BLOGGED ALONG THE WAY: ERIN GO BRAGH EDITION - SUNDAY, JUNE 12, 2016

We felt so much better this morning after a whole night's sleep, but it was still hard to get out bed! We had an early start with breakfast at the hotel. Again, the bacon is ham, I repeat, the bacon is ham! I was disappointed that there was no blood pudding, but I think I'll get over it!

While getting ready to go, I discovered that with no air conditioning (we slept with the window open, so it wasn't bad) and not even a fan, and the fact that the country seems to be perpetually damp, I couldn't dry off after my shower! It took me forever to dry my hair and when I tried to put my makeup on, drops of water would condense on my face! It was aggravating! I finally managed to get ready and only slightly looked like a circus clown, so it was fine. Some people are into that! :)

I wore a dress today, just a plain, black, kind of stretchy dress that is really comfy. When I got on the bus, our tour guide stopped me and said "don't you have a coat or something?" I understood, and appreciated, his concern, but the weather said it would be 63 degrees, so I knew I'd be ok. However, he seemed genuinely afraid I'd be uncomfortable. Even after I sat down, he got up and rummaged around until he found his own jacket and said I could use it if I got cold!  I thought that was nice. I was fine, though. I don't think he really understood that the weather was a welcome change from the armpit of hell that Alabama usually is in June.  We got rained on a bit, but it was just a drizzle. I'm getting used to the drizzle.  The rain is always there, pretty much, but it's light enough not to be annoying and only keeps us all slightly damp.  Anyway, I thought it was nice that our tour guide (who's name is Desmond and he's a lovely, lovely, smart, funny man who is making our tour a lot of fun!) was worried about me. He got hugged later and I'm not even embarrassed about it! :)

We had two stops on our tour this morning, one at the General Post Office to see the museum about the Irish Uprising and the other was at the Guinness Storehouse, where the stuff is made. The museum was very interesting and sad. This year is the 100th anniversary of the Irish Easter Uprising and so there's a lot of stuff out there about it. The post office itself is huge and again, old, so even if we'd just seen the outside, it would have been cool.  The museum was small, but fairly comprehensive, and it had a movie that almost gave me vertigo.  When you first walk in, there is a room with a wall that is nothing more than a giant, curved movie screen. They show a short film about the Easter Uprising, and part of it includes animated transitions where you zoom in and out of a big map (so you know what happened where.) Because the screen takes up your whole field of vision, I kept swaying every time they moved locations. I finally had to sit down so that I wouldn't fall.  Turns out I wasn't the only one, but we all managed to stay on our feet!

 Not a great picture, but the building was too big to photograph from where we were!

We drove across town to the Guinness place.  

 This was the wall.  Very exciting, but again, the place was too big to photograph from where we were!

It is HUGE.  If I read the info correctly, it is located at the St. James Gate and has a 9,000 year lease.  I hope that is correct, because I can't imagine any place that big ever having to move!  The Storehouse itself was interesting, but It wasn't really my speed. As I'm not a big drinker, I'm not that fascinated with finding out how it is made.  Maybe if it had been more one-on-one it could have been better for me, but it was all videos and stuff.  We still had fun in the place, though! Steve and I walked through and looked at some exhibits.  There was some really weird things in there.  Apparently, they have a rich history of marketing, and some very specific mascots, one of which was a whistling clam. There was a legit, animatronic whistling clam.  I hadn't had a drop to drink, but watching that made me feel like I'd taken some bad acid or something.  We wound up skipping a lot of it due to the crowds and had lunch in the cafe. I wasn't that hungry, so I had asparagus soup, which was delicious (and I hate asparagus generally) and brown bread that was even better. We even got Guinness chocolate mousse, which was divine, but so rich I couldn't eat it all!

The drive back to the hotel seemed long, but Desmond (Or Des, as he said we could call him) gave us bits of info about the town and we had fun listening to him. I like Dublin. It is very green for a city, and I love the buildings and houses. It's just a lovely, mostly clean place. There are a lot of shops and things I wish I could explore, but that'll have to wait until we come back someday! I'm ok with that for now. There's so much to see ahead of me, I don't need to get stuck looking in one place!

