I like his thinking

"So, if you're looking for work and have a choice of a job, choose a job that allows the opportunity for some creativity, and for spending time with your family. Even if it means less pay, personally I think it is better to choose work that is less demanding, that gives you greater freedom, more time to be with your family, or to do other activities, read, engage in cultural activities, or just play. I think that's best"  --Dalai Lama

 

 

 

Henry

The other day, I ran across a comment from a high school friend on Facebook.  He is a teacher and was bringing in lawyers to teach his students about laws, court, and the trial process.  He loves it so when they come to his classroom and he expressed his regret of not going to law school when he was younger.

How sad, I thought--why not go now?  What stops him?  Why can't you go to law school at 49 or 50?  Or 60?  At what age do we just give up and say "Oh, it's too late..."?

And so, I told him that I thought he should go--for him and for his students to see that you are never too old to do something new, to change your career, or to follow a dream--even if the dream is one you just came up with.  You see, who knows what they want to be?  I think it is a rare thing to find someone who actually does what they wanted to do since they were young.

And who knows what they want to be anyway?  I don't--and I'm 48 (going on 49).

I am lucky to have a job where I can be creative every single day.  I am also lucky to be part-time and to be able to name the days and hours I am available to work.  For the most part, I work with nice people and have a nice environment in which to work. Okay, so I don't earn a heap of cash, but I believe it is a trade-off for the above-mentioned flexibility.

My job does not define me--it never has.  When I am asked what I do for a living on forms, I rarely list my job. Most times it just leads to more questions like "Do you have another insurance carrier with your job?", so I just don't bother to list it.  Hey, it's only 25 hours a week--it isn't worth the effort.  And besides, a part-time job isn't what I "am"--well, not to me anyway. 

I am lots of things, but a job title isn't one of them. 

So, as I swam yesterday, I thought about this and I started to list all the things that I AM--which is a lot because I was bored swimming laps and I had a lot of laps to go--but I was amazed at the list of things that I was......and what I want to be.  See, I don't give up on wanting to be yet--even if I've logged some 40-plus years behind me.  I still have time and I certainly still have ever-changing dreams.

I think the day you give up wanting, dreaming, BEING....is the day it is all over.  And I certainly don't want that description of what I "am" to be a corporate term on a manila file folder.

I'm so much more fun than that.

Sasquatch in Lane 2

Em and I took our toes for pedicures on Sunday. It was a preliminary soaking and preparation for what was coming on Monday.

Golden Acres Rec Center was calling--I'm officially back to swimming with the seniors again. Kill me now.

Thanks to a recovering toe, the madness of the holidays and the winter weather, the pool was not an option for me for the last couple of months. But now I have run out of excuses and the scale keeps telling me that it is time to bust out the goggles again.  And so, I pulled out the gym bag, dusted off the speedo, and sprayed a fresh coat of No-Fog on the eyewear and headed over to claim a lane during Senior Swim hour.

Apparently the cold weather scares the old folks off too and a private swim lane is easily snagged.  Okay, the water is 90 degrees and the cast of characters is bountiful--I guess I haven't missed much in my time off. 

Gone is Snorkel guy and lady with her shoes on in the pool.  New is Tatoo boy and the Sasquatch in Lane 2.  Gone is my ability to pound out a mile swim in a half hour, but new is the attitude to drop some pounds. 

Stay tuned for tales from the deep end........

Oh, the things we learn

The weekend was a lazy one--one of have-tos such as house-cleaning and laundry, but it was also filled with quiet moments, short naps with the kitties, and blobbin' around on the couch.  We even snuck in a movie on Saturday night.  Well....we tried to anyway.

Because of the economy and the change in  technology, we no longer have any sort of movie rental places around here.  Our options include the expensive movie theater around the corner or the plethora of Redbox or Blockbuster Express boxes that offer rentals cheap and fast.  We aren't typically all that fond of movies out today, so we usually end up renting at the box, going with the movies that come with high recommendations from friends and co-workers.  Heck, if I'm spending $2 on a movie--it had better be good, right?

We rented "Drive" (with the ever-adorable Ryan Gosling) Saturday night from the Blockbuster box.  We've found that their prices are a tad higher, but we are able to get more current movies because nobody wants to spend the extra buck at those boxes. Personally, I think it's worth the extra buck or two to actually get a movie that you might want to see.

So, there we sat, Joe and I, enjoying our Ryan Gosling movie for the evening.

And then.......

the DVD locked up and we missed the entire last quarter of the movie.  Seriously. I was MIFFED.

We pulled out the DVD and saw that it had chunks out of it. Chunks.  There was no cleaning or rubbing to make the end of that movie work.  And we were left disappointed, angry, and frustrated.  We sat for an entire movie only be be cheated out of the ending. aarrrggghhhhh!

