Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
PIE!
Of course, it's not blueberry pie, which would be 95% gone because I would save the last 5% for NephewTuna who also LOVES blueberry pie. And it's not mincemeat (MPF!!) which would be 100% gone because I would rather feed it to a roving band of rabid badgers rather than have it in my house.But it's still PIE. So, it's good enough for me.
Thanks to Mensch for the heads up. I LIKE PIE.
PIE!
Of course, it's not blueberry pie, which would be 95% gone because I would save the last 5% for NephewTuna who also LOVES blueberry pie. And it's not mincemeat (MPF!!) which would be 100% gone because I would rather feed it to a roving band of rabid badgers rather than have it in my house.But it's still PIE. So, it's good enough for me.
Thanks to Mensch for the heads up. I LIKE PIE.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
A Letter to TeenTuna on her First Day of High School
So, it all starts today.
This week it's back to school. Next week we add dance, choir and choir. And now that you're a Freshman in High school, I'm sure there will be there will be football games, basketball games, school plays, after-school clubs and other events which are social necessities.
I hate to jinx opening day, but I think you're ready. Sure, you are set with new shoes and clothes and office supply doo-dads. And yes, we went to school last week, met most of your teachers, and walked your class schedule (downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, upstairs, downstairs) twice. But more than that, despite your jump to the "big time" you seem to be on an even keel. Sure, there was some nervousness this morning, but I fully expect by this afternoon that the report will be a nonchalant, "it was fine" which is teenspeak for "it was awesome."
I hope it is. I hope school is wonderful and exciting and full of new friends and great adventures. You had three fabulous years of middle school -- especially this last one -- and I hope that the next four continue the same.
My biggest wish for you is to stay open to possibilities and stay true to yourself. It's so easy to turn yourself inside out worrying about what people will think and say. But for the past fourteen years, your family and friends have given you all the tools you need to be self-confident and responsible. I believe in you and trust you, and if you think carefully and make your decisions based on the person I know you to be, you will be just fine.
But remember, being in high school and being a teenager doesn't mean that you know everything. Hard as it is to believe sometimes, you're not grown up yet. There are still a lot of lessons to learn and life to live and the same family and friends who have watched you grow all these years are still nearby, ready to catch you, point you in the right direction, or just listen when you want to vent. People are the best resources you have, and chances are that we've been there before, and faced the same struggles. Ask us, lean on us, confide in us. It's not a sign of being weak; it's being smart.
And understand, too, that I'm just not ready for you to be grown up yet. So indulge me when I'm excited for you, or ask you one too many times about your day. The time goes by so quickly and I want to hear all your stories and hold onto those memories as long as I can.
Have a wonderful, wonderful year. Be cheerful and polite. Use consonants AND vowels when you write. Be helpful to your friends. Be a little thick-skinned when necessary, but remember that the real you is kind, caring and compassionate. Lastly, keep your eyes, your ears and your heart open. There are saints and angels everywhere, disguised as parents, teachers, family and friends, who are pleased with the person you are, excited for the person you are to become and ready to guide you and cheer you on your way.
Have a great day and a wonderful year.
Go Class of 2012!
Love,
Mom
This week it's back to school. Next week we add dance, choir and choir. And now that you're a Freshman in High school, I'm sure there will be there will be football games, basketball games, school plays, after-school clubs and other events which are social necessities.
I hate to jinx opening day, but I think you're ready. Sure, you are set with new shoes and clothes and office supply doo-dads. And yes, we went to school last week, met most of your teachers, and walked your class schedule (downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, upstairs, downstairs) twice. But more than that, despite your jump to the "big time" you seem to be on an even keel. Sure, there was some nervousness this morning, but I fully expect by this afternoon that the report will be a nonchalant, "it was fine" which is teenspeak for "it was awesome."
I hope it is. I hope school is wonderful and exciting and full of new friends and great adventures. You had three fabulous years of middle school -- especially this last one -- and I hope that the next four continue the same.
My biggest wish for you is to stay open to possibilities and stay true to yourself. It's so easy to turn yourself inside out worrying about what people will think and say. But for the past fourteen years, your family and friends have given you all the tools you need to be self-confident and responsible. I believe in you and trust you, and if you think carefully and make your decisions based on the person I know you to be, you will be just fine.
But remember, being in high school and being a teenager doesn't mean that you know everything. Hard as it is to believe sometimes, you're not grown up yet. There are still a lot of lessons to learn and life to live and the same family and friends who have watched you grow all these years are still nearby, ready to catch you, point you in the right direction, or just listen when you want to vent. People are the best resources you have, and chances are that we've been there before, and faced the same struggles. Ask us, lean on us, confide in us. It's not a sign of being weak; it's being smart.
And understand, too, that I'm just not ready for you to be grown up yet. So indulge me when I'm excited for you, or ask you one too many times about your day. The time goes by so quickly and I want to hear all your stories and hold onto those memories as long as I can.
Have a wonderful, wonderful year. Be cheerful and polite. Use consonants AND vowels when you write. Be helpful to your friends. Be a little thick-skinned when necessary, but remember that the real you is kind, caring and compassionate. Lastly, keep your eyes, your ears and your heart open. There are saints and angels everywhere, disguised as parents, teachers, family and friends, who are pleased with the person you are, excited for the person you are to become and ready to guide you and cheer you on your way.
Have a great day and a wonderful year.
Go Class of 2012!
Love,
Mom
A Letter to TeenTuna on her First Day of High School
So, it all starts today.
This week it's back to school. Next week we add dance, choir and choir. And now that you're a Freshman in High school, I'm sure there will be there will be football games, basketball games, school plays, after-school clubs and other events which are social necessities.
I hate to jinx opening day, but I think you're ready. Sure, you are set with new shoes and clothes and office supply doo-dads. And yes, we went to school last week, met most of your teachers, and walked your class schedule (downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, upstairs, downstairs) twice. But more than that, despite your jump to the "big time" you seem to be on an even keel. Sure, there was some nervousness this morning, but I fully expect by this afternoon that the report will be a nonchalant, "it was fine" which is teenspeak for "it was awesome."
I hope it is. I hope school is wonderful and exciting and full of new friends and great adventures. You had three fabulous years of middle school -- especially this last one -- and I hope that the next four continue the same.
My biggest wish for you is to stay open to possibilities and stay true to yourself. It's so easy to turn yourself inside out worrying about what people will think and say. But for the past fourteen years, your family and friends have given you all the tools you need to be self-confident and responsible. I believe in you and trust you, and if you think carefully and make your decisions based on the person I know you to be, you will be just fine.
But remember, being in high school and being a teenager doesn't mean that you know everything. Hard as it is to believe sometimes, you're not grown up yet. There are still a lot of lessons to learn and life to live and the same family and friends who have watched you grow all these years are still nearby, ready to catch you, point you in the right direction, or just listen when you want to vent. People are the best resources you have, and chances are that we've been there before, and faced the same struggles. Ask us, lean on us, confide in us. It's not a sign of being weak; it's being smart.
And understand, too, that I'm just not ready for you to be grown up yet. So indulge me when I'm excited for you, or ask you one too many times about your day. The time goes by so quickly and I want to hear all your stories and hold onto those memories as long as I can.
