Seemingly Perfect

Have you ever met one of those people that you love and want to kill at the same time? That's Cheryl-the chick that got married on Sunday. She's ridiculously inventive, sweet and beyond adorable. Just when I think I'm equally as awesome-she pulls out another stop.

The wedding was really beautiful and actually enjoyable! I normally hate weddings, but hers was the exception. It was outside of course, and the weather was perfect. The ceremony consisted of a million bright colors that shouldn't go together, but they did and it was gorgeous. It was also overflowing with adorable Philippino children, which can never be a bad thing. The cuteness was numbing.

The reception was even fun, and I don't drink. Good vegetarian food and stupid games that made people look like complete morons. A great spectator sport.

To top the whole thing off, she made her own wedding cake! It wasn't ghetto either. It was all home-made stripey tasty. It wasn't Ace of Cakes good, but it was decent. Just enough to be endearing, as usual.

So, yeah. My "I'm the bestest girly" syndrome causes me anguish. What about you? Hate any seemingly perfect people?

The Snotness Monster

I know. I know. Snot is every one's favorite subject, and it's ladylike to boot. I just thought you might be interested to know that I'm dying a slow and annoying death!!

Around these parts this is lovingly referred to as The Crud. I'm pretty sure I caught it from the little snot-nosed punk that came in my office last week. He insisted that the chick at the court house told him the place he was looking for was my office. I told him who we were, what we did and that I'd never heard of the organization he was looking for. I also offered to let him use my phone book.

Despite the sign in the window and my opposition, he was certain he was in the right place. Dude refused to look up the place he needed and just kept talking. Like perhaps he thought I would magically morph into this mythical agency he sought, and would solve all his problems with my magic wand. Ugh.

So, here I am. It's a beautiful seventy-seven degrees outside, and my nose is running. Sniff. Cough. Sigh.

On the brighter side, this will be a wonderful weekend. The best friend is coming down from Michigan. We're going to a wedding in Tennessee on Sunday. Snot or no snot, I'm going to have an awesome time. I'm determined.

Have a great weekend Internet people. I love you, even if Todd does make fun of me for my "virtual" relationships. You are real. I do believe. I do believe.

All Things Kentucky

Any chance to escape to Kentucky is a welcomed one. It amazes me the loyalty I have to a place I left when I was eight. Eighteen years I've lived elsewhere, but somehow I'm still a Kentucky girl.

I don't think it has anything to do with how wonderful a place is or anything. I really loved living in Florida, and I truly think of Alabama as home. There's just something about Kentucky. And in October!!!! The air just smells like football games, drive-ins and hide-n-go-seek in the dark. Makes me have to pee just thinking about it. ^__^

So, Wednesday of next week I leave for a conference in Louisville. It's about 100 miles from where we used to live when I was a kid, and my sister. I can't wait! All work and training aside, we are going to have so much fun. It's a fun place. Lots to do and see. I've finally convinced my husband of this, and he's now decided to come with me. Yay!

My sister and her fiance are driving down Saturday night for dinner, and I predict good times.

An Escapist: To Be or Not To Be

I'm more often than not a happy-go-lucky gal. Woman would most likely be the best term to use there, but I refuse to admit I'm actually twenty-six!! Okay. So, in an attempt to maintain my preferred relaxed demeanor, I often suppress things. Much like my age. See? I just did it again! Geesh!

I believe it's a form of escapism. Due to dealing with excessive amounts of "crap" in my life, I've developed this way of dealing/not dealing with things. Seems to work out alright until I get that snowball effect going.

Life at work has become quite a snowball. In case I haven't mentioned it before, I'm the director of an outreach program for youth, and the clerical assistant, here at our lowly nonprofit. I love what we do, but my works been a bit questionable for me lately. I've been seriously thinking about severing my own head with a sharpie, in attempt to relieve some stress. Not just in that last long hour either.

I've been extremely stressed about all the stuff I have to do and the fact that there's not enough time to do it. I have two full-time positions as one. And I'm salary. We're a nonprofit. I understand, but it's been getting to me.