While Joe grumbled and rubbed that DVD like a genie bottle trying to will it to work, I turned to my friend and problem-solver......the internet.  And sure enough, there was a way to get Blockbuster Express customer service at 11:00 p.m. CST on a Saturday night.

Oh, they were all apologetic and such, but they actually thanked me for calling and reporting the DVD.  You see, they can identify your returned DVD by your name and the last four digits of your credit card. When you load that damaged DVD back into the machine, it sorts it into a "damaged" pile, rendering it unusable for any other poor sap.  Then they went ahead and gave me a $3 credit to use at another time as an apology.

Who knew?!

So, while I was happy to have a refund (plus a credit), I was glad to know that nobody else would be left in a lurch like we were.  Problem is......we still didn't know what happens at the end of the movie.  Frustrating beyond belief.

Now we turn to Redbox.  We went online and found that you can reserve movies in your name at your local Redbox--I had no idea that you can do this.  You go online, search a movie and it tells you where it is at Redboxes around your house.  You then reserve it with your name and credit card--and it is ready for you when you get to that box.  Joe went Sunday afternoon to rent another "Drive" DVD and we finished the movie.  

Hooray!

I was so surprised at what I learned from all of this, that I didn't even have time to get mad--which is like a miracle for me.

Is this thing on?

As part of Human Resources at work, I was involved in a "healthy eating/living" campaign for our employees nationwide.  Part of that campaign included distributing pedometers to our employees--encouraging them to move more both on the job and in their daily lives.

While I was writing a piece for the corporate newsletter on how to best use the darn thing, I decided to clip that mutha on for few days. After discovering a guideline for steps taken/activity level, I knew I was in trouble.  (This is the part where I imagine you checking your junk drawer for that old pedometer you threw in there years ago...)

This is what I found:

0-5000 steps = sedentary (otherwise known as "You are still in bed")
5001-7499 steps = low active - typical day w/out exercise (which I call "I sit on my butt all day")
7500 - 9999 steps = somewhat active (Criminy, when do we reach "active"??)
10000 steps -  active (omg - do realize how many steps this is? That's a lot of trips to the restroom at work)
over 12,500 steps = highly active (or "I'm doing a walkathon")

So, after a couple of days trying to remember to put the damn thing on and actually check it once in awhile, I finally share my adventures with my fellow co-workers.  I was mortified at how little I really do move. I mean, I knew that since I started working again, I spend too much time sitting at the computer, but I was really disappointed in my step count. The pedometer reminded me of how little I was moving and it motivated me to move more---which is the whole point, right?  I guess that is where I motivated my fellow employees to grab one and join me.

I dug out a pedometer for Jim (he is leaving next week, so I gave him one ahead of distribution to the rest of the office) and egged him on.  I knew he'd be cracking up with me on how pathetic our step count would be.  Why not share the misery, right?  And off we were, challenging each other to see who had the worst step count.

The following is better known as "Pedometer Wars":

• Mid-way through the morning, I went to check my numbers and I accidentally re-set my pedometer. 
• Jim was kneeling down to get a file--I had to notify him that crawling is not a recorded  movement on his pedometer.
• Knowing I was low in numbers, Irene offered to walk with me to the post office and Wendy's on our lunch break. No, I did not get a frosty.
• I learned that if you clip it on your bosom and "shake it", you can ring up lots of steps. And you look good too.
• I also learned that if you clip it on your hips and "shake it", you can ring up lots of steps as well. AND you look good too. Well, that's what the men in the office said anyway.(I was getting really, really creative with increasing my step count without really walking--I think you can tell)
• Pulling up and down your drawers to go potty adds a step or two (yes!)
• You can kill a lot of time at work on a Friday discussing your step progress....or the lack thereof.

At the end of my day, which is around 2:00 p.m., I checked in with Jim.  At that point, I had logged around 4000 steps, counting the missing 1500 that I had lost with the reset of my pedometer.  Jim?  Well, we both laughed when he announced his total count of 359.  Seriously--359 steps.  He blamed it on his "Dorf"-like legs and I told him he just needs to shake it a bit more when he walks. Either way, it was sad on how little we all actually move in a single day.

I know what you are thinking right about now....."Where is my pedometer?" and "I wonder how many steps do I take in a day?".  Yeah, well, you don't wanna know.   It's probably not as good as you think it is.

Unless you "shake it" a lot.

Mix it Up

There's this thing that Hobbes does when he's really, really happy to be outside: He gets all wild-eyed, holds his tail kinda crooked-like and he attacks something imaginary on the ground in front of him--he sorta shuffles his kitty hands around like he's mixing up something.  It's pretty hilarious when there is something to mess with, like snow or leaves, but it's just plain silly when there is nothing but grass or concrete to wrastle--he's a goof like that.