Have a wonderful, wonderful year. Be cheerful and polite. Use consonants AND vowels when you write. Be helpful to your friends. Be a little thick-skinned when necessary, but remember that the real you is kind, caring and compassionate. Lastly, keep your eyes, your ears and your heart open. There are saints and angels everywhere, disguised as parents, teachers, family and friends, who are pleased with the person you are, excited for the person you are to become and ready to guide you and cheer you on your way.
Have a great day and a wonderful year.
Go Class of 2012!
Love,
Mom
This week it's back to school. Next week we add dance, choir and choir. And now that you're a Freshman in High school, I'm sure there will be there will be football games, basketball games, school plays, after-school clubs and other events which are social necessities.
I hate to jinx opening day, but I think you're ready. Sure, you are set with new shoes and clothes and office supply doo-dads. And yes, we went to school last week, met most of your teachers, and walked your class schedule (downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, upstairs, downstairs, upstairs, downstairs) twice. But more than that, despite your jump to the "big time" you seem to be on an even keel. Sure, there was some nervousness this morning, but I fully expect by this afternoon that the report will be a nonchalant, "it was fine" which is teenspeak for "it was awesome."
I hope it is. I hope school is wonderful and exciting and full of new friends and great adventures. You had three fabulous years of middle school -- especially this last one -- and I hope that the next four continue the same.
My biggest wish for you is to stay open to possibilities and stay true to yourself. It's so easy to turn yourself inside out worrying about what people will think and say. But for the past fourteen years, your family and friends have given you all the tools you need to be self-confident and responsible. I believe in you and trust you, and if you think carefully and make your decisions based on the person I know you to be, you will be just fine.
But remember, being in high school and being a teenager doesn't mean that you know everything. Hard as it is to believe sometimes, you're not grown up yet. There are still a lot of lessons to learn and life to live and the same family and friends who have watched you grow all these years are still nearby, ready to catch you, point you in the right direction, or just listen when you want to vent. People are the best resources you have, and chances are that we've been there before, and faced the same struggles. Ask us, lean on us, confide in us. It's not a sign of being weak; it's being smart.
And understand, too, that I'm just not ready for you to be grown up yet. So indulge me when I'm excited for you, or ask you one too many times about your day. The time goes by so quickly and I want to hear all your stories and hold onto those memories as long as I can.
Have a wonderful, wonderful year. Be cheerful and polite. Use consonants AND vowels when you write. Be helpful to your friends. Be a little thick-skinned when necessary, but remember that the real you is kind, caring and compassionate. Lastly, keep your eyes, your ears and your heart open. There are saints and angels everywhere, disguised as parents, teachers, family and friends, who are pleased with the person you are, excited for the person you are to become and ready to guide you and cheer you on your way.
Have a great day and a wonderful year.
Go Class of 2012!
Love,
Mom
Friday, August 29, 2008
Perfect
There is no better way to wrap up the week, the month and the entire summer. Many thanks to PBSTuna who managed to make me snort Diet Coke at 7:30am.This is exactly what the country needs.
Absolutely awesome.
Perfect
There is no better way to wrap up the week, the month and the entire summer. Many thanks to PBSTuna who managed to make me snort Diet Coke at 7:30am.This is exactly what the country needs.
Absolutely awesome.
Friday, August 08, 2008
Oh, And Another Thing
Did I mention I'm going to England tomorrow?
...And I have to be a grown up responsible chaperone type for some squirrely teenagers?
...And I'm not ready to go?
...And as usual I'm more concerned remembering all the CORDS I need to bring rather than the CLOTHES I need to wear.
...Assuming all goes well, I am taking my laptop, so there will be copious reporting of tea with the Queen and life in Chippingham-Beeftoastshire-on-the-Rye and other points of interest from the other side of the pond.
It's all true. Except the Queen part.
Back to making lists (a lot) and panicking (a little).
...And I have to be a grown up responsible chaperone type for some squirrely teenagers?
...And I'm not ready to go?
...And as usual I'm more concerned remembering all the CORDS I need to bring rather than the CLOTHES I need to wear.
...Assuming all goes well, I am taking my laptop, so there will be copious reporting of tea with the Queen and life in Chippingham-Beeftoastshire-on-the-Rye and other points of interest from the other side of the pond.
It's all true. Except the Queen part.
Back to making lists (a lot) and panicking (a little).
Oh, And Another Thing
Did I mention I'm going to England tomorrow?
...And I have to be a grown up responsible chaperone type for some squirrely teenagers?
...And I'm not ready to go?
...And as usual I'm more concerned remembering all the CORDS I need to bring rather than the CLOTHES I need to wear.
...Assuming all goes well, I am taking my laptop, so there will be copious reporting of tea with the Queen and life in Chippingham-Beeftoastshire-on-the-Rye and other points of interest from the other side of the pond.
It's all true. Except the Queen part.
Back to making lists (a lot) and panicking (a little).
...And I have to be a grown up responsible chaperone type for some squirrely teenagers?
...And I'm not ready to go?
...And as usual I'm more concerned remembering all the CORDS I need to bring rather than the CLOTHES I need to wear.
...Assuming all goes well, I am taking my laptop, so there will be copious reporting of tea with the Queen and life in Chippingham-Beeftoastshire-on-the-Rye and other points of interest from the other side of the pond.
It's all true. Except the Queen part.
Back to making lists (a lot) and panicking (a little).
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Primed, Sealed, Delivered
One of the reasons I've been absent lately is that this summer has turned into Home Makeover : GreenTuna edition. For those of you who do not own stock in Home Depot, I'm sorry. We've dropped so much coin there, every time we walk through the door, some orange aproned lackey gets their wings.
This wasn't necessarily the plan for Summer, 2008, but if you took a look at the 1953 house that seemed to be painted by blind orangutangs whose color choices were either on-sale dingy drab, or on-sale off-dingy drab, you wouldn't be surprised. Add to the fact that we're fairly certain nobody ever took the time to actually prepare the the walls or ceilings to do it correctly has meant we've been staring at some butt-ugly paint-chippy plaster-cracking messes for far, far too long.
So a scant 3 days after returning from vacation after walking into my kitchen and discovering a new crack in the ceiling accompanied by more than a few outdoor type creatures in search of a picnic basket, I decided that was it. It had to be fixed, NOW. There was none of my customary hemming or hawing or pondering or debating. In fact, the decision was so immediate, I instantly started emptying cupboards and shelves, in part so I wouldn't be able to change my mind. It was the home improvement equivalent of "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!"
So we started the process of removing furniture and cupboard doors, light plate switches and curtains and all the billions of things that accumulate in a kitchen so we could begin phase two: scraping, chipping, more chipping and redirecting the ant party into the trash courtesy of a large can of Raid. Once the toxic fumes cleared, it was time for wall and ceiling repair, which is always a party. That you never want to be invited to.
And then came the cleaning and washing of the walls...
I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to each and every one of you who has ever been to my house. It was bad enough that the wall color was on-sale off-dingy drab. However, the amount of great big gobs of greasy grimy non-gopher gunk that had accumulated was GROSS. It was grosser than gross. We changed the water and changed the water and changed the water and changed it some more. I think I had a 4-hour nonstop Mince Pie Face. It. Was. SICK. But once done, at least the on-sale off-dingy drab walls were at least cleaner.
I haven't had enough therapy to discuss the kingdom behind, to the side, and underneath the stove. Ditto the refrigerator. On the positive side, however, we found approximately 58 cat toys. They were thrilled in that cat sort of way, meaning they opened one eye as if to say, "Oh, THAT'S where they were" before rolling over and sleeping for another 17 hours.
