Red Light, Yellow Light, Green Light, Go

Why does everyone on the planet go in slow motion when you're in a hurry? Seriously. This is not just in our heads. These people really are strategically placed and going abnormally slow.

I had a million and one things to do today. Go to the post office by this time. Make the bank deposit by this time. I have an appointment at four. In usual Heather fashion, I gave myself minimal time to get to these places, and get these things done. I swear I almost had a massive coronary sitting in traffic.

I was the fourth car from the red light, in the slow lane. The light changes. We sit there. And sit there. The light eventually turns yellow and red AGAIN! I still don't know what went on. There wasn't a wreck, a pedestrian, an alien space craft landing. Everything appeared to be normal. Yet, there we all sat.

I'm not a horn honker. If I honk my horn, it's because I see immanent danger, and you are about to die if you do not make a change in your plan of action. So I sat silently, checking the clock, wishing to God in heaven that I had a paint ball gun.

Travelling would be much more effective if I could tag all the inattentive people. You'd know who to get behind at the red light then. Hot pink rear windshield? Steer clear, my friend. Steer clear.

Heather Primavera

I consider myself to be a pretty understanding person. I don't normally jump to conclusions, or react harshly, but sometimes I want to. Oh, how I want to.

This weekend Todd and I made a mad dash to the grocery store for some much needed items. Among these was pasta sauce for my world famous three cheese ravioli. ^__^

Now, normally we do the whole self check out thing for minimum human interaction. It saves on time and energy, and will eventually eliminate any need for cashiers. Wonderful people, I'm sure. I just have an aversion to them.

On this occasion we went to a manned check out. The lady was nice, but obviously not well. Runny nose, blood shot eyes, coughing...really gross and germy. Definitely in need of some cough syrup and a nap. But no. She's at Walmart, serving Satan!

So, we do the whole stand there, smile, pay and "have a nice night, hope you feel better" thing. Then we escape with our cart. We grab our few bags and out the door we go.

Standing next to the truck, in the cold, I wait for Todd to open the tail gate. All of a sudden the heavy bag I'm resting over my shoulder gets a lot lighter. I hear glass shattering and instantly my leg is cold and I smell the sweet aroma of Prego(with mushrooms).

Check out chick must've been doped up on some NyQuil after all. She put the ginormous jar of spaghetti sauce in a bag with a 2 liter. Smart much?! I realize I could've paid attention to her bagging expertise, but I shouldn't have to!

I laughed it off and went and cleaned up. I looked like I'd been mauled by Theo. From the knee down my right leg was covered in red. It was a gory mess.

Yes. I waltzed up to customer service and told them what happened. Yes. They replaced the pasta sauce. Yes. They apologized whole heartily, and I smiled and said things like: It's fine. It's okay. It's not your fault.

It's not fine. It's not okay. My pants are ruined and it is their fault. I even did magical-get-stain-out stuff, and there are still orange spots on my corduroys. That woman should've been home nursing that cold. Not absent mindedly bagging my groceries.

Sometimes I wish I could just be mean.

Early Thanksgiving

Today is early Thanksgiving at the in-law's! If I sound excited it's because I am. Going there this weekend will make next week less hectic. Plus, I'm making yummy cookies and my twin nephews will be there.

It's always surprising to me how sweet two thirteen year old boys can manage to be. When they aren't trying to kill each other, that is. Levi and Logan are the best and we just adore each other. They're like day and night, too(See below). It's like psychology class just hanging out with them. I love it!

Todd and I are quite the hot commodity during this season. At least, that's the way I prefer to see it. Otherwise I'd get overwhelmed and lose my mind. I'd probably lose my mind anyhow, if it weren't for kids. Thank goodness they're practically everywhere. We have to be at five or six different places for every special occasion.

Most holidays we visit: my mom and step dad, his mom and step dad, his dad and step mom, our best friend's parents and her grandmother(a.k.a. Maw-Maw). It can definitely get hectic, but we are grateful. I can't imagine the holidays without them.

So, yay for cookies! Yay for nephews, and yay for early Thanksgiving celebrations! Yay! ^__^

Creative Compulsive Disorder

...as well as a new addiction. This is my first hand-sewn ornament. He's a bit rustic, but I think I like him. I am now obsessed. Everyone and their mother will now be receiving something adorable and wee to dangle from their tree.

I'm also in the process of trying to get my Etsy shop up and running. Between Christmas crafts, Etsy, Swap-bot and making owlies for my friend's boutique...my hands are never still. Ever.

