Monday, April 30, 2012


1) OK, so...I didn't end up doing the audition.  Believe it or not, it wasn't because I was scared or anything like that.  The more I thought about it, the less interested in it I was.  However, I had actually decided I was going to do it anyway, because A) I felt like I'd be letting down a lot of people who had given me advice and who seemed very excited for me and B) I really need to do something.  I feel like a giant loser for not working and not having any kind of concrete plan for my life and I thought that, if nothing else, this would push me in some sort of direction.  I have friends that I admire because they seem to know exactly what they want and exactly how to do it.  Me, I feel like someone dropped me off in an unfamiliar town without a map and told me I have exactly one hour to find a restaurant I've never heard of.  It's frustrating and scary.  But I digress.

So I had decided to go ahead and do this audition anyway, but I realized I was missing one important thing that I needed: a head shot.  I don't have many pictures of me at all, and the only professional one I've had made in the last 5 years is little more than a glorified school photo and it doesn't really look like me.  Since it was the only one I had, I spent a while photoshopping the heck out of it and getting it ready to print, only to realize at the last possible minute that I only had one sheet of photo paper to print on, which meant no re-dos.  Halfway through the printing, I realized that not only did the printer screw up and make me look orange (seriously, I looked like Snookie's older sister), I also saw that I had somehow managed to load the paper in backwards, which caused the coated side of the paper to buckle, so I couldn't even flip it over and print on the back.  *HEAD DESK*

By this time I was just sick of the idea of the whole thing.  I had no head shot, no real experience, and no idea what I was doing.  I refuse to go into a situation like that half assed, so I just scrapped the plan all together.  It wasn't really important in the scheme of things, anyway, because I wasn't expecting it to make me a movie star, or heck, even an actor.  I just thought it would be something different to do.  I'm not even sorry about not doing it.  The only thing that really bothers me is that so many people got so exited for me about it, way more than I thought would actually care, and I hate to think they'd be disappointed in me for not going ahead with it.  Oh well, I'll just have to make them proud some other way, I guess!

2) Heh, one of my friends sent me the link for my old position at the SpRocket (ptooey).  The job is open again because they hired someone the last time they advertised it and the person worked there for about a week before they quit. I read through it and, though I can't be 100% sure, it looks like they've added a few extra requirements regarding behavior.  It might as well say "Please don't act like Kelly, or you can't work here."  Heehee!  Eh, I'm so freaking charming. 

3) You know, I hate it when I find out that someone I like turns out to be kind of an awful person.  Luckily I didn't have to learn this first hand, but I was talking to someone last night and, kind of off hand, they mentioned something that a person we both know once said that shocked me.  It was just a really mean and hurtful thing to say, and I wouldn't have thought him possible of behaving that way.  Of course, you can't judge someone by one thing they say, but the person I was talking too went on to tell me a whole bunch of other things that this guy both did and said, and it blew my mind.  I mean, he didn't kill anyone or anything like that, but I was still shocked that he was capable of acting like such a tool.  He just seemed so nice, but apparently it was all an act he'd put on unless he was around his friends, and unfortunately for him, his friends got tired of his behavior and stopped protecting him.  I generally considered myself a good judge of character, but I guess as long as someone is nice to my face I'm just going to assume they're a good person, whether they really are or not. Boo.  I liked this guy, but now I'm not going to be able to think of him in the same way and that makes me sad.

4)  Steve's band played Panoply this weekend!  I haven't been to Panoply since well before I was married, and that time I went with Josh and we did faux interpretive dance next to one of the performance tents.

The MCB wasn't scheduled to play until around 4:00 PM, so it was nice and hot by the time we got there. Yuck.  It was about 87 degrees, and the band was set to play on what had to be the hottest and sunniest section of the whole deal, which was the back pavilion of the Museum of Art.  We ended up getting there early, so while Steve helped set up, I walked around a bit.  I actually ran into a friend of mine that I hadn't seen in about a million years (Hey, Jason!) which was nice, and I got to talk to him for a few minutes.  Then I walked on through a zillion other tents and eventually made it to the artist's marketplace.  That is where the local and regional artist set up tents and sell their stuff.  I would have loved to buy some art, but I couldn't afford any!  :)  No wonder the artists are starving.

