ADVENTURES IN CRAZY TOWN

It's been a while since I've taken a trip to Crazy Town, hasn't it?

That's actually a really great thing, of course. I've had the theory that it's probably due to the breathing machine, even if I'm not keeping it on for very long. Maybe the extra oxygen has kept me tethered to the real world. However, I'm not so sure anymore. I've also begun to wonder if it might be better to take short trips into that hazy land of insanity more often rather than to save it up and only go occasionally.

Saturday night, I went to bed a while before Steve did. Of course, I had to strap my head into that torture device that I hate so much, but since I was so tired, it didn't take me very long to fall asleep. I don't remember anything after falling asleep, like having bad dreams or whatever, but the next thing I knew, I was waking up and all I could see was this hulking, black silhouette standing by the bed. I did what any semi-rational person would do:

I. Lost. My. Mind.

As I've mentioned before, I have an unusually strong self preservation instinct when I am startled, one that would be normal for any Vietnam vet who had been caught in a surprise attack. Of course, I am not a Vietnam vet. I'm not even sure where it comes from, although I think it might be post traumatic stress disorder from growing up with with my big sister, who was often ninja-like in her attacks on me as a little girl. Whatever causes it, I will do my best to incapacitate anyone who I think is trying to hurt me.

Since I was in bed, I didn't have much around me to protect myself with, so I used what was at hand. Unfortunately, what was at hand was the very expensive BiPAP machine that was strapped to my head. I started to scream and throw things, starting with the chin strap. I don't even know how I got that off without ripping my hair out, but that went first. Then, I somehow pulled the mask off of my face (without unhooking the straps to that, so I'm lucky my nose and ears are still attached to my head) and I started swinging that like some kind of weapon. In my half-addled state, I believed that I sent that thing flying towards the dark figure hard enough to knock it over, but in reality, it never actually left my hand. By that time I was crying and gasping, and I had woken up enough to realize that dark shape was Steve. He said that I started cursing and freaking out when he opened the door to come to bed. When I started really wigging out, he went full raccoon-in-the-headlights and stayed still until I calmed down. That was probably for the best, or he might have gotten bitten or something.

When I was fully awake, I realized that I came within an ace of flinging the actual air pump across the room, which would have made our insurance company very sad. It probably would have given Steve a concussion as well, because that little bastard is substantial. The only reason the machine itself had not been launched across the room was because I had ripped the air hose out of the compressor when I tried to throw the mask. It separated from the BiPAP, which was left barely hanging on to the side table. Luckily, I was able to reattach everything and the machine still works. Whew.

So let that be a warning to any of you who may find me asleep and feel the need to wake me up. Please do it gently, or there is a really good chance I will come at you like a spider monkey swinging a mace.

HAPPY EASTER!

(That's pretty much it because I'm running late for church!) ; )

QUICKY

When I'm at the gym, I usually use the elliptical machine to do my cardio stuff. The other day I got bored of walking/running/ellipticalling (I have no idea what the machine simulates), and decided to climb on one of the stationary bikes instead.

I don't really like riding stationary bikes, because they don't really seem to do anything. It certainly doesn't use up calories as fast as some of the other machines, and it just seems too easy to do. I don't know, maybe I was using it wrong. Anyways, I went about 20 miles or so before I just got bored and it just felt like I was wasting my time pedaling.

Then I tried to get up. It didn't work. My legs just said "Nope! Not going anywhere, chump!"

I'd like to publicly apologize to anyone who uses a stationary bike for exercising. I have underestimated you and will go hide underneath my bed in shame.

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

1) I had quite the uncomfortable moment after church Sunday morning. Before I can tell you what happened, though, a little background is necessary.

Our church has a few members from from a near-by home for special people. I kind of hate to call it that, but I don't know how else to explain it. The men from this home range from people with only slight mental issues to some with severe problems. They are generally a sweet bunch of guys, and they are usually very well behaved. There is one guy, though, whom I'll refer to as "Mike." Mike is one of the guys who had more problems than the others. He used to come to our church years ago, but he had a problem with not knowing how to behave appropriately with the ladies. He never did anything really bad or anything, but he had to be told more than once NOT to touch the pretty sweaters of some of our female members. I don't know if that talking to caused him not to want to come back to our church for a while, but Mike was gone for a couple of years after that. He only recently began coming back to our church, and it's apparent that whatever kind of mental issues he has have gotten worse.

