I have two sides to my brain. Don't worry, it's normal. You have that too.
Lately, one side of my brain has been very busy. It has done a lot of sorting and analyzing. Not the math kind, the emotional kind. Figuring out and understanding the present, trying to create a vision of the future. Trying to freaking relax, and understand the source of all the tension and what to do about it. Man, that side of my brain is tired.
But the other side is bored. It has sat idly by, watching half of me freak out about things it doesn't understand and can't control.
So tonight, I'm going to activate the bored side and let the tired side rest. How? Solitaire. Lots and lots of solitaire. In varying forms.
Too bad I can't play Nertz by myself.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Friday, November 07, 2008
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Ways in which I am broken
Sometimes it’s hard to be married. Let me be clear. I love my husband. He’s pretty freaking great. He’s my favorite person to talk to. Or watch Scrubs with. Or wash dishes with. Of all the guys I’ve dated, I married the guy who made the best husband.
But that doesn’t mean that life is always peachy. It's just he doesn’t always let me have my way, see? And I don’t mean in a temper tantrum “I wanted the purple fork and not the orange fork” sort of way*. More like, “Yeah, I think I’d just rather not talk about money, thank you very much” sort of way.
I WANT to be grown up and mature. But I’m not. I’m sinful and broken and childish. And I have a thing with money. It’s not like I’m a crazy spender. I’m not. I spend more money on eating out for lunch than I should, but it’s not like I’m going to Chili’s everyday for lunch. (As if going to Chili’s were the ultimate extravagance.) Other than that, my spending is normal. When I need clothes, I buy them. I SOMETIMES get my nails done, or whatever. But it’s actually pretty normal. Nothing really worth avoiding. Except I do, as if my life depended on it.
Which is tough because married couples gotta talk about money. Which leaves poor Jeff always being the bad guy. He makes me talk about money, but then I have to tell him I didn’t move that money to savings like I said I was going to, and I feel like a terrible person because I didn’t do it, and now I can’t because I spent some of the money on eating out, and I’m a terrible person and a terrible wife and it’s time for me to cry now, thanks.
Husbands don't normally like to see their wives cry. Jeff is no exception. But, hey, it happens and everybody lives. And most of the time he's patient and loving (although he's sinful and broken, too. But that's another post.) And eventually the tears stop, and I mope around for a while, feeling the weight of all that's wrong with me, and then that gets a little better, too, and suddenly I'm ready to watch a little Earl on TV. And I laugh. And everybody lives.
Sometimes I think being single would be easier. But I never think it would be better.
*But only because all of our forks and utensils in general are black. Otherwise, that statement might not be true.
But that doesn’t mean that life is always peachy. It's just he doesn’t always let me have my way, see? And I don’t mean in a temper tantrum “I wanted the purple fork and not the orange fork” sort of way*. More like, “Yeah, I think I’d just rather not talk about money, thank you very much” sort of way.
I WANT to be grown up and mature. But I’m not. I’m sinful and broken and childish. And I have a thing with money. It’s not like I’m a crazy spender. I’m not. I spend more money on eating out for lunch than I should, but it’s not like I’m going to Chili’s everyday for lunch. (As if going to Chili’s were the ultimate extravagance.) Other than that, my spending is normal. When I need clothes, I buy them. I SOMETIMES get my nails done, or whatever. But it’s actually pretty normal. Nothing really worth avoiding. Except I do, as if my life depended on it.
Which is tough because married couples gotta talk about money. Which leaves poor Jeff always being the bad guy. He makes me talk about money, but then I have to tell him I didn’t move that money to savings like I said I was going to, and I feel like a terrible person because I didn’t do it, and now I can’t because I spent some of the money on eating out, and I’m a terrible person and a terrible wife and it’s time for me to cry now, thanks.
Husbands don't normally like to see their wives cry. Jeff is no exception. But, hey, it happens and everybody lives. And most of the time he's patient and loving (although he's sinful and broken, too. But that's another post.) And eventually the tears stop, and I mope around for a while, feeling the weight of all that's wrong with me, and then that gets a little better, too, and suddenly I'm ready to watch a little Earl on TV. And I laugh. And everybody lives.
Sometimes I think being single would be easier. But I never think it would be better.
*But only because all of our forks and utensils in general are black. Otherwise, that statement might not be true.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Why this winter will not suck as much as last
I hate the cold. Jeff and I are both really big babies about winter. We spent like five straight months complaining to each other last year.
Oh, this year will have its moments. Moments where we wonder why we live in this God-forsaken arctic tundra. Why ANYone lives here. I mean, don't you know it doesn't get this cold other places? Just move already!