Once I made it back around to the pavilion, I caught up with Mr. Lee and one of our church members who happened to be there, and we listened to the band play.  It was lots of fun, and the band sounded great!  I got sunburned because I forgot to put on sun screen, and I'm pretty sure I had an slight case of dehydration by the time we left because it was just so dang hot!  I dread what summer is going to be like. Bleh.  Anyway, we had a great time and a lot of fun.

Monday, April 23, 2012


1) Steve and I stopped by our local comic book shop on Saturday, and with one brief exception (that I'm pretty sure was an accident) I went completely unacknowledged by the people behind the counter!  Rudeness!  They small talked to Steve, but when I'd make a comment about something they said, they seemed to pretend I wasn't even there.

I hate going in there, because it never fails that I can't get anyone to speak to me unless it's the owner - and I think that's only because Steve kind of knows him through some friends we worked with at the SpRocket (ptooey).  Even then I have to pretty much get up in his face and ask a pointed question.  Please don't get me wrong, I don't go in there for attention or be flirty or anything like that.  If we go there, it's just to pick up the comics we subscribe to, and Steve tends to look around for a while, so I'm just hanging around trying not to stare at the people playing RPGs, or whatever it is they're doing with the cards and the little figurines, and I've tried in the past just to strike up a conversation with someone to pass the time and they just ignore me! Every. Dang. Time.  I'd love to think it is because I'm so bodacious that they are just too intimidated, but  I'm fairly certain I'm par for the course as far as women who go in there, except that I don't tend to wear anime shirts and kitty-ear headbands.  Maybe I should! :) Either that, or I'm going to have to resort to a full on Wonder Woman costume.

I actually joked about this on Twitter when we got home, and I said "If I'm that ugly, please someone tell me so I can go into hiding."  I wish I'd reworded it, because I know it came across as "pity-fishing" for compliments, but I promise I wasn't.  I did get a reply that it wasn't that I was ugly, just that comic book guys don't know what to do with girls, so I'm going to go with that.

2) An Atlanta production company is going to be shooting a movie here in Huntsville!  Neato, huh?  I saw a news story about it this morning and thought that it might be fun to see about being an extra for it if I could.  It's a bucket list thing, you know.  The last time a movie was filmed around here, they had a cattle call, of sorts, for extras.  I didn't do it then because I had a real job and couldn't take the time off.  The information they had for that movie said you had to bring a picture and fill out an application, and that was pretty much it.  The website the news site sent me to for this new movie doesn't mention anything about extras being separate from the cast.  It says you have to come in and audition.  Wha?  The casting list mentions extras, but you still have to audition for the parts.  I've only auditioned for one thing ever, and that was a hundred years ago!  I tried crowd sourcing on Facebook (because I have friends who act) to see what I'd need to do for an audition, and it seems I'd need a headshot, a resume, and I'd have to read lines.  Yikes.  I'm not looking to become a movie star, because hell, I've never acted outside of a church play or two, I just want to say I've been in a movie.

I'd love to do this, don't get me wrong, but I'm afraid I'm too much of a chicken to audition.  I want to, really badly, even if I just got to play "lady at the counter #4" because I'd be able to say I had.  The auditions are this weekend, so I've got the rest of the week to waffle.  I wish I wasn't such a chicken-dog.

3) I've finally, finally, finally made myself buckle down and start reading "Twilight."  I know I've talked about it for a long time, and I might have even tried to start it a couple of times, but I've never gotten anywhere until this last try.  I am making myself read it because I don't think it's fair to dislike something blindly, and I needed to see if, in fact, I didn't like it.  I think I'm probably on chapter four or five right now, and I can say honestly that I don't care for it so far.

First off, the writing itself if kind of bad.  Maybe I'm wrong, but is it supposed to be written in a stream of consciousness style?  I mean, it isn't really that I suppose, but the writing doesn't seem right to me.  It's all out of whack because it seems that a lot of it is expressed in incomplete sentences and fragments.  I think at one point I could actually hear William Shatner reading it in his. Signature. Style. However, I'm sure not every writer who becomes popular is a whiz at grammar and structuring, so I'm going to let that part slide for now.