When we got back, we took a quick nap (seriously, this jet lag stuff is messed up!) and got ready for the first concert and had a "cuppa tea" like Desmond suggested. I did it purely for the caffeine, but I could get used to it, I think!  The concert was at the Artane School of music in a town a bit always from Leapordstown, Dublin which is where we're currently staying. (Let me just interject here that the whole way of talking about Ireland is confusing. It's a country, obvs, but it doesn't have states, it has counties. Each county has towns, so you can't just say "Dublin" unless you're in Dublin proper...I think. You have to say Leapordstown - or where ever- Dublin. I was unaware that's how this was going to work.) It was a joint concert, with the senior band (older people, not seniors in high school, but there were a few kids in there) and a children's band that played traditional Irish instruments. Both bands were incredible and I got a bit nervous. See, the  Twickenham Winds, the band Steve is a part of, have only practiced together a handful of times. Maybe five or six rehearsals in all. These are people who don't know each other very well, and if you have ever played in a band (or done any group project, as a matter of fact) you know how hard it is to do anything intricate with people who you don't really jive with. So here are 40 some odd adults, who have jobs and lives and families and all that, going on tour to play concert style music and they have spent less than 10 rehearsals together. As much as I hate to admit it, I was skeptical that the concert would be very good. How could they be with so little preparation? Plus, Steve had played me some YouTube videos of the music they'd be playing, and he could only find videos of junior high bands playing versions of some of it, so my idea of how

it would sound was warped badly. I was practically cringing when they took the stage.

Y'all, his band blew my face off.

 

I know that sounds like something obligatory I'd say as his wife, but I'm not kidding. The band sounded awesome. Even more awesome was the fact that they only practiced five or six times and they still sounded that good! I was honestly taken aback at how good they sounded. The Irish folks seemed to really enjoy it as well!

 The Artane School of Music (and witchcraft and wizardry. My brain always adds that part.)

Afterward, there was a reception at a nearby pub called The Goblet, and we apparently didn't know what that meant. When we think reception, we think food and stuff, but it was just supposed to be a few drinks and talking. Steve and I went over to the side of the pub where people from the other band were and didn't know how to start a conversation with anyone. I was worried that we'd come across as being rude, so I pretty much left Steve by the wall and walked up to an older man from the other band and struck up a conversation with him. He was so nice and funny, and I can't for the life of me remember his name. He told me his own name and asked for mine, but he started picking my name apart to find out if I was Irish or not.

I gave him my maiden name, of course, because married names only matter going forward. Maiden names matter going backwards!  Apparently Kelly Martin is an exceedingly Irish name. He gave me the original pronunciation of both of the names and where it came from and what it meant.  He pretty much had me convinced that I was Irish after that.  We talked for a long time, about Ireland and he was very interested in U.S. politics and who would win the presidency. I hadn't anticipated that. Because I had a pint of cider on an empty stomach (and my already low alcohol tolerance) I got steadily more buzzed as we talked. I don't know if he noticed, but I tried so hard not to slur or say anything dumb. Maybe I succeeded, but I don't know. If I did appear that way, he was a gentleman about it. 

It was soon time to go and we drove back to the hotel. We were starving, but we hadn't had time to get anything to eat, and it was so late that we didn't think anything could be ordered. We had to go to bed hungry, but it had still been a good day! 

EDIT: We could have ordered pizza, but we only found out the next day.  Oops. We went to bed hungry for nothing.  We did learn, however, that if you order a veggie pizza while in Ireland, it comes with corn on it.  So...there you go.

BLOGGED ALONG THE WAY: ERIN GO BRAGH EDITION - SATURDAY, JUNE 11, 2016

We landed and got our luggage after going through customs. Why is it that you can be completely innocent of any wrongdoing, and the people in customs can make you feel like you have a dead body in your carry-on?
One of the first things I realized about Ireland is that air conditioning is not common! I knew that, but knowing isn't KNOWING. We'd been told that the weather would be cool, and I'd dressed appropriately for that, but when we got outside it was sticky and humid. It wasn't hot exactly, but the sun came out after a rain and everything felt stuffy. Bleh. I was exhausted, I'd been without a shower and was still in the same clothes I'd been wearing the morning before, so that felt gross.