One early morning last week, Hobbes charged out the cat door to find a dusting of snow on the patio.  He was so smitten with the cold air that he decided to show that snow who's boss--and he did his little happy cat dance.  While it was funny to see him do his bit, it was funnier to see what remained of the pristine snow after he came in.  Em and I had a chuckle about Hobbes "mixin' it up".

I think life is like that--I think you gotta mix it up every now and then, don't you? I mean, the world sorta sits there waiting and it's up to us make our own fun....or not.  Me, I'm kind of fond of having fun and I certainly don't sit around waiting for it to come find me.  If you wait, it never comes.

Take the lead from Hobbes--go out there this weekend and mix it up.  Stir up the leaves or the snow of your life and swirl it about a bit. Dash out the kitty door and get your feet dirty.  Tell us some good stories come Monday.

I'll be stirring up my own....

I'm One Lucky Gal

There's lots I don't have....

a fancy car,

big house,

lots and lots of money,

sprawling yard,

or a speedy boat.

But I got me a cat with glowy ears!

Damn, it's Lent

“Every day, think as you wake up, today I am fortunate to be alive, I have a precious human life, I am not going to waste it. I am going to use all my energies to develop myself, to expand my heart out to others; to achieve enlightenment for the benefit of all beings. I am going to have kind thoughts towards others, I am not going to get angry or think badly about others. I am going to benefit others as much as I can.”
  --Dalai Lama

Yeah, and then I get to work. Sigh. The Dalai Lama is all smarty-pants about such things because he has never walked into the kitchen at work looking for a cup of coffee, only to find an empty pot scorching on the burner. It's not so easy to have kind words for others in that situation, believe me.




With the crawfish etouffee, red beans and rice, and paczki behind me, I begin Lent with a way-too full stomach and some thinking ahead of me.  Unlike too many others, I do not give up chocolate or soft drinks--I'm more of a self-improvement kinda gal.  Lent is a time of reflection for me--a time to renew my attitude, to rethink how I treat others, how I treat myself, and to maybe just think before I speak or act for once.

I like to take stock of things in my head and think about the things that need improvement--and god knows, there is a lot of that.  But I am human, and so I acknowledge the brown and bruised spots of me and I work on changing that.  I'm not always successful, but I think just admitting you need work is a big step in itself.

I'm not a very religious person, but I do consider myself more spiritual instead.  I don't find peace in four walls and a roof, instead, I find it in the small things of this good green earth. I mean, how can you not see the miracles of this life and not know there is something deeper and more profound than us? So it is with the help of the miracles of Spring and the changes in the natural world around me that I see that this is a time of change in myself as well.  A time of taking stock, turning my face to the sun, and reaching for a better me.

And to kick off my annual Lenten self-improvement plan, I usually give up swearing for the duration as well.  Okay, so it's typically failed 10 seconds after my alarm goes off on Ash Wednesday, but it is the attempt that counts, right. And if I fall off that  no-cussin' wagon, I'm gonna hop back on and forge ahead--with a whole lot less four-letter words.

Well....unless the idiots at work don't start making the coffee....

At least it wasn't 'Full Metal Jousting'......

You all know by now that Monday night is my "Hoarders" night, so Tuesday blog posts are typically sort of lame because I'm usually camped out on the couch "ewwing" at the tube and can't be bothered with writing something really great for the Duck and Wheel. So....

Thank goodness Karen tagged me with a meme of sorts and it gave me a quick out for my post for today:

1. Describe yourself in 7 words:
      Passionate, silly, dramatic, impatient, fastidious, hard-working, and funny.

2. What keeps you up at night?
      My bladder, hot flashes, and worries that are unfounded come daylight.

3. Who would I like to be?
       Mike Royko--a former Chicago Sun-Times columnist who just wrote stuff and was hilarious, smart, gruff and current.  He rocked.


4. What am I wearing now?
       My new jeans, white blouse and sweaty (sweater) that I wore to work today. It's very comfy.


5. What scares me? 
       Beyond the typical "something happening to my kids", I'm gonna go with spiders. I hate them. Ick.


6. The best and worst of blogging:
      The pallies. Dang, they make me laugh.  The worst is that I don't have enough time to visit them all each day. And I don't know them in person to hang out and laugh together.

7. The last website I visited:
      Do blogs count?  I don't remember a real website....uh....maybe YouTube or Facebook or something like that.  I haven't had time or money to shop online lately.


 8. What is the one thing I would change about myself?
     That I would get out and exercise more.  I'm feeling flabby and sedentary these days.


9. Slankets: yes or no? 
      I have absolutely no idea what that is, but it doesn't sound good, so I'm going with "no".