The story isn't even that terrible.  Please take that observation with a whole handful of rock salt, since I'm still at the beginning of the book, but the premise isn't totally uninteresting. Far fetched, and a bit immature, yes, but then a lot of things I like are.

I think the thing I absolutely don't like about the book is the characters. In fact, I kind of hate them all so far.

All the secondary characters I've been introduced to are so thinly sketched out that they could be invisible. The absentee mom, the clueless dad, the "friends" she makes that either fawn over Bella or hate her.  It's sad. 

Edward is an ass.  He actually reminds me a lot of two boys I dated when I was a teenager.  Seriously, he could be a hybrid of them: One was good looking, sweet, but had a creepy, over-protective, romantic thing going on where he'd try to fight other guys who he thought liked me (they didn't), he'd write me kind of unsettling poetry, and he promised to "love me forever." He also had some rage issues that scared a lot of people, but I don't think he would have ever turned them on me. He was way too protective of me, but then again, who knows?  I'd like to think he got most of that out of his system and is now a happily married and stable adult, but he was way, way too intense for me at 15 years old. The other guy was smug, very much a jerk, emotionally and borderline physically abusive - and he used to bite me.  I don't mean that in a kinky way either, he'd bite me and leave rings of bruises and teeth marks.  I think he thought he was being affectionate, but it hurt. To this day I don't understand why I liked him, but I assume it was because he was an amazing kisser. I'm not proud of that, but knowing what a festering scrotal boil he turned out to be kept me from dating anyone else like him, so...silver lining!  I see all of those kinds of weirdness in Edward, which is why I have the creepy crawlies when I think about the guy in this book who is supposed to be the epitome of the perfect man.  No one who behaves like that should ever be considered a romantic example for teenage girls.  It is wrong and unhealthy and gross. What makes it even worse is that grown ass women are all swoony over this sparkling douche, and they should know better!

Oh, and Bella.  BELLA.  I want to climb into the book and punch her in the face until she dies.  She infuriates me. She moves to a new town, which would suck for any teenage girl, but she doesn't even try.  She's obvs too smart for the new school, so she already knows everything they try and teach her and she's soooooo bored with it.  (Mope) All the kids are actually interested in her and want to be her friend, which must totally suck because...I dunno why.  Maybe because even Bella knows she's just the worst and can't understand the interest. (Mope)  The boys all think she's pretty and want to get to know her better, but instead of being flattered (at the very least) she insults them in her head while being barely nice to them outwardly because why should she be glad that people are being nice to her?  I mean, they're just small town boys, after all. (Mope)   Then of course, the only person she seems to be interested in is the one freaking person who either behaves as if she's a walking cloud of scabies, insults her, or -truthfully- behaves like a creepy, stalking weirdo. (Mope)  And, OK, maybe every teenage girl has to date guys like that to realize who they DON'T want to be with, but not our Bella.  She loves it.  She's the kind of girl who is a couple of insults and a dog collar away from being chained in someone's basement of her own free will.  She makes me mad.  The fact that she is a fictional character that I can't physically slap across the face only makes it worse.  

However, I'm still just at the beginning of the book.  Maybe by the time we meet Jacob, I'll love it.  We'll see.

Monday, April 16, 2012


1) My ankle is much better, thanks for asking! :)  It's weird how quickly it got better after initially thinking I'd probably really damaged it.  I've sprained my ankle a bunch of times, but it had never hurt like that before.  After taking Jeoff's advice about how to take care of it, and thinking it was just fine, I ended up rolling it again (because of course I did).  It swelled back up, so Steve talked me into going to the Doc-In-The-Box and getting it checked out just in case.  After being in the dreaded clinic for two hours, having 6 X-Rays - three initial and three re-dos, and having the doctor pull and twist my leg into a balloon animal, I was told I was just fine and that I could go back to the gym the next day.  In fact, he gave me the exact same advice that Jeoff gave me to begin with.  He did give me a prescription for some anti-inflammatory pills, and I got a brace with rigid sides to wear the rest of the week, but now my ankle seems back to normal.  Well, sort of.  It feels like the bones in my ankle don't meet up anymore.  I don't think there's anything wrong, because with all the X-Rays, I'm sure they'd have told me if anything was amiss.  So now I just need to watch where I step! :)

2) Oh, and speaking of all of that... I mentioned that I slipped on a puddle at Home Depot in my last post.  I'd assumed at the time that it was water that had leaked from a car that had been parked there, but we had to go back there yesterday and get some stuff, and there was a puddle in the same place!  I guess something must be leaking.  They are so going to get sued.

