. time for me to get my sign made up 'Vietnam Vet, Homeless, God Bless,' and find my space on the freeway's off ramp.

Cheers:
B's new car - sweet.
Jeers:
car payments. less than sweet.

Cheers:
OPI's Russian Navy nail polish. it's blue, it's purple, it's dark.
Jeers:
what they charge for pedicures hereabouts.

Cheers:
got laundry done today - and early, too.
Jeers:
the dang battery in my car died at the laundromat. off to Kragen for a new one. aren't cars fun?

Cheers:
Fudgcicles.
Jeers:
what, are you crazy? even with Weight Watchers, i ain't bagging on the 'cicle.

Cheers:
in 9 days, i'll be off to Reno. oh dang. gotta see people i love and take pictures of them.
Jeers:
besides the joy of airport security, there ARE no jeers.

Cheers:
i still love the camera. and yes, i AM picking photos now that i want to enter in the fair next year.
Jeers:
have you priced a macro lens for one of these babies? geeeeeeeeezzzzz. i'm thinking of selling a kidney to finance it.

Cheers:
BBQing steaks on the patio.
Jeers:
the downstairs neighbor, Dickey McPooPooHead, had a tantrum when we were starting the coals because we had embers popping. and this with Brendan standing there with the lid over the coals, trying to keep the popping down. apparently we were also BBQing the neighbor's cat.
Mr. McPooPooHead was truly like a four year old having a temper tantrum, who yelled at Brendan, then slammed the door to his apartment. he has since avoided us like the plague.

wait...that could really be considered a cheer.

p.s. - the cat is fine.

and so it goes.

Brendan's interview went well...or so he says!

thanks so much for your well wishes, prayers, candles and offerings to Buddah. he was there for over an hour, got a tour of the facility and all the other stuff you do when you court a fellah.

this place is just starting up their direct mail processes, so it would be a great challenge for him to be at the ground level of something like this.

they said they'd contact him early next week.

it's gonna be a long, wet weekend.




get your mind outta the gutter. it's supposed to rain all this weekend. and what's really insane, is that Southern California has gotten more rain lately than Seattle.

duuuude.

that's just wrong.

TGIF.

for more than one reason.

i'm glad the week is over because..
- the light i thought i saw at the end of the tunnel with all the new work my location is getting? the euphoria i felt, thinking that this was going to be easier than i thought? that all the schedule making would be easy as pie??

well, that's only if the pie is made with ingredients found in the house. if you have to go to some exotic market in Africa, well, it ain't easy.

the light i saw was the train bearing down on me.

then the train switched tracks.

it probably will be ok. it's just going to be ugly.

i'm glad the week is over because:
- Sunday i fly outta here heading over to Reno. yippee! just a few days, but how fun for me!

i'm glad the week is over because:
- Kenny got to meet Oprah today. seriously.

i'm glad the week is over because:
- i get to sleep in a little tomorrow. AND i went to Target for shower gel and ended up buying a plaid jumper, lace trimmed sweater and a tunic..all for about $21.
not each. total.
first time i ever saw a Target with that good (and well organized) clearance rack. niiice.

i'm glad the week is over because:
- heck. who needs more reasons? happy Friday and happy weekends...i'll be out and about until next Thursday, kids.

stay out of trouble. or don't get caught. peace.

fear of flying.

in spite of Erica Jong, i do have a fear of flying.
i hate it.
(and yes, i do realize her fear of flying is completely different than mine. just go with me here)

i am reasonable, though...i understand that the majority of the time, it is the easiest way to get from point A to B, the Hilton commercial notwithstanding. don't try to sugar coat it, Madison Ave. i.hate.flying.

the Husband has no sympathy for me. see, he was born with the in-flight magazine in one hand and a list of all airport codes in the other. it's in his blood.
his brother sells airplanes and flies. their dad sold them for a short time, but also flew. at one point, most of the family worked in the travel industry.
his dad also started the Walt Disney Travel Co., many moons ago. oh and that he pissed of the president of Disneyland by racing on a moped through the parking lot frequently, but that's another post.
back to me. it is all about me, remember.

