Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Although it was nice seeing my Pratt family again, I'm glad to finally be home.

If you don't mind, I won't pick apart my weekend and tell any stories just yet. Suffice it to say that the funeral went well and Grandma is not suffering anymore.

I don't think it really hit me that she was actually gone for good until last night after everything was over.  I'm really going to miss her. 

I'm beginning to think it just hurts to much to love people.  There should be a way to turn it off.

Also, I hate to cry.

More later.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

And now, here's a picture of an otter.  Because who can be sad when looking at a picture of an otter?



Gramma passed away just a little bit ago.  Thanks for the prayers.

I know she's better now.

Once again, I'm asking for any spare prayers you may have lying around.

Mr. Lee got a call this morning about his mother.  She had another round of seizures and was put back into the hospital.  As things look now, she probably won't get better this time. 

Please pray for Gramma, so that if she can't recover, she can at least pass with dignity and peace.  She's an awesome lady and she deserves at least that.

Also pray for the family, as this is tough on everyone and we will miss her very much.


Monday, August 22, 2011


1) After church yesterday, I was standing the in lobby talking to one of our deacons, when out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw someone looking at me.  I turned my head, but the man that I thought was looking my way wasn't looking at me after all.  I turned my head to talk to someone else and it happened again. I looked back and noticed that the same man was looking my way with an odd expression on his face, he seemed to be looking at me as if he...uh..."knew what I looked like without my shimmy," and when he saw me looking at him, he turned his head away.  I immediately got the wiggins.  I'm not so vain as to think he was checking me out, so my next idea was that something was wrong with my clothes, i.e. my fly was open or my shirt had fallen off, or I'd forgotten my shoes or something obvious to everyone but myself.  Seriously, folks, at this point, I'm lucky I haven't walked out of the house in nothing but a petticoat and a pair of wellington boots.  So I stood there, completely awkward but trying hard not to look awkward, which only amplified my awkwardness, and trying to figure out why this man was looking at me.  I mean, I don't know him very well, but I'm fairly certain he isn't a creeper or a perv and all I could do was wonder if there was something hanging out of my nose or was I wearing my underwear on the outside of my pants or something.

It only dawned on me after I got home that I was standing in front of the bulletin board.  My guess was that he was reading flyers posted behind or beside me from across the room.  Because of this, now I'm wondering if he thought I was surreptitiously staring at him across the room, because I kept looking at him while trying to figure out why he was looking at me. For all I know, he went home and told his family about how that one lady, you know...the one who sings sometimes and works in the kitchen, kept staring at him and how it was weirding him out.

I think from now on, every time I go somewhere public, I'm just going to wear a shirt saying "I have few social skills and am easily rendered self-conscious. Please don't look in my direction or I'll get awkward. Thank you for your compliance."

However, I will say this much:  If that was his "reading-a-flyer-from-across-the-room" expression, I wish it conveyed a little more "reading-a-flyer" and a little less "I-wonder-what-her-spleen-tastes-like."

2)  You know, I usually really appreciate the anonymity of the Internet.  It's nice to be able to interact with people from all over the world without your entire life being on display.  However, one thing I hate about it is that a great deal of people tend to think that because we don't know their names or faces, they can behave like complete jerks. 

I usually like to read the comment sections of web articles that I find interesting, but lately I've noticed that more and more often the comments can become downright nasty for seemingly no other reason than that the commenter wants to be hateful.  Are we as a society so repressed that it becomes necessary for us to viciously, verbally attack perfect strangers because they have different opinions or ideals than we do?  It isn't that I think people shouldn't be able to express their opinions, because...well, that wouldn't be fair either, but is it too much to ask that people show a little bit of respect for others, even when we really don't HAVE to? 