3) Steve and I are getting our kitchen remodeled! I'm so excited!  Well, I don't know if you would call it getting remodeled, since basically we're just getting some new cabinets and an island, but I'm still excited.  The old cabinets were put in when the house was built in 1949.  None of them are to code, there isn't enough room for our dishes in them, and trying to find hinges or any kind of replacement parts for them has been a nightmare.  Also, we've gone through two counter tops, and while I love the blue tile ones that Steve built for me, it's so hard to keep them clean.  We're getting a local carpenter to build them for us.  We've seen some of his work, and it is beautiful, but the guy looks like he's about 12 years old.  This will be the first major change we've had done on the house since I've lived here, so I'm eager to see how it will look.  The down side to this is that we're going to have to repaint the kitchen walls and ceiling, and I hate painting walls.  Luckily, we're keeping the dark red color, so at least we won't have to spend days and days trying to cover a dark color with a light one.  Woot!

4) I feel so awful!  Last week I volunteered to do a bit of graphics work for a friend of mine.  He needed someone to make a logo for a Facebook page that his group of storm chasers are putting together. Honestly, I wasn't 100% sure what it was he needed, because when he sent me the email about the logo, he said he was drawing a blank and that whatever I could come up with would be fine.  So I worked for a day or two and came up with a few for him to chose from, he picked one out, and we did some tweaking until it was just what he wanted. 

I got another email today saying that he had finally gotten together with the whole group and showed them the logo I created, and they'd vetoed it.  Apparently they thought it would be a bit distasteful to use a logo with a tornado graphic when the Facebook page they were creating was a memorial for some of their friends who'd been killed in the tornadoes that had hit last year!  Oops.  I thought I was creating a logo for the storm chasers themselves that would include mention of their friends, not one specifically for the memorial page.  Eeeesh.  I'm so tacky.   My only saving grace is that my friend, the one who originally picked out the logo, didn't think about that either.  However, all was not lost.  They'd decided what kind of logo they did want and sent me a rough draft and some files, and I managed to get them what they needed.  Still...eeeeeesh.

5)  Butler and Bear tried to kill each other again this weekend.  I have no idea what is wrong with them, because it isn't as if they hate each other!  Seriously, if one of them is away from the other, they have a fit until they are reunited!  But if they are together, they act like a couple of grumpy old men!  It's insane.  The worst part about this fight is that Butler lost yet another tooth!  At least this time it was one of the smaller ones, but jeez.  He either must have the worst teeth in the history of all dogs, or he really bites hard when he and Bear are fighting. Dumb dogs.

Monday, April 09, 2012


I'm going to make a wild assumption that most of you already know that I sprained my ankle pretty badly this weekend, but since it's the only thing of real note that happened, I'm going to tell you more!


Saturday morning, Steve and I were out running errands and made an unplanned stop at Home Depot.  We were walking into the building when I either stepped in a puddle of water, or possibly oil (I couldn't tell what it was, I just know it was slippery) when my left foot slipped and went down. Hard.  I'm really glad Steve was holding one of my hands, because I think if he hadn't pulled me up just a bit, I might have broken my wrist or something.  It wasn't even one of those funny, slipping around trying to catch my balance kind of falls either, it was just that moment of knowing I'd slipped and then hitting the ground.  Everything turned except for my left foot, which is weird since that one was the one that stepped in the puddle to begin with.  My right flip-flop flew off and I was just suddenly lying there on the concrete under the awning of the store.

Once I hit the ground, my mind went "Oh, how embarrass...holy crap my leg is on fire!"  It must've looked bad, because Steve didn't even laugh! :)  I vaguely remember a man walking past us to go inside (thanks for your concern, there, good Samaritan) but mostly I was doing that internal thing where you try to decide if you're going to cry or scream profanity.  Luckily, I did neither.  I honestly thought someone from inside would come out and at least help pick me up off of the ground, since we were literally just a few feet from the entrance, but no one did.  So Steve picked me up and helped me back to the car so I could assess the damage while he went inside the store.