i've done most of my flying in my adult years...and actually have flown more in the last 12 years than in my whole 45 years.but.i.still.hate.it.
for some reason, take-offs scare the beejeebers out of me. not landings. strange, i know.
it didn't help that, years ago when i dated this one fellah, his father (who also was taking flying lessons) said to me "oh, you shouldn't worry about take-offs. worry about landings; they're controlled crashes."
thanks, ex-boyfriend's dad. don't help me.

but after meeting Brendan, there was a lot more flying in my future. trips to Vegas to visit the in-laws, later to Reno to see the Sister and all. honeymooning to Sedona. trips to Michigan and Florida.
then there was the fun work trips to Dallas and Philadelphia. trips i had to put on my Big Girl Panties and fly by myself.

fun, fun, fun, till the attendant takes the drink cart away.

but with all the fun of flying, i have discovered something: Southwest makes a killer Bloody Mary.and killer Bloody Marys make flying, for me, soooooooooooooo much easier. almost enjoyable. (i did say almost)

as i said before, Brendan doesn't get it. he doesn't understand why flying freaks me out. but i do. it's a control thing. as in i'm not in it. and for a control freak, it's a bad thing.
berry, berry bad.

so if i can't be in control of the giant flying Tylenol in the sky, i can be in control of how many Marys i date.
so just imagine, if you will, my frustration that our Thanksgiving flight leaves at 6am, before the airport bar does. which leaves me either to wait until they start drink service -or- fix one before we go.

but heck, even for me, 4:30 am is a wee bit early for a drinkie-poo.

thankfully, i've got until Thanksgiving to work this out.
if only all of life's problems were this easy to sort.

faboo, Baboo.

dictionary.com says this:

Fabulous

fab*u*lous

–adjective
1.
almost impossible to believe; incredible.
2.
Informal. exceptionally good or unusual; marvelous; superb: a fabulous bargain; a fabulous new house.
3.
told about in fables; purely imaginary: the fabulous exploits of Hercules.
4.
known about only through myths or legends.

and Melissa thinks i'm fabulous. i thought i was, but in my own mind. or when i'm driving, belting out "You Can't Stop the Beat" from the Hairspray soundtrack. or practicing my acceptance speech for the Academy Awards.

but Melissa thinks otherwise.

huh! i like #4 - 'known about only through myths or legends.' yep...a legend in my own mind.

but it is cool. except for sharing the love. that part sucks because i do love reading and catching up and everyone is faboo in their own way.

man. i am either the World's Biggest Waffler or the Biggest Suckup Evah. take your pick.

but i get to pick now. so here you go...

Linda - she and i got a thing going on. even though i'm kicking her bum to get her arm fixed, she still is faboo...and teaching this here CityGal a thing or two about the farm. and Kickapoo. bwa!

which naturally brings us to her offspring, Allison. my favorite kollege edge-a-mah-kated co-ed. and i love knowing she's changing her major to follow her passion: helping kids. that rocks.

while rocking, i rock on to April. now, while i have forgiven her because her BoSox trounced my Angels, she still is fabulous because i can make her laugh hysterically when we talk. and i'm selfish that way. anyone i can entertain that well, well...they rock.

seriously - she's da bomb. i just want to hug her, make all the uggy stuff go away and hang out. next road trip: Texas.

not least - my Jax. another girl i want to get a fairy godmother for, to make it all better. and to be able to spend just a little more time walking in the freaking busy streets of the O.C., trying to get us both kilt! but whatev.

so you also can share the love. share the faboo. pass it on.

defining valerie.

i am...

a girl.

a wife.

a sister in law.

a friend.

a worker.

a scrapbooker.

a writer.

and i...

laugh.

cry.

work.

play.

sometimes play way too much.

tell bad jokes.

write bad stories.

create bad scrapbook pages.

sing off key.

but i...

love my boy.

love my friends.

love my life.

love who i am - warts and all.

i am.

now THIS is cute.

i like the title.
i like her style.
heck, the fact that she's giving stuff away ain't too bad, neither.
thanks, Melissa, for sharing!

dagnabb hippie.

well. first it was my nose.

then it was this:

that would be a henna tat.

