Monday

See, technically it is Monday. Thought I'd go ahead and get this out of the way before I go to bed.

Three days until the Bruce Springsteen concert! I am so excited I could spit. I'm driving down to Nashville Wednesday, BFF and I are eating at Joe's Crab Shack and then we are walking to the arena.

I know. Me. Walking.

I'll do anything for Bruce.

While I'm there we are getting together with another old friend and recreating a photo that was taken in 1990. That should be interesting. It will be awesome to see Sara, though.

And no, you can't see, so don't even ask!

The after

Yes, I survived it.

We will not talk of the atrocities I encountered.

I washed my hands three times then took a shower.

I think my fake pearls dangling from the guitar hero world tour drum kit is a nice touch(that is a before). I have no idea where he found them.

(It took me 4 hours, ya'll. Thank goodness UT whooped some ass. BTW, when did Memphis State become just plain ole Memphis?)

Countdown

Only 3 days of freedom left.

I go back to work on Monday. Sigh.

I just got off the phone with one of my coworkers and that place is a mess. I've been gone just about 6 weeks and they are in shambles, sniping and fighting amongst themselves.

I've missed all the fun! Usually I am blamed as the shit-stirrer (and it is hardly ever true--I just have a devout legion of haters) . I wonder how they are going to pin this on me? Maybe my powers extend 10 miles north. That would be awesome.

At least I know. I would hate to head into the maelstrom unprepared.

So what will I do with my remaining free time? Try to find a dish drainer that is shorter than 14.25 inches long. Buy some dog food. Pick up the 335 pictures I emailed to Walgreens for developing yesterday. Sort out the tags on my blog (what a mess!) and figure out how to put the pictures where I really want them to be (Hello, Blogging for Dummies). And that's just today!

Tomorrow is Tennessee vs. Memphis at 6pm on ESPNU. Already set the dvr. Oh, and clean my son's room:

If only you had smell-o-vision. The picture doesn't do it justice! It's a mixture of dirty boy and 10 gallons of axe. (By the way, it took me at least 7 minutes to get that picture in the right place). The bumper sticker on his door says We Love Vegetarians--More Meat For Us! And the paint scheme is Sponge Bob. There's a white rope between the yellow and khaki--to hold SB's pants up.

I'll spend all day Sunday in a bad mood. Don't come to visit.

lolcats

Ok, I'll admit it. I love them.

It's kind of funny, really, since one of my favorite pastimes is to take a red pencil to the local paper. Any written document, actually. Or store signage. Or billboards.

Bad grammar is all around us, my friends. It drives me nuts. But it is good for my self esteem. I feel superior to those offenders. Yet every day I stop by to look at the lolcats and their horrifying grammar. And I crack up.

It's funny when somebody new shows up and has a tizzy about the "typos". Most of the regulars handle it well--they gently try to explain what is going on. They are a very friendly little community over there. I feel like I know many of them, even though I don't participate.

Well, that's not completely true. I did my best to rescue someone who had *splorted* at a particularly cute kitty. There is a whole routine involved with a crash cart, floofy blankies, and chocolate. Also scooping up brains and rinsing them with water. I had read it a hundred times, so when I noticed that someone had got lost in the shuffle, I jumped right in.

It's a lot harder than it looks, spelling that atrociously! I wasn't very good at it, but I did manage to scoop it all up and fasten it back in with duct tape. I felt like a hero the rest of the day.

I must admit that I am pretty rusty on comma usage these days. I think they have changed the rules since the 70s and 80s--just like they did with math. I still can't figure out how they managed to come up with another way to add and subtract; I don't know how to do it.

Oh, I can get the right answer, it's just not the "right" way. Some kind of nonsense about banks and borrowing; I'm a little foggy on the details (I may have quit paying attention when my kids were trying to explain it while I was doing the math in my head). And algebra is taught completely differently, but I can figure out x just about every time. And I can still f o i l (glad to see they didn't change that one--mnemonics are awesome!).

See, now is that punctuation right? Why don't they have punctuation check? Hey, don't look at me--I have no idea how to do it. But I expect a cut if someone actually does figure it out.

Monday

Yes, Monday is almost over--but to me it is almost Friday.