So, I became completely discouraged, didn't want to do any of it and started looking for another job. See? COMPLETE AND TOTAL ESCAPISM!!!

Yesterday, I finally spilled my guts to my boss. I didn't cry at first. I worked up to that. She reacted remarkably well. I was certain I'd be looking for another job, or at least be bumped to part time, which I can't afford.

We discussed the root of the problem, and she offered a solution that I didn't know was an option. Things are looking up! Perhaps escapism is not the best way to deal (or not to deal) with things after all. I'm amazed!

Side Note: My boss is pretty awesome.

Multipurposing Moron

I have come to the conclusion that I have the attention span of a Jack Russel on crack. I get all interested in something and am obsessed for about a month or two. Then it magically disappears. I'm bouncing off the walls here folks.

Finishing things isn't my problem. I've finished a few billion owlies, a few scarves, lots of little clay thingies, a gazillion paintings(which aren't really my problem-that's the one thing I never fizzle out on),and lots of other stuff I've become excited about. It's just that my obsession comes in waves.

Last year, my husband dubbed me a closet knitter. He'd find me sneak-knitting at work, in my Jeep in the driveway, in the bathroom...Seriously. I did it anywhere and everywhere. The urge would hit and off I'd go. Knitting like a mad woman. I've just picked that one up again.

A few months ago it was little polymer clay incense burners. I went nuts. I think everyone I know has at least two somewhere. Themed accordingly. You like robots? A'ight. Robot incense burner it is! Octopi? Sure!

Now, it's a bookmark here and there. I think I feel a little clay jack-o-lantern obsession coming on. I'm also knitting again, too. I already mentioned that, huh?

My problem with this is that I feel like I'm flighty. I come back to the stuff eventually. It just takes time. Maybe I just need lots to keep me entertained? I do learn new stuff during my hiatuses. I do too much to do it all-all the time.

So, maybe it's okay.

Phone Company Harpy

I've been on the phone with the Phone Company Harpy for about 10 minutes now. I took it upon myself to create a sketch derived from her tone of voice and attitude. I can't be too sure, but I think she looks something like this.
Just thought I'd share.

So Much For Old School

Let me first express my distaste for newspapers. I loathe them. I've always disliked them, and here are three reasons why.

1. I've never been able to turn the pages successfully.
2. I'm allergic to the ink.
3. They smell funny.

That being said, I read a newspaper today. I was in search of a specific article. During my unpleasant inky exodus I came across a disturbing fact.

The State Department of Education apparently decided to display their all out distaste for children, and all that is good and right, by sending out the following decree. Partial school days have been banned!!!

You heard me right. Those days we LIVED FOR! Pep rallies. Parades. Anything they'd allow us to attend. It's what kept us going! Partial school days were the solitary reason we trudged along, doing as we were told and never(almost) questioning authority.

This new rule eliminates dismissing school early on the last day before Christmas and Spring Break. What's wrong with these people?! Have they no decency?!

If you thought violence in schools was a problem before. Just wait until this gets into full swing. These little punks are gonna be packin' heat now.

(yoinked from photobucket-Jeb's sister)

KiMCHi & A HAIR CUT

I've been to Korea and enjoyed many a strange veggie dish. I might even have enjoyed a few non-veggie dishes, unbeknownst to me. I'm sure of it actually.

I loved kimbop. Bibimbap was good, save the egg cracked on top, and the stone bowl I cooked my fingers on. Chobap, which I think is originally Japanese, is my favorite. Bap means rice, and it's in everything. This-bap and that-bap. Yumbap.

Kimchi, on the other hand, was not something I enjoyed. Green or red-it stank and didn't taste much better. For some strange reason everyone loves this stuff. Fermented cabbage?! No!

This is exactly why I named the newest addition to the family KiMCHi. He's slightly stinky. I doubt he tastes good. And everyone loves him.

This past Friday night a kitty strolled up our driveway. We've since found the owner and been given the cat. They had him declawed and neutered, but then decided to put him outside!!!

They might be idiots, but at least I got a kitty out of the deal. Yay! He's oh so lovely and sweet. He runs his motor all the time. I swear, you could probably drop-kick him and he'd purr.