10. Tell us something about the person that tagged you:
      I love Karen because she is such a wide variety of things I would never imagine--she always surprises me.  I like how she really cares about the kids in her community and volunteers for them.  I am impressed that she wrote a book and had it published. I love that she stopped in to see her dad every single morning and then took the bus to work--that is a lot of work before work. She knows a lot about sports and watches "Full Metal Jousting"--which I find just ridiculous, but I find it funny that she and I both watched it.  And I love how she and Gerard are just meant for each other and are very sweet together.  Mix that all in with the love for her kitties and her dog, and she's just a great pally.

I'm mixing it up and tagging a few old/new pallies to answer these IF they want. No pressure here--we are all about mulligans here at the Duck and Wheel.

1.  Silver Thoughts--Heck, she needs a diversion from the wedding plans.
2.  Pricilla--It will give her something to do while she's basking in her sun spot.
3.   Marg--I wonder if she knows what a 'slanket' is?
4.  Diana--This is what you get for beating me in 'Words with Friends'!
5.  Bob Warr--He oughta have some good answers for this!

There'll be some nappin' in Cube 3 today

Whew! Thank Ja it's Monday....that's all I gotta say. I'm POOPED from the weekend. You know it's bad when you go to work to rest. Sheesh.

Weekend highlights include:

Joe making pancakes for Dance Team Breakfast....

8:00 a.m.

17 hungry Dance Team gals eating pancakes and Monkey Bread

(The cats were in the living room sniffin' all their stuff)

The pancake-powered dance team shakin' it

The "Big Score" from the Band Dinner Dance the night before:

A huge mirror for the surprise (to Joe) remodel of the bathroom. 

It's 36" x 47" and lovely...

And again, G'ma Phyl scores at the Dinner Dance with prizes of her own,

and she wasn't even there! 

Everybody, over to G'ma Phyl's house for pedicures!

See what I mean? It was a crazy weekend.  Of course I didn't have photos of John and Betty making me laugh, me dancing like a mouse on the dance floor, or how bad I looked with a hangover on Saturday, but I think we can all live without those, right?

I hope you had an exciting and fun weekend too.....well, minus the hangover--'cuz those are rarely good. But good friends, lots of laughs, monkey bread, and prizes certainly made up for it.

What did you do this weekend?

It's got to be the morning after.....

The morning after the annual Band Dinner Dance is never pretty.  It's typically the result of a late night mixed in with lots of dancing and laughing with the band pallies, plus a wee bit of booze. 


This morning was no exception. Well.....maybe it was, because apparently somebody had a little too much medicine at the dance and is really, really hurtin'.  And that somebody was also dancing a lot because her feet hurt like the dickens too.  It's kinda ugly this morning.

And while that is all well and good, I also volunteered to make breakfast for the dance team at 8:30 a.m.--which comes really, really early when you were partying the night before. Ugh.  But we pulled it off--I was cooking bacon while Joe made the pancakes.  I turned on every light in the house and cranked not only 1, but 2 stereos, and was singing and dancing all happy-like for those not-so-awake teen girls. I faked it. I faked that I was fine, but I was dying inside and my tummy was rumbling. Oh, the things we do for our kids. 

Oh, did I mention my big win at the raffle table?  Giant mirror.  Yep. So, now I can remodel our bathroom........ with our new mirror---and about $5000 more.  But, it's a good start, right?  Well, that's what I kept telling my very grumbly husband as he was trying to load the darn thing in the back of the van.

It was a good night and well worth the pain the next day.  Now, if I can just get my stomach to stop rumbling....

My days are numbered..........

And this would be why we are hosting "Dance Team Breakfast" at 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning for 17 teenage girls.

In case you are wondering....Joe is the one flippin' the pancakes.

I love Hobbes Thursday: Where's the Kitty?

For some reason, Hobbes thinks that if he "hides" under the paper towels while I'm cleaning the bathrooms, nobody can see him.  Yeah, this worked 15 pounds ago, but now.....not so much.

Every week, I have to play this game with him:  While I'm cleaning the bathroom, he comes in and tries to get under the paper towels. Then he sits there until I say out loud "Where's the kitty? Where did Hobbes go?  Joe, did you see where the kitty went?"  This goes on and on until the paper towels answer me. 

I love that cat-- it takes half the roll to hide all those orange stripes and he seriously thinks he's invisible under there. 

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

It's just one of my favorite Valentine pictures....

Don't Rain on My Parade

Every so often I just happen to catch some classic movie on TV--and then the party is pretty much over for the rest of the family.

Take for example "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers". If that bad boy is on--somewhere on TV--I've got this extra-sensory perception and I just know that it's on....and I find it.  And then it's all downhill from there--the rest of the night is all "Sobbin' Women", "Goin' Courtin'" and "Spring, Spring, Spring" in full voice--mine, of course.  I get all excited and then I drag whoever is home to come watch it with me. I mean, who doesn't love a good barn raisin' scene with all that dancin' and fightin' over the gals??