Finally we made it to primer. And the first coat? Didn't cover. But it was better. The second coat? Looked beautiful. It was such an improvement that I could have lived with just primer for the next twenty years. But TeenTuna and I had picked out a very pretty light aqua blueish color, and on day 6 we finally got color.
Once it was done, I cannot tell you what a difference it made. Once dark, dingy, grimy and cracking, now it's crisp and clean, light and airy. The ceiling hasn't looked this good EVER and down the line (a bit of a long line, but it's still in the plans) there will be new cupboards and appliances. TeenTuna did quite a turn-around in this whole process as well, and went from being rather incredulous that we had to be our own handyman army to being quite proud of the fact that she helped pick the color, wash the walls, and learned to effectively wield a paint-roller. I consider it Life Skills 101.
It took another week to put the kitchen back together again and get everything in place. Since that time we've also repainted GramTuna's bedroom (a lovely restful herbal green) and my bathroom (a very fun art deco kind of purple), which just had the painters tape removed yesterday. The rest of the house is still the holding ground for our destruction, but hopefully soon things will start to find their way back to where they belong.
I can't say what possessed me to go at all this home improvement with such abandon. But there has been a great deal of satisfaction in fixing all those cracks and holes that I've lived with for all these years. Given all the recent personal and professional upheaval of the past several months, it's been a bit therapeutic to patch the cracks, fill in the holes, smooth out the rough places, and start all over with a fresh clean coat of paint. After a lot of sweat, tears and exhausted trips to the Depot (guess where I'm going during lunch today?), things are starting to shape up nicely.
When it's all said and done, it's still the same four walls. But now they are clean and fresh and new. Everything seems to radiate optimism and possibilities.
That may be the biggest home improvement of all.
This wasn't necessarily the plan for Summer, 2008, but if you took a look at the 1953 house that seemed to be painted by blind orangutangs whose color choices were either on-sale dingy drab, or on-sale off-dingy drab, you wouldn't be surprised. Add to the fact that we're fairly certain nobody ever took the time to actually prepare the the walls or ceilings to do it correctly has meant we've been staring at some butt-ugly paint-chippy plaster-cracking messes for far, far too long.
So a scant 3 days after returning from vacation after walking into my kitchen and discovering a new crack in the ceiling accompanied by more than a few outdoor type creatures in search of a picnic basket, I decided that was it. It had to be fixed, NOW. There was none of my customary hemming or hawing or pondering or debating. In fact, the decision was so immediate, I instantly started emptying cupboards and shelves, in part so I wouldn't be able to change my mind. It was the home improvement equivalent of "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!"
So we started the process of removing furniture and cupboard doors, light plate switches and curtains and all the billions of things that accumulate in a kitchen so we could begin phase two: scraping, chipping, more chipping and redirecting the ant party into the trash courtesy of a large can of Raid. Once the toxic fumes cleared, it was time for wall and ceiling repair, which is always a party. That you never want to be invited to.
And then came the cleaning and washing of the walls...
I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to each and every one of you who has ever been to my house. It was bad enough that the wall color was on-sale off-dingy drab. However, the amount of great big gobs of greasy grimy non-gopher gunk that had accumulated was GROSS. It was grosser than gross. We changed the water and changed the water and changed the water and changed it some more. I think I had a 4-hour nonstop Mince Pie Face. It. Was. SICK. But once done, at least the on-sale off-dingy drab walls were at least cleaner.
I haven't had enough therapy to discuss the kingdom behind, to the side, and underneath the stove. Ditto the refrigerator. On the positive side, however, we found approximately 58 cat toys. They were thrilled in that cat sort of way, meaning they opened one eye as if to say, "Oh, THAT'S where they were" before rolling over and sleeping for another 17 hours.
Finally we made it to primer. And the first coat? Didn't cover. But it was better. The second coat? Looked beautiful. It was such an improvement that I could have lived with just primer for the next twenty years. But TeenTuna and I had picked out a very pretty light aqua blueish color, and on day 6 we finally got color.
Once it was done, I cannot tell you what a difference it made. Once dark, dingy, grimy and cracking, now it's crisp and clean, light and airy. The ceiling hasn't looked this good EVER and down the line (a bit of a long line, but it's still in the plans) there will be new cupboards and appliances. TeenTuna did quite a turn-around in this whole process as well, and went from being rather incredulous that we had to be our own handyman army to being quite proud of the fact that she helped pick the color, wash the walls, and learned to effectively wield a paint-roller. I consider it Life Skills 101.
It took another week to put the kitchen back together again and get everything in place. Since that time we've also repainted GramTuna's bedroom (a lovely restful herbal green) and my bathroom (a very fun art deco kind of purple), which just had the painters tape removed yesterday. The rest of the house is still the holding ground for our destruction, but hopefully soon things will start to find their way back to where they belong.
I can't say what possessed me to go at all this home improvement with such abandon. But there has been a great deal of satisfaction in fixing all those cracks and holes that I've lived with for all these years. Given all the recent personal and professional upheaval of the past several months, it's been a bit therapeutic to patch the cracks, fill in the holes, smooth out the rough places, and start all over with a fresh clean coat of paint. After a lot of sweat, tears and exhausted trips to the Depot (guess where I'm going during lunch today?), things are starting to shape up nicely.
When it's all said and done, it's still the same four walls. But now they are clean and fresh and new. Everything seems to radiate optimism and possibilities.
That may be the biggest home improvement of all.
Primed, Sealed, Delivered
One of the reasons I've been absent lately is that this summer has turned into Home Makeover : GreenTuna edition. For those of you who do not own stock in Home Depot, I'm sorry. We've dropped so much coin there, every time we walk through the door, some orange aproned lackey gets their wings.
This wasn't necessarily the plan for Summer, 2008, but if you took a look at the 1953 house that seemed to be painted by blind orangutangs whose color choices were either on-sale dingy drab, or on-sale off-dingy drab, you wouldn't be surprised. Add to the fact that we're fairly certain nobody ever took the time to actually prepare the the walls or ceilings to do it correctly has meant we've been staring at some butt-ugly paint-chippy plaster-cracking messes for far, far too long.
So a scant 3 days after returning from vacation after walking into my kitchen and discovering a new crack in the ceiling accompanied by more than a few outdoor type creatures in search of a picnic basket, I decided that was it. It had to be fixed, NOW. There was none of my customary hemming or hawing or pondering or debating. In fact, the decision was so immediate, I instantly started emptying cupboards and shelves, in part so I wouldn't be able to change my mind. It was the home improvement equivalent of "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!"
So we started the process of removing furniture and cupboard doors, light plate switches and curtains and all the billions of things that accumulate in a kitchen so we could begin phase two: scraping, chipping, more chipping and redirecting the ant party into the trash courtesy of a large can of Raid. Once the toxic fumes cleared, it was time for wall and ceiling repair, which is always a party. That you never want to be invited to.
And then came the cleaning and washing of the walls...
I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to each and every one of you who has ever been to my house. It was bad enough that the wall color was on-sale off-dingy drab. However, the amount of great big gobs of greasy grimy non-gopher gunk that had accumulated was GROSS. It was grosser than gross. We changed the water and changed the water and changed the water and changed it some more. I think I had a 4-hour nonstop Mince Pie Face. It. Was. SICK. But once done, at least the on-sale off-dingy drab walls were at least cleaner.