I know this sort of thing has gone on as long as the Internet has been around.  Honestly, I'm sure that I've probably typed a few things that came across as overly ugly if I wasn't thinking about how it sounded. But ever since I actually sat back and started really noticing the genuine contempt people show one another when they disagree on religion, grammar, sports, or...I dunno...anything really, I've begun to worry about how this affects our lives off of the internet.  Is that crazy?  I know that the forums online don't exactly represent the whole of society and that usually the squeakiest wheels are the loudest and most noticeable, but in an increasingly digital world, how long before the comfort some people feel about attacking perfect, faceless strangers spills over into their real lives?  I'm not talking about, you know, physically attacking someone necessarily, but it isn't a complete stretch of the imagination to think that someone who gets comfortable attacking another person's beliefs and ideals on such an impersonal level as the internet, could eventually let that happen in everyday life.

One of my high school teachers once gave us a quote by a man named Dwight Moody that says "Character is who we are in the dark" and that's what I think of when I read the kind of hateful things that people say online.  It doesn't get much darker than complete anonymity, does it?

Aaaaaaand if we all join hands and sang Kumbaya, the world would be a better place.  :)  Sorry, didn't mean to preach. 

Just...be nice. To everyone.  Even when you don't want to.

3) Speaking of high school...my 15 year reunion is coming up this Saturday!  I'm not sure how excited I am about it because there seems to be a great deal of disinterest by the majority of the members of our senior class.  It'll be great to see people again, to be sure, but I wonder how many people will actually be there? 

I was given the job of making a "memory table" for the reunion, which is going to consist of my yearbook, whatever mementos I can scrape together, and a big fold out foam board thing that I'll attach pictures to, but I know for a fact that I can't fill that thing.  I had to send a Facebook message out to beg other people to bring pictures to use because in the process of trying to think of what I could add, I realized that I had a less than typical experience.  I literally never knew I was missing anything until someone started one of those "You Know You Went To (Insert High School Name Here) If..." pages on Facebook.  I don't know what I was doing, but whatever it was, it wasn't what almost everyone else was doing!  I was never invited to any parties, I had no idea where the cool kids hung out, and I didn't date much, so I don't have many pictures that don't revolve around being in the band or FFA.   Don't worry, I'm not feeling sorry for myself about it, because I remember high school being just fine.  I wasn't popular, but I wasn't bullied.  Most people just thought I was weird, and I was OK with that, I guess!  I had friends, and I don't remember any real enemies.  I have always kind of been a flake about that sort of thing, though.  I wouldn't have realized someone didn't like me unless they told me to my face, which didn't happen, so there very well could have been a whole section of my class that wished I'd die in a wood chipper accident.  Who knows?  I'm not worried about it, though.  It was a long time ago.  Oh, well.  I just hope someone else brings pictures!

Oh, and as for that project board...   Oy, vey.  I went to Hobby Lobby to get some things to decorate it with, and I wandered into the scrap booking section to see if I could find some pre-made do-hickies that I could add to it.  I found music notes, sports stuff, and even a really cute cheerleader uniform thing in the correct colors.  Scrap book companies sell almost any kind of thing you could ever imagine, every theme, every sport, every hobby...whatever.  You can find something to fit your scrap booking needs.  I, of course, couldn't find the one thing I was looking for.  I needed something that would go along with our school mascot, but it is next to impossible to get my hands on anything appropriate because of my school's completely un-PC mascot, the Indian.  We weren't a specific tribe of Indian, or the Chiefs or the Braves...just The Indians.  I was boned.  Seriously, there were no feathers, no tee-pees, not even one Native American anything. In fact, the closest thing I could find was in the Thanksgiving section, and it was a package of those weird, foam, bug-eyed kid cut outs that  were not only ugly, but completely the wrong kind of thing.  I mean, I get that Indians aren't PC, but it isn't as if we were the "Fighting Gay-Jewish-Black-Crippled Guys" or something!  Of course, had we been that, it would have been easier to find themed stickers.  *shakes head* 

Thursday, August 18, 2011


I've finally found a video that depicts why I don't drink anymore.

Imagine I'm the beagle.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011


1) Sara and I went to see "The Help" yesterday.  It was a great movie, but it made me totally sick to my stomach.  I sort of knew what the movie would be about, but since I'd never read the book and really only had two movie reviews to guide me (one that said the movie was wonderful and uplifting, and one that said it was trite and manipulative), I wasn't prepared for how the movie would make me feel.