Oh, there are other non-musical required watching too, like "The Way We Were", ""Guess Who's Coming to Dinner", "Dr. Zhivago", "This is Spinal Tap","Kelly's Heroes", and  "Das Boot"--amongst a long list of other classic films. At least I'm a well-rounded kinda cinematic bully, right?  I'm convinced the kids should be exposed to the classics (and some not-so classic) and I make them drop what they are doing to sit and watch with me.  They still thank me for doing that one Christmas vacation morning when the three of us laid in my bed watching "Ferris Bueller" for the first time. There are just some movies I think those kids should see.

The Sunday paper lead me to the TCM listings for their 31 Days of Oscar.  They are showing all sorts of Oscar-winning movies for the month and I'm hooked. I find myself searching the nightly listing to see what I can catch--and Sunday night was no different.  I hit the jackpot when one of my very favoritist movies of all time was on....."Funny Girl", starring Barbra Streisand and Omar Shariff.  Sigh. It doesn't get much better than that.

Poor Em really didn't believe me when I told her the house was shutting down at 7:00 p.m. on Sunday night for one of my favorite movies.  And silly her, she invited her boyfriend over too.  Nothing like dinner-theater at the Kautz house. I told her Ivan could come over, but if they wanted to be here, there was required watching....and no smooching or talking or other rude behavior in the family room theater. You have to sit and watch....and enjoy.

And there we sat--the three of us on the couch (me singing the part of Fanny Brice), Joe on the floor, Hobbes (playing the part of Nicky Arnstein) in his basket, and Grace---well, she got sick of my singing and left for the bedroom. (She is a party pooper.)  And it was lovely. Sigh. We enjoyed 3 hours of the love story of Fanny Brice and Nicky Arnstein--along with some great showstoppers.  And I only really sang like 3 numbers--I didn't want to scare Ivan too badly, you know.

Gees, it was a great night and the kids ended up really liking the movie. Em mentioned that Ivan had a fun night with us and she was just really glad that she finally figured out who Barbra Streisand is.  Really??

When I hear stuff like that coming out of my kid, I know I'm doing my job. Sheesh.

Aisle 3 - Walk of Shame

Sunday brought us to the Home Depot for a new set of stairs for the attic door.  Of course, Joe brought his measurements along with to ensure we purchased the proper stair set.

We stood there for some time, debating whether to get the 22" or the 25" width, Joe's measurement was around 24.73259--or something just as ridiculous.  We discussed, we debated, we talked about how he measured and his confidence in those measurements.  We tried to remember how wide the set of stairs we have are and if these looked like ours.  Of course, Joe balked at my suggestion to ask for help--why would we do that?

With much hesitation and disagreement, Joe put his foot down and bought the 22" set. And we loaded that beast onto a cart to drive it out of the showroom.

As for a typical trip to the home improvement store, I made the suggestion that we peruse the door aisle, the bathroom vanity section, and .......--you know, how those places go.  One thing leads to another and that's when Joe got all snippy and crabby-like.  I wrapped it all up pretty quick by giving him the "look" and lecturing him about getting all snippy and crabby-like.  He even got a whispered "Oh, boy. You are in trouble now" from an older woman who witnessed the scene.

When we finally worked our way to the cash register, we were still debating the size of those stairs.  I said to the cashier "We'll be back in a few minutes to return the damn thing" and she laughed. Joe was not laughing. He was still snippy and all crabby-like.

Of course, you know where this is going.

We got home and Joe hopped out of the car and grabbed his measuring tape.  We both verified the rough opening and silently loaded back into the car. The purchased set of stairs never even made it out of the van and we headed back to the store.

"Uh, you can stay in the car, Lin," he says.  "Yeah/no. I'm going in." I said in return.

We no sooner walked in the door and our cashier busted out laughing. Really. It was an "out loud" laugh--you know, like you imagine me doing. And she wasn't even polite or anything, it was hilarious.  Joe just smiled and said "I know. It's the Walk of Shame."

I just walked behind him, smiling.

And it didn't end there--poor guy got guff from the women at the return counter as well--all egged on by me, of course. Joe was a good sport, encouraged me to push that heavy cart back to the farthest corner of the store for my "victory lap" and we both had a good laugh with the employees of Home Depot.  I'm sure they see it all the time.

Yes, he's got help to install it.  And it's not me--we'd kill each other.

My rear-end is fine, thank you

There was a story on the news a few months ago about David Beckham rear-ending some motorist on the freeway in California.  "Imagine that," I said to Em, "imagine getting rear-ended by David Beckham." To which she replied with complete horror "Aw, mom, that is gross." 

Why does everything I say get turned around to be innuendo?  I didn't mean it that way, but now I just say that every so often just to get her mad. It's fun pushing the buttons of your teenage kids, you know?