Anyway, Steve and I were standing in the lobby of the church after services waiting on his father to join us. We were in the middle of talking to a couple of people when all of a sudden we hear:

"bootsbootsbootsbootsboots!"

We didn't have time to move or anything, because we didn't know what was going on, but the crowd parted and Mike came right at me. The next thing I knew he had his hands on my leg and he was rubbing my boots! I was wearing my black, mid-calf boots, so he was rubbing all over my leg! I didn't know what to do! I mean, the last thing I'd do is sucker-punch a special-needs member of our congregation, so all I could do is say "Yep! Yep, I'm wearing boots!" Luckily Mike walked away still saying "Bootsbootsbootsboots!" and pointing at me. I was in a circle of people who were trying not to laugh, still going "Yep! Yep! Yep!" as he walked away. I was manhandled in our church lobby and all I could do is stand there sounding like one of the "Yip Yip" aliens from Sesame Street. I was so embarrassed. At last, one of our deacon's wives came up to me and said "Lucky it was just about your boots and not 'boobsboobsboobsboobs!' this time." I had to agree.

Silver linings and all that.

Yep.

2) Our church voted in a new music minister, which is nice! Our music can finally get back to some kind of normalcy now. He seems to be a very nice man, and he has a lot of kids! He has one daughter that our minister says looks exactly like me. I never got to see her up close, so I have no idea how much we look alike, but I did see my pastor go over to the husband of my supposed twin and point me out to him. I'm guessing to tell him that I look an awful lot like his wife. I hope that guy wasn't offended or anything. I mean, I'd hate to think the preacher was there, pointing me out, and the guy was thinking "You think she looks like that woman in the back? Goat girl from Mars? Nice. I'll pay for her plastic surgery immediately!" I'm not so sure she'd be flattered!

3) Rorschach bit me! I don't think it was so much an angry bite as it was a no-social-skills bite. It wasn't deep, but it bled a lot. Afterwards, the cat kept looking at me like...what? What did I do? I just bit you, you big baby. I'm still cute! You can still feed me! However, I was having none of it. We were no longer friends. Today, though, when I went outside to get the mail, there was Rorschach, looking cute and following me around outside. I told him we weren't friends anymore since he bit me, but he still kept rubbing all over my legs and being cute. Finally, I told him I'd pet him one more time, but if he bit me again, I'd throw him like a lawn dart. So I petted him and he licked my toe. Now we're friends again. Stupid cat.

4) The last of my sea monkeys finally died on Saturday. Paul was the last remaining adult, and somehow a baby had been hatched and had been swimming about for a few days. However, they both died about the same time, so I had to get rid of their mortal remains. I couldn't bring myself to just flush them, so we had a brief service in the corner of the yard. I wore my big funeral hat, sang "It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday" and then we had Amazing Grace played on bag pipes. It was quite moving.

5) I am a giant dork. I'm surprised I haven't been reduced to no-social-skills biting like Rorschach. Usually, I am pretty good about being able to talk to people that I don't know well, even if I'm dying of awkwardness on the inside, but there are a few people out there who reduce me to babbling idiocy in a manner of seconds without even trying. I tried talking to one of these people recently, a person I'd like to be friends with, but I can't seem to talk to them without seriously sounding like I hadn't been interacting with people for very long. I think from now on, any time I speak to them, I'll just go ahead and do a preemptive face-palm. I'm a giant dork.

BLESS HIS HEART

A few months ago, I found a laser pointer in one of my junk drawers and decided to see if the dogs would be freaked out by the dot. I knew that cats go crazy over them, but I wasn't so sure dogs would even care. Butler wasn't the least bit interested, but Bear went nuts. We quickly ran the batteries out playing with Bear, and the laser was put away and forgotten about.

We'd been told by our vet that we needed to make sure our dogs got some exercise, because with large breed dogs, they can get some kind of hip problems if they don't move around enough. She said that taking them for walks, or even just playing fetch with them would help. Butler can be walked with no problem, but Bear tends to decide he's done walking before the walk is done, and he lies down in the street and rolls over on his back. So last week, while I was in Petsmart, I saw a cheap laser pointer and figured I'd grab it on my way to the check-out counter. I figured that we could at least get Bear to run around a bit if he had the red dot to chase. I don't think I thought the idea through well enough.

