Browsing Date

October 2015

sunday night, all is right

manifestos October 25, 2015

Things that make me happy:

1.) The ten day forecast doesn’t have a single day over 79 degrees. Welcome Texas fall. Welcome boots, jeans, and perhaps a fleece or 5.

2.) I’ve been wearing a sweatshirt all day long. A big ole sweatshirt and jeans.  No make-up and I just feel good. Might not be fancy, but it feels SOO normal. You can take the girl out of Michigan, but there is still enough of a Michigan girl that is recognizable.

3.) Two snoring dogs that are being nice to each other.

4.) A renewed desire to go to work out at least 3 days this week. Oh my ever growing ass and a love of carbs. Can someone just PLEASE staple my mouth shut?

5.) A determination not to buy Halloween candy until Friday. See, number 4 and remember what happened this month with the reeses. REMEMBER.. DONT EVER FORGET.

6.) My furnace kicked on. God, I love the smell of the first time it turns out.

7.) I’m going to get a job this week. Trust.

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dear gus

manifestos October 19, 2015

i lost my mind this weekend. I went to the State Fair with the intention of getting a corn dog and some how, I am now sharing my house with Weeze and a new boy named George. Yes, I finally got my Jeffersons.

See, you were named George for about 2.5 seconds, but someone (who shall remain nameless, aka, woman who gave birth to me) thought that I was naming my dog after the President W, not just a good ole fashioned George. Truthfully, you were a much better Gus-Gus than you would have ever been a George.

The impulse acquisition of this pup is rather similar to that of your back story. Whereas, I was heading to buy furniture and ended up with you, this time around I wanted to eat fried carnie food. Que sera, sera.

Your buddy Weezie Girl is managing herself with as much grace as she can muster. She got spoiled with you- you didn’t require much, nor did you bark a lot. MAN, this boy is part Basset, part labradorian. I’d like to call him a Bassador. Or maniac.

Like you, he hates the crate. I mean, HATES it. Much like I did when I got you, I consulted Cousin Dog Trainer Trish for some late night coaching and calming. Well, last night was bad. He was so pissed off that the neighbor complained. Sigh.

Like you, he just likes to be close.

He likes the stuffed toys, he seems to be in love with about 14 shin bones and most like you is obsessed with his ever shrinking area in which his balls once lived.

Despite the similarities, he isn’t you, nor do I expect him to be. You were special. You were my own shedding pain in the ass that could NEVER be replaced. Last night, after the second hour of howling hysteria, I walked over to the place where your collar & duck hang out and said “Really dude? Really? You couldn’t hang in there one more year?”

I know, that’s shitty.

But still, we miss you. Weezie misses you. I miss you. Hell, random people I barely know miss you.

Now we have something in this house that is going to keep us on our toes. For example, did you know that a short, i mean, really short, dog could counter surf into the sink, get a wooden spoon out and eat it it in less time that it took for me to use the bathroom? Yep. Did you know that a hyper pup can literally bounce off the walls and keep running? Yep. Did you know that Penelope Anne Weeziepants used one of YOUR moves yesterday and fake chased the pup?

So, Gus-Gus, I’d like to introduce you to George. He is part maniac, part narcoleptic fool. We think we like him.

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My Day, aka, I’m forcing Fall

manifestos October 16, 2015

Greetings and Salutations from the under-employed.

I’ve decided to not sit and fret all day about the lack of income. I mean, I deserve not to have one day in which I freak out about paying my bills in the middle of December, right?

Today, I’ve decided to attend to the things that need attending. Aka, random projects around the house that will make me feel like the dregs of summer are over, and welcome fall with open arms (cue Journey.)

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My poor garden has struggled with the past two weeks of nonstop 90 degree weather, so today, I shall slice, dice, mulch and try to bring some order into beds that look weathered and abused.

Um, yes, this is what my front will look like when I’m done…

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I shall knit.

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I shall deliver some of the bounties from Wednesday nights baking palooza.

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I shall head out to the State Fair of Texas and eat incredibly stupid fried foods.

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I will finish a single project that needs to be finished so I can bill out, but most importantly, I’m going to just take the day and not be a strung out unemployed crazy woman.

The week has been filled with highs and lows, truthfully, mostly lows, so today, I’m giving myself a pass. I’m going to just be. Just do the things that make me less bitchy, more happy.

Have a good day. Take a moment to be thankful for what you have, because I can assure you, for each of our own worries, someone we know is battling a beast ten times larger than anything you can comprehend.

 

 

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these dreams…

manifestos October 15, 2015

Last night, I accidentally went overboard and started baking in an effort to forget what an absolutely crap day (to me) it really was. I mean, I baked enough for the Duggar family, or a really four PMS’ing 30’somethings. There will most likely be a unique post about what I’m going to do with the baked goods, but right now I want to talk about my dreams last night.

If anything, my dreams proved that I have a.) read too many romance novels b.) shouldn’t have drank a hard cider before i went to bed c.) have an unhealthy relationship with change.