I actually didn't think I was hurt at all, once I sat down.  I mean, my hand was bleeding from where it had landed on a piece of gravel, but I cleaned that up.  My ankle seemed fine, which I thought was strange owing to how much it hurt when I actually fell.  I was relieved that it wasn't worse.  I just sat in the car flexing it and making sure nothing else was hurt.

Steve was actually in the store for a long time, so I thought he must have been telling someone that I slipped in a puddle.  We aren't litigious people, but I figured he'd at least mention that there was a dangerous slippery puddle by the door.  Turned out that, no, he'd just gone inside and looked around for whatever he'd gone in for.  (Don't worry, I've already had my moment of berating him for this.  But I can't really blame him completely because I said I was OK.)  He said no one was around the door when he went in, so probably no one saw me.  I seriously doubt that, but since he didn't say anything to them, I'm sure they weren't going to bring it up.

Anyway, so he came out with his stuff and we went on our way to finish our errands.  My ankle did start to hurt, so I guess the initial painlessness was due to adrenaline or something.  Stupid me walked on that ankle a lot that day, limping from place to place, until we got home and I could really take a good look at it.  It was swollen very badly, but not bruised at all.  We wrapped it up,  put some ice on it,  and I kept it propped up for a while.

By that night, I could barely walk it hurt so bad.  I've sprained this same ankle a lot of times, and it's never hurt like that before.  I had to pull myself around from place to place, and I even tried using a crutch I found (weirdly, only one crutch) but I wasn't coordinated enough to make that work.  I finally went to bed, tried to keep it propped up on pillows, and not move it unless I had to.

Sunday was Easter, of course, and I had to run sound and lights for the service, and even though it was a lot better from the day before, I still had to hobble around like an old lady to get ready for church.  I couldn't wear my heels, of course, and I don't own any flat dress shoes, so I ended up wrapping my ankle over my hose and having to wear a pair of those Dr. Scholls Fast Flats that were too big for me, so I could stuff my bandaged foot inside of them.  Sexy.  I managed to get inside the church with Steve's help, and Mr. Lee brought me the cane he'd used after he'd had knee surgery so I could get up and down stairs.  I was a sight. I also felt like an idiot for using a cane just because I'd sprained my ankle.  We have a child at church who was born with spina biffida and not even she uses a cane.  It made me feel bad and obvious and attention seeking.  Also, I'm not really coordinated enough to use a cane either, so I had to walk on the one corner of my heel that didn't cause pain to shoot up my leg, while trying to figure out how to get the cane to work in synch with my other leg.  I was very awkward. I probably could have done without the cane except for the stairs and needing it to brace myself while sitting down and getting into the car, but I was glad to have it to help me out.

By that afternoon, I was hobbling about quite respectfully without the cane and my ankle was hurting much less, so I managed to get around Mom's house with little problem.  We went there for lunch and had a great time, although I wish we'd stayed there longer and visited more.  I miss my mom, since I don't see her as much.  She says I never drop by...but to be fair, I do live 45 minuets away and don't happen to be in her neighborhood that often! :)

My ankle is not nearly as sore, but the rest of me is finally feeling the aftermath of falling down that hard.  I think I pulled some muscles when I fell.  My ankle is still swollen up like someone has stuck half a tennis ball under my skin, but amazingly it isn't bruised or anything.  My big thing right now is that I can't go right back to the gym.  I know I can't go today, at least, since it still hurts a little and is swollen, but I have a friend who has an MS in Exercise Science and is a performance enhancement specialist and injury prevention guy (Jeoff, Josh's partner, and he's awesome) and he said I could probably go back tomorrow as long as I didn't do anything too strenuous. I'd normally love an excuse not to go work out, but after the weird dreams I had when I missed last week, I'm scared to miss too much!

So there you go!  The saga of me falling down and hurting myself!  I hope you had a lovely Easter weekend! :)

Friday, April 06, 2012


For some reason, I woke up super early this morning and decided to go ahead and get out of bed.  I let the dogs out and changed into my gym clothes, but instead of doing the smart thing and going to the gym to get my workout over with, I turned around and went back to bed.