I brought this up once but didn't think my imaginary audience was up to the task of grasping my alternate universe. Ready? Here goes:

I work in a factory. This factory has 5 shifts: A (11pm - 7am Mon - Fri), B (7am - 3pm Mon - Fri), C (3pm - 11pm Mon - Fri), D (11pm - 11am Sat & Sun), and E (11am - 11pm Sat - Sun). Some departments also have an F shift (5am - 5pm weekends) and there are some variances but, meh. They don't concern us.

At this factory generally you are either a Monday thru Friday person or a weekender. When I hired in, in 1995, I was told I would be a weekender for life. That turned out to not be true. I could be on straight A shift, aka Midnights, but choose to remain a weekender. I work E shift and Monday & Tuesday C shift. I consider my weekend to be Wednesday, Thursday and Friday since those are my days off. That makes Saturday my Monday and Tuesday my Friday. It's a little muddled there in the middle. I mean, when exactly is my Wednesday? Who cares! I just need to know when my Friday is.

This perverted logic makes perfect sense to me and my co-workers; probably other factory/shift workers get it, too. But absolutely no one else understands. Nor can anyone else in the world keep my work schedule straight. That includes my children. I have worked this particular schedule for many years. I did a stint on Midnights a few years back, but only for 6 months since we have a shift alignment twice a year. But almost every day one child, sometimes both, asks me if I have to work today, or tomorrow, or this weekend. My grandmother, bless her heart, has had this schedule taped up on her refrigerator for years, and has been told repeatedly that it is ALWAYS safe to call me on Wednesdays, yet she invariably calls me on Saturday mornings.

I will celebrate my 15th anniversary at the hole (as in hell hole) on February 2nd and grandma still calls me on Saturdays. Even bff likes to call me at 4:45 on Tuesdays. Sometimes. The best part of that 6 month stint on Midnights was talking to her every morning on my way home while she was commuting to work. Well, that and drinking heavily on Saturday afternoons and listening to UT football games on yahoo and stomping and whooping it up and embarassing my kids and then taking a nap.

So, I just burned 3 days vacation and it rained so we didn't get to go to the drag races; we went to the wrong salvage yard and they were closed so we didn't get to take advantage of the 50% off sale at the Pick and Pull; and I ran out of wine. Crappy weekend all the way around. But tomorrow is Friday, the only day I have to work this week, and then it's a 3 day weekend! Hurray!!

The Test

Last Monday I went back to the doctor. Again. To have the test. Again.

This isn't like all the times when I went to have the blood drawn. So many times that I looked like a junkie. Only to find out that the girl who did my bleeding test the first time did it wrong. That was why I wouldn't clot and we all thought I was dying.

No, this was cystometrics. First, you have to pee in front of somebody. That gets you two acquainted--an ice-breaker, if you will. Then the real fun begins.

They use a pediatric catheter to cause less pain, but, OUCH. The first time it felt like fiberglass. This one just felt intrusive. Did you know I have an unusually short urethra? Well, I do. It is only 7 cm long (a typical female urethra is 10 cm long). There was the insertion of something else, somewhere else, but I didn't ask why. Something about offsetting pressure in my bladder? Luckily for me it was the front door and not the back.

Then the pumping of the water commences. You have to tell them when you have the first sensation of needing to pee. Uh, now. Hmm. Then you have to tell them when you would get serious about looking for a rest stop if you were on the interstate. Yes, now. And finally, you tell them when you absolutely can't take it anymore. NOW!

This next part--well, all I can say is she got what she deserved. She violates me with rubber tubing, disparages my urethra, pumps me full of water, then ASKS ME TO COUGH!!!

Oh, yes I did. I peed all over that table.

There was more after that, but it was slightly anti-climactic.

I'm not sure if I passed that test or not.

Pressure

You know, half the time I forget I even have a blog. I was signing up for this site called Mixing Bowl, which is basically a facebook for foodies, when I had to look up my blog for the url. That's sad, really. I don't even know my own url.

Anyway, I look it up, and I have a follower! And I don't think it is someone I know. Now I feel pressure to perform. But I will not let it frighten me! The night I set up my account I kept forwarding through the blogs until I found kunkkink and I started to follow her (mainly because the English was just so atrocious, I thought it was hilarious). Well, she never posted again. I hope it wasn't because of me. Surely I don't wield that kind of power. And if I do, I need to learn how to direct it toward the people I work with so they will do my bidding. Other than the 2 that already do.