It is important to note that I went to bed at 12:38am. I was obsessing over something and I couldn’t settle my brain. I grabbed a cider around 12am in the hopes that the alcohol would slow my brain down enough that I could catch a few zzzz’s. I started typing this at 5:38am.

First dream, I was somehow a captive in the 1940’s occupied Europe (individual country not identified) and the nazis were as scary as they were in Sound of Music. I managed to win favor with the female dictators by baking for them. Seriously. I wish I could make this shit up. I woke up, looked at Weezie and said “that was like a Danielle Steele novel meets Martha Stewart.”

The second dream, this was the weirdest/toughest one. I had bought a two story mid century home. I was sitting on the steps of the house, next to a male friend, and we discussed all of the things that I wanted to do to the house. This was clearly a nightmare because I was willingly using words like baseboards, gutters, wall paper and kitchen remodel. What was also interesting to note, that the house was a variation of my mothers, but super sized. Also, as I was sitting on the steps of this house, all of the people in the world were passing through the house, including my mother, an old boss from the early ’00s and an old priest. Woke up again, and moved to the guest bedroom. Thought perhaps a change in locale would stop my brain from running. Didn’t work.

Third dream was just jacked. I bought a new car that had a washing machine in the trunk. (Logical, right?). As I was driving to the new/old house that was swarming with contractors and neighbors pointing out all of the things I was doing wrong, I hit a pot hole. When I hit the pothole, the washing machine flew out of the back of my car, and hit my nameless/faceless dude friend in the gut.

So ya.

Analyze that why don’t you?

It’s actually not that hard… I feel like I’m living in a damn war zone of life right now. The house, well, I know what that represents, and I’ll deal with that in therapy later. The idea of undertaking a remodel on an old 50’s house somewhere else has been on my brain for a while, and clearly my brain wanted me to remember. The nameless/faceless? It doesn’t take Freud to figure out that one.

Normally I don’t dream. I take a Lunesta, say “good night moon” and get a few hard hours of sleep.

Last night, I thought, after running around all day, I would be able to sleep. I was oh, so very wrong.

Today is a new day, not filled with Nazis, remodels and/or washing machine cars. I lack the nameless/faceless and instead am just going to go try to drum up a little bit of business.

I loaded up on decongestants, anti-histimines and ibuprofen. I will try to wash out the pink out of my hair, that in a fit of crazy, I put in, forgetting that I would be seeing clients. I will try to find clothes that make sense on yet another 90 degree day in this world.

Whether I like it or not, it’s a new day, and I need to get out of bed and go be productive.

Now… to bring back relevance to the title of this post. I have however, had the following song in my head for a day or so. If nothing, embrace the 80’s awesome hair.

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it’s the weirdest thing…

manifestos October 8, 2015

 

7 Days after “the bad night” and I’m doing alright.

I have a roof over my head, the bills paid for the month, interviews lined up and work scheduled through Black Friday (the shopping day, not a racist Friday).

Is it the most awesome time ever? Probably not. Is it the worst time ever? Oh hell no.

I was scrubbing something this morning (my response to stress), and was recalling other times that were much, much worse.

This time around, I have my health (yay). I have my house (yay). I have my people (double yay).

I want to make the trek home, but the woman who gave birth to me would prefer that I not spend money on gas, so I will not fight that right now. I mean, running away does sound delicious, doesn’t it?

I’ve been erring on the quiet side for the past week (at least for me), just taking stock in life. SO many of my friends are dealing with exponentially bigger things than this. Cancer, preemies, quadruple bypass, new separations, loss, you name it. In the big scheme of life, I’m doing ok.

I guess what is a little bit weird to me, is this strange contentment that I feel about all of the things that are happening right now. Historically, I’d be pissed off and raging for the world to hear. Instead, I’m just trucking along, living my life, doing my thing.

Yesterday, I had lunch with a dear friend, and we both agreed that we are getting to the point in our lives where it’s critical to pick and choose what to get riled up about, what to say yes to, and how is easy to say “screw this shit, i’m not dealing with (insert descriptive word here.)

I realized lately I do NOT have a bad case of FOMO, or “fear of missing out.” Hell, I’ve done a lot, and if I miss something, that most likely means I’m taking a nap. I’m ok with that more and more each day.

I realize that there are consequences for actions, and I respect that belief.

I realize that I personally need to give less of a shit about things that directly don’t impact me. HOWEVER, and this is a big HOWEVER, if shit DOES impact me, I’m going to have an opinion.

What? Me have an opinion? You betcha. And it won’t be mild. No point half-assing anything these days.

So, this is my midweek check in.

Things I know to be true, Thursday Style:

1.) Cancer still sucks the largest of elephant testicles. Amy girl, I love ya.

2.) Knitting keeps my hands busy, my brain engaged and my mouth shut.

3.) You can’t fix stupid.

4.) Running away still sounds delicious.

5.) I’m going to make a big ole batch of Gumbo this weekend. RIP Paul P. You were an inspiration to many and your strides in bringing cooking to the forefront of entertainment launched the careers of many. “You don’t need a silver fork to eat good food.”- P. Prudhomme

 

 

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