The most recent annoyance in my life

So I'm on my way to work yesterday morning and I'm really thirsty. I have a conversation in my head about how I'm trying to be better about making spontaneous stops and buying expensive drinks at a gas station when I can get them in bulk much cheaper at a grocery store. I look at the clock. I'm running out of time and a Sobe and perhaps a nutrigrain bar are calling my name.

I think I can make it so I get in the left lane and turn into the nearest gas station. My wheels are on fire as I pull up beside the building and thrust the gear shift into park. With bank card in hand, I run into the building. There are two cashiers up front and they are reading a magazine.

They don't even bother to look up (hello! customer service!) as I dash in and browse the store quickly to find what I'm looking for. Success! They have both the Sobe I like to drink (it's the yellow one and the name of it escapes me) and a blueberry nutrigrain bar. I run up to the counter and notice that the magazine the cashiers are reading is none other than the most wanted list. OK. And these are the first words I hear from cashier #1 and cashier #2 (from here on out known as tweedle dumb and tweedle dee).

Tweedle Dee: (Looking upon each face intently) "Ya know. I'm so surprised I haven't seen my ex Ajax in here."

It takes me a minute to figure out that she is talking about a person and not a household cleaner.

Tweedle Dumb: All I get from here is a quick glance. No "Hello. How are you today?" Just grabs my merchandise and starts scanning.....extremely slowly. She does however take the time to start playing with her co-workers hair until she exclaims:

Tweedle Dee: "Stop messin' with my hair fool!"

Tweedle Dumb: "I'm sorry but you're up here lookin' like Alfalfa!" Hee hee hee. Giggle giggle giggle.

Ah! She can speak. Look at that.

What seems like an eternity later, Tweedle dumb reaches for my debit card and swipes it. They continue to look at their magazine. (Seriously?)

Tweedle Dumb: "He's kinda cute!"

REALLY! OH MY GOD!

Finally I get my receipt and I stare at it. Tweedle dumb has not informed me whether I need to sign it or not but I see no line at the bottom and she's refusing to make eye contact. I stare for a split second as each of the two nitwits continue to look at their "magazine". I shake my head, grab my beloved merchandise and head for the door. But not before seeing out of the corner of my eye, the next customer in line walking up to the counter.

Here we go, I think to myself. I wonder if he'll have something to say about all of this.

Tweedle Dumb: "Hey! How are you today?" Giggle giggle giggle.

Are you kidding me!

I storm off to my car, throw open the driver's side and plop down into my seat. Then I start to laugh to myself. I didn't see the guy's face, but I wonder if he was as "cute" as one of the most wanted criminals that these two girls were admiring. Must have been it. Unbelievable!

Several Reasons Why I'm Not Perfect

I actually started thinking of this list while I was in the shower the other morning. There are so many reasons as to why I'm not perfect, but these were the first to come to mind.

1) Every time I order a hot tea from Pannera or Cup of Joe, I always burn my tongue. I get so excited and it smells so good that I can never resist the temptation in taking that first glorious sip. Then I'm unable to really taste the rest of the tea because my tongue is numb for like 3 days afterward. (I am much the same when eating soup...one would think I would learn).

2) I'm notorious for leaving said tea bag (or any other tea bag) in the cup after I'm finished. This wouldn't be so bad if I didn't already take it to the sink, so it gets all soggy and gross. This for some reason, drives Andrew up the wall. (oops:).

3) Speaking of driving Andrew up the wall, I am also bad for leaving only a few cheez its left in the box (literally...maybe 4-5 of those small, scrumptious bite-sized crackers), therefore fooling him when grabbing for the box, that there is indeed a snack awaiting him. Hey, I get full and at times am unable to finish the last of the box. No need in wasting them right?

4) Whenever I leave the house, I have to turn the door handle an even number of times to make sure I locked the door. I have been known to get all the way to my car and have to turn back because I couldn't remember if I had done this or not.

5) If I stand in front of a mirror too long, I somehow see myself 10 pounds heavier than the five minutes before. I don't know how this is possible, but it happens all of the time and it's really no good for my self-esteem.

6) Secretly, I wouldn't be upset if a couple of my exes happened to kick the bucket. (I'm totally kidding!...or am I? Muuhahaha)

7) I have a bad habit of laughing at the wrong time. (For example, if someone falls in front of me or trips or runs into something, ect ect ect.) But in my defense, I am not the most graceful person in the world. I laugh at myself when these things happen to me as well.