Bear is part Border Collie and part Catahoula Leopard Dog, which are both dogs that have strong working instincts. I've actually read that some Border Collies NEED to have some kind of job to do, or they will get aggressive because the instinct to work worries them into distraction. Up until now, Bear's job was to make sure Butler did what Bear thought he should do. Butler hates this, but he complies, albeit with bad grace. Now, in addition to herding Butler, Bear has decided that his new job is to catch, and eat, the red dot.

Observe:



First off, ignore my stupid voice.

I have never seen a dog go crazy over a laser dot before, but Bear really, really, really wants to catch it. He will chase it for as long as we will shine it around for him. I suppose the exercise is good, but I'm starting to worry about his mental health. I've always thought he might be a bit OCD, but I think we've made it worse by playing a game he can't win. If we turn the dot off, he still looks for it. Steve worried we were going to do some kind of damage to his psyche, so we started putting a treat on the floor and shining the dot on it so that when he ate the treat, he'd think he'd eaten the dot. It worked the first couple of times, but not anymore.

Last night, I sat down in the floor and Steve shined the laser dot on the ground near my leg. Bear was convinced that it was under me, so he tried to tunnel under my legs to get to it. He dug at the rug trying to get to it, and he finally ended up accidentally biting me on the hip because the dot moved up to my leg. It was funny, but kind of sad, too. I put him in his kennel, but he kept scanning the floor for the dot. He started whining and batting at the door of his bed until I let him out. He wouldn't go to sleep until I let him search the house and even go outside to check the backyard for the accursed dot. Once he was satisfied it was gone, he went to sleep.

It's fun to play Red Dot with the dog, but I'm afraid it's going to drive him insane.

QUICKIES

--Now I know Where Steve Gets It

One night, Steve and I were having dinner with Mr. Lee and I was telling him all about the cats that have suddenly decided they live at my house. He already knew about Garry and Macaroons, but he didn't know about the new-ish cat that has been hanging around.

I think this cat belongs to the people up the street because I've seen it up there. It's a very skittish, young cat, and it has only recently gotten brave enough to let me pet him/her. It's mostly white, but it has a big blotch of black on it's head and back that looks like a big ink stain. Due to this, I call the cat Rorschach.

Anyways, I was telling Mr. Lee about the new cat and I said "I call him Rorschach." Mr. Lee raised his hand and started going "OOOOH! OOOOOH!"

I didn't know what he was doing, but I strongly suspected drugs were involved.

Then he said "OOOOOOH, MR. KOTTER!" I finally understood!

I had to tell him "No! I said Rorschach, not Horshack!" Then I laughed. A LOT.

At least I know that Steve gets it honestly! My Father-In-Law is awesome! :)

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING
--The Not Very Exciting Edition

1) Where is the threshold where being concerned crosses over to being nosey? I can never tell. See, if I know and like someone and at some point realize something might be wrong either emotionally, health-wise, or whatever, my first knee jerk reaction is to ask what is wrong. It isn't that I want to get all up in their business or anything (I mean, I suppose in a sense I do since I'm asking them what is wrong) but generally, I'm asking because I care and want to help, or offer support, if I can. However, I've come to the realization that there are *GASP* people who don't like people to know stuff. I'm not talking about super-private stuff either, they just don't want to tell anyone anything at all, even if telling someone could be helpful in some way. I'm not knocking that, of course. Some people are just private. But if you can see something may be wrong, how can you ask out of genuine concern without seeming as if you just want to be nosey? I'm not asking about this because of any particular incident, it's just something I'm trying to figure out. It's frustrating. I used to just ask, but that has sort of backfired on me as of late. It isn't even that I necessarily need to know the issue, and I understand if people say "I'd rather not talk about it " or something like that. I suppose I just don't want to not ask and seem as if I don't care, either. Does that make sense? Granted, I suppose there are people out there who just don't want anyone to do anything for them at all...but that sucks. No matter what, people need a support structure from people who care about them. Blarg. Anyways, I'd genuinely like some advice on this one. I want to be available, but I don't want to be intrusive.

2) Oooh! Lookie!