We were on our way to visit DePaul University in the city yesterday and traffic was insane. Mix in some snow with the already packed lanes of traffic when the car in front of me slammed on his brakes. I barely stopped in time and looked into my rear-view mirror to see the whites of some saucer-shaped eyes and the white knuckles of the driver behind me who barely missed my bumper as well.  I said "Oh, damn, we nearly got......" BAM!  Car Number 3 plowed into the gal behind me, who ricocheted into me.   Swell.

And I was driving Joe's car. The car that he loves.  The car that is relatively new. Yea.

We are all fine. Nobody was hurt, the cars were all driveable. Illinois Dept. of  Transportation came and escorted us all to the nearest safe roadside area to exchange information and everyone was pleasant enough under the circumstances.  The only car that really suffered any damage was the middle car--poor gal, her Mercedes got it on both ends, while my car and Car #3 were relatively unscathed.  That'll teach ya to spend the money on a Mercedes.

After all was said and done, we finished up and headed on our way to our college tour.  And it ended up being a nice day. 

But you know, I couldn't resist teasing Em that I was rear-ended by TWO people--both a guy AND a gal.  And while that was a very exciting, it wasn't like being rear-ended by David Beckham. The kid is beyond horrified.

Bingo.

The nice thing about email is that you don't have to fake cough for your bosses' sake....

My alarm went off at it's usual 5:30 a.m.  The new wacky radio host was up to something obnoxious and silly as Hobbes walked the length of me to plop himself square on my chest. If I wasn't awake, I was now--Hobbes sees to it that he gets his morning cuddle. It's how we start the day. Every day.

Except I couldn't take it yesterday.  I laid there and I thought "I can't do this" --and I didn't. I shut the damn radio off and silenced that nutjob morning host for the moment. And I fluffed my pillow and turned over.

As I lay there, my heart pumped for the thrill of tossing it all to the wind for the day. It was a "snow day" of sorts, a personal day, a mental health day. Whatever you call it--I was playing hooky from work and I wasn't going in. 

My heart pumped with joy while the beat reverberated in my head--oh, the things I was gonna do! (Well, after I slept in for a couple of hours.)

I could lay there and read my book. I could finally get through some of those Photoshop Elements tutorials. There were all those marching season photos to be uploaded to Snapfish. Oh, there were bills to be paid and shirts to be ironed---nah, hate that.  There is the pool to join and laps to swim.  I could run to the bank and stop by a little gift shop in town that I like. I could go shopping--no wait, had to pay tuition = no money.  I could catch up on all my blog reading. I could finish that quilt in the closet. I could start a whole new quilt.  I could.....I could.....

And all my plans for sleeping in for another hour or so died.  I tossed and turned. I fluffed my pillow a cabillion times and took my covers off and put them back on a cazallion more times.  Then Em's alarm went off and the cats got antsy for their food. Hobbes starting singing some cat song about going outside to see the birdies....

and I was forced to end my relaxation right then and there.

It was nice to have the day to myself, but I ended up not doing anything really fun, which was kinda sad. I paid bills, stripped the beds and did laundry. I read a little bit and then blog hopped for awhile.  I logged onto my work email and answered a few things too.  I let Hobbes in and out about 100 times and got the mail. It was all blah and nothing really fun--unlike the adventures of my mind those few hours beforehand.

And I sort of came to the conclusion.....

that playing hooky wasn't as much fun as it used to be.  I think I need to work on this.

I am an Idiot

For those of you on Facebook, have you seen that new game "Words with Friends?"  It's actually Scrabble, but they don't call it that.  And your friends can all invite you to play and you get letter tiles like Scrabble and there are bonus squares that boost your score, but it takes weeks and weeks to actually finish a game because you take turns and sometimes people don't take their turns for days on end, and....and....

I just hate that game.

Really.

My problem is that I play it like I play Scrabble.  I make words with the letters given to me and I play them.  This version lets you plop letters in all sorts of weird places and then you click on the button and it tells you if it is a word or not.  It's kinda like the Russian Roulette of word games--and you don't have to know all these words to play them.

So, when I play, all my competitors come up with snazzy words that I never heard of and they get like giant scores while I'm busy building 3-letter words that even hamsters know and I have like no score at all.  I stink at the game and I get my hiney kicked every single time I play. 

Maybe the word is getting around that I stink at WWF and everyone who wants to feel really, really smart, or really, really good about themselves can play me and win. Which makes them feel good and makes me feel really stupid.....and really crabby. So, I hate the game and I don't want to play it anymore.

Please, if you are on Facebook, do not ask me to play Words with Friends. It depresses me.  I'm not smart to begin with, but this game just proves it to the entire world........and to me.

Unless you want to play it like Scrabble--then I will play ya.  I've got my dog-eared copy of a dictionary right here to check your words. And I'll make you tell me the definition--because I don't know a lot of big words apparently.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday - Belleh Up!