8) When I was little and didn't want to go to school, I would chew up saltine crackers and spit them in the toilet. Then I would leave them there and go get my mom to show her that I had thrown up, therefore declaring myself a day off from the rigorous tasks of a second grader. (You think she would have caught on considering she was a nurse.)

9) I once hit my brother really hard in the head with a cabbage patch kid. Now, I know what you're thinking , cabbage patch kids are soft and smooshy...but their heads aren't:). Think about it.

10) I cry more when an animal dies in a movie than when a person dies. I'm not sure what that really says about me.


To be continued I'm sure.....

Conversation between Me and Andrew

This is how a typical conversation goes between me and Andrew each morning around 8:55am. (Note: via phone call)

I'm driving to work and I get to the stoplight from where I am about to turn onto Falls of Neuse. I pick up the phone to call Andrew.
Ring. Ring. Ring Ring.

Andrew: "Booski?" (One of our pet names. And if you should ever ask...I really couldn't tell you where it came from.)

Me: "Hey!"

Andrew: "Hir r do?".... (mumble mumble mumble)

Me: "Huh?"

Andrew: (Very quietly) "How are you?"

Me: "Oh. I'm good. Don't really feel like going to work. I can barely hear you though"

Andrew: "What?"

Me:"I said, I can barely hear you."

Andrew: "Oh sorry. I'm turning my inside noise."

Me: "WHAT?"

Andrew: "Inside voice."

Me:"Oh..."

Silence.

...............


Andrew: "It's the final countdown! Dana na na na na na nana...."

Me: "Do you want me to let you go so you can sing to yourself?"

Andrew: "Oh sorry.Where are you?"

Me: "Almost there."

Andrew: "That's word." (His new favorite word is word....)

Me: "What does that mean?"

Andrew: "You know. When some thing's word. Word."

Me:"Right...so I hope you have a great day!"

Andrew: "I think someones coming. I gotta go."

Me:"OK. Love you booski!"

Andrew: "Force arm....(mumble mumble). Have a great day booski."

Me: "Force arm?"

Andrew: "What?"

Me: "You said. Force arm."

Andrew: No. False alarm."

Me: "Oh."

Silence.

Andrew: "OK. So have a great day!"

Me: "You too. I love you booski!"

Andrew: I love you too. Hey! Guess what?"

Me: "What?"

Andrew: "I dove you."

Me: "You dove me?"

Andrew: No. Love."

Me: "Love you too! Have a great day!

(Are you starting to see a pattern?)

Andrew: "You too! Love you booski."

Me: Love you booski. See you tonight."

Andrew: "Word."

Me: "Love you."

Andrew: "Love you too!"

Me: "Bye!" (giggle)

(giggle giggle giggle)

Andrew: "Buy."

Three minutes later, we finally hang up the phone. Quiz time...what was our conversation about?

Confidence

Sometimes I lack it and it seems this week, that is the case. I guess we all go through those times when we aren't completely confident we are doing the right thing the right way or whatever. My job requires a lot of self-confidence to be able to do the things I'm expected to do on a day to day basis, and I'm good at these things. And I know it. But some days, I go to draw blood from a jugular or put an I.V. catheter in and I freeze. I literally sit there and think to myself, "you can't do this". Why? I've put in hundreds of catheters and I've had to do tasks that were much more challenging in my my job and succeeded in doing so. Why do I make myself doubt?
I also am constantly hearing the voices in my head (not in a crazy-psychopath sorta way) telling me that everyone else feels the same way; that they don't think I am capable of doing it either. I imagine that things are being said behind my back like "how does she still have a job?" or "what the hell is she doing?". I have no proof of any of these things being said and there is a 95-99% chance that they haven't been. But I have no way of knowing and that drives me absolutely batty! I'm the type of person who would rather have someone tell me to my face that I have done something I shouldn't have rather than that person(s) say something behind my back. Believe me, I am no fan of criticism, but I am a fan of honesty. Without that, how can we trust each other to get the job done efficiently and in the best interest of everyone involved? And I guess that's my problem sometimes. The fact that I don't always trust myself, and because I'm doubting, it's so easy to assume that everyone else is doubting too, regardless if this is the case or not.
I consider myself a positive person. However, I will admit if there is a lot of negativity floating around me (ok, ok...even if there is just a little bit) it clings to me. Suddenly, I can feel it swimming in my veins and then it has nowhere else to go. I try to keep a smile on my face and offer a positive alternative to every negative feeling a person is portraying throughout the day. And let me tell you. It's exhausting....and so easy to fail and give into. It's something I struggle with every day. Part of me wishes that I just didn't care at all, but I'm not the type of person that can just forget or push aside. A friend of mine once told me "It's hard to be such a sensitive soul when we live in such a cruel world." I can't even begin to tell you how right she is.
All this being said. I guess it's just as negative for me to have doubts about myself. So maybe it's me that is spawning off some of that negative energy. Maybe it's me that is causing myself to , at times, feel like I can't breathe and that I just need to get out of my head for 2 seconds to revamp. Maybe I just need to keep pushing and keep trying and keep being as positive as I can. No one is perfect; so why am I always striving to be what we as humans aren't supposed to be? Why can't I just accept that there are some feats in this world, I will never be able to accomplish? Because in my head, that's accepting defeat. And no one wants to be the loser. I guess that's my biggest fear of what I could become in life. But whose isn't? Perhaps I'm not as alone as I thought I was....