India ink.

sorry. i couldn't resist.

not sure why i did it, just got a wild hair up my bum and well...here you go.

the lady who did it, created it all freehand. that in itself was amazing.

and it'll only last a few weeks. they'll love it @ work.

in other news...

it's hottenhades here today. as a matter of fact, in Sherman Oaks, about 40 minutes from us, it was hotter there than in Las Vegas.

that is SO wrong.

it's way too hot. and it ain't getting better this weekend.

gross.

i also thank you for your concern on the Husband. we talked last night. and if you know him you know how he can get. hopefully i managed to help him see the forest from the trees.

and...

the farewell night of fun for my friend @ work went well...he and another of my friends and another girl from work stayed quite late. i would've probably, too, except that the Husband was there and he always worries about me coming home late by myself.

and i didn't even cry.

although... i got kind of worried when my former boss called and said she wanted to take a picture of me with him. so i thwarted her. i grabbed two of my friends and we ALL took a picture with him. then we serenaded him with all the songs we could think of that had 'good bye' in 'em.

all the original hits! 'so long, farewell'; 'sha-na-na-na, hey, hey, hey, good bye,' 'who let the dogs out'.

hey. i never said we were good.

he laughed, was a little embarrassed, but enjoyed it.

i really hope he does well at the new job. he is a rarity today - a really nice, genuine person who doesn't look for anything from you, except your friendship.

and i think i did that. at least i hope i did.

i will miss him. i do already.

(and he was WAY nicer than the other lead, who thinks he IS all that - and even went so far as to tell me he didn't understand why he wasn't a supervisor, since he was smarter than his supervisor. dumbass. you may think it, but you sure don't say it. out loud. at work.)

and i will have photos later. this cruddy weather at least makes for some killer cloud formations. and colors.

have a safe Labor Day weekend. and thanks again. i don't deserve your friendship.

the things we do for love.

again - i don't know why i allude to things in my past, without going into more detail.

especially when it comes to Jacqui and i researching our belief that we were separated at birth.

so. get some No-Doz, some coffee and settle back. Grandma's about to tell another tale from her past, kiddies.

i don't remember what year it was. only that i was in luuuuuuv.

his name was Dan - a guy i had a serious crush on, back in my Rainbow Girl/high school days. he felt it, too - it was kind of those 'bam-smack-wow-Disney-Channel-ABC-Afterschool-Special' things.
complete with the animated stars in our eyes.

so as we sat, yakking, i, the high school junior, asked him if he had started researching colleges yet.
he looked at me blankly.
"college? i'm only in junior high."

(note: back in the day, junior high was what we old-timers used to call the 7th & 8th grades. oh, and you could also get a hamburger, fries & shake at McDonalds for $2 and get change back, dagnabbit.)

oh my. junior high. well, that kinda puts the kibosh on things, doesn't it?

fast forward a few years. we met up again, i don't remember how or where. only that we felt the same attraction we did before and that that HUGE three year age difference in high school wasn't so bad now.
we started dating. and it was goooood. fun.

so, when his mom (who i loved) asked if i would help them out, i went for it.

seems that Dan's stepfather had worked for Disney Imagineering for a few years, then left to start his own business. he built the control circuits for the animated figures you see at Chuck-E-Cheese, Disneyland, and such.

move over, Disneyland, we're going to IAAPA - the International Association of Amusement Parks and Attractions. in Dallas.
Dan's stepdad and his business partner were going, but couldn't get to the convention until the day the show started. Dan was driving the booth equipment for the show floor out there, but they didn't want him driving by himself, so would i please go with him? we'll pay for all your expenses, blah, blah, blah.

why sure! i never get to go anywhere, so heck yeah, i'll go to Texas!

they rented a big ol' truck, filled to the gills with all that electronic equipment. a few of the figurines. and us. we took off for a fun week.

or so we thought.

somewhere outside someplace in New Mexico, the truck broke down. in the middle of the desert. in the middle of the night. in the days before cell phones.

we were stuck until morning. and it gets way freaking cold in the middle of the desert. i pulled out all my clothes from my suitcase and put them on, so we could stay warm.

next morning, Dan walked...yes, walked to the nearest town to get help. i stayed with the goods. the minutes turned into hours and my overactive imagination had already designed that Dan had been kidnapped by some psycho killer (after all, don't they all live in the desert?), and tortured into telling them where i was - when the truck pulled up.