Grace says that frogs do go belly up sometimes...

but in a good way. 

(Ohhhh, so that's what they are doing when I'm 

at work!)

Thanks, Grace. :)

Do you want that ultra-roasted?

Winter deposits me in the house, secluded from annoying neighbors, but surrounded by the everyday friends/enemies of our lives--otherwise known as appliances.  I swear they know they've got me cornered, and they are taking full advantage of their chance to aggravate me.

While the weather is nice, it is easy to ignore the bad ones, but winter has me facing my foes--those appliances that I hate.  They just seem extra-annoying when it's just me, my coffee and them on a Saturday morning.  There is nowhere to run, I have to face my demons, even if they are made of stainless steel and plastic.

My toaster oven insists on burning my toast, right in front of my face every weekend. It taunts me--making me turn this dial and that one, cranking the timer that you can never set for an actual "time" like 30 seconds or a minute.  This metal man is more random with the likes of 28 seconds or 1 minute 32 seconds. And there are no real numbers on the dial--it's sort of like spinning the roulette wheel of cooking. Will it cook? Will it burn? Stay tuned to find out!! Arrrgggghhhh.

I swear the damn thing snickers as I stand there, watching the glow of my toast, lightly browning.  It takes forever to brown,  so I lose interest, and I walk away to do things like start the soapy water for dishes or fill my coffee cup.  It is then that it instantly goes from tan to an angry BURNT--in seconds.  Mere seconds! And it doesn't just blacken my toast--it has to go the whole distance with billowing smoke from the crumbs burning under the rack, the window on the door steams up, and it reeks the stench of a thousand pieces of burnt toast.  It's dramatic, this toaster oven.

If we had some sort of history together, or if the darned thing was old, I could understand. But it is not--we just bought it last year.  And while that thing whispered sweet promises in my ear as it sat on the shelf on the store, it lied. It lied about it's features. It lied about how efficient is is and how it is going to look so nice on my counter.  It lied about the great toast it was gonna make and how much I was gonna love it. It lied like a dog. And I bought those lies--in more ways than one.

I do not love you, Toaster Oven. I 'm hoping for a terrible kitchen accident to happen--say, maybe a little short circuit perhaps, or a tumble into the soapy dish water (unplugged, of course).  I dunno, just something to justify tossing this piece of conniving junk into the trash. Why we don't just cut our losses and get a new one, I don't know. Until it dies, I suffer. (I come from a long line of sufferers, so I do it well.)

And I eat black toast--all the while cursing the damn thing.

The Frog Test

I have this thing that I call the "frog test".  It's my method of determining if a frog is dead....or just hibernating--which is a big deal around here.  We don't want to be holding services for a froggy who is just sleeping, you know.

This is the extent of my frog knowledge:  frogs are cold-blooded. They slow down as it gets colder and then enter a hibernation that lasts the entire winter. Frogs need to hibernate to live a long life--well, for frogs that is.  Sometimes, they'll pop up for some air if the ice melts off the top of the pond--especially if you have that odd rainy winter day. There is just something about raindrops that beckon them, I don't know why.  Then they go back down for more slumbering until Spring comes.

Every so often, we get a froggy who is acting odd and I'm not sure if they are dead, dying, hibernating, or something in between.  I don't like leaving dead frogs in the pond  because, come spring, that is not such a nice thing to clean up.  Dead frogs are mushy, stinky, and those mile-long tongues have a way of eeking out of their mouths.  It is not fun to fish out of the pond, let me tell you.

The Frog Test:  Testing to see if a frog is still alive entails the fish bucket (one that is only used for fish and frogs--no soaps, chemicals, or cleaners allowed....EVER), warm water mixed with cold pond water, and some time.  Tossed into the warm water, a froggy will start to revive and become more active.  This is a hibernating frog.  Any frog that doesn't become more active is considered a dead or dying frog.  That always makes me sad.

When in doubt, I always toss a frog back into the pond for a week or two--then I watch closely.  Upside down is not a good sign. A hibernating frog will still move slightly and no frog would willingly be upside down.  After some time, they get a bit stiff, their mouths open, and that tongue starts thinking about where it's going.  I try to nab them out at that point. 

So, it's sad to tell you that I lost my frog this week. It was a little guy--one of the taddies, no doubt.  New frogs are more susceptible to die because they may not have had enough food stores for the winter.  They can die of fungus too, and god knows what else.  Either way, some make it, some do not.  But each life lost is a blow to me--I don't take frog deaths lightly. It makes me sad and even the brightest day is dulled by a lost frog.

I sent Joe out Saturday to take care of the frog who we knew was dead in the pond.  Em and I were out running errands when he did it, but he reported in later, saying that it really was dead. Then he added that he found some unfrozen soil next to the house in which to bury him.