Instead of going to our hotel, our tour guide took us to St. Patrick's cathedral, which was amazing.

It was old. Like, built in the 12th century old, which was hard for me to comprehend. It would have been more amazing if I felt like a human being instead of a sack of dead flesh in dirty clothes, but I enjoyed it the best I could. I'd seen pictures, of course, but being there was so much better. We took a few pictures and sat down while everyone milled around. It was still too early for the hotel, so our next stop was Christ Church cathedral, which was actually older than St. Patrick's!

 
I realized halfway through my tour that I was in a building older than my entire country, and had foundations older than even England, which was mind boggling. That sounds kind of dumb, but it was true. Being an American, and a southern American at that, I really think about places being that old. Sure we have St. Augustine FL and Savannah, but compared to the rest of the world, even our oldest stuff seems brand new comparatively!

We got back on the bus and finally, FINALLY, headed towards the hotel.  By now I was so tired that things had stopped feeling real and Steve and I kept nodding off on the ride there. We got a few cat-naps along the way, but nothing satisfying. When we got up to our room, we couldn't figure out the lights. Nothing would come on! We finally realized that you have to insert your room key into a slot on the light switch before the power would come on. Weird. Steve got in the shower, and I fell asleep face down on the bed. I slept deeply, but not nearly long enough. Then I got to take a shower and had a hard time figuring out the bathroom! It's not so different than bathrooms I'm used to, but the one in our hotel is a bit confusing simply because of the way it's made. The bath tub had really high sides, a which meant I literally had to climb into it. It was high enough that I was afraid I'd fall, but I didn't! I was so glad to be clean that I didn't care how high the sides were, I just hoped I wouldn't fall getting out.  So, showered, clothes changed, and still exhausted, I sat down on the bed and "closed my eyes for just a minute" and woke up two hours later. We were lucky that the only thing we had to be around for was the have dinner with the band downstairs at our hotel. I was much more rested, but still tired when we went down.

Dinner was fun, and I got to meet a few new people who were very nice. The food was good, but I ordered it out of curiosity more than anything. WTF is a loin of bacon? Well, when you see bacon on a menu here, it's just straight up ham. It might be from the same part of the pig as our bacon, but it was not bacon as I know it! It was delicious, though, so I'm not complaining. After dinner Steve and I went to St. Stephen's Green, Dublin to go to a pub with some other folks. There was supposed to be live music and we wanted to see a bit of the town, so we caught the train and headed over. We walked quite a ways until we ended up at a place called O'Donahues (that is probably not spelled right) and when you walk in, it's like Diagon Alley on the bottom floor. It's cramped and crooked and full of people, but the door to the pub was there. We want to the top floor and got a couple of pints (heh, pints. I like saying that.) and we stood there talking for a bit.

 
I didn't drink much, obviously, but we stayed there for a while.  We never heard any music, and it was getting late, so Steve and I broke off and headed back to the hotel. Alcohol on top of jet lag is no fun.  Our ride back was uneventful, except that a drunk guy sat down next to us on the train and asked Steve for a fag. Steve got excited for a minute (I mean, 20 Euros is 20 Euros) but then we realized he wanted a cigarette.  I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Steve actually couldn't understand what he was saying because the guy was slurring so bad, but I heard the one word and told him we didn't have one.  He looked kind of sad, but still sat there until the next stop. He stood up, said "see you later, kids" and stumbled off the train. I feel like we were rude for not being friendlier, but it was kind of weird.

By the time we got back to the hotel, we were too tired to do much more than fall out. I had no idea what day it was and I didn't care. I just wanted sleep. So that's what we did!

BLOGGED ALONG THE WAY: ERIN GO BRAGH EDITION - FRIDAY, JUNE 10, 2016

I'M GOING ON AN ADVENTURE!