I'd had to reset the alarm clock (Steve slapped the off button instead of snooze) so by the time I'd actually fallen asleep again, the alarm started going off and I was having to wake up every 7 minutes to hit snooze again (don't judge, it was still before 6:00 A.M.)  I don't know if it was a combination of my subconscious knowing I was just going to have to wake up again and push the button and the fact that I never got to go deep into sleep, but in between alarm beeps I had the absolute weirdest combination of dreams/hallucinations that I've had in a very long time.

One involved getting a long and rather uncomfortable hug from someone I used to go to church with,  one was about going to a friend's house to take a shower and completely flooding their bathroom, and I had several different ones that were just sounds.  But the one that really got me was, I think, built off of guilt of skipping the gym yesterday.

I dreamed I was walking home along the sidewalks that run down the side of the main road that goes past our subdivision.  In real life, I could walk down that same sidewalk and get to my gym, but I was walking away from the gym in my dream.  There was an elderly woman ahead of me who had stopped to stretch her legs and an elderly man walking towards the both of us. I stopped walking so that the man could get by, but he also stopped so I could go ahead, but when I tried to walk around the old lady, she jumped in front of me.  When I tried to walk around the other way, she jumped ahead of me again.  She laughed and said she was sorry and let me pass, but then I ran smack into the old man.  He also laughed and let me by, but when I turned around to continue walking, the bushes and trees on each side of the sidewalk had grown together and I couldn't get through them.  By now I was definitely frustrated, so I was going to walk into the street to go around the tangle of bushes.  The second my foot hit the street, the entire freaking neighborhood tipped over on its side, like that scene in Inception, and I fell over and started rolling back down the hill back towards the gym.

I woke up after that, but I honestly don't think I've ever had a dream that has had a more clear message: DON'T SKIP THE GYM.

If going to the gym was actually working, I'd be more inclined not to want to give that dream the finger, but as it stands...

Monday, April 02, 2012


1) I absolutely cannot stand it when I'm talking to someone, and I ask a question, and they just ignore it.  I'm not talking about situations when I ask a question and whomever I'm talking to doesn't give me a straight answer to it, I'm talking about people who just completely act as if the question had never been asked and start talking about something else.  This happened to me again yesterday!  I just don't understand the rudeness of it.

I guess what really bothers me is that they weren't even personal questions.  I know my idea of personal information and other people's ideas are sometimes different, but I generally don't ask knowingly personal questions of people unless we're very good friends and I think they'd be comfortable telling me.  I'll even go a step further and say that I completely understand even when those friends don't want to talk about those things with me, if they are truly personal and uncomfortable to talk about.  They can just tell me they don't want to talk about it or whatever and I'm OK with that.

However, to just ignore a general question (one I'd needed an answer for) in the middle of a conversation is just so flipping rude!  I even repeated myself thinking that they didn't hear me, but I know they did.  Then the person I was talking to just turned around and started talking to someone else (about the same dang subject) as if I had just evaporated.  I sat there, trying to figure out if what I asked was rude or prying in some way (and, hand to God, I can't see how that's possible considering the subject of our talk) but it just flew all over me.  I don't know why it bothers me so much, but I guess I just don't understand how otherwise generally well-bred people can just be so freaking rude for no reason.  I can't imagine ever doing that.  It's like slamming a door in someone's face mid sentence. 

Sorry for being ranty, but people who are blatantly rude just get up my nose.

2) Are there any amateur dog whisperers out there?  Butler has been acting very weird and it's worrying me.

About two weeks ago we had to take him to the vet for his normal "old man" check-up and shots.  As you know, he hates getting in the car and going places, so it was as traumatic as it always is.  He didn't have a complete strip-the-gears checkup, but they did the usual blood work and senior exam stuff, but nothing really out of the ordinary. When we got him home he refused to go outside, which is weird.  It was really weird.  He wanted to come into the house and stay, but we can't let him do that usually because he's very clingy and if he's loose inside the house he basically wants to walk in-between your feet and stay right with you.  That means that you can't really do anything productive.  We eventually had to push him outside, which I hate to do because it makes me fee l so mean, but he seemed fine once he got out there so we didn't worry too much.