After a quick, yet expensive, trip to the vet he has become a permanent member of the household. He's gray and stripey and wonderful! I don't enjoy obsessive posts about pets. So, for your one time viewing pleasure. Here's Kimchi!!

And while I'm posting pics on additions/changes...I got a hair cut! The chick whacked a bit much off top. It's obvious my hair is curly. I have slinkies all over my head! Why this woman felt the need to make a four inch layer is beyond me. I think her thought process must have something along the lines of: She has curly hair. Her hairs kinda flat on top. She needs more body. I'll make it stand up all over her head!! I'll make her look like Missis Lovetts!!!!

See that POOF their on the left? Your left. Yeah. This isn't at full Missis Lovetts potential, but it's the only new hair pic I've got. I now have something similar to bangs. Only not really. Eh.

Mr. Ogle

While reading Lauren's post about the grabby shopper, I was reminded of a few awkward shopping adventures of my own. Perhaps I'm alone here, but I wonder.

I never shop alone. Like ever. I don't like shopping unless it's an adventure, and adventures require friends. So, trying on clothes is an experience involving running around half dressed from one friend's dressing room to the next, acquiring opinions and laughing. A male in no way balances this equation!

Is it normal for male employees to be stationed in female dressing rooms? Old Navy started it and it's becoming an epidemic! Perhaps this is accepted and I'm strange, but I don't need Mr. Ogle here nonchalantly checking me out-all half zipped and buttoned-for any reason!!

Are you gay? Are you straight? Why exactly are you ogling me sideways/full-on?!?!? I'm sorry, but if you're a member of one sex and you're in the opposite sex's dressing room, I have every right to wonder about your sexual preference! Which, I couldn't care less about otherwise, and am disturbed that I have to even consider!

Is it just me, or is this unacceptable?!

I Pity The Fool

I've been painting like a fool for the past few days. I decided to give the owlies a rest and work on finishing a few peices I'd been neglecting. Thought I'd share. Neither of them are complete. I keep changing things.

Foreseeable Disappointment

I'm pretty sure I'm well into good movie withdrawal. It was all Wall-E and Batman, and now what? A visit to the theatre isn't necessary for a good weekend, but I am spoiled.

At this point my movie choosing privileges have been revoked anyway. I forced my husband to take me to Tropic Thunder, rather than the animated Star Wars thingy(which I do want to see, just not in the theatre). Todd didn't like it. He laughed at certain parts, but was overall disappointed.

I thought it was hilarious and semi-awe inspiring. I admit, I had to ignore a lot of, what I like to call, teenage boy lingo. Omitting all that, it was ingenious! It had an awesome cast and Tom Cruise made fun of Scientology. Can it get much better?

Anyhow, I know I'm going to get the urge to go to a movie this weekend. I'll look it up. Nothing good will be showing. I'll be bummed.

I'll be foaming at the mouth by the time that new terminator thing comes out(with Christian Bale!). Not to mention Tim Burton's version of Alice in Wonderland, and the next Batman(both POSSIBLY starring Johnny Depp!).

Joy.

Late As Usual

I have a condition. It's chronic lateness. Seriously. Is there a support group for this? I need help. It doesn't matter what time I go to bed. I can NOT get up on time.

In my sleepy stupor I manage to beat my alarm clock into submission. It stops attempting to wake me, after several attempts on it's little electronic life, and I sweetly drift back into dream land.

This morning Johnny Depp and I were painting a house together. Sort of watching the paint dry, drinking lemonade and listening to Bob Dylan. I know. Sexy dreamer, right? I blame these strangely unsteamy dreams on articles I've read recently. Something about Mr. Depp and a short film on "Watching Paint Dry".

Then Bob, our silky rooster started crowing his head off. He is of course not within reach to clobber. So, I have no choice but to let Johnny watch the paint dry alone.

I was late as usual this fine day, but my coworkers were later! So, my lateness goes unnoticed. Glee!

Seedy Fellow

Creepy people are everywhere. Not that this surprises me or anything, but it just catches me off guard sometimes.