I haven't had enough therapy to discuss the kingdom behind, to the side, and underneath the stove. Ditto the refrigerator. On the positive side, however, we found approximately 58 cat toys. They were thrilled in that cat sort of way, meaning they opened one eye as if to say, "Oh, THAT'S where they were" before rolling over and sleeping for another 17 hours.
Finally we made it to primer. And the first coat? Didn't cover. But it was better. The second coat? Looked beautiful. It was such an improvement that I could have lived with just primer for the next twenty years. But TeenTuna and I had picked out a very pretty light aqua blueish color, and on day 6 we finally got color.
Once it was done, I cannot tell you what a difference it made. Once dark, dingy, grimy and cracking, now it's crisp and clean, light and airy. The ceiling hasn't looked this good EVER and down the line (a bit of a long line, but it's still in the plans) there will be new cupboards and appliances. TeenTuna did quite a turn-around in this whole process as well, and went from being rather incredulous that we had to be our own handyman army to being quite proud of the fact that she helped pick the color, wash the walls, and learned to effectively wield a paint-roller. I consider it Life Skills 101.
It took another week to put the kitchen back together again and get everything in place. Since that time we've also repainted GramTuna's bedroom (a lovely restful herbal green) and my bathroom (a very fun art deco kind of purple), which just had the painters tape removed yesterday. The rest of the house is still the holding ground for our destruction, but hopefully soon things will start to find their way back to where they belong.
I can't say what possessed me to go at all this home improvement with such abandon. But there has been a great deal of satisfaction in fixing all those cracks and holes that I've lived with for all these years. Given all the recent personal and professional upheaval of the past several months, it's been a bit therapeutic to patch the cracks, fill in the holes, smooth out the rough places, and start all over with a fresh clean coat of paint. After a lot of sweat, tears and exhausted trips to the Depot (guess where I'm going during lunch today?), things are starting to shape up nicely.
When it's all said and done, it's still the same four walls. But now they are clean and fresh and new. Everything seems to radiate optimism and possibilities.
That may be the biggest home improvement of all.
This wasn't necessarily the plan for Summer, 2008, but if you took a look at the 1953 house that seemed to be painted by blind orangutangs whose color choices were either on-sale dingy drab, or on-sale off-dingy drab, you wouldn't be surprised. Add to the fact that we're fairly certain nobody ever took the time to actually prepare the the walls or ceilings to do it correctly has meant we've been staring at some butt-ugly paint-chippy plaster-cracking messes for far, far too long.
So a scant 3 days after returning from vacation after walking into my kitchen and discovering a new crack in the ceiling accompanied by more than a few outdoor type creatures in search of a picnic basket, I decided that was it. It had to be fixed, NOW. There was none of my customary hemming or hawing or pondering or debating. In fact, the decision was so immediate, I instantly started emptying cupboards and shelves, in part so I wouldn't be able to change my mind. It was the home improvement equivalent of "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!"
So we started the process of removing furniture and cupboard doors, light plate switches and curtains and all the billions of things that accumulate in a kitchen so we could begin phase two: scraping, chipping, more chipping and redirecting the ant party into the trash courtesy of a large can of Raid. Once the toxic fumes cleared, it was time for wall and ceiling repair, which is always a party. That you never want to be invited to.
And then came the cleaning and washing of the walls...
I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to each and every one of you who has ever been to my house. It was bad enough that the wall color was on-sale off-dingy drab. However, the amount of great big gobs of greasy grimy non-gopher gunk that had accumulated was GROSS. It was grosser than gross. We changed the water and changed the water and changed the water and changed it some more. I think I had a 4-hour nonstop Mince Pie Face. It. Was. SICK. But once done, at least the on-sale off-dingy drab walls were at least cleaner.
I haven't had enough therapy to discuss the kingdom behind, to the side, and underneath the stove. Ditto the refrigerator. On the positive side, however, we found approximately 58 cat toys. They were thrilled in that cat sort of way, meaning they opened one eye as if to say, "Oh, THAT'S where they were" before rolling over and sleeping for another 17 hours.
Finally we made it to primer. And the first coat? Didn't cover. But it was better. The second coat? Looked beautiful. It was such an improvement that I could have lived with just primer for the next twenty years. But TeenTuna and I had picked out a very pretty light aqua blueish color, and on day 6 we finally got color.
Once it was done, I cannot tell you what a difference it made. Once dark, dingy, grimy and cracking, now it's crisp and clean, light and airy. The ceiling hasn't looked this good EVER and down the line (a bit of a long line, but it's still in the plans) there will be new cupboards and appliances. TeenTuna did quite a turn-around in this whole process as well, and went from being rather incredulous that we had to be our own handyman army to being quite proud of the fact that she helped pick the color, wash the walls, and learned to effectively wield a paint-roller. I consider it Life Skills 101.
It took another week to put the kitchen back together again and get everything in place. Since that time we've also repainted GramTuna's bedroom (a lovely restful herbal green) and my bathroom (a very fun art deco kind of purple), which just had the painters tape removed yesterday. The rest of the house is still the holding ground for our destruction, but hopefully soon things will start to find their way back to where they belong.
I can't say what possessed me to go at all this home improvement with such abandon. But there has been a great deal of satisfaction in fixing all those cracks and holes that I've lived with for all these years. Given all the recent personal and professional upheaval of the past several months, it's been a bit therapeutic to patch the cracks, fill in the holes, smooth out the rough places, and start all over with a fresh clean coat of paint. After a lot of sweat, tears and exhausted trips to the Depot (guess where I'm going during lunch today?), things are starting to shape up nicely.
When it's all said and done, it's still the same four walls. But now they are clean and fresh and new. Everything seems to radiate optimism and possibilities.
That may be the biggest home improvement of all.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Introductions and Explanations
I've been thinking for awhile now about how I might jump start my sadly neglected blog. I wondered if I could get away with sneaking back in and posting some mindless meme as if I'd never really left. Actually, I've tried that a couple of times, but since my last post was mid-May, it seems obvious that that strategy was pretty much a bust.
Blogs are a funny thing, and even here in my own dusty corner of the Internet, it's hard to know what to divulge. As usual, I'm of several different opinions simultaneously. Part of me is very guarded and strongly believes that personal and private information is just that. I tend to hold my cards fairly close to the vest because as much as I love you all (and I do...I really do!), please take no offense when I say certain things are none of your business. Smooches!
Part of me is firmly convinced that nobody really wants to hear the gory details of my life. Heck, I'm living it, and half the time I don't want to hear the gory details of my life. I'm sure they're boring. I'm sure I'm whining. I'm sure what few readers would spend the afternoon picking up their eyeballs that rolled out of their sockets and onto the floor, and I bet you all have better things to do.
Part of me worries about The Big Blog Boogiemonster with his bag full of horror stories. Be careful what you say, you could get fired (sadly true) or stalkers could stalk you with stalkiness (less likely, but still true). Lives will be destroyed and there will be gnashing of teeth while all the smart people in the world look at you as a pathetic cautionary tale and shake their head and cluck like hens saying "should have known better." Best just to keep my mouth shut.
But at the same time, part of me thinks those of you who have stuck it out, checking every now and again to see if there is anything new deserve some sort of explanation. Heck, if my friends disappeared with no warning for months at a time and then suddenly showed up again, it would be natural to ask in a kindly but pointed manner, "where the hell have you been?"
So, after considering privacy, self-esteem, paranoia and guilt, this is what I have for you.