Basically, no matter where you go, people adapt. People adapt to Texas by air conditioning everything. Here, you shrink wrap your windows and use space heaters, and only live in half your house half the year, because it costs too much money to heat the entire thing.
Here is how Jeff and I are adapting:
1. Electric blanket - Jeff and I were on a pretty strict budget last year and one thing we didn't splurge on was an electric blanket. This year we're doing a little better, so I got one a few weeks ago. Oh, sweet heavenly heated blankets. May God bless the person who invented them and also the person who made mine and also the person who brought it to me, etc. Looking back, I see this should have been a necessary purchase last year. And the dual controls are nice since Jeff and I don't go to bed at the same time very often.
2. A heater that works - Last year, we had problems with our heat. It would blow hot until it was almost the desired temperature and then it would blow ice cold. That sucked. When it started to blow cold, we'd just turn the thing off, which meant that overnight, it would get pretty cold in the house. It's hard to go take a shower in a bathroom that is 55 degrees. But last week we had a guy come look at our system. Turns out, we had a heat pump thermostat, which he said was wrong so he changed it and now it's fine. No more cold. Also, this thermostat is PROGRAMMABLE, which means that it starts to heat up the house about 30 minutes before I get up. Nice.
These are simple but effective ways to decrease my displeasure this winter and will likely result in the number of complaints uttered in this house being reduced by at least 20%. Which will make life better for my husband.
Oh, this year will have its moments. Moments where we wonder why we live in this God-forsaken arctic tundra. Why ANYone lives here. I mean, don't you know it doesn't get this cold other places? Just move already!
Basically, no matter where you go, people adapt. People adapt to Texas by air conditioning everything. Here, you shrink wrap your windows and use space heaters, and only live in half your house half the year, because it costs too much money to heat the entire thing.
Here is how Jeff and I are adapting:
1. Electric blanket - Jeff and I were on a pretty strict budget last year and one thing we didn't splurge on was an electric blanket. This year we're doing a little better, so I got one a few weeks ago. Oh, sweet heavenly heated blankets. May God bless the person who invented them and also the person who made mine and also the person who brought it to me, etc. Looking back, I see this should have been a necessary purchase last year. And the dual controls are nice since Jeff and I don't go to bed at the same time very often.
2. A heater that works - Last year, we had problems with our heat. It would blow hot until it was almost the desired temperature and then it would blow ice cold. That sucked. When it started to blow cold, we'd just turn the thing off, which meant that overnight, it would get pretty cold in the house. It's hard to go take a shower in a bathroom that is 55 degrees. But last week we had a guy come look at our system. Turns out, we had a heat pump thermostat, which he said was wrong so he changed it and now it's fine. No more cold. Also, this thermostat is PROGRAMMABLE, which means that it starts to heat up the house about 30 minutes before I get up. Nice.
These are simple but effective ways to decrease my displeasure this winter and will likely result in the number of complaints uttered in this house being reduced by at least 20%. Which will make life better for my husband.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Blogaday?
So, my husband has a blog. He's a writer, so he sorta has to, right? He's a great writer. That's how I fell in love with him, all those years ago. Well, it's how I started to like him, at least.
So last November was his first ever Blogaday. He blogged everyday for a month. This year, he's at it again, but this time he challenged other bloggers to the same. So here I am.
I'm not sure I'll blog every day. But I will make a concerted effort to blog more often this month. And sometimes I'll include pictures!
I don't have too much to say today, but I'll let you know a little bit about how my day went.
This morning, Jeff and I had to go to the bank. But, I ate too much sugar for breakfast. I'm hypoglycemic and so sometimes a Kashi waffle with honey and a glass of Ovaltine is too much sugar and sometimes it isn't. But when it is, it's bad. So I threw up at Bank of America this morning. The bathroom is supposed to be just for employees, but I guess I looked bad enough that she let me in anyway.
Don't worry, no pictures with this blog post.
So last November was his first ever Blogaday. He blogged everyday for a month. This year, he's at it again, but this time he challenged other bloggers to the same. So here I am.
I'm not sure I'll blog every day. But I will make a concerted effort to blog more often this month. And sometimes I'll include pictures!
I don't have too much to say today, but I'll let you know a little bit about how my day went.
This morning, Jeff and I had to go to the bank. But, I ate too much sugar for breakfast. I'm hypoglycemic and so sometimes a Kashi waffle with honey and a glass of Ovaltine is too much sugar and sometimes it isn't. But when it is, it's bad. So I threw up at Bank of America this morning. The bathroom is supposed to be just for employees, but I guess I looked bad enough that she let me in anyway.