Now I just have to come up with some awesome posts. I can't waste an entire post on the fact that I am now washing my hair again. That experiment was a total failure. My hair looked better for about a week and then it just looked dirty and I am too lazy to try and tweak my shampooing ritual to find out the best way to balance washing/not washing. I'm just gonna wash. And condition. And curl creme. And probably color it again. The red washed out pretty quick, and that was disappointing. Bruce Springsteen is never gonna leave that woman for me unless my hair is red--I just know it. I have until November 18 to get it right.

Oh, and I need to find my camera. I have a book shelf full of empty wine bottles that I need to document for posterity.

A Confession

OK, don't judge me. I washed my hair today...for the first time in almost a week!

I know! Sounds gross, huh? Next thing you know I'm gonna go all Matthew McConaughey on your ass and stop using deodorant, too.

No, I read (in two separate places, no less) that not washing your hair was good for curly hair. Since my hair is getting curlier as I get older, I thought I would try it.

The first place I read it was on Bossy's blog. As I recall, it didn't work out too well for her. But she has really bad luck with her hair. Once she got highlights that she said made her hair look like it was having a period. Yes, menstrual blood highlights. One reader suggested she use olive oil in the shower for a hot oil treatment. That one didn't work out too well, either. She lives in Virginia, but goes all the way to New York City (New York City!) to get her hair cut. (He isn't the one who gave her menstrual blood highlights.) I would give my left titty; wait, no, I need that one. I would give my right titty for a New York City haircut. I would prefer it to be by Nick Arrojo. And he would tell me what kind of curl creme he uses on tv. I NEED that curl creme.

Anyway, I also read it in a Jennifer Crusie book called Bet Me. Yes, I like to take hair advice from paperback novels. I liked the book, so I thought I would give it a try.

This is not something I could have gotten away with when I was younger. I was much too oily for that. But now that my hair is downright crunchy, it couldn't hurt, right?

Right, as it turns out. Most days I just rinsed it really well with water. A couple of days I used some conditioner that I rinsed out. I went ahead and washed and conditioned it today because I have been at work for the last 3 days and I wanted to be completely sure that my hair didn't smell like a tire factory.

Overall, I was pleased with the outcome. My hair was soft and not too frizzy. My drugstore curl creme was performing as well as could be expected, since I don't know what Nick uses. And nobody asked me how long it had been since I washed my hair. My son would have been all over it if he had any inkling what was going on. I told absolutely no one...until now.

I think it could be doable. I just can't imagine never washing my hair ever again, though. But I should save a fortune on shampoo. Maybe I can splurge on some fancy conditioner--or curl creme. God, I want to know what he uses. Time to google.

July 12

There are two very important things about July 12, 2009.

First, I had an awesome hair day today. This is the first time since the whole OMG-my-hair-is-red debacle that it has looked decent. And it was not just decent it was a w e s o m e. And I'm sure every one at work noticed. Just because they didn't say anything doesn't mean that they didn't notice.

July 12, 2009 is also our 12th wedding anniversary. Go us!

Man, my hair looked good. I wish you could have seen it.

She is broken

My weather girl is STILL holding her umbrella. And I am pretty sure she should be in her bikini by now.

The heat index is around 105, so we are putting up hay. And, again, when I say "we", I mean I have the most important job of all--air conditioner monitor. 72.9 is a little on the high side, but I actually had to go put my socks on, so I think it is cooler at the computer. I am also doing the important job off feeding stinky hay hands. Chicken kebabs! Potato salad! Cupcakes!! They came in for a drink before delivering the first trailer load, and, oh mylanta, they smell bad.

Friday

Yes, it's Friday, and you know what that means, right? Fajitas--pronounced fah-JI-tahs. Though we had "flat-iron steak" (which I am pretty sure is flank steak) on the grill last night along with the gorgonzola penne that only Chance (the dog) and I would eat. Chris wrapped his up in a tortilla and drowned it in sour cream, so I think we should re-institute Friday pizza night.