The last 11 months have been difficult. Big changes came at me from out of the blue and it has been a struggle to meet these challenges and maintain my sanity. You may have noticed from my blatant lack of discussing the subject that Scout is out of the picture. Falling under the category of "I love you Internet, but it's none of your business" I will simply say it was unexpected and extremely hurtful. Of course you know there was much, much, much more to it than that, but that's all you're getting, and it's enough that you may fill in the blanks however you like.
Then, with no warning and very little communication before, during, or after, came a major job change with a partial reassignment. Coming on the heels of the Scout debacle, this was a tough one, and really caused a lot of personal and professional upheaval.
Teaching this year was a good news-bad news proposition, but overall, I was always glad to get behind a piano and lose myself in music for awhile. I hated the drive that gave me far too much time to wrestle with The Ghosts of Problems Past, Present and Future. At the same time I discovered the hour-long commute gave me a chance to think out loud and work some things out for myself.
I went on vacation determined to clear my head, pull myself together, and come back home a more whole, healed person. I was going to start writing again (seriously, you should see the number of drafts I have stored away), and start doing things for myself. That plan worked out absolutely great...until the first day back at work. At 10am I was informed by the powers that be that while I was on vacation they decided they weren't quite finished with me and big job changes. In many respects, I became a victim of my own success, and partial reassignment has become total reassignment.
So here I am, back in the soup once again. Every time I think I'm past the worst of it, someone or something throws me back in and tells me to take another 20 laps. All of this hasn't translated well for the poor neglected Tuna News. I'm too tired, too stressed, too sad, too worried, and just plain too overwhelmed.
Over the past week, however -- which is exactly how long it's been since the latest bombshell-- I've done an enormous amount of thinking. Not so much about this job or that job, or why I will have to be here rather than there doing this instead of that. There are no answers to those questions, and I'm trying hard to put a stop to thinking that does little more than drive me crazy. Instead, I started thinking about myself.
I started thinking about who I am, and what makes me who I am. I came to the conclusion that I am not my job. I am not defined by my job. My job is something I do, but it isn't the essence of who I am. So yes, my job was -- and Lord help me, is again -- changing. But it's my job that's changing. Not me. It may seem like a little thing, but recognizing the difference between what I do and who I am helps me keep my sanity as I continue to deal with a situation I can neither change nor control.
Ditto for the artist formerly known as Scout. Yes, there was a great deal of loss, but as the saying goes, there is no point of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I lost a relationship. I didn't lose myself. I'm still here with my familial trademarked off-kilter sense of humor, wicked sense of puns and a mischievous sparkle in my eye. I should never let anything or anyone stifle it or take it away. Including myself.
All this doesn't mean that I have been spending my days skipping down the primrose path eating rainbows and pooping butterflies. I'm still fairly sad and overwhelmed. But I'm determined to be okay. I'm determined to remember exactly who I am and not lose my sense of self as I navigate through all the changes life has thrown at me lately. And I would be horribly remiss if I didn't mention the fact that Teen Tuna has been incredibly supportive over the past year. She has been an excellent listener, caretaker, and a distraction for the good whenever I have needed one. She has had to grow up a lot over the past year, and has learned -- kind of the hard way (which is regretful) -- that sometimes grownups do plain old crappy things. I am so proud of this kid and I'm damn lucky to be her mother. And no, she still can't have a cell phone. I'm proud of her, not insane.
Lastly, but not leastly, I want to promise you that GreenTuna and The Tuna News are here to stay, and I plan to resume regular postings soon. I promise to be funny sometimes, serious sometimes, and a total slacker meme-poster sometimes. I'll tell you as much as I can without invading my own privacy or boring you to tears. And as for the Big Blog Boogiemonster, I'm going to chill out a little bit. I'm really not all that concerned about stalkers stalking me with stalkiness, because frankly, if you ever did stalk me, I'd make you do my dishes, weed the garden and then find my lonely socks.
And since we've come to an understanding, I just have one more thing to tell you.
My name is Vicki.
Blogs are a funny thing, and even here in my own dusty corner of the Internet, it's hard to know what to divulge. As usual, I'm of several different opinions simultaneously. Part of me is very guarded and strongly believes that personal and private information is just that. I tend to hold my cards fairly close to the vest because as much as I love you all (and I do...I really do!), please take no offense when I say certain things are none of your business. Smooches!
Part of me is firmly convinced that nobody really wants to hear the gory details of my life. Heck, I'm living it, and half the time I don't want to hear the gory details of my life. I'm sure they're boring. I'm sure I'm whining. I'm sure what few readers would spend the afternoon picking up their eyeballs that rolled out of their sockets and onto the floor, and I bet you all have better things to do.
Part of me worries about The Big Blog Boogiemonster with his bag full of horror stories. Be careful what you say, you could get fired (sadly true) or stalkers could stalk you with stalkiness (less likely, but still true). Lives will be destroyed and there will be gnashing of teeth while all the smart people in the world look at you as a pathetic cautionary tale and shake their head and cluck like hens saying "should have known better." Best just to keep my mouth shut.
But at the same time, part of me thinks those of you who have stuck it out, checking every now and again to see if there is anything new deserve some sort of explanation. Heck, if my friends disappeared with no warning for months at a time and then suddenly showed up again, it would be natural to ask in a kindly but pointed manner, "where the hell have you been?"
So, after considering privacy, self-esteem, paranoia and guilt, this is what I have for you.
The last 11 months have been difficult. Big changes came at me from out of the blue and it has been a struggle to meet these challenges and maintain my sanity. You may have noticed from my blatant lack of discussing the subject that Scout is out of the picture. Falling under the category of "I love you Internet, but it's none of your business" I will simply say it was unexpected and extremely hurtful. Of course you know there was much, much, much more to it than that, but that's all you're getting, and it's enough that you may fill in the blanks however you like.
Then, with no warning and very little communication before, during, or after, came a major job change with a partial reassignment. Coming on the heels of the Scout debacle, this was a tough one, and really caused a lot of personal and professional upheaval.
Teaching this year was a good news-bad news proposition, but overall, I was always glad to get behind a piano and lose myself in music for awhile. I hated the drive that gave me far too much time to wrestle with The Ghosts of Problems Past, Present and Future. At the same time I discovered the hour-long commute gave me a chance to think out loud and work some things out for myself.
I went on vacation determined to clear my head, pull myself together, and come back home a more whole, healed person. I was going to start writing again (seriously, you should see the number of drafts I have stored away), and start doing things for myself. That plan worked out absolutely great...until the first day back at work. At 10am I was informed by the powers that be that while I was on vacation they decided they weren't quite finished with me and big job changes. In many respects, I became a victim of my own success, and partial reassignment has become total reassignment.
So here I am, back in the soup once again. Every time I think I'm past the worst of it, someone or something throws me back in and tells me to take another 20 laps. All of this hasn't translated well for the poor neglected Tuna News. I'm too tired, too stressed, too sad, too worried, and just plain too overwhelmed.
Over the past week, however -- which is exactly how long it's been since the latest bombshell-- I've done an enormous amount of thinking. Not so much about this job or that job, or why I will have to be here rather than there doing this instead of that. There are no answers to those questions, and I'm trying hard to put a stop to thinking that does little more than drive me crazy. Instead, I started thinking about myself.