Don't worry, no pictures with this blog post.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Some people don't take me seriously (sigh)
What do I thinkie wink
When people look above the sink
Amidst an awful smelly stink
And disregard a rhyme
The rhyme is there
To clear the air
Left by a dirty derrière
For the next potty girl in line
But there are those
Disliking potty prose
Who flip their nose
And ignore it all the time
They think it’s dumb
They like to smell their bum
And when others come
They totally like it too because they’re soooo crazy about their friend and totally dig that she hates potty poems and all that and like reading her blog!
When people look above the sink
Amidst an awful smelly stink
And disregard a rhyme
The rhyme is there
To clear the air
Left by a dirty derrière
For the next potty girl in line
But there are those
Disliking potty prose
Who flip their nose
And ignore it all the time
They think it’s dumb
They like to smell their bum
And when others come
They totally like it too because they’re soooo crazy about their friend and totally dig that she hates potty poems and all that and like reading her blog!
The above poem was written by my dear friend Christy, whom I miss terribly, even though she enjoys doing things that she knows annoy me.
Friday, October 03, 2008
What I think of potty poetry
I have seen at least two poems posted in workplace bathrooms that inform people of how to properly do their business.
I will share them with you:
Can I tell you how much this annoys me? (You might as well say yes.)
I was hoping someone would ask me who took the poetry off the walls (and threw it in the trash where it belonged.) I would proudly tell them I did and I would tell them why: because bathroom poetry is unprofessional and passive-aggressive and it annoys me and I hate it.
And then I imagine they would tell me I was being passive-aggressive and I would say, “No. Passive-aggressive is when you say one thing with your words and the OPPOSITE with your tone. I think my words and my tone are saying the same thing: You are dumb*.”
On Wikipedia, it lists the following as a passive-aggressive behavior**:
Does not express hostility or anger openly (e.g., expresses it instead by leaving notes)
*No, I wouldn't actually tell them they were dumb. But this is MY blog, and if I want to exaggerate a bit, I think I can.
**Yes, I know Wikipedia is not an actual, citable source, and NO, I did not add the above wording to the Passive-Aggressive Behavior page myself.
I will share them with you:
If you sprinkle
When you tinkle
Please be neat
And wipe the seat
-AND-
If when you poo, you happen to stink
Please remember the fumes aren’t pink
So for everyone else who uses this room this day
Please use the provided spray.
When you tinkle
Please be neat
And wipe the seat
-AND-
If when you poo, you happen to stink
Please remember the fumes aren’t pink
So for everyone else who uses this room this day
Please use the provided spray.
Can I tell you how much this annoys me? (You might as well say yes.)
I was hoping someone would ask me who took the poetry off the walls (and threw it in the trash where it belonged.) I would proudly tell them I did and I would tell them why: because bathroom poetry is unprofessional and passive-aggressive and it annoys me and I hate it.
And then I imagine they would tell me I was being passive-aggressive and I would say, “No. Passive-aggressive is when you say one thing with your words and the OPPOSITE with your tone. I think my words and my tone are saying the same thing: You are dumb*.”
On Wikipedia, it lists the following as a passive-aggressive behavior**:
Does not express hostility or anger openly (e.g., expresses it instead by leaving notes)
*No, I wouldn't actually tell them they were dumb. But this is MY blog, and if I want to exaggerate a bit, I think I can.
**Yes, I know Wikipedia is not an actual, citable source, and NO, I did not add the above wording to the Passive-Aggressive Behavior page myself.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Crystal Ball
Tonight, I'm afraid I was thinking. (A dangerous pastime. I know.)
I was thinking of a future me. The Meredith 10 years from now. The 40-year-old me. And here's what I thought:
She and the future Jeff have taken that trip to Italy.
She has gone back to school for another degree.
She and the future Jeff have gotten the honeymoon paid off. And her car. And her student loan.
Her home is comfortable and a refuge from the world. She finally made that pot rack she wanted. And she finally printed some wedding pictures and put them in frames and even hung them on the wall.
She and Jeff have had a baby, and have maybe even decided where to raise that child and where he/she will go to school.
She knows what is my future. She knows how all these things work out. More specifically, how all this stuff will get paid for. And she didn't have to divine it far in advance, when she couldn't possibly have had enough information. She knows it all because she lived it. And when she needed to know, God made sure she knew.
And do you know what she would say to me? She'd say, "Honey, why did you worry so much? Why did you stress out? Why did you grind your teeth in your sleep from anxiety? It didn't help. All those things would have come to pass anyway."
It was a really interesting experience. I was moved to pity for myself. Not in the usual, "Oh, feel sorry for me because my life is so hard." No, it was more like, "Hey, you got it pretty good. And things will work out. So relax."
I will try. Even if it takes me the next ten years.
I was thinking of a future me. The Meredith 10 years from now. The 40-year-old me. And here's what I thought:
She and the future Jeff have taken that trip to Italy.