Look, I've lived in Alabama all of my life and I'm certainly no stranger to racism.  I've seen people say and do the most ignorant things imaginable because they were just simply, blindly, bigoted.   People who hate because their families say it's OK to hate others because of their color.  It's frigging TRADITION to some of these people, and it seriously makes me wonder if any of them even know why they hate.  It's awful.   I've seen and heard bad things, but if what went on in that movie was even close to what happened in real life...I haven't even scratched the surface.

Even though my family is descended from a mishmash of sharecroppers and Indians, and I'm fairly certain none of them ever owned slaves or had "Help" like the Junya-League Ladies in that movie, I still feel as if I should apologize to everyone for being white, southern and a woman.

I'm just relieved that the movie wasn't set in Alabama. Oy vey.

Great movie, though.

2) I started a new blog the other day!  It's called "We Review All the Things!" and it's basically what it sounds like. 

Hey, you people know how much I like to review stuff, and I do it on here whenever I think about it, but I thought it would be fun to have a separate blog dedicated to it.  I don't know why, really.  I'm not really contributing anything else to the world these days, so why not? 

I may have a friend writing it with me, but since she's off learning how to save lives, she may not get much of a chance to do it.  Hopefully I won't forget about it and leave it mostly blank forever.  We'll see!  :)

3) Oh, and since I haven't mentioned the job situation lately, let me give you an update.  I was offered a job in June.  I accepted said job.  I never heard back from the guy who offered me the job.  Well, I've talked to him, and even sent him a note asking about the job, but nada.  Oh well, I'm not bovvered.  He has his reasons, and I'm not going to bug him about it.  Apparently, it just isn't where I need to be.  I've gone zen about it all.  I'll just make hats.

4) I mowed the lawn today and had a minor freak out.  We have a large weeping willow next to the fence, and I hate mowing under it because there is just no way to avoid driving through the branches.  It's like being in a drive-through car wash, when the long, flappy things that slobber soap suds all over the car slide over you.  Only there are leaves.  Anyway, I finally just decided to go for it and get that one patch I always avoid when I'm mowing, and when I did, the branches slid over me and a whole lot of things fell on me, including something that looked like the empty shell of Cthulu.  I screamed and started swinging my arms around and brushing myself off and I can within an ace of running to a bush.  It took me a minute to realize it was a cicada shell, and I don't know why it bothered me so much, because I used to play with those when I was little.  It heebed me out badly, though.  I wasn't expecting it, and had I not realized what it was in time, my neighbors would have had the treat of seeing me strip naked in the front yard and run screaming into the house.  I think we're all glad that didn't happen.

5) I went to the gym this morning and decided to change up the routine a little.  Usually, I just spend a lot of time on the elliptical, doing whatever it is that ellipticals simulate.  I knew that I'd eventually have to change that up, so I added in some of the weight training machines.  I have no idea what it was that I did to myself on one of them, but it must have pushed me just a teeny bit past my current stamina level, because right in the middle of doing one of them, I almost puked on the machine.  I still have no idea what I did, but I hope that doesn't happen again.  Somehow, I don't think the nice Latina custodian will be as nice to me if she has to clean that up.  Oof.

Friday, August 12, 2011


This morning I sat down at my computer, as I do everyday, to check my email and see what's going on in the world.

I had gotten a message from a friend on Facebook, and I had just clicked the link in my email to answer it when my computer said in the default robot voice:


My initial thought was, "Oh, great, I've opened up a website with a talking ad. I hate those." 

Seriously, whoever decided that an ad that plays loudly and suddenly without your consent was a good idea, was an idiot.  I continued my typing, ignoring the sound when the computer then said:

"Hello, Kelly."