I started thinking about who I am, and what makes me who I am. I came to the conclusion that I am not my job. I am not defined by my job. My job is something I do, but it isn't the essence of who I am. So yes, my job was -- and Lord help me, is again -- changing. But it's my job that's changing. Not me. It may seem like a little thing, but recognizing the difference between what I do and who I am helps me keep my sanity as I continue to deal with a situation I can neither change nor control.
Ditto for the artist formerly known as Scout. Yes, there was a great deal of loss, but as the saying goes, there is no point of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I lost a relationship. I didn't lose myself. I'm still here with my familial trademarked off-kilter sense of humor, wicked sense of puns and a mischievous sparkle in my eye. I should never let anything or anyone stifle it or take it away. Including myself.
All this doesn't mean that I have been spending my days skipping down the primrose path eating rainbows and pooping butterflies. I'm still fairly sad and overwhelmed. But I'm determined to be okay. I'm determined to remember exactly who I am and not lose my sense of self as I navigate through all the changes life has thrown at me lately. And I would be horribly remiss if I didn't mention the fact that Teen Tuna has been incredibly supportive over the past year. She has been an excellent listener, caretaker, and a distraction for the good whenever I have needed one. She has had to grow up a lot over the past year, and has learned -- kind of the hard way (which is regretful) -- that sometimes grownups do plain old crappy things. I am so proud of this kid and I'm damn lucky to be her mother. And no, she still can't have a cell phone. I'm proud of her, not insane.
Lastly, but not leastly, I want to promise you that GreenTuna and The Tuna News are here to stay, and I plan to resume regular postings soon. I promise to be funny sometimes, serious sometimes, and a total slacker meme-poster sometimes. I'll tell you as much as I can without invading my own privacy or boring you to tears. And as for the Big Blog Boogiemonster, I'm going to chill out a little bit. I'm really not all that concerned about stalkers stalking me with stalkiness, because frankly, if you ever did stalk me, I'd make you do my dishes, weed the garden and then find my lonely socks.
And since we've come to an understanding, I just have one more thing to tell you.
My name is Vicki.
Introductions and Explanations
I've been thinking for awhile now about how I might jump start my sadly neglected blog. I wondered if I could get away with sneaking back in and posting some mindless meme as if I'd never really left. Actually, I've tried that a couple of times, but since my last post was mid-May, it seems obvious that that strategy was pretty much a bust.
Blogs are a funny thing, and even here in my own dusty corner of the Internet, it's hard to know what to divulge. As usual, I'm of several different opinions simultaneously. Part of me is very guarded and strongly believes that personal and private information is just that. I tend to hold my cards fairly close to the vest because as much as I love you all (and I do...I really do!), please take no offense when I say certain things are none of your business. Smooches!
Part of me is firmly convinced that nobody really wants to hear the gory details of my life. Heck, I'm living it, and half the time I don't want to hear the gory details of my life. I'm sure they're boring. I'm sure I'm whining. I'm sure what few readers would spend the afternoon picking up their eyeballs that rolled out of their sockets and onto the floor, and I bet you all have better things to do.
Part of me worries about The Big Blog Boogiemonster with his bag full of horror stories. Be careful what you say, you could get fired (sadly true) or stalkers could stalk you with stalkiness (less likely, but still true). Lives will be destroyed and there will be gnashing of teeth while all the smart people in the world look at you as a pathetic cautionary tale and shake their head and cluck like hens saying "should have known better." Best just to keep my mouth shut.
But at the same time, part of me thinks those of you who have stuck it out, checking every now and again to see if there is anything new deserve some sort of explanation. Heck, if my friends disappeared with no warning for months at a time and then suddenly showed up again, it would be natural to ask in a kindly but pointed manner, "where the hell have you been?"
So, after considering privacy, self-esteem, paranoia and guilt, this is what I have for you.
The last 11 months have been difficult. Big changes came at me from out of the blue and it has been a struggle to meet these challenges and maintain my sanity. You may have noticed from my blatant lack of discussing the subject that Scout is out of the picture. Falling under the category of "I love you Internet, but it's none of your business" I will simply say it was unexpected and extremely hurtful. Of course you know there was much, much, much more to it than that, but that's all you're getting, and it's enough that you may fill in the blanks however you like.
Then, with no warning and very little communication before, during, or after, came a major job change with a partial reassignment. Coming on the heels of the Scout debacle, this was a tough one, and really caused a lot of personal and professional upheaval.
Teaching this year was a good news-bad news proposition, but overall, I was always glad to get behind a piano and lose myself in music for awhile. I hated the drive that gave me far too much time to wrestle with The Ghosts of Problems Past, Present and Future. At the same time I discovered the hour-long commute gave me a chance to think out loud and work some things out for myself.
I went on vacation determined to clear my head, pull myself together, and come back home a more whole, healed person. I was going to start writing again (seriously, you should see the number of drafts I have stored away), and start doing things for myself. That plan worked out absolutely great...until the first day back at work. At 10am I was informed by the powers that be that while I was on vacation they decided they weren't quite finished with me and big job changes. In many respects, I became a victim of my own success, and partial reassignment has become total reassignment.
So here I am, back in the soup once again. Every time I think I'm past the worst of it, someone or something throws me back in and tells me to take another 20 laps. All of this hasn't translated well for the poor neglected Tuna News. I'm too tired, too stressed, too sad, too worried, and just plain too overwhelmed.
Over the past week, however -- which is exactly how long it's been since the latest bombshell-- I've done an enormous amount of thinking. Not so much about this job or that job, or why I will have to be here rather than there doing this instead of that. There are no answers to those questions, and I'm trying hard to put a stop to thinking that does little more than drive me crazy. Instead, I started thinking about myself.
I started thinking about who I am, and what makes me who I am. I came to the conclusion that I am not my job. I am not defined by my job. My job is something I do, but it isn't the essence of who I am. So yes, my job was -- and Lord help me, is again -- changing. But it's my job that's changing. Not me. It may seem like a little thing, but recognizing the difference between what I do and who I am helps me keep my sanity as I continue to deal with a situation I can neither change nor control.
Ditto for the artist formerly known as Scout. Yes, there was a great deal of loss, but as the saying goes, there is no point of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I lost a relationship. I didn't lose myself. I'm still here with my familial trademarked off-kilter sense of humor, wicked sense of puns and a mischievous sparkle in my eye. I should never let anything or anyone stifle it or take it away. Including myself.
All this doesn't mean that I have been spending my days skipping down the primrose path eating rainbows and pooping butterflies. I'm still fairly sad and overwhelmed. But I'm determined to be okay. I'm determined to remember exactly who I am and not lose my sense of self as I navigate through all the changes life has thrown at me lately. And I would be horribly remiss if I didn't mention the fact that Teen Tuna has been incredibly supportive over the past year. She has been an excellent listener, caretaker, and a distraction for the good whenever I have needed one. She has had to grow up a lot over the past year, and has learned -- kind of the hard way (which is regretful) -- that sometimes grownups do plain old crappy things. I am so proud of this kid and I'm damn lucky to be her mother. And no, she still can't have a cell phone. I'm proud of her, not insane.
Lastly, but not leastly, I want to promise you that GreenTuna and The Tuna News are here to stay, and I plan to resume regular postings soon. I promise to be funny sometimes, serious sometimes, and a total slacker meme-poster sometimes. I'll tell you as much as I can without invading my own privacy or boring you to tears. And as for the Big Blog Boogiemonster, I'm going to chill out a little bit. I'm really not all that concerned about stalkers stalking me with stalkiness, because frankly, if you ever did stalk me, I'd make you do my dishes, weed the garden and then find my lonely socks.