She has gone back to school for another degree.
She and the future Jeff have gotten the honeymoon paid off. And her car. And her student loan.
Her home is comfortable and a refuge from the world. She finally made that pot rack she wanted. And she finally printed some wedding pictures and put them in frames and even hung them on the wall.
She and Jeff have had a baby, and have maybe even decided where to raise that child and where he/she will go to school.
She knows what is my future. She knows how all these things work out. More specifically, how all this stuff will get paid for. And she didn't have to divine it far in advance, when she couldn't possibly have had enough information. She knows it all because she lived it. And when she needed to know, God made sure she knew.
And do you know what she would say to me? She'd say, "Honey, why did you worry so much? Why did you stress out? Why did you grind your teeth in your sleep from anxiety? It didn't help. All those things would have come to pass anyway."
It was a really interesting experience. I was moved to pity for myself. Not in the usual, "Oh, feel sorry for me because my life is so hard." No, it was more like, "Hey, you got it pretty good. And things will work out. So relax."
I will try. Even if it takes me the next ten years.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Trying to transform my yard
I've mentioned before that my backyard is no oasis. It's much better than it used to be, but that isn't saying much since it used to be a jungle of weeds. Back in July, my mom and Jeff and I went to work on the yard and dug up weeds and tilled it and laid down newspaper and then mulched the entire yard. A few weeds have started to creep back up, but I'm able to handle them pretty well.
About the same time we got rid of the weeds, I planted some azaleas, and two weeks ago, I bought a rose bush. So things are gradually coming together.
This week, a coworker brought me some lilies she dug out of her yard and tonight, I started planting them. As I started digging the last hole, I saw something in the dirt. I reached out and touched it and realized it was fabric. I immediately recognized that this was no naturally occurring underground fabric. It was buried there. And people rarely just bury fabric in the yard for no reason. I knew I was about to make a discovery.
What would it be? As I grabbed the edge of the fabric and started pulling, I imagined what I would find: drugs? money? a dead body? Oy.
As I tugged and tugged, more of the earth started to give way, and finally it happened: bones fell out.
I didn't freak out. I mean, I didn't think, "Oh, this is just someone's pet," but I also didn't think, "Holy crap, I have a dead body in my back yard." All I really thought was, "What do I do?"
I called a few people and asked advice. I could tell the bones were small, but that didn't preclude it from still being a person. My brother came over and took a look, too, and finally we decided: This is probably someone's pet, but we HAVE to know for sure. And I sure didn't want to do any more digging around looking for a skull, so I called 911. (Just so you know, it is now an hour and a half later and the police still haven't shown up. Apparently "probable dead pet in the back yard" doesn't get a very high priority.)
When my husband got home, he had no qualms about trying to find a skull, which he did. Definitely an animal. Not a human. Shew!
But now I have animal bones in a bucket in the back yard. Now what do I do?
(Can you see the two big canine teeth on the skull?)
About the same time we got rid of the weeds, I planted some azaleas, and two weeks ago, I bought a rose bush. So things are gradually coming together.
This week, a coworker brought me some lilies she dug out of her yard and tonight, I started planting them. As I started digging the last hole, I saw something in the dirt. I reached out and touched it and realized it was fabric. I immediately recognized that this was no naturally occurring underground fabric. It was buried there. And people rarely just bury fabric in the yard for no reason. I knew I was about to make a discovery.
What would it be? As I grabbed the edge of the fabric and started pulling, I imagined what I would find: drugs? money? a dead body? Oy.
As I tugged and tugged, more of the earth started to give way, and finally it happened: bones fell out.
I didn't freak out. I mean, I didn't think, "Oh, this is just someone's pet," but I also didn't think, "Holy crap, I have a dead body in my back yard." All I really thought was, "What do I do?"
I called a few people and asked advice. I could tell the bones were small, but that didn't preclude it from still being a person. My brother came over and took a look, too, and finally we decided: This is probably someone's pet, but we HAVE to know for sure. And I sure didn't want to do any more digging around looking for a skull, so I called 911. (Just so you know, it is now an hour and a half later and the police still haven't shown up. Apparently "probable dead pet in the back yard" doesn't get a very high priority.)
When my husband got home, he had no qualms about trying to find a skull, which he did. Definitely an animal. Not a human. Shew!
But now I have animal bones in a bucket in the back yard. Now what do I do?
(Can you see the two big canine teeth on the skull?)Dreaming of technology
I think PC Anywhere is pretty cool. But it doesn't really meet my needs. What I need is Desk Anywhere. I want to be able to sit at any desk, log into my desk, and get anything I need. Even if it's just a tissue.
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