Fast forward to that night when we put them to bed.  Both dogs have been trained since they were puppies that they go into their kennels to sleep after they eat.  That's just the way it's always been.  Before we had gone to the vet, Butler had been doing this thing where we'd get him settled into his kennel, and then he'd stand up and scratch at the door.  We finally figured out that it was because he wanted a drink of water, so we had gotten used to letting him out at least once every night to do that.  If he stood up again, we'd just tell him it was time to sleep and he'd lay down again.   But that night he refused to lay down.  He'd bat at the door and whine, and I'd let him out to see if he was thirsty or if he needed to go outside. I wasn't sure if any of the shots had caused him to feel bad or something,  and I didn't want a repeat of the horrible thing that happened in his kennel a while back.  He didn't want to go outside and he didn't want water.  He just started wandering around the house, which really isn't like him at all.  Then he'd come back into the living room and go to kennel again. We'd close it up and the whole thing would start over again.  We finally just went to bed, thinking he'd eventually lay down again, but he wouldn't.  We could hear him scratching at the kennel door and doing that pitiful nose whistling thing that breaks my heart.  I'd get up and let him out, but he'd just wander around again.  I knew that if we kept getting up and letting him out, he'd never stop, so I finally had to just go to bed and try not to listen to him whine. Eventually we just took both dogs outside and let them stay out for the night, just in case he really was feeling sick.

It has been a little over two weeks and he is still doing it.  I don't know what's wrong.  We didn't get back any bad health reports from the vet, and at every other time of the day he seems exactly the same as usual.  He sleeps, barks and pees on things.  That's just how he rolls.  But at night it's like he suddenly has the surge of nervous energy and he can't be still.  We've tried sitting up with him for a while, we've tried sleeping in the living room with him(and I'd like to apologize to anyone who has ever had to sleep on our couch. It's torturous.) to see if he's just suddenly gotten some kind of separation anxiety.  He still wants out while we're in there, and he will eventually lie down, but he jumps up anytime he hears a noise.  I don't even know what to say to the vet if I were to call her.  "Uh, my dog won't sleep at night, even though he sleeps all day.  I know you said he needs more exercise, but we can't take him on walks at 1:00 in the morning!"  He just sounds so pitiful and it also gets aggravating, because Steve and I need to sleep at night.  I don't know.  I just don't want to ignore him if he's got a problem, but it seems less like he's got a problem and more like he's just wanting to piss me off.  Bless him.

3) This is a sad, but beautifully written piece that I think you should read.  A friend of mine wrote it.  It hurts my heart, but it also is a lovely bit of writing.

4) We had ants in our kitchen over the weekend. ANTS.  You know how I feel about bugs of any type being in my house, but ants just tick me off.  They are so tiny and hard to kill!  I had seen one on my kitchen curtain earlier that day, but it was just the one. I can't remember if I killed it or not, but I think I did.  Later that night Steve went to get something off of the counter and they were just...bleh...everywhere.  Apparently I'd spilled some sugar behind the canister, and didn't realize it, and they were having a grand old time nomming away.  The only poison spray we have to kill bugs is this high-octane stuff that is supposed to kill everything in it's path, but I know for a fact it doesn't kill ants. I nearly poisoned myself with it once trying to kill some ants in the cabinet, so I didn't want to spray it on the counters just in case I accidentally get it on something I'll eventually eat (again.)  We ended up having to move everything, spraying bleach and water all over the counter-tops, and going on a stalking mission to hunt down and kill every last one of them.  Our house reeked of bleach, and it ended up fading some of the paint on the wall, and the damned ants still were coming out of the woodwork. Literally, they were coming out of the woodwork.  Apparently we have a breach that can't be fixed until we completely replace a window. Curses.  Anyway, I finally located some of those ant bait things that we had left over from last time we had the ant problem and put them in strategic places.  The ants went in and out of them, and a day later we didn't have anymore ants. So, yay, I guess.

I still feel guilty for using the ant traps.  I mean, yes, I hate the ants and want them to die.  But it's one thing when you're tracking them down and killing them yourself. It's completely another to trick them: "Oooooh, look, I'm providing you with delicious food!  Please take it back to your home and share it with your family!  MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"  I realize how dumb it is to feel guilty for that, but there you go...