And since we've come to an understanding, I just have one more thing to tell you.
My name is Vicki.
Blogs are a funny thing, and even here in my own dusty corner of the Internet, it's hard to know what to divulge. As usual, I'm of several different opinions simultaneously. Part of me is very guarded and strongly believes that personal and private information is just that. I tend to hold my cards fairly close to the vest because as much as I love you all (and I do...I really do!), please take no offense when I say certain things are none of your business. Smooches!
Part of me is firmly convinced that nobody really wants to hear the gory details of my life. Heck, I'm living it, and half the time I don't want to hear the gory details of my life. I'm sure they're boring. I'm sure I'm whining. I'm sure what few readers would spend the afternoon picking up their eyeballs that rolled out of their sockets and onto the floor, and I bet you all have better things to do.
Part of me worries about The Big Blog Boogiemonster with his bag full of horror stories. Be careful what you say, you could get fired (sadly true) or stalkers could stalk you with stalkiness (less likely, but still true). Lives will be destroyed and there will be gnashing of teeth while all the smart people in the world look at you as a pathetic cautionary tale and shake their head and cluck like hens saying "should have known better." Best just to keep my mouth shut.
But at the same time, part of me thinks those of you who have stuck it out, checking every now and again to see if there is anything new deserve some sort of explanation. Heck, if my friends disappeared with no warning for months at a time and then suddenly showed up again, it would be natural to ask in a kindly but pointed manner, "where the hell have you been?"
So, after considering privacy, self-esteem, paranoia and guilt, this is what I have for you.
The last 11 months have been difficult. Big changes came at me from out of the blue and it has been a struggle to meet these challenges and maintain my sanity. You may have noticed from my blatant lack of discussing the subject that Scout is out of the picture. Falling under the category of "I love you Internet, but it's none of your business" I will simply say it was unexpected and extremely hurtful. Of course you know there was much, much, much more to it than that, but that's all you're getting, and it's enough that you may fill in the blanks however you like.
Then, with no warning and very little communication before, during, or after, came a major job change with a partial reassignment. Coming on the heels of the Scout debacle, this was a tough one, and really caused a lot of personal and professional upheaval.
Teaching this year was a good news-bad news proposition, but overall, I was always glad to get behind a piano and lose myself in music for awhile. I hated the drive that gave me far too much time to wrestle with The Ghosts of Problems Past, Present and Future. At the same time I discovered the hour-long commute gave me a chance to think out loud and work some things out for myself.
I went on vacation determined to clear my head, pull myself together, and come back home a more whole, healed person. I was going to start writing again (seriously, you should see the number of drafts I have stored away), and start doing things for myself. That plan worked out absolutely great...until the first day back at work. At 10am I was informed by the powers that be that while I was on vacation they decided they weren't quite finished with me and big job changes. In many respects, I became a victim of my own success, and partial reassignment has become total reassignment.
So here I am, back in the soup once again. Every time I think I'm past the worst of it, someone or something throws me back in and tells me to take another 20 laps. All of this hasn't translated well for the poor neglected Tuna News. I'm too tired, too stressed, too sad, too worried, and just plain too overwhelmed.
Over the past week, however -- which is exactly how long it's been since the latest bombshell-- I've done an enormous amount of thinking. Not so much about this job or that job, or why I will have to be here rather than there doing this instead of that. There are no answers to those questions, and I'm trying hard to put a stop to thinking that does little more than drive me crazy. Instead, I started thinking about myself.
I started thinking about who I am, and what makes me who I am. I came to the conclusion that I am not my job. I am not defined by my job. My job is something I do, but it isn't the essence of who I am. So yes, my job was -- and Lord help me, is again -- changing. But it's my job that's changing. Not me. It may seem like a little thing, but recognizing the difference between what I do and who I am helps me keep my sanity as I continue to deal with a situation I can neither change nor control.
Ditto for the artist formerly known as Scout. Yes, there was a great deal of loss, but as the saying goes, there is no point of throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I lost a relationship. I didn't lose myself. I'm still here with my familial trademarked off-kilter sense of humor, wicked sense of puns and a mischievous sparkle in my eye. I should never let anything or anyone stifle it or take it away. Including myself.
All this doesn't mean that I have been spending my days skipping down the primrose path eating rainbows and pooping butterflies. I'm still fairly sad and overwhelmed. But I'm determined to be okay. I'm determined to remember exactly who I am and not lose my sense of self as I navigate through all the changes life has thrown at me lately. And I would be horribly remiss if I didn't mention the fact that Teen Tuna has been incredibly supportive over the past year. She has been an excellent listener, caretaker, and a distraction for the good whenever I have needed one. She has had to grow up a lot over the past year, and has learned -- kind of the hard way (which is regretful) -- that sometimes grownups do plain old crappy things. I am so proud of this kid and I'm damn lucky to be her mother. And no, she still can't have a cell phone. I'm proud of her, not insane.
Lastly, but not leastly, I want to promise you that GreenTuna and The Tuna News are here to stay, and I plan to resume regular postings soon. I promise to be funny sometimes, serious sometimes, and a total slacker meme-poster sometimes. I'll tell you as much as I can without invading my own privacy or boring you to tears. And as for the Big Blog Boogiemonster, I'm going to chill out a little bit. I'm really not all that concerned about stalkers stalking me with stalkiness, because frankly, if you ever did stalk me, I'd make you do my dishes, weed the garden and then find my lonely socks.
And since we've come to an understanding, I just have one more thing to tell you.
My name is Vicki.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Unconscious Mutterings
I say ... And You Think:
1. Concentration :: Game Show
2. Relocated :: Moved
3. Clot :: Blood
4. Joints :: Aches
5. Satellite :: Dish
6. Money Back :: Guarantee
7. Kittens :: Incurably cute
8. Shady :: Dubious
9. Drain :: Down the...
10. Stroke :: Emergency
Well, I can't decide if this is the medical mutterings or the random throw darts at the dictionary mutterings. Whichever it may be, I leave you with a clip from Classic Concentration. Will June win the roll-top desk for her husband? Watching and see!
Unconscious Mutterings
I say ... And You Think:
1. Concentration :: Game Show
2. Relocated :: Moved
3. Clot :: Blood
4. Joints :: Aches
5. Satellite :: Dish
6. Money Back :: Guarantee
7. Kittens :: Incurably cute
8. Shady :: Dubious
9. Drain :: Down the...
10. Stroke :: Emergency
Well, I can't decide if this is the medical mutterings or the random throw darts at the dictionary mutterings. Whichever it may be, I leave you with a clip from Classic Concentration. Will June win the roll-top desk for her husband? Watching and see!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Unconscious Mutterings
I say ... And You Think:
1. State :: Of Mind
2. Lively :: Quick
3. Valet :: Parking
4. Traction :: Gription
5. Official :: Sanctioned
6. Red Hot :: Really Really Really Hot.
7. Powder :: Snow
8. Replies :: Answers
9. Flagrant :: Grossly obvious
10. Tweet :: Chirp
Hey, I still remember how to do this! Because the snow shovels were finally moved back into the garage today, I am confident enough to unconsciously mutter the "s" word without fear of retribution courtesy of mother nature. My only other note: #4 is a family word, and I like it.