Oh dear. I hope I'm not mistaken for one of those bloggers.

Look what I made?!
Aren't I awesome?!
Love me!
Adore me!
Want to BE me!

No. No. No. I'm simply an artist with a compulsion to create. As a matter of fact, I think I've come up with a new diagnoses. Creative Compulsive Disorder. I make stuff so much that if I didn't blog about it sometimes, I wouldn't have anything to blog about at all. And we all know we just can't have that.

Suck Fest

I don't want to give people the wrong impression. I'm a happy person. Really, I am. Finding humor in the everyday, even a day like today, is normally my cup of tea. I'm just finding it difficult this morning.

So, in honor of all that sucks like a hoover, here is a list of things about today that I loathe. Not hate. LOATHE.

I loathe...

1) the fact that my sweet little kitty cat is obviously striving to come up with new and exciting health problems.
2) spending large sums of money at the vet.
3) when your husband gives the cat TWICE the recommended dosage of meds, and then acts like it's your fault that he didn't double check the directions BEFORE administering.
4) dry skin.
5) sore throats.
6) loathing this many things on a Friday!!!

I hope all of your days are much better than the Suck Fest mine has been thus far. In the event that your day does suck? Please share. Misery loves company, you know?

TAX MAN!!!

Who here has seen Stranger Than Fiction? For those of you who haven't, make a point to see it, for me? Please. I love that movie! Not only is it an amazing piece of literature/cinematography, but it also paints a pretty accurate picture of a tax man.

Up until today I believed that only in this movie could a tax man become something other than an awkward, uptight wad of idiosyncrasies.

Today I met our new tax man. He's normal?! Wha?! Polite and personable?! No way! This guy was not in the least bit strange. On the surface he seems to be kosher, but we'll see. I'm still doubtful.

Last year I had to endure listening to a bagpipe version of Beach Boys Christmas songs while the odd little man sifted through mounds of paperwork. No. I'm not kidding. For THREE WHOLE DAYS I had to try not to laugh, and ultimately kill that greasy, shifty eyed tax man. I would run up to his lap top and turn down the music anytime he was away from it. Then he'd come back and mumble how strange it was that it kept turning itself down, and he'd turn it up even louder.

Here's to the slightest bit of normalcy in all auditors.

K is for Kermit!

First of all, here's the other muppet magnet I made for Ariana. I thought he was quite appropriate for this post. ^__^

So, here I've been all busy, and too preoccupied to come up with something interesting to post. Silly me. I forgot that Lauren gave me a K!

She nabbed this wonderful little game from here, and I'm keeping the ball rolling.

The idea is you comment and I'll give you a letter too! Then you can make a list of your ten favorite things beginning with that letter. Now, doesn't that sound like fun?!

10 Favorite K's

1. kabobs (veggie of course)
2. kangaroos
3. Kermit The Frog
4. kismet
5. kisses
6. kiwi
7. knickers
8. knitting
9. koala bears
10.Korea

Unmonumental Bliss

Well, the weekend is over and I had to give Ariana back to her husband and puppy. Zombies were apparently taking over their home, while she and I were in our cozy little world of knitting, sculpting and yapping. Believe me you, any weekend with lovely ladies, knitting needles and The Big Lebowski is a weekend worth remembering. We even managed to force Todd into retreating(with my guitar and amp) into the bedroom. SCORE! Girls night in achieved. Freakin' A!

What interesting things have I to tell? Hmmm...perhaps nothing. I gave Ari one of the two Muppet magnets I've been in the process of making her. Kermit, Pepe and Animal are her favorites. She's got Pepe and I'm holding the other one hostage until tonight. For your viewing pleasure...heeeere's Pepe!

This very unmonumental post reminds me of how thankful I am to be able to enjoy such smallness. No big deals or earth shattering news. Just me and loved ones. Just being. Just creating. It's nice. My world has seemed vary ominous and scary in the past. I like what it's become, or how it's maintaining.

Oh the hippiness! I need food. Enjoy your days peoples!

Oh The Weather Outside Is Frightful

The weather is gloomy today, but this has not dampened my spirits. With paycheck in hand I will stop by the store on my way home today, and then I'll be free. I will be bombarded by unwanted Christmas tunes, but that will not dampen my spirits either. It is Friday and I am SO ready for the weekend. What I'm not ready for is the foggy drive to work. You can hardly see your nose out there!

On my way into work the other foggy/rainy day I counted twenty-six people driving without their lights on. Twenty-six!! Obviously I was in a lovely mood. As I drove through town I grew more and more disgruntled. How many morons are driving around in their nice, shiny vehicles that apparently didn't come equipped with head lights!? So I commenced to counting. Twenty-six!!