And that is why I love that guy. 

The Hounds of Winter

Writers block--you know it's bad when you start eyeing the appliances for stories.  Seriously.  I have an entire post about the good cop/bad cop thing going on with my new Oreck vacuum cleaner versus the year-old toaster oven we all hate.  Now if that isn't scrambling for a post.....

I'd say it is me, but I'm noticing that more than one of us is struggling for posts these days.  Maybe it's the weather. Maybe it's the time of year.  Maybe we all just get writer's block at the same time.  Either way, I'd swear about half the of the blogs I read and enjoy are closed or are closing up shop. What gives? 

As I head into my fourth year of The Duck and Wheel, I begin to wonder if I have run the course. Do I have any more stories or is this just a dry spell?  Do I really need to go back and join the pool for stories?  Are the adventures of my Orange Stripey cat all that exciting? Do people really care about my toe? Do I mail order tadpoles this summer or do we just quit raising frogs? I dunno. These are big questions for a gloomy winter day.

And while I ponder these and other big questions, like "Do I really have too much acid in my stomach or is it a matter of too little stomach acid?", I begin to realize that winter doldrums have set in--and we still have March to get through.

I was flipping through old blog posts the other day and I found one from last year that just seemed fitting--it was called "February is Stupid".  And yes, I believe it is.  Nothing is going on.  There is no nice weather or things blooming in the yard.  The cats and I are hunkered down, still hibernating and not doing much of anything.  Work is work....and boring.  We see friends and do fun stuff--but who wants to see the report of that on the Duck and Wheel? It's just sort of a "blah" month--you know, it's kinda "stupid" according to that wise person on the radio whom I quote.

And as I ponder everything from "Is that frog really dead?" to "How am I gonna survive without updates on Brownie the Wonder Dog and Spike the Hotness Monster?", I take a deep breath and know that I DO have more stories.  I'm just in that time of year when nothing is going on--well, nothing to write about anyway.  I just have to get out there and find the stories in my every day life.

In the meantime, stay tuned for that appliance post....

He's baaaacckkk...........

I don't write about work much anymore, for a couple of reasons:

1. Jim retired and it isn't half as much fun without him
2. We have some new employees at work now and the office is more crowded
3. Since the summer, I've increased my work load and if I want to stick to my part-time hours, I had to quit laughing so much and get more work done. (Bummer)
4. Irene is busier too

So, yeah, I don't have many fun work stories to tell lately. Work is....uh....more like "work" now. Well, unless that Mojo Monkey does something to stir things up.

We had a little pick-me-up in January--Jim came back for a temporary stint.  While he is not really happy about his retirement from retirement, Irene is glad he is back for the help, and I'm glad he's back because I miss my old "Morning Meeting" buddy.  It's like old times.

The Morning Meeting used to consist of Jim, Irene and myself sitting around, drinking coffee, and shooting the breeze. We'd cover topics like Jim's old army stories, pension reform, the down side of unions, Jim's old army stories, the latest news topics, Jim's days as a trader on the exchange, and my favorite....Jim's old army stories.  I think we'd kill that first hour, just slowly easing into the day, laughing. The Morning Meeting was retired the day that Jim retired--it wasn't the same without him. Irene and I didn't have much to talk about--we had no war stories of our own.

Upon Jim's return, and after I gave him crap about not answering my emails at home, we caught up slowly on all of those months he was gone--and now, we are back to those Morning Meetings.  The old stories that Irene and I have drilled into our memories are good to hear again.  It's like we picked up where we left off--which is a nice distraction from the routine and the boredom of winter.  His return has made it work more fun, even if we are just re-hashing the same old stories. 

Jim will be leaving at the end of the month, which is sort of sad.  He loves retirement and says that he has no plans to come back to help out again. Heck, I don't blame him, but it sure was nice to have the old pally back--even if it is for a short time.


It's gonna be hard to say good-bye.......again.

In the absence of snow angels

It's hard to believe that while today's temps are hovering around the 50's, last year on this day it was snowing 23 inches.  That 'ole Mother Nature is a loony, isn't she?  It's February and I was taking a walk on my lunch hour--outside.  But as much as I love the warm winter temperatures, I like the snow too.  Hobbes and I agree--anything that gets us outside is okay with us.

I was snooping around the yard in all of this nice weather and I happened to catch a glimpse of the white underside of a frog on the bottom of the pond--which is not a good sign.  I scooped him out with the net and homeboy looked a little...uh....stiff.  I think he is dead, but who knows? Hibernation/dead--they sorta look the same sometimes.  You gotta love Joe who says "Throw him back in--we'll know soon enough if he is dead".  That man is all marshmallow, isn't he? I vote for him to be the one to have to scoop a dead frog out of the pond come March or April.

That's the one day I'm gonna be in the house.