OK, hold up.  Talking ads exist, but I don't know of any that know my name.  I then thought that I had somehow accidentally enabled the program for visually impaired that reads off what I had typed.  However, I haven't even been to that section of my computer preferences since I've had this computer, so I knew that wasn't it.  Then it occurred to me that the guy who sent me the email message (one of my computer savvy friends) could have somehow somehow rigged the message to read what I was writing, but it dawned on me that it wasn't reading what I was writing.  All of those thoughts flashed through my head in a second or so, and I don't mind telling you it kind of freaked me out.  Ok, it didn't just "kind of" freak me out, it scared me very badly.  I was staring, unblinking at the screen with my fingers frozen over the keyboard, trying to understand what was going on.  So I did the only thing I could think of.  I said...

"What? Are you...are you talking to me?"

The computer said "Yes."

My stomach did a weird kind of flip inside and I went cold all over.  I began looking up at the web chat camera embedded in the monitor and I thought that maybe someone had hacked into my computer and was messing with me.  My initial thought after that was "Thank God I'm not naked or something..."

I don't mind telling you that at this point my mind kind of went blank and I don't remember exactly what the computer began saying to me, but I do remember that the computer was talking to me.  Not just saying words, but answering my questions.  The blank, soulless, robot voice was comping through the speakers, saying things that were clearly aimed at me and not just randomly being picked out of on-screen text.  The only thing I remember clearly is me being on the edge of my chair, ready to jump up and run out of the house, and saying,

"What? Why? Why are you talking to me?"

Then I jumped up and ran into the kitchen.  That's where I saw Steve, doubled up at his laptop, laughing hysterically.  Apparently someone he works with told him about a great joke to play on someone who has a Mac.  I don't pretend to understand what he did, but he made the computer talk.  He connected to my iMac through his laptop, and he could hear me talking to the computer, so he was answering my questions.  He thought it was quite clever.  I, however,  thought that the machines were about to rise up and kill us all.

I used to think that it was good to have a technoweenie in the house.  Now...I'm not so sure.

Thursday, August 11, 2011


Mr. Lee's surgery went fine and he's at home and resting at the moment.  He's a little sore and stiff, but that's to be expected when someone takes a Drimmel bit to one of your most bendy joints, right?  :)

We sat in the pre-op area with him for 4 hours before they took him back.  FOUR HOURS.  It wasn't terrible or anything, but he was supposed to be taken back way sooner than he was and since his leg tends to hurt more while he was lying down, he wasn't too happy with the wait.  Luckily, one of his deacon friends was there and we all sat and talked until they took him back.

When they finally came and got him, Steve and I walked out into the post-op waiting room and attacked the vending machine.  We were starving by this point, because we hadn't thought we would be there that long and hadn't had lunch.  We only had enough time to have a bag of chips and a soda before the nurse came out and said he was all done and was waking up from sedation.  We were away from him for about 45 minutes total, and that encompassed him being wheeled back, being sedated, having the surgery, and waking up from his sedation.  The doc came out and showed us the pictures from the laproscopic camera (ew) and explained what they had done, and about 15 minutes later we were out the door.  Wow.  They should just install a drive through over at the surgery center!

Steve took Mr. Lee home while I stopped to get his pain meds and then got everyone something to eat.  Mr. Lee hadn't eaten since the night before, so he was quite hungry by the time I got over to his place.  We all sat for a while, and after making sure he was OK and didn't need us to stay the night, we left.

I called to check on him today and he's doing fine!  Thanks for the prayers! 

Tuesday, August 09, 2011


If you have a moment, please say a prayer for Mr. Lee tomorrow.  He's going to have knee surgery to repair a torn meniscus.  It shouldn't be a terribly serious surgery, but I'm sure he would appreciate the prayers while the doctors are poking holes in his knee and rooting around in there.

Also, just so you know, I like saying the word "meniscus." 


Monday, August 08, 2011


1) I think something is wrong with me.  Not health-wise or anything, but I think I have the mentality of a super-villain.  Yesterday I was sitting in church, of all places, and I caught myself giggling at the thought of having super powers and using them against one of my fellow church members.  I wasn't imagining causing them pain or anything like that, so don't get scared, but I was having a grand old time thinking about causing him psychological distress.  This isn't even a person I dislike, so I'm not sure why the thought of screwing with his mind was so funny to me.  When I say I caught myself doing it, that is the truth.  I was just sitting there, smirking about it, when I realized what I was thinking in the back of my head.  Geez.  It would be bad enough that I could become a super villain, but I certainly wouldn't want my origin story to begin by me causing one of my church family to have a nervous breakdown. 