Subsequently, this must be the age that crotchetiness sets in. It's also the age that my husband decides he wants to master the guitar. My guitar. Yours, mine and ours? Usually, but not this time. It is my electric. While I'm glad he's picked up a hobby I can enjoy and share, I am getting a little peeved at how he compares it to the acoustic he held at the guitar shop ONCE. He's all the time saying things like:

1. The action is weird on this thing.
2. I wish this thing was a little bigger.
3. I need a Dreadnought.

First of all, you be the judge of which is sexier. Mine is an Epiphone Fat 210. Like the one pictured here(the clouds part and the sun shines through). This is your basic Dreadnought. Both wonderful instruments with equally satisfying sound, but please. Don't play my guitar and talk trash about it. She'll get low self esteem.

His obsession is partially my doings, though. I got so excited when I saw he was sticking with this whim that I gave him my Musician's Friend. His eyes glazed over and there he went. Two weeks ago he didn't know what action was. He didn't want a box or a capo. I've created a monster. A cute guitar wielding monster, but a monster. Sigh.

At least he's not playing Christmas music.

What Day Is It?

Why do people put Christmas stuff out before Thanksgiving?!?! I mean, I love Christmas as much as the next person, but why ruin it? Why do I have to be subjected to holly jolly Christmas tunes before I darn well choose?!

I'm convinced that it's a marketing strategy. Someone in some marketing department somewhere really think we're that impressionable. Well, believe me you buddy. I am not that malleable, and I don't care how many times I have to listen to "I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas," I will not get into the holiday spirit until after Thanksgiving! And I will not do it by shopping!

I've made my dorky/noble little pledge to hand make more gifts this year. I'm knitting, painting and crafting like a madwoman. Sure, I'll still buy some Christmas gifts, but it will not be on the biggest shopping day of the year. Nor will it be due to having been pumped full of freaking Christmas cheer for two whole months! You're sneaky little plan failed Mr. Advert Man. Nice try, though.

Now, the city putting lights up is fine. I like twinkle lights at night. It's all magical and whatnot. But the next schmuck I see stringing their house with lights before the day after Thanksgiving is gonna get it from all 5'4" of me. Right in the kisser.

Quirkilicious

Slacking in the post department makes me sad, but I've been psychotically busy as of late. For those of you who've subjected yourselves to my incessant blathering before, you know this is self inflicted. Apparently I need to be so busy I can't see straight. Perhaps it's some sort of post traumatic art school disorder? Yes. Yes, I think that must be it.

So, I found inspiration over at Mega.Done.Discuss today. I thought it'd be a good idea to get this ball(or a variation of that ball) rolling. Here are some of my habits/quirks, strange though they may be.

1. I straighten things at grocery/department stores.
2. Since childhood I've had strange nightmares about Big Bird.
3. I'm a non-alcoholic lush.
4. I say "glorious" way too much.
5. I hate folding underwear!!!
6. Every book I own has my name written on page 77.
7. I enjoy waving and smiling at obviously angry drivers(because I know it really burns them up).
8. Whenever I see a baked potato I think of that Secret Agent Man song.
9. I hate the words: valley, package and moist.
10. Overwhelming guilt overtakes me when I think about having a kitty in the house, when my doggies live outside. :(

Now, if you've got something better to blog about go right ahead. If you don't? Get with it! Advertise those abnormalities.

Sweet Memories

Let me preface this post by saying that you've probably noticed frequent referrals to my childhood. I know I mention it every now and again. Okay. Okay. I admit I have some strange fascination with how whacked my childhood was, and how amazed I am that I turned out even semi-functional.

Okay. Deep healing breaths.

This morning I woke up with an itchy bottom lip. *Sigh* For those of you not blessed with this lovely affliction, that means I woke up with a fever blister/cold sore. I like to call them itchy hell bumps. Because, well that's what they truly are.

So, I woke up with an itchy hell bump this morning, which immediately sent me careening back to the second grade. My Mom is an R.N., which regardless of what I thought at age seven, does not mean Real Nurse. As the daughter of a caregiver I had been introduced to a world of knowledge that most young children shouldn't know. Like herpes, for instance.

I can still see Mrs. Greene(G), who always pronounced my name incorrectly, standing in front of my desk. Hands pressed firmly on her hips, she argued with me about the ginormous itchy fever blister on my little pink lip.

G: What happened to your lip, Miss Legg-E?