This morning I was thumbing (Ha! No pun intended...see previous post) through some old picture files and came across a video Andrew and I had recorded a few weeks ago. Now before I share it, I want to explain to you that a lot of our entertainment comes from our pets. You may have heard the rumors that we have created voices for all 6 of them and will sit around for hours having conversations, telling stories, ect, ect, ect. Sadly, these rumors are true.
Lorelai is the sassy one. For some reason, she always comes across as being moody, but in all reality, she's a super sweet kitty. Very loving and affectionate. Her favorite pastime is "telling stories" about dolphins walking and ponies eating pretzels. (I swear we don't do drugs). I will warn you however. If you come to our house often enough, you will probably hear one or both of these stories multiple times because she seems to have a problem with short-term memory loss.
Tuna is mysterious. His voice is usually British but most of the time he doesn't talk. He's more the observant type. He is the most social when it comes to company. In fact, you would only think we had one cat if you don't go upstairs where the other 4 are likely hiding. He is very sweet as well, but don't let him fool you. One of his favorite things to do is sit on the corner of a counter and wait for someone to walk by so he can swat at him.He sneaks around and tears down tapestries and tries to get the blinds but has yet to be successful in that feat.
Phoebe. Ah Phoebe. The only thing she really talks about is cake. To my knowledge, she has never actually had anything resembling a cake-like persuasion. Oddly enough though, when I'm baking, this is when she decides to jump up on the counters and investigate. Her voice sounds like Andre the Giant in The Princess Bride. She loves to find a lap to lay in and fall asleep. Where I'm sure her dreams are filled with sugar-plum fairies and of course...cake.
Leira kind of talks like she's dumb. I know. It sounds mean, but if you saw her facial expressions on a daily basis,you would surely understand. She can also do Jimmy Stewart impressions and make a face like the joker from the first Batman movie (the one with Michael Keaton). She doesn't care about other dogs...in fact, I'm beginning to wonder if she thinks she's a cat. She loves loves loves people though! And when company comes over, she thinks they have come to see her and only her, therefore kicking all training that we have worked with her on, out the window.
Dip and Bianca, our newest additions are what Andrew refers to as "the pod people". They have alian voices. They like to sit really still and stare at you. Currently, their favorite statement is "do not be afraid". It took me 2 months to finally figure out who Dip looks like and I've finally found it! He looks like Falcour (totally spelled that wrong), the big flying dog-thing in The Neverending Story. He loves to curl up and snuggle with me on the couch when I'm watching t.v. Bianca is still adjusting. She finally made it downstairs this weekend. But her favorite place has become Potsie's (our old family dog) bed that is in our bedroom.
So after having this information under your belt now, I would now like to share with you Lorelai and Tuna's tribute to Audrey Hepburn. Enjoy.

The "Thumb"stone Blues

So last night Andrew and I had just gotten back from dinner at his parent's house, which is always quite an event. This Sunday, there were only 12 of us (yes, 12). It consisted of many things, among them being his mom's famous eggplant parmigiana (yummy!), a political conversation about what the new stimulus plan should or should not be, talk of a new band called Fleet Foxes (so worth checking out) and me flipping off one of his brothers in front of his mother.(If you are wondering, yes, a bit of wine may or may not have been involved but he did it first! I was only defending myself). I must make note however that after this event occurred, Andrew's mother looked at me and smiled stating, "you are turning into a Will!". I must say, I love his family.

I've gotten off track. So we had just gotten home and I was upstairs playing on the computer. Suddenly, Andrew comes moseying into the room; not running, not screaming, moseying...and I hear a quiet voice say, "I think I did something bad". My first thought , of course, strays to one of the animals, or that he knocked over something and a permanent stain now laid on the floor, but no. I look up and he has his left thumb wrapped in what looks like a bloody paper towel. I was indeed correct. It was a bloody paper towel.
I jumped up. "What did you do?"