Cletus and Billy Bob were in it. Dan had sent them out to tell me that he was coming with help. so no, i wasn't going to die in the desert with a huge Chuck-E-Cheese figurine.

we were towed into Deming, New Mexico where we found a hotel, showered and then collapsed in a room with paper-thin walls, favored by truck drivers.

let's just say it was a very *ahem* active hotel.

the truck rental company was coming to deliver a new truck, but it wouldn't be there until the next morning. Deming was our temporary home until then...when the Texas adventure could continue.

Next: we roll into the Big D.

the little hussy.

and for once, not me.

at Husband's work, the receptionist is *ahem* harrassing him.

and he's loving it.

matter of fact, i keep threatening to get him a t-shirt that says "Wife Tested - Recptionist Approved."

so the other day, the Husband decided to show the receptionist his college i.d., back in the late '80s.

she laughed. generally not something you want to hear about your picture.

"you look like a porn star," she said.

by jiminy, she's right. and, if you use the formula we use (we meaning my friends in high school when we were being silly) for his porn star name, he is now Tuna Elaine.

Dirk Diggler was already taken.

in other news....

i actually have planned dinner menus for this week. and went grocery shopping to boot.
tonight: chow mein
tomorrow: ???

hey. at least it's a place to start.

also...

our little Allison is off to a great adventure in Chi-Town. prayers, iffn you please, that she has a safe, fun trip and that Mom gets some rest and doesn't worry too much.

happy Monday.

Monday, Monday.

the Husband and i drove home from dinner last night, wondering for the gazillionth time, why we hadn't been born rich instead of so dang good looking.

i blame our parents. i mean, sheesh - marrying for love?! what the $%*!@$ were they thinking?

but i'm not bitter. i'm letting it go.

Mondays never were my favorite day of the week. i don't mind working most days, and some days i actually enjoy what i do. but again, i find that the older i get, the less i like dealing with the people every.dang.day.

not sure what it's all about. is it because i'm older? am i bitter? do i just hate people? because, Gentle Reader, i'm telling you that if my patience gets any thinner, i'm gonna be the cranky neighbor we all had growing up.

remember? the one that bitched at you from their front door to 'get off my lawn, dagnabbit?!'
well, that's gonna be me soon.

actually, it's really not that i don't like people. i do. it's the dumb ones who either a) just don't get it and don't wanna or b) get it but just don't care.

maybe i need to become apathetic. but i just don't care, either.

in other news...

i'm trying to think of places to go here in Mostly Smoggy So. Cal. (or at least pretty dang close) for a weekend...besides San Diego.

i would so dig a weekend there, but the Husband isn't as hot for it..."why would i want to visit someplace i used to live?"

i say he never lived off the Bay or the ocean. and that's reason enough for me.

and yes, it has to be a weekend, because there's no vacation time for him...at least for his first year.

meantime, i'm looking for the Magic Pill that will change my attitude and make me less cranky.
especially at work.

oh, pishtosh.

as Jax, or any other Mostly Smoggy So.Cal. resident will testify to, there's some really *ahem* beachin' reasons we love living here.

sorry. it had to be said.

anywhoooooooo -

there are good reasons: the weather (most of the time), really close beaches and mountains, killer mexican food...Disneyland.

then there's the smog, the traffic, Disneyland, and grocery store strikes.

yes, for the second time in recent history, the Big Three are likely going out on strike.

doesn't that sound like fun?

we have Ralphs(owned by Krogers), Vons & Albertsons, Stater Bros. then there's a few independent stores. right now, it looks like Raphos, Vons & Albertsons are going out.

there's been no contract since April. and it looks like it's going to happen soon.

this happened before. the year we did our road trip to northern California, they had been on strike before, during AND after we came home.
141 days.

doesn't that sound like fun?!

not a big fan of Stater Bros. Trader Joe's is a fun and much better option. it just involves driving, and while we do a lot of that here, driving with groceries ain't fun.

but it could be worse...the bus drivers here could go on strike, too.

oh...wait.

never mind.

i *heart* NY...

well, i guess i do.

never having been.

but my best friend Kristie is there with her mom and her kids.

and i got an text on my phone...they saw Wicked tonight.

man.

i'd love to hate her, but i'm too busy being happy for her.
and hoping her vacation is as much fun as she deserves.