I work in a pretty little town by a lake, about 30 minutes from my home. 9 out of 10 people that live here are retired. They spend all their time pampering froofy little dogs and commissioning artists.

I know this because they walk said "dogs" by my window. They then continue to the coffee shop down the street, where I have some art. Thus, I end up painting little spoiled froofy dogs and kids. Rapture.

Anyhow, the other tenth of the population are flowing into and out of the courthouse. It's random people from all over the county. They come to get their various permits and licenses, or to pay tickets and whatnot.

Every once in a while I'll see someone out of the ordinary. Someone a little seedy. Usually they come from the police station, which is behind the courthouse.

Today just such a seedy fellow wandered by my window. I saw him notice me and decide to come in. Ugh. I quickly greeted him and asked how I could help him. He tossed a black garbage bag, full of unknown contents, onto the floor. He then told me he needed to use the telephone.

I know I could've told him no, but I'm nice. I'm also a huge weenie. I am very quickly intimidated and offer up whatever it is people request, in order to avoid conflict.

So, I dialed the number and gave him the receiver(which has now been amply disinfected). I wandered over to the copy machine and copied some letterhead. I managed to look pretty busy while dropping some eve.

He didn't come out and say it, but he eluded to the fact that he'd been in jail for three days. This phone call was apparently to wrangle someone into coming to pick him up. It sounded as if it was unsuccessful and he hung up all disgruntled-like.

It took what seemed like eons, but after seeing I wasn't offering anymore help, he decided to leave. I locked the door behind him as he left, Clorox wiped my phone, and went to chastise my coworker for leaving me up there all alone. Apparently, her plan was to hide out, and if he killed me she would call the police. I thanked her for her saintly plan.

I know it's a bit naive, but I usually assume that everyone's decent. I guess I just want to believe that. I do know better. Thanks to the crime channel I'm now silently paranoid about pretty much everyone. Especially if they carry black hefty bags around downtown.

Dusty

Sometimes I feel completely justified in not talking to my father. Other times I feel like the dead-beat. I just find it extremely hard to pursue any sort of extensive relationship with him, or to find a happy medium with what we do have.

What's the problem with this man, you ask? Well, let's see. What haven't I mentioned before? Could it be his relentless dedication to alcohol, rather than his family? Or perhaps that, when he's not being an alcoholic, he's being a workaholic? Maybe that he's just never really been there? Take your pick.

My favorite was his decision to let eight years go by without being my dad. I was eight when he helped move my Mom and I to Florida. They'd been divorced since I was two, and my Mom and I lived in Kentucky. My Dad lived not too far away in Indiana. We'll ease past the part where my little girl self thought he was going to stay with us in Florida, and right into the part where he leaves, and I don't see or hardly hear from him for eight years.

I'd get a birthday card for the next two or three years, but then nothing. He stopped calling. He never wrote. He was just gone. Disappeared into that black hole that is Indiana. I thought he was dead. I think that's what my Mom was hoping for anyway.

When I was sixteen I got a phone call from him. And that's where we picked up. Him calling drunk to tell me he loves me and he's sorry-asking me to come live with him. This nice sad man. This stranger. Ugh. I was seriously the ONE teenager on the planet without drama, and here we go.

So, I visited him a time or two. Flew to Indiana. Went to dinner or a movie with him. I uncomfortably let him hug me and touch my hair. I let him pretend to be my father again. I let him try to make up for some of that lost time, but we had nothing to talk about. We were strangers.

Five years later I let him give me away at my wedding. Knowing full well that I was never his to begin with. But it made him happy. Even though he had to drink to get through it, I'm glad I involved him. He's not a bad man. He's just...Dusty.

In his defense, he's had it rough. Really rough.

His Mom died in a car wreck when he was 15 or 16. She was decapitated. Not to mention that she had tried to take her own like a few times prior to that(aspirin and whiskey), and Dad was always the one to put her back together again. She was full blooded Cherokee. Lesson learned? Indians and alcohol don't mix.