"I was sawing wood and I cut my thumb pretty bad. I think I cut part of the nail off." So calm. So without emotion.

I rushed him into the bathroom and took off the paper towel to assess the damage. Somehow he had managed to cut the side of his thumb in three different places, plus the very corner of his nail. We washed it off really well in the sink. Of course, while doing so, Andrew starts making Donald Duck noises. I can only assume that this means it hurts. Then I told him to keep applying pressure, no peaking for 2 minutes and then we would check it again. I rushed around the house looking for the neosporin and a band aid (of which we had none of...band aids that is), however, I did find a huge ace wrap that I had used on my knee like 12 years ago. This will work, I thought to myself. "No peaking!" I exclaimed when I walked back in the bathroom. "It's not going to stop bleeding if you don't apply constant pressure and keep looking at it and squeezing it to see if more blood will come out!"

So we sat. And we sat. Then we sat some more. Several 2 minute periods went by. And all he could think of to say was, "I cut my thumb with the saw my mom got me for Christmas".

Bless him.

After the bleeding stopped. I applied a significant amount of neosporin on a cotton ball, placed it on his thumb and wrapped his hand up with the enormous ace bandage. Off to the store we went to get band-aids, Tylenol and the sticky band-aid tape stuff (yes, that's a technical term).

Once we get there, we see another one of Andrew's brothers (he has 6 plus 1 sister) who actually works there. When he sees Andrew's hand, he says "What happened to you?"

"I cut my thumb on a saw".

"What? Down to the bone?"

"No."

"Down to the muscle?"

"No! Just the skin."

"Oh, that's not so bad."

"Yeah. So where are the band-aids?"

Ah. Brotherly love.

His brother dutifully leads us to the section with the first aid supplies and leaves us to it. After some minor skimming of products and making the notation that "jeez! band-aids are expensive!", we settle for charlie brown and the rest of the peanuts characters (can you name them all on sporcle.com?), and some tape. We successfully make it out of the store but not before seeing another one of Andrew's friends. He works there as well. When asked what happened to his hand, Andrew replies so seriously as he side glances at me, she cut me. Of course, this sends a spark through my paranoia as I start wondering if his friend believed him or not. He says he didn't, but you never know.

Back at the house, we wait a little bit before un-wrapping his thumb and applying a new bandage (one that doesn't swallow his whole hand). While we are waiting, Andrew is kind enough to show me the blood spots he left on the floor as he meandered in from being partially slaughtered and I take note of the blood all over the sink. But I can't help but wonder, where is the saw? Did he leave it outside? Is it on the floor somewhere? Nope. It's in the closet. Somehow he found time between dripping blood all over the floor and coming upstairs to get me to put the saw back in the closet where it belongs. Tell me, does this make sense to you?

About an hour later, after watching some of the most boring Oscars EVER! We change the bandage. It looks bad. His thumb is really bruised and the skin is all crinkly (yes, another medical term). I apply more neosporin, 2 charlie brown band-aids and wrap it with tape. All done! Wait, one more thing for good measure. I give his injured thumb a kiss and look up at him lovingly. "I worry about you sometimes."

And so ends the story of the "Thumb"stone Blues.

Dear Lorelai, Tuna. Phoebe, Dip and Bianca

5:45 am: I guess you didn't get the memo....

I love you guys anyway.

Excuses

I have found that I make a lot of them. I tend to create multiple goals for myself, all at once, and then I become frustrated because I haven't accomplished any of them within a certain amount of time. But the problem is that I can't seem to focus on just one thing; it tends to be a slue of many things, therefore not allowing me to concentrate and get the job done right.
For years, I have said that I love to write and do photography and play guitar. However, I feel so mediocre when I do any of these things. When speaking with Andrew about this last night, he made the statement that even Van Gogh and Edgar Allen Poe felt this way. And I thought to myself, wow, he's right. It seems to be human nature to never be fully satisfied with the accomplishments that we have indeed made. It's so easy to get caught up in the tangle of everything and not see what's there right in front of your face.
So I'm going to try harder. I'm going to commit to myself for once and try to really do the things I love to do. Writing is one of those things.
For years all I wrote about were the things that depressed me. In looking back at all of my old poetry and ramblings, I almost got nauseous. A few years ago, when my writing came to an abrupt halt, I offered up the excuse that it was just too painful to put on paper. It would be like re-living everything again. I don't know how true that would be but lately, it's the exact opposite. My excuse now is that I'm happy and I have nothing to write about. But then I thought to myself, why does it have to be sad? Something can be deep and positive and soulful without the tears being attached.
So here I go. I'm going to try to write about anything and everything that pops up in my head, whether it be a conversation, a letter, a poem, a short story. In all reality, everything has the potential to be a story and we all have one to tell. So begins my own. Who knows what will be accomplished in the days to come.