2)  A cable representative (heh) will be coming by our house today to work on our modem.  We've been having periodic slow-ass connectivity for the past week, and it was driving Steve insane.  We got a recorded message yesterday reminding us of the "appointment," and I use that term loosely.  The message said something to the effect of "Please remember you have an appointment. The cable representative will be arriving sometime between 8:00 am and 7:00 pm so please be available."  Huh...really?  I'm glad they were able to narrow down the times I could expect them.  Otherwise, I might be able to have a productive day or something.  Fun.

3) Speaking of appointments...oy, vey.  Last Thursday, I was expecting the bug man to come by.  I NEEDED him to come by, after finding the giant roaches in the house.  Usually, our bug man comes in the afternoon, so I was thinking it wasn't out of the question for me to have a shower and change before he got there.  The exterminator usually stays outdoors and sprays all the way around the house, so I don't have to move anything inside or clean up the house specially for him.  Usually.  I happened to walk out of the back of the house fairly early on Thursday, in my pajamas, mad hair, and pillow creases still on my face, to see the exterminator walking to the door.  I didn't know what to do, but I figured that if he was going to be outdoors, it wasn't too big of a deal.  Of course, when I opened the door, I found out that he was the termite guy and not the bug sprayer!  He started going over the interior of the house with a flashlight!  I was so embarrassed!  I've been in the process of organizing my office and planning a massive Goodwill dump, so I've got boxes and clothes everywhere.  We already have a clutter problem, so that was already an issue, but it was worse that day.  Plus the bed hadn't been made and since we have a weird shoe migration issue in our bedroom, shoes were everywhere.  I had laundry piled up in the hallway waiting to be washed and laundry in our bedroom waiting to be folded.  I was horrified.  The termite guy didn't say anything, but I was still embarrassed.  I just hope he's seen worse. 

4) I've been helping Sara with her wedding plans and we went to look at a lot of different venues in Huntsville last Wednesday!  It was so much fun! We only got lost two or three times.  Sara blames me, but I'm firmly convinced that her GPS is evil and possessed by a demon with no directional sense.  We saw the event halls at two different museums, a giant house that was especially built for weddings, and my personal favorite place, the Weeden House.  I'm beginning to think that wedding stuff is much cuter than it used to be when I got married.  I mean, dresses are dresses and flowers are flowers, but I like the aesthetic of the more casual, DIY style that a lot of wedding websites show these days.  Even wedding photography is more interesting.  My wedding was beautiful, don't get me wrong, but I really enjoy looking at the things that are currently in vogue these days.  I like weddings, I can't help it.  I can't bring myself to watch any of the TV shows about wedding planning, dress shopping, or bridezillas  (I've already promised Sara a beat down if she wanders into that territory, because I love her, of course) but I love to help plan them! The only thing I will not tolerate that I've seen these days are mustaches on sticks.  I don't care how hipster-trendy they are, they make me want to punch people.  KNOW THIS!

5) I used a chainsaw this past weekend!  That probably doesn't sound very exciting to you, but I've never used one before!  I didn't cut myself or maim Steve, so I consider the experiment to be a success!  We were trying to cut down that blasted holly tree that we can't seem to ever get rid of.  I hate that tree with a vengeance that is only equal to the hatred I feel for the Zombie Crape Myrtle.  We've tried cutting it down and other people have tried cutting it down, but it WILL. NOT. DIE.  To make matters worse, a giant honeysuckle bush grew up through it and it all got tangled up in a big, leafy mess.  The result looks terrible, and I have no doubt that it's only going to come back stronger and more powerful than before, but at least right now you can see out of the guest room window.  Part of me wants to find one of the straighter branches and make a Harry Potter wand out of it.  11 inches long, made of holly...all I need after that is a Phoenix feather.  You can get those online, right?  :)

Have a great week, folks!

Friday, August 05, 2011


Well, this is lovely. 