His father was around just enough to teach him how to never take responsibility for his actions. Whenever Dad got into trouble, Grandpa bought his way out of it. And nobody wanted to mess with him. He was a 6'7" drunk-enough-to-stay-numb Norwegian. Lesson learned? Vikings and alcohol don't mix. Well...they do, but it usually ends in raiding and plundering.

So, September 6th is my Dad's birthday. I always dread calling, because I just know he'll be sloshed. I mean, if he's not working, he's more often than not walking around in a depressed, drunken stupor. There's not much in this world that I loathe more than talking to a depressed drunk.

Not so this year! I called. He wasn't exactly chipper, but he was sober. I sang happy birthday to him, and we shot the breeze for a while. He thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread, which can be nice. Refreshing even. I made his day, and he made mine.

The thing I really hate is that I wish I could let him be dependent. I wish I could fix him. I wish I could feel like I didn't get jilted growing up. I wish I didn't blame him for all the crap that happened to me while he wasn't there. I wish I didn't feel selfish for not wanting to talk to him now, when I have the opportunity. I wish I could just be thankful for one good conversation, and not focus on how it all could have been that way.

P.S. It amazes me that I don't send you all screaming into the night with my hum-drum posts. For an otherwise happy gal, I find that this has become more of a ranting spot, as of late. All apologies.

Ugh.

Some days things just don't go as planned, right? I mean, we all know this. Yet, when it happens I'm amazed and disgruntled.

Take today for example. I'm not feeling well. I have a fever, sore throat and slightly unhappy tummy. Thinking I would be alone at the office, I decided to go in, spread my germs, and complete some funless tasks. The ones I always feel too good to bother with? Yeah. Those.

So, I was at work when my boss calls to say she didn't think I would be there, and she'd be stopping by with her newborn to do a few things. She didn't sound exactly thrilled about me being there, and I'm sure I didn't sound very pleased with her news either.

Ugh. So I had to head back home. I lysoled the joint, and got the heck outta Dodge.

Am I weird? I mean, I get bored being home sick. I don't want to make stuff for people cause it'll be all germy, and I don't feel well enough to paint. I end up sitting in the recliner, staring at the crime channel all day.

Anyhow...I hate when some things don't go as planned. I like spontaneity and all. I live for it actually, but this is different.

Meat=DEAD ANIMAL

Did you know I'm a vegetarian? I can't remember if I've mentioned it before. I can't remember much of anything, to tell you the truth. Anyway. I am. It's not usually a subject of conversation, but today I have a point to make. WHY ARE PEOPLE CONFUSED AS TO WHAT A VEGETARIAN IS , and WHY DOES EVERYONE AND THEIR SCHNAUZER CLAIM TO BE ONE?!?!

I was fourteen when my mother decided that I was old enough to decide which foods I did and didn't want to consume. Dead animals were the first thing on my list. Closely followed by brussel sprouts and kale. The thought of these things always made me want to gag. I did NOT want them in my mouth.

Now, how many of you think you or someone you know is a vegetarian? How many of you or those folks you consider veggies still eat poultry and/or fish? What say you? It's okay. I'm not one of those evil vegetarians that has some disgruntled opinion of what you eat. It's your body. I don't mind what you put in it. I'm just interested in what people consider to be meat and vegetarianism.

I came across a person the other day discussing themselves being a vegetarian. THIS PERSON EATS ANIMALS. This is not the first omnivore that I've met that talked about being a vegetarian. Thinking I may be the one who was confused, I looked up a definition or two.

According to the dictionary meat is, "the edible flesh of animals"(gag).

A vegetarian is defined as, "a person who does not eat or does not believe in eating meat, fish, fowl, or, in some cases, any food derived from animals, as eggs or cheese, but subsists on vegetables, fruits, nuts, grain, etc."

Alright...so meat is the flesh of an animal, and a vegetarian doesn't eat that.
Vegetarians are herbivores people. Everyone else is an omnivore. Maybe, with the exception of a couple of guys I know. I've seriously never seen them eat anything other than deer and steak.

So, now that I'm clear on the fact that I'm not the one confused here, my question is still why do folks say they're vegetarian when they're not? Why are they even telling me WHAT they eat? I don't care?!?!?