Sunday, April 01, 2012



Sunday morning I woke up with sticky eyes.  I think it actually had a lot to do with the pollen and what not, but since it was also time to change my contacts, I went ahead and took them out before I got in the shower.  I kept reminding myself to make sure I put in a new pair of contacts, or at least grab my glasses, before heading out to church, but of course in the best tradition of good intentions, I didn't do either one.  It wasn't until we were on our way to church that I noticed that I couldn't see anything clearly**.  Thank goodness I wasn't the one driving!

Since we were already running late, we couldn't turn around and go home, so Steve and I decided that after orchestra practice (and after I got the sound system and announcements set) we'd run back home and I'd get them.  It was kind of a miserable hour for me.  Since I've started keeping my contacts in almost all of the time, I keep forgetting that I can't see squat without corrective lenses. I forget they are in my eyes altogether unless I get something stuck underneath one of them.  Honestly, my vision has gotten so bad that just walking around in the church was hazardous.  I had to feel my way around and I couldn't focus on anyone's face so that I could talk to them.  I'm also pretty sure I looked like I was drunk, because I kept weaving around. Not being able to see clearly was scary!

So we came home, and since we had a few minutes to spare, I decided to pop in a new pair of contacts, which were from a brand new batch that I'd gotten from the eye doctor. I hadn't wanted to waste any of the old ones, so the pair I'd taken out that morning were the last of those and I hadn't tried wearing any of the new ones yet.  My prescription had changed slightly, so I knew that when I put the new ones in, I'd have a little bit of adjusting to do, but I wasn't prepared for the absolute craziness I was greeted with when I put them in.  My vision was just as bad, if not worse, than it had been without the lenses in.  I kept thinking that I'd get used to them, but I didn't.  To be on the safe side, I threw my glasses in my purse in case my vision didn't clear up by the time services started.

When I got to church, I kept trying to clear my eyes, but it wasn't working.  I kept rubbing them and dabbing them with a tissue, but I still couldn't see.  I'd also randomly chosen this day to wear mascara, which I hardly ever do, so I just knew by the time church started I'd look like a sad hooker clown, but there was nothing I could do about it.  I was a little panicked because I was afraid that if I couldn't see, I wouldn't be able to catch the cues that I get from the music director, and that morning we were doing a different kind of service for Palm Sunday, so I finally just pulled out the contacts (and I wish I'd let the hand sanitizer dry before sticking my fingers in my eyes...ouch) and put on my glasses.  Everything was fine after that.

My main concern was that my eye doctor had somehow screwed up my lens order, and how much of a pain in the butt it was going to be for me to get the new prescription set and wait on my new lenses.  Also, I was going to have to wear my glasses every day until they came in.  I know that's a big "First World Problem" but if you've ever gone from fooling with glasses to wearing contacts, you'll understand my chagrin.  So once I got home, I decided to try the contact lenses again, and hopefully my eyes could adjust to them before night services.  I got the left one in, and I was just as blind as I'd been before, and of course that was frustrating.  I pressed on, though, because I was determined.  When I raised my right contact to put it in, though, I saw a tiny line etched in the lens.  I knew that my left contact had a line like that because I have astigmatism in that eye and the lens is weighted, but I'd never seen one on my right lens before.  Of course, then it all made sense.  I'd put my lenses in the wrong stinking eyes!  My sight is completely different in each eye, not to mention that a regular lens doesn't even properly fit over an eye with astigmatism, so no wonder I was completely blind.  I felt like such an idiot.

I don't think I'd feel even a quarter as dumb as I do if it weren't for two things:  One, the boxes are very clearly marked (L) and (R) so that I don't accidentally switch lenses.  Two, Steve asked me, as I was trying to figure out what the deal was, if I had the lenses in the wrong eyes.  I just gave him that "I'm not an idiot" face and went about my business.  Oops.

Anyways, now I can see and I'm feeling much better about life.  *SIGH*  It's things like this that remind me why I will never be a surgeon.

**EDIT: If you're wondering why I didn't realize I didn't have my contacts in before leaving the house, if my vision is as bad as I say, it's because I was in a hurry and my house is small.  Since I'm near-sighted (or whichever one means I can't see far off) I didn't have to look very far to see the things in my house so they didn't seem very blurry to me. Also, I know where everything in my house is, so it didn't dawn on me that I couldn't see it very well anyways.