As some of you already know, I have a Twitter account.  I don't use my real name, and since I had an old account under the name I'm most well known as on the internets,  that I cancelled years ago, I couldn't get that name back.  When I started my Twitter account back up again, I decided to use a nickname a friend of mine from the Sprocket (ptooey) gave me.  I'd tell you what the name is, but it might only exacerbate my current problem.

Basically, it's an abbreviated version of the French word for grapefruit.  That's all I'm saying.

If you aren't familiar with the way Twitter works, when you want to refer to someone else who might have a Twitter account (or anyone, really) you put an @ sign before their name or handle.  That creates an automatic link to the account with that name, apparently whether or not the person they are talking about has a Twitter account of their own or not.

Anyway, after I opened this particular account, at first I noticed that my Twitter feed was being linked to by people who are referring to friends who actually had this name, or a variation of it.  At first, it was all in Portuguese, and whoever this person I shared a name with was a party animal because when I finally figured out what language it was, I translated it online and the tweets were always talking about going to clubs and parties.  It was a little annoying to get an email every time this person referred to my account, but I was OK with that, because it was harmless.  Plus, it wasn't happening very often.  I just sort of wished that whoever kept linking to my feed would figure out that they were linking to the wrong person.

Next, I started getting a lot (and I mean a lot) of emails mentioning that I was being referred to by a professional organization that just happened to have an acronym that was the same as my Twitter name.  This was a bit more annoying because whoever was in charge of the "professional" social networking for this company wasn't smart enough to realize that if they wanted to refer to something going on within their organization, and since they didn't own that particular Twitter account name, they needed to refer to themselves with a # instead of an @.  If nothing else, anyone interested in joining their organization would be linked to my Twitter account, which is about as banal and non professional as one can be, instead of being directed to anything that had to do with them.  That's just bad business, and it was probably frustrating to anyone trying to follow the organization on Twitter.  Eventually, though, the references to me by that company stopped, hopefully because they got someone who figured out how the site worked. 

Now, however, I've got a whole new problem.  I'd been getting notifications that my account was being linked to a lot, and I couldn't figure out why.  The entries were all in a language I didn't know, or even recognize, and while they did reference my name (therefore linking to my account) whoever posted it also has a link to a picture of a mostly naked woman in an...uh...well, porny pose.  Since you can't see the woman's face, anyone who clicks on the name link is redirected to my page and that makes it look like it's me posting naked pictures of myself online.  I most certainly am not doing this!  I'm also getting questions in languages I don't understand, so I can't clear up the confusion with these international pervs.  I did a little digging and finally figured out that the link was written in Turkish, and once I got that far, I was able to find the webpage where the picture came from.  Apparently, there is a Turkish model or celebrity of some kind who takes mostly naked pictures of herself and posts them on her website.  Honestly, if I had a body like hers I'd probably be posting naked pictures of myself online too...but since it isn't me, I'd rather not be associated.  I also realized that her name is one stinking letter off from my Twitter account name, and the dumb ass who originally posted the link to the picture misspelled her name and that is why all of these Turkish horn-dogs won't leave me alone.  Until this dies out, or until this lady gets her own Twitter account, there isn't anything I can do but occasionally put up my own tweets in English (a lot of good that does) that I am not the naked Turkish model. 

Granted, I could change my name on the Twitter account. I know this.  I shouldn't have to, though.  I like having something I can use that doesn't automatically link me to everything else I do online.  The only people who know who I am are the friends I have who personally know me, and anyone else following me just knows me as my screen name. 