Me: It's herpes.

G: My dear, it is most certainly not herpes.

Me: Yes it is. I got it from my dad.

G: Well, don't tell people that!

Me: It is. It's a simplex.

G: Who told you that?

Me: My Mom. She's a Real Nurse. My name is Heather Legge. Not Legg-E. The E is silent(I had to throw that in there).

She got concerned and pinned a note to my shirt, which I was to deliver to my mother unopened. So, I read it on the bus, deemed it babble and threw it out the window. It was the one and ONLY time I ever littered, and it was all that dumb hillbilly woman's fault!

She never even followed up with a phone call! If she was worried I'd been abused, why didn't she call? Of course, at the time, I couldn't have cared less. I knew I was right. My dad had a fever blister and kissed me when he dropped me off at my moms. Two weeks later I had this red itchy bump on my lip, and my mom was tearing my dad a new one for kissing me and/or letting me drink after him. Then she went on and on about herpes simplex one and two, how contagious it was and that it would never go away.

As far as I can remember, Mrs. Greene never asked me another personal question. She still said my name wrong too, which always burnt me up. If I'd known how to spell her name I'd have started referring to her as Mrs. Green-E.

Wench.

Ah, memories.

Election vs. Biology

I'm ignoring all of this politicalness, although I did go vote last night.^__^
I'd rather focus on this strange pheromone I've realized I must give off. It's not your everyday, run of the mill, 26 year old female pheromone. It's one that attracts dudes twice my age, often times with obvious emotional problems. Why me?!

I don't know. Maybe I share these chemicals with all other young adult females. Perhaps we all get hit on by "those guys" now and again? Ladies, isn't it upsetting after a while? Do you start considering what it is you could be subconsciously doing to give these guys the idea that you might be in the least bit interested?

Johnny Depp is my father's age, but for some odd reason the idea of him hitting on me doesn't upset me. Maybe it's because I know he wouldn't do it at a gas station. Maybe it's because I know he wouldn't do it from inside his Ghetto Beretta! Maybe it's because I know he's married to a skinny French chick. Maybe.

The guy that hit on me at the gas station this morning, did it from deep inside his nasty, smelly car. He had to be in his late forties. A smoker. Obviously married-judging by the ring he displayed on his left hand, resting on the steering wheel. What was this dude thinking? Really? Do any of you men have any inkling what might've been going through this guy's brain-if it did indeed exist?

I was leaning against my Jeep, pumping my 18 gallons full. He pulled up in front of me and said, "No disrespect Ma'am, but you're just breath taking". I stood in awe of the fact that this was actually happening. I thought maybe I'd wake up. It could all be a bad dream. He was serious. He was SO serious, and awaited my reply.

There I stood in my raggedy blue jeans, an alumni tee and blue sparkly flip flops. Today was not a cute day. I didn't sleep well and I didn't care. I had no appointments. I made it a point to be comfy today. Comfy does not equal breath taking! I'm not even decent! And this guy was serious. It took me what seemed like an eternity to say, "Yeah". That was followed by an awkward, "Have a nice day" as I quickly quit pumping gas and hopped in my Jeep to escape.

I would let this go, but it's not the first time this kind of thing has happened. Rarely am I ever hit on by guys my age. I am told on pretty much a daily basis that I look 17, maybe 18. Yet, I seem to specifically attract 40 plus men wearing wedding rings. ICKY!

Am I doing something to warrant this attention? Seriously.

This Is Halloween!

Reluctantly I will admit that I had no initial plans for Halloween. I was going to go home and force my husband person to let me paint his face. That would have been it, but spontaneity got the best of me again.

By four o'clock I was meeting some friends(Jessica and Matt) in Huntsville. It was just to say hi and get some dinner, but it turned into an all-nighter. We all masqueraded as faeries and went Trick or treating with Jessica's adorable two year old munchkin. I only took a picture of Matt, though. Seeing how he was the most hilarious fairy of all.

We eventually ended up at his place, where I painted he and his wife's faces. She was a panda and he was a creepy patchwork doll. My phone died so I only got pictures of Matt, but I know you're dying to see my glorious face-painting capabilities. So, I'll post more when I get them.

For now, here's crappy razor pics of pre-face painting/fairy Matt...

And Patchwork Matt.


And bless my homebody husband for spending Friday night without me. I called him to see if he wanted to join me, but to no avail. I got home around 3AM to find him hogging the covers and strategically placing the cat onto my side of the bed. He said it was fine, but he was bitter. I had to suck up all day Saturday, but it was worth it.