A letter to my cats:

Dear Lorelai, Tuna, Phoebe, Dip and Bianca,

Here en lies a list of things I would like for you to start considering as you live out your everyday lives in the nice household that we have provided for you:

1) It is OK to let me know when the litter boxes need to be cleaned, however please refrain from doing so by way of urinating on a pile of clean clothes in the laundry basket.

2) Please note; every time we come through the big door that creeks and has an enormous room that you have yet to be able to explore, DOES NOT, I repeat, DOES NOT mean that you will be getting fed. However, if you insist on meeting me at the door, please be considerate enough not to step in my way when I'm carrying a pile of groceries.

3)At no time has the bathtub been appointed a litter box. I do not know where you got this information, but it was inaccurate, and I ask you to forget that you ever thought such a thing would be OK with me.

4) I love that you like to help out around the house by redecorating. (aka tearing the tapestries down, picking on the furniture, etc). But please leave the cleaning to me. Because next time I go to put the tapestry back on the wall for the hundredth billionth time, I would prefer not to find any reminisce of a hairball that you tried to cover up in hopes I wouldn't notice.

5) Please please please stop setting up the dog for failure. You know she's just slow and happy and wants to please everyone. So, if it's not too much trouble, please refrain from knocking everything off the counters, therefore knocking them right onto her level, so that she can chew them up and bring them to me later.It's just not a nice thing to do.

6)I have come to terms with the fact that you are going to continue getting up on the counters, regardless how much I protest, therefore making cat hair a permanent ingredient in our daily meals. (What our guests don't know won't hurt them). However, I can not accept feline saliva into this understanding. So next time I freak out because you have your head in the spaghetti sauce, remember this note and consider yourself warned.

7) I love it when you make biscuits on my stomach or on the blanket beside me. It's so cute and sweet and loving. However, please refrain from making biscuits on my face for it is no longer cute when you do so.

8) Please observe that there are 5-6 bowls of water arranged all about the house, therefore there is no need to trip me every time I turn on the sink to get a glass of water of my own, therefore only making a mess and possibly breaking my neck.

9) And last but certainly not least. Please note that you do not decide when it's time for you to eat. Just because the clock says it's 6:15 and the alarm goes off, does not give you any right to come play with my hair, chew on my ears, scratch at my face and jump on Andrew's balls. This is not a game. Sleep is so very important. Please keep this very significant point in mind.

Thank you for your time and cooperation.

Sincerely,
Mary

Tuna helping re-decorate:)

This is the conversation Andrew and I had the other day:

Me: So, one time when I was in college, this guy I knew asked me to drive down and see him because he had a surprise for me. In doing so, he took me out to dinner and drove me to a concert venue. That's when I saw Jewel and Rusted Root playing in concert!!!

Andrew: Who was this?

Me: A guy I went to high school with.

Andrew: Did you guys date or anything?

Me: No! Ewe! We were just friends. Besides he had a girlfriend.

Andrew: He wanted more out of the relationship.

Me: How do you know?

Andrew: I just do.

Me: But how? I mean. Most of my friends were guys. There was another guy I would go out with all the time and we held hands and everything.

Andrew: I could never do that.

Me: What? Hold hands in public? I mean, I know that was weird for you when we first started dating but...

Andrew: No, I mean, if I liked a girl, I couldn't ever just act that way around her without anything coming out of it.

Me: But they didn't like me. I mean they did, but not in the way you're thinking of. That's just how we were. Wait. On second thought. Everyone always thought the guy who took me to the concert liked me more as a friend. But I never thought anything of it. But not the other guy...I mean we fell asleep together one night ans it wasn't weird or anything.

Andrew: Wait a minute. You fell asleep together?

Me: Yeah. Why?

Andrew: Did you spoon?

Me: What exactly is that?

Andrew: What we do.

Me: You mean cuddle?

Andrew: Yeah I guess.

Me: Sure. Why?

Andrew: You're oblivious.

Me: What?

And so went minutes of our lives that we will never get back...