Unless you have some food allergy and are coming to eat at my humble abode-I DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT YOUR EATING HABITS.

I hate fads and I hate them more when I unwillingly take part in them. I have been a vegetarian, BY THE DEFINITION OF THE WORD, for twelve years. That is not a fad.

Art Loving Salsa?!

Thank you. Thank you. My dear fellow blogger and friend, Ari passed on a nomination for this splendid little blog award.

The arte y pico award recognizes a blog’s creativity and overall contribution to the blogger community. Once you’ve been selected, please follow these guidelines and pay it forward:

1.Choose 5 blogs that you consider deserving of this award based on creativity, design, interesting material, and overall contribution to the blogger community, regardless of the language.
2. Post the name of the author and a link to his or her blog by so everyone can view it.
3.Each award-winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award.
4.The award-winner and the presenter should post the link of the “arte y pico“ blog , so everyone will know the origin of this award.
5.Please post these rules.

And the nominations are...(sorry if you've been nominated a gazillion times..my blog world is small, but ever growing.)

1. Matt @ A View From 5280Ft
2. Lauren @ Strict Shenaniganist
3. Chris @ Surviving Myself
4. Captain Steve @ Gnomespeak
5. Megkathleen @ Golightly

Chubby Olympics

Apologies for such an interesting post, but brainstorm I must. My goal here is to solidify in this head of mine WHY I am about to change EVERYTHING. I have GOT to get into shape, people!

I'll spare you the whole "my metabolism hates me speech" and get straight down to facts. I am NOT skinny and I'd be lying if I said that something close to that wasn't my goal. I am not an over-eater, or an inactive person. I'm a very health conscious chick that can not, for the life of me, seem to lose my unwanted weight.

Part of my problem?

1. I think I should be able to eat sweets like my skinny husband. NOT SO!
2. I drink an occasional pop.
3. I never eat breakfast.
4. I don't eat much of a lunch. Sometimes not at all.
5. Dinner usually takes place between 7 and 9PM. It's our largest meal, and I stay up until after midnight to make sure it digests.

Am I aware that this is completely screwed up? Sigh. I know breakfast should be the largest meal and if I were to skip a meal it should be dinner. I know! I know! These are the changes I must make.

I'm convinced that getting any extra weight off will not only make me extremely happy, but it will help this inherited disc thing I've got. I'm also convinced that if I don't get the unwanted pudge off now, I'll just have more trouble getting it off in the future. After 30 you're screwed, right? I want to be healthier now!

In the past I visited the gym 4 times a week. On those four days I ran four miles on an elliptical and swam 700 yards-FOR FOUR MONTHS!! That's 16 miles and 2,800 yards a week, and I lost a disgusting eight pounds. EIGHT!

Along with this exercise routine I stopped drinking anything carbonated, practically foundered myself on water, and attempted eating breakfast on a daily basis. Having low blood sugar, this often results in vomiting, which is NOT good for morale. Anyhow, combined with my already vegetarian diet, I assumed that I would lose more than eight measly pounds! I mean, it's healthy and very possible to lose 2-3 pounds a week! I apparently averaged a whopping .5 pounds a week. Seriously.

I went as far as I could and then some. My boss/gym partner kept up for a while, but eventually stopped competing. I'd be lying if I didn't have my little theme of "Another One Bites The Dust" playing in my head. I am aware that I'm annoyingly competitive.

I'll never forget my chiropractor's attempt to get me to ease up on my exercise routine, due to my degenerative disc disease. He said, "Exercise is always good, but remember, we're not preparing for the olympics."

I bet I envisioned the Chubby Olympics for the entire adjustment. ^__^

Perhaps this isn't impressive to many of you. Perhaps you run and swim farther. Perhaps I'm a weenie and just don't know it, but I am tired of achieving a quarter of the results most people accomplish, and being expected to deal.

So, I have no problem with hard work. I'm going to attempt switching things around. I'll work out in the wee hours of the morning, instead of right after work. I will eat a big healthy breakfast if it kills me. I will finagle my metabolism into kicking it into high gear. I just hope my back doesn't try to kill me again.

Wish me luck.