It's the first ripe strawberry from my plants! It isn't a very good picture, sorry. Look how little and cute it is! It was also delicious. :) I only have 4 plants, but I'm hoping to get enough to make a tiny batch of jam. I'm excited!

3) Since I haven't posted pictures of my adorable mutts lately, here are a couple that are particularly cute:

These are two of the laziest dogs in the world. This is honestly the way they are most of the day. I can look out at almost any time, and they are sleeping somewhere in the backyard. I luff dem. They are so fuzzy I could DIE!!!!!!

4) Speaking of our backyard...yikes. It's like a jungle out there. We don't have the equipment to clear most of it away, so it has gotten a bit out of hand. In that picture of Bear (the fat, black dog) you can see a rock behind him. That used to be a rock garden. The fence row along the back of our yard is completely engulfed in vegetation. It's way more than we can deal with, so I'm guessing we need to call someone before it takes over completely. I kind of like the wild way the back-yard looks, though. I'm not one for really organized landscaping or anything, but still. It'd be nice to get that 6 feet or so of yard back one of these days.

5) I recently replaced two of the bulbs over the sink in the bathroom. Such an exciting life I lead, no? :) We have those big dressing-room type bulbs, and at least one of them had been out for a while before the second one blew. Since the others put out so much light, and because I kept forgetting to buy more big bulbs, I just kept not replacing them. I still have no idea how long the bulbs were out before I finally replaced them, but it must have been long enough for me to forget what having a full rack of lights was like. Now every time I go to the bathroom, the lights are so bright I feel like I need to apply sun-screen.

6) I've learned a really neato, new crochet stitch, but I have no idea what to use it for. Before you say "hat," I haven't figured out how to adapt it to hat shape yet. Now I've just got these panels of stitches and I don't know what to do with them yet. But I just can't stop adding on, though. It's addictive!

ANOTHER ME-ME!

This time it was stolen from my cuz, Jigsawdiva.

First

* First job: Snow cone girl at Flamingo's Shaved Ice stand. I was constantly being pelted with flying bits of ice, flies, and frozen yogurt goo. To this day I still can't eat snow cones without gagging a little bit.

* First screen name: KMarti. No, I didn't choose it. Yes, I got jokes.

* First funeral: It was either my grandmother Atnip, or my grandfather Martin. I remember both, but don't remember which one was first.

* First pet: I think it was Buttons, a squashed faced pekingese.

* First piercing: My ears. I was very young, but I clearly remember my mother trying to clean them and me screaming. I don't think they stayed in for very long.

* First tattoo: Only fake ones thus far.

* First credit card: B. Moss. I wanted the discount!

* First kiss: At 16, to a gropy sort of boy I was on a date with. Not such a great memory, actually.

* First enemy: I think her name was Leah. She was MEAN!

Last

* Last car ride: Coming back from Target after getting groceries.

* Last kiss: What's that?

* Last movie watched: The Hangover. It was funnier than I thought it would be!

* Last beverage drank: Peach Lemonade

* Last food consumed: Grilled chicken, green beans, pineapple & mashed potatoes. I don't know which bite of what was actually my last.

* Last phone call: My mom. She loves me and checks up with me often! :)

* Last time showered: This morning.

* Last CD played: A mix of happy music I keep in my car.

* Last website visited: www.gleefulthings.com

Now

* Single or Taken: Taken

* Gender: female

* Birthday: February 14

* Sign: Aquarius

* Siblings: A brother and a sister

* Hair color: Brownish

* Eye color: Dark brown

* Shoe size: 7

* Height: 5'4"

* Wearing: Red shirt, white & black shorts

* Thinking about: Secrets

* Listening to: My PC's fan making sounds and occasional dog snores!

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

1) I seriously need to be more attentive when buying things for my dogs. The other day I bought a bag of chew sticks for them. I knew that rainy weather was coming and there would be days that they had to spend hours in their kennels (they can't be trusted not to eat each other if left to their own devices indoors.) I don't feel so guilty about making them stay in their kennels if they have something to chew on. Anyway, so yesterday the great deluge began and I had the dogs tucked securely away in their beds when I broke out the bag of chewies. I'd given each of the boys a stick, when I read the front of the package. The things were called "Bully Sticks." This was something I wasn't familiar with. I don't know what made me flip the package over, but a warning caught my eye. It said to make sure to wash your hands after handling the treats. I mean, I know that dog treats are not people safe to eat, but I'd never seen a warning like that before, so I looked at the ingredients. I kind of wish I hadn't. Apparently, I had bought a bag of dried bull penises. Nice. I spent the next hour listening to them chow down on them and trying not to barf.