1. State :: Of Mind
2. Lively :: Quick
3. Valet :: Parking
4. Traction :: Gription
5. Official :: Sanctioned
6. Red Hot :: Really Really Really Hot.
7. Powder :: Snow
8. Replies :: Answers
9. Flagrant :: Grossly obvious
10. Tweet :: Chirp
Hey, I still remember how to do this! Because the snow shovels were finally moved back into the garage today, I am confident enough to unconsciously mutter the "s" word without fear of retribution courtesy of mother nature. My only other note: #4 is a family word, and I like it.
Unconscious Mutterings
I say ... And You Think:
1. State :: Of Mind
2. Lively :: Quick
3. Valet :: Parking
4. Traction :: Gription
5. Official :: Sanctioned
6. Red Hot :: Really Really Really Hot.
7. Powder :: Snow
8. Replies :: Answers
9. Flagrant :: Grossly obvious
10. Tweet :: Chirp
Hey, I still remember how to do this! Because the snow shovels were finally moved back into the garage today, I am confident enough to unconsciously mutter the "s" word without fear of retribution courtesy of mother nature. My only other note: #4 is a family word, and I like it.
1. State :: Of Mind
2. Lively :: Quick
3. Valet :: Parking
4. Traction :: Gription
5. Official :: Sanctioned
6. Red Hot :: Really Really Really Hot.
7. Powder :: Snow
8. Replies :: Answers
9. Flagrant :: Grossly obvious
10. Tweet :: Chirp
Hey, I still remember how to do this! Because the snow shovels were finally moved back into the garage today, I am confident enough to unconsciously mutter the "s" word without fear of retribution courtesy of mother nature. My only other note: #4 is a family word, and I like it.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
House of Slitherin
I might have thought -- or at least wished -- that once the academic year ended up north and my schedule began to morph into a more humane 40 hours-per-week job that I would be kicking up my heels and having a grand old time.
I'm here to tell you it's just not happening.
Sure, there are moments of shock and awe when I leave my "regular" place of employment in the neighborhood of 5pm. That hasn't happened since September, and I cannot tell you how nice it is to see daylight after work. I've also dropped the long commute twice a week, and both my nice, nice, nice, (nice and old, really) BUT STILL VERY NICE I LOVE YOU LOTS AND LOTS car and my wallet appreciate that greatly.
But I'm sure not sitting around eating Bonbons, thumbing through magazines and pondering my luxury to-do list. A luxury list contains things that one could do, if one wanted to, but aren't necessarily required. So, that means it can't be on fire and it's not one of those "wash it or go to the store TODAY to buy more" kind of things. Luxury lists also include things you'd LIKE to do, like maybe read a book, or take a walk; you know, optional activities you hear and read about other people doing.
The Tuna household is still fairly knee-deep in activities as we turn the page and stare down the miserable month of May. All I can say is, after the Agony of April, I'm hoping this month shows some major improvement. And as for my lack of heel-kicking merriment, for the time being, I guess it's alright. Not everyone goes the "bursting from the chrysalis emerging as a beautiful butterfly" route. Transitioning into a summer schedule maybe end up being more like a snake shedding its old tired winter layers. It may take some extra time, rest, and a little getting used to, but right about now, even having the option of extra time is downright luxurious.
I'll take it.
I'm here to tell you it's just not happening.
Sure, there are moments of shock and awe when I leave my "regular" place of employment in the neighborhood of 5pm. That hasn't happened since September, and I cannot tell you how nice it is to see daylight after work. I've also dropped the long commute twice a week, and both my nice, nice, nice, (nice and old, really) BUT STILL VERY NICE I LOVE YOU LOTS AND LOTS car and my wallet appreciate that greatly.
But I'm sure not sitting around eating Bonbons, thumbing through magazines and pondering my luxury to-do list. A luxury list contains things that one could do, if one wanted to, but aren't necessarily required. So, that means it can't be on fire and it's not one of those "wash it or go to the store TODAY to buy more" kind of things. Luxury lists also include things you'd LIKE to do, like maybe read a book, or take a walk; you know, optional activities you hear and read about other people doing.
The Tuna household is still fairly knee-deep in activities as we turn the page and stare down the miserable month of May. All I can say is, after the Agony of April, I'm hoping this month shows some major improvement. And as for my lack of heel-kicking merriment, for the time being, I guess it's alright. Not everyone goes the "bursting from the chrysalis emerging as a beautiful butterfly" route. Transitioning into a summer schedule maybe end up being more like a snake shedding its old tired winter layers. It may take some extra time, rest, and a little getting used to, but right about now, even having the option of extra time is downright luxurious.
I'll take it.
House of Slitherin
I might have thought -- or at least wished -- that once the academic year ended up north and my schedule began to morph into a more humane 40 hours-per-week job that I would be kicking up my heels and having a grand old time.
I'm here to tell you it's just not happening.
Sure, there are moments of shock and awe when I leave my "regular" place of employment in the neighborhood of 5pm. That hasn't happened since September, and I cannot tell you how nice it is to see daylight after work. I've also dropped the long commute twice a week, and both my nice, nice, nice, (nice and old, really) BUT STILL VERY NICE I LOVE YOU LOTS AND LOTS car and my wallet appreciate that greatly.
But I'm sure not sitting around eating Bonbons, thumbing through magazines and pondering my luxury to-do list. A luxury list contains things that one could do, if one wanted to, but aren't necessarily required. So, that means it can't be on fire and it's not one of those "wash it or go to the store TODAY to buy more" kind of things. Luxury lists also include things you'd LIKE to do, like maybe read a book, or take a walk; you know, optional activities you hear and read about other people doing.
The Tuna household is still fairly knee-deep in activities as we turn the page and stare down the miserable month of May. All I can say is, after the Agony of April, I'm hoping this month shows some major improvement. And as for my lack of heel-kicking merriment, for the time being, I guess it's alright. Not everyone goes the "bursting from the chrysalis emerging as a beautiful butterfly" route. Transitioning into a summer schedule maybe end up being more like a snake shedding its old tired winter layers. It may take some extra time, rest, and a little getting used to, but right about now, even having the option of extra time is downright luxurious.
I'll take it.
I'm here to tell you it's just not happening.
Sure, there are moments of shock and awe when I leave my "regular" place of employment in the neighborhood of 5pm. That hasn't happened since September, and I cannot tell you how nice it is to see daylight after work. I've also dropped the long commute twice a week, and both my nice, nice, nice, (nice and old, really) BUT STILL VERY NICE I LOVE YOU LOTS AND LOTS car and my wallet appreciate that greatly.
But I'm sure not sitting around eating Bonbons, thumbing through magazines and pondering my luxury to-do list. A luxury list contains things that one could do, if one wanted to, but aren't necessarily required. So, that means it can't be on fire and it's not one of those "wash it or go to the store TODAY to buy more" kind of things. Luxury lists also include things you'd LIKE to do, like maybe read a book, or take a walk; you know, optional activities you hear and read about other people doing.
The Tuna household is still fairly knee-deep in activities as we turn the page and stare down the miserable month of May. All I can say is, after the Agony of April, I'm hoping this month shows some major improvement. And as for my lack of heel-kicking merriment, for the time being, I guess it's alright. Not everyone goes the "bursting from the chrysalis emerging as a beautiful butterfly" route. Transitioning into a summer schedule maybe end up being more like a snake shedding its old tired winter layers. It may take some extra time, rest, and a little getting used to, but right about now, even having the option of extra time is downright luxurious.
I'll take it.
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