I was wondering about the memo my employer sent out before my 2 week time out, informing me that my paycheck would be a day late; my poor German colleagues won't get paid until the 3rd! They said not to worry, it's not a sign of insolvency or anything. It's just that they will save millions of dollars, or euros, by deferring some blah blah blah, but everything is okay. It made me think of all those women who go on Maury and swear that this guy here, he's the daddy of my baby. I am positive, I just know that he is. And you know what? He never is. I watched a whole hour of this garbage and not once was this guy the daddy. No matter how much she swore he was. I'm afraid Hippe, or whoever repalced him, or the guy that replaced him, is blowing smoke up my you know where.

And, no, I don't usually watch Maury Povich. But it is summer break, and it tends to be on in my house every afternoon. And it's like a car wreck or something. I just can't look away. There seems to really only be 2 kinds of Maury show--who's my baby's daddy and is this pretty woman male or female. I know! But I can't help myself

Day 4

Well, I have gotten thru 4 days of unenjoyment--celebrated by mowing for 4 hours and getting a sunburn.

Hey, speaking of the number 4! I had 4 visitors to my blog today. I asked my bff if she happened to check it out on 4 separate occassions today and sadly she said no. Now, I realize the point is for people to read this, but, I don't know. How am I going to make fun of ya'll if you're reading over my shoulder? Still no comments, though. Guess that's a good thing; I'm kinda sensitive.

So, bff and I partook of the vino and chatted on facebook last night. That was fun. She was thoroughly enjoying the whole reconnecting thing and I was telling her this guy that I was soooo
in love with in hs friended me and I was just beside myself and she said, "Isn't that the guy who saw me in my bra in your swimming pool?" And I was, like, "Huh?" And that kicked loose some cobwebs, and now I have a new friend on facebook and I'm afraid to ask him if he saw my friend in her bra. I get really excited about finding these old friends, then I don't know what to do. I want to go, "Do you really remember me?" I just feel so flattered.

I had lots of good ideas for posts while I was mowing, but they were all terribly inappropriate. No one wants that kind of information. And I keep reminding myself that I may have to actually look for a job someday very soon, so I try to be mindful of what kind of trail I am leaving out here. Hate to lose a job because I blogged about my failed bladder correction surgery. But it's a good story, let me tell you. Dang, I'm gonna have to tell that one.

Yay!

The Big Man has a job!! Yay for us!!

He has worked about 10 days since the beginning of the year, and let me tell you, union wages are a lot more than unemployment. If he can manage not to get fired tomorrow, we should be home free.

Just in time for me to draw 2 weeks of unemployment. Next year he will claim one child and I will claim one child so I can draw as much as he does. I only get $385, and he gets, well, more than that. After taxes he gets $444. I haven't received my first check yet, since I got my waiting week in back in April. After paying taxes for 25 years I am so excited to be getting my first...no, it's a lie. I can't even type it. I'm scared to death. We can't both be unemployed!

I vote he works full time (and all that that implies) and I stay home and cook and play with all my books and cds. Once the kids are grown and out of the house, I may even think about starting to keep it clean.

Yeah, I don't believe me, either.

Box of wine tonight: Vella Blush, 5l for $10.99.

I traded for 14 cds this week, but they haven't arrived yet. You (Betsy) are in for a treat!

I Don't Love Red!

I don't love red so much, except in wine.

There will be no pictures today...because my hair is RED. I flirted with the concept on Thursday. Evidently I decided plain ole auburn was too boring so I picked up a box of "intense auburn" aka "Sweet Pepper" according to the Garnier Fructis people. Oh. My. GOD!!!! On the upside? My hair smells awesome. On the downside? It looked like I massacred someone in the shower. Who's gonna clean it up is what I want to know.

This is much more interesting than Edifi, which is what today's topic was going to be. Oy, don't get me started.

Today's wine was a Rosato I had a free sample of at Olive Garden. Excellent, and free! It was actually $31 a bottle at the restaurant. Ridiculous.

And tuneage was Hey There Delilah which I heard twice today; once on the way to St. Louis and once on the way home. After Edifi had made me cry. But that is another post altogether.

So, tomorrow I return to work, after my 6 week hiatus, with red hair.

Sweet Pepper!