have fun, girl. tell the Boy to spit off the Empire State building for Auntie Vowel.

it's something i would do.

this morning's conversation

the conversation started like this:

v: don't forget to get home early tonight. we have your birthday dinner with our dinner group tonight.

b: OK. *sigh*

v: what's wrong?

b: well, i just wish you had gotten me up earlier.

v: me gotten you up early? don't you have an alarm clock? that works??

b: heh-heh-heh-heh.

dang. 47 years old and i gotta get him up for work.

still bitchy.

the Husband got home late tonight...later than usual. and, after he got upstairs, he realized he left his cell in the car. so, on his way back to get it, our downstairs neighbor caught him to "chat".

so now i've told you that story to tell you this story.

mostly, when our downstairs neighbor wants to "chat," it usually means he wants to bitch about Sloshy, and the "level of service" we have here at the Casa. then, the discussion turns to our plumbing, and how the plumbers made the same repairs to our neighbor's sink that they did to ours.

but i guess his towels didn't get sopped.

meow!

anywhoooo... here's where the still bitchy part comes in.

our neighbor asked Brendan if we "were building a motorcycle in our living room."

uh, no. why?

"because you sure make a lot of noise and drop a lot of stuff."

whoa-whoa-whoa there, cowboy! this coming from a man who has woken me up with either his TV or stereo on WAY FREAKING LOUD.

grrr.

if you love me, really love me, you'll fill a tranquilizer rifle up with Industrial Strength Midol and shoot it in my ass.

then get me a massage and a margarita.

thought for the day...

seen on the back of a truck in the parking lot:

Who Lit the Fuse on Your Tampon?

disgusting, huh?

i laughed my butt off.

motivation vs. drugs

i am in search of motivation.
and some prozac.
got either one that you're willing to share?

here's my story:

Husband & i have SO fallen off the Weight Watchers wagon, it ain't even funny. and i need to be back on.

i'm just lazy. poor excuse, huh?

you'd think after all the mental angst i put myself through over the back surgery that it would be a no brainer.

i'm lazy. L-A-Z-Y.

but...i'm going back today. i need to fix me. and since i am responsible for my own happiness (as well as not having more back surgery), i'm getting off my bum and taking the husband and we're going.

i'd like to think i can be as successful as my Melissa, i want to believe. and so the journey begins.again.

and now, on to the prozac portion of our program today.

yesterday at work, my group had a lunch. originally it started as a group get together, but expanded into a birthday lunch (we have four May birthdays in our group). (oh, and did i also mention that the person who spearheaded this whole lunch thing didn't participate? whatever.)
and did i also mention i was the one who ended up fetching the lunch?

that's very important for later.

the whole lunch yesterday was just odd. well, not the lunch, but the whole prep leading up to it. people kept changing their minds on what they wanted to order. then one of the women in my group wanted to know when i was picking up the order. you see, the last time they had an order from this place, the order was made late, and wasn't ready, blah, blah, blah.

hmmm...am i now responsible for the time restaurants takes to cook? oh well.

i place the order (early, i might add) and take off to fetch it. not everyone had paid me, so when i got there, i decided to just put the whole thing on my check card.

wait...where's my check card?

oh crap.

check the pockets, nope - it's not there. go back to the car and go through my purse. negative.
check the wallet. dang. check the pockets again.

as my stepfather would say, it vanished like a fart in a whirlwind.

i called my boss, and asked him to check my hoodie, at my desk, hoping that i just left it in my pocket, from when i got gas earlier in the morning.

he comes back to the phone. "sorry, i didn't find anything."

let me just give you a minute to digest that. let me also give you a minute to imagine my panic and nausea.

"just kidding. i've got it right here."

let me also give you the opportunity to join me in killing him.

he came out to meet me and bring the card, and also says "i've never heard you panic. ever. you were panicked. it was weird."

well, duh. that card, like most Americans, is my lifeline.

but he's right: panicking is really not something i do.
it was then i realized that i've been married too long.

Husband is a panickier. my mom is one, too.

could it be that as i get older, i will panic all.the.time?
i'm getting fat, lazy and panic at the whim of a breeze.

Mick Jaggar was right: what a drag it is getting old.