Oh, well.  This too shall pass, I guess.  Now, if I could just figure out how to start charging these idiots who can't seem to understand I'm not this woman every time the link is posted, I wouldn't mind.  Heck, I'd learn Turkish and pretend to be her.  It's not my goodies being flashed all over the internet, after all.  It'd be a win-win for everyone.  :)

Monday, August 01, 2011


1) Bear had a vet appointment on Saturday with a new doctor.  When Steve called to make the appointment, he was asked if he had a doctor preference and he said yes.  When they asked if it was our regular vet, he said no and asked for the nice, blonde lady we had once.  I didn't know this, of course, so I was in a state of pre-rage over having to face that condescending heifer we normally go to.  I know, I know, I shouldn't say things like that, but seriously, whenever we go to the vet I get that "First-Day-of-School" feeling in my stomach because I don't want to go and have to sit there while the  vet talks to us like we're children.  But I digress.  When Steve told me we were going to see the blonde vet, I was glad, because even though we've only seen her one time, we really liked her a lot and she genuinely seems to enjoy working with the dogs (even when they act like butt-heads).  I felt kind of sneaky, coming in to see a different vet, but I figured since it was Saturday, the regular vet would never know!  Bear's visit went fine, except that he's fat, but we made it through the entire visit without being talked down to or me flying into a rage and wanting to yank off the vet's arms, wookie-style.  I thought we were home free, until we stepped out of the examining room and the vet we don't like was sitting there.  I felt like I'd been caught cheating on her or something.  I wanted to step up to her and yell "YOU NEVER GAVE ME WHAT I NEEDED!  YOU NEVER TREATED ME RIGHT! I HAD TO GO TO GO ELSEWHERE!  IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"  Of course, I didn't.  Coward that I am, I took the dog to the car while Steve payed and filled out paperwork so I wouldn't have to stand there in the cone of shame.  Oh, well.  It was definitely her, not me.

2) I think I linked to this a couple of years ago, but I'm going to do it again, just in case I didn't.  I realize that most people won't enjoy looking at these like I do, but the Tennessee Sampler Survey has been taking up my internet time recently.  It's a site dedicated to documenting and preserving needlework heritage from Tennessee.  The samplers (or cross stitch/embroidery pictures for those who aren't down with the lingo, heh) are almost all by young women who were in Female Academies in Tennessee in the early 19th Century.  Those are schools for women where they learned to be ladies, and to learn things ladies needed to know how to do!  I imagine they were like high schools where almost every class is home ec.  Most of the samplers can be proven to be from Tennessee, and since the names and dates were on most of them, the people who made them can be traced and a bit of information about the person is included with each sampler.  I like these because they weren't meant to be put in a museum or anything, and they are very personal to each girl who made them.  Basically, it was just a piece of homework they had, so they show different quirks and tastes from different parts of Tennessee.  I wish there were something like this from the female academies of Alabama.  It's funny to me that stuff like this was once taught in schools for girls, but then again, I guess young southern women in the early 1800s weren't exactly looking to become doctors and engineers.  They were most probableh tryin' to catch a husband, and you had to know how to do these things to be a propaaah lady.  Heeheehee.

3)  Over the past two days, I have found two giant roaches in our house.  I hate roaches.  I hate them.  When I see them, my skin crawls and all I want to do is sit in a very clean, empty room where I can see every inch of the floor around me.  I had to dispose of them myself, because both times Steve hasn't been available to get them for me.  I think they're only inside because it's been so hot outside, and because of the deluge of rain we got on Saturday, and because it's almost time for the exterminator to come, so I'm hoping that they go away after the bug man cometh on Thursday, but I've got to live here until then.  I've now been inspired to go into every room and box up anything that is on the floor, sterilize the house, spray poison on every inch of baseboard, and set fire to the whole thing.  Seriously, and I don't care how sissy this sounds to you, but after the one I found this morning, Steve was late for work because he had to calm me down. I went fetal.  If I'm ever in a place where the cockroaches fly or hiss, I will not survive. 

4) Steve and I went to see Cowboys and Aliens this weekend, and I liked it a lot!  It wasn't the greatest movie ever, but it was fun and Harrison Ford was in it!  Also, that last British dude who played James Bond.  I can't remember his name and I don't care enough to look it up.  Anyway, the movie was good, but a little weird.  I think it's just difficult to blend any kind of different genre with a western and have it mesh seamlessly.  Firefly is the only instance of sci-fi and western being completely successfully mixed that I know of!  This wasn't bad at all, though.  I mean, who knows, maybe aliens did visit earth in Wild West days.  Think of all the cattle they could mutilate!  :)