2) I had to drop Steve off at the airport early yesterday morning so that he could catch a flight to Maryland. I don't drive to the airport often, and I'm always afraid I'm going to get lost while trying to get back to the interstate so that I can get home because there is a section of road that splits and the signage doesn't give you much time to decide which way to go. Turn right and you go back to Huntsville, stay straight and you head to Decatur. It was still dark after I'd dropped him off, and so of course, I missed the turn back to Huntsville. Poop. I wasn't too disturbed, because I figured that there would be an exit where I could get turned around again, but it took a while to find it. By the time I had taken the exit, I had no idea where I was. I think I was going the right way, at the beginning at least, but instead of finding the turn lane so that I could get back on the interstate, I made another wrong turn and ended up STILL going towards Decatur, except this time I was on an access road. Again, poop. I finally just yanked a very illegal U-turn and got myself turned the right way, only to find myself missing the exit yet again. I wound up in the parking lot of a FedEx distribution center that I didn't even know existed. Sigh. I'm still not sure how I found the right road, but I finally managed to get back on the interstate headed the right way. I am such a dork-fish. I can get lost in my own town. When I was telling my mother about it later, and told her where I had turned around, she told me I was on the knife edge of another county all together. This is why I need a driver.

3) I just finished watching The Black Swan. It was a great movie, but it was also...icky. I have watched horror movies that didn't make me cringe and cover my eyes as much as that movie did. It made me distinctly uncomfortable. Honestly, I'm still not sure what was going on in the movie, but it was a good film. Seriously, Natalie Portman absolutely earned her Academy Award. She creeped me the hell out.

4) I got my hair cut again the other day. I know I complain about my haircut a lot, but this time it didn't turn out bad, per se, but now it's just really short and kind of...odd. I got the girl I usually get, so I was relieved about that. I asked her to put in some chunkier layers around the back, so I could kind of fluff it out, and she didn't so much give me chunky layers as she just took some chunks out of it. It's really short and when I blow dry it, it makes my head look completely round. ROUND. If I don't blow dry it, it sticks out on one side. Sometimes it sticks out on the opposite side. Rarely does it evenly stick out all over. It is actually a bobbed, 20's style flapper haircut. It would probably be cute on someone else, but I'm so very round that it makes me look strange.

Observe:

Olivia Wilde looks cute, even though it's uneven.

Me:

Not so much.

I had to wear a hat that day because when I fixed my hair, it looked like I had backed into a fan.
At least my bangs were even this time! :)

5) My sister invited me to where she was taking pictures of my nephew before his prom. I felt so very old. Seriously, he was born the year I went to the prom for the first time, and now he was going to his first prom. *Sniff* He looked so handsome, too! Of course, he's tall, skinny dude, and his jacket kind of made him look like the lead singer of The Talking Heads, but he was still handsome! :) There were actually a lot of parents out there taking pictures of the kids, which I thought was weird. I mean, my parents took pictures of me at home when my date (or the girl who drove me to the prom that one terrible year everything turned to boogers) came to get me, but they didn't follow me someplace to take pictures. Not that I thought my sister was weird for doing it, because she's actually a very talented photographer and Logan asked her to to take them. I felt kind of awkward because none of them knew me except for my sister, I was the only non-parent there, and I looked like the creepy adult who was hanging around the edges of a group of people looking at kids. I found out later that a whole lot of family, kids and all, went to the prom to see "lead out." For those of you not familiar with that bit of pageantry, it's when the couples walk out and their names are announced so that everyone can see who came together and what they are wearing. Is it just me that thinks it's weird that the families were there? I wouldn't have even thought my mom and dad would want to go to see something like that. I'm sure it's a normal thing, but to me it seems kind of...helicopter-y. I thought of the prom as sort of a dance where you could pretend to be grown up, not something I'd invite my mommy and daddy to. Oh well, things are different now I guess. At least the parents went home before the dancing. At least I hope so! :)