I felt a great deal like Bilbo Baggins when I woke up this morning. I didn't have a magic ring or a quest to find a Dragon or whatever, but I was going on a journey. I was going to do a thing I'd never done before and travel overseas to Ireland!

Steve joined up with a new band called the Twickenham Winds, which is another community band, and they were going to go on tour in Ireland this summer. They could take family and friends along, and I qualified! Yay!

We got on the road mid morning, and for anyone who has traveled the road from Huntsville to Atlanta, you can probably guess there was a whole lot of nothing to see between each city. We only had one delay, a very bad 18 wheeler accident, but we made it to the Atlanta airport early enough to get checked in and settled at the gate way before we needed to be there.

There was a problem about the flight, though. I guess because the travel agent who made our plane reservations bought a big section of seats, Steve and I were not scheduled to sit together. I was unhappy about that, of course, because I don't want to take such a long trip seated next to a perfect stranger. Steve thought that we could get whoever was seated next to him to switch,
and he very kindly did, so we got settled in and went on our way.

One weird thing about this flight was that they kept giving us food. It's not a bad problem to have, obviously, but it was new to me. Twenty minutes into the flight they gave us a snack. A bit after that they gave us dinner (and gross, by the way.)

At least the cheese and crackers were good!

 After a while they turned off the lights so could sleep, but that was a joke! We were crammed into tiny spaces without hardly room to recline the chairs, so there as no getting comfortable enough to go to sleep. I might have dozed a bit, but that was all! It was a long, uncomfortable flight. One neato thing, though, was that we crossed the international date line and I watched it happen!

After about twenty years, we were almost to our destination and I found myself at what would have been about 2:30 am at home, staring at a bright blue sky and trying to put on makeup without a mirror so I wouldn't scare the locals when we deplaned.

TYPICAL ME

A few days ago, I found myself having a conversation with someone I didn't know very well.  It's always awkward when you are trying to get to know a person, because you never know what you should ask, or what might be inappropriate and certainly you don't want to get too personal with them accidentally.  Those of you who know me well probably know I'm going to ask the hell out of some questions, not so much to be nosey, but because I really want to understand them and know where they fit in the world.

Wait, maybe that's the textbook definition of being nosey.  Well, I don't meant to be nosey, if that makes a difference.  I need to know where to mentally file people. I have to know about them to do that, so I ask questions.

So we have our conversation and it was nice.  I found out a lot of interesting things, and as I was leaving I thought "Wow, we really learned a lot about each other today!" I kind of pushed the whole thing into the back of my mind and went on my way, but later something started bugging me about it.  The conversation had been nice and civil, I couldn't think of anything I'd asked that would have been inappropriate, I'd told them a lot about myself, too, so I wasn't asking anything I wouldn't have been willing to answer myself, but something seemed off.

That's when it hit me.  I'd told them a lot about myself, and that person had never asked me anything at all.  They'd never asked one question about me, but I'd just gone on to talk about myself, as if they'd asked all of the same questions I'd asked them!  It didn't occur to me at the time, because it just seemed natural to reciprocate answers, but now I wonder if they had even been interested in what I was saying at all!  Then I also realized that I do that a lot!   I can think of lots of conversations where I've done the same thing.

Look, you guys, I'm so sorry about that!  I don't mean to talk about myself so much!  I'm actually really embarrassed about it now that I realize what I have been doing.  I'll try, in the future, not to answer questions that you didn't ask.

Self realizations are never comfortable, are they?  Oy.

*SHAME*

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

1) For a while I was buying the reusable bags almost every time I'd go to the grocery store with the intention of being ecologically conscious and actually reusing them, but I'd bring them inside and forget where they were.  At some point, though, I located all of the bags and stuffed them into the back seat of my car.  I figured that the sheer number of them would outlast many shopping trips, and if I could just remember where I put them once inside the house, I could eventually carry them back out and start all over.

BTW, If you assume I neatly fold them and put them in some kind of container, bless your heart for thinking I'm that organized.  No, I have a tiny backseat just crammed with reusable shopping bags of all sizes, shapes, and affiliations. 

So Wednesday, when I had to go to Target after church, I reached back to find a bag of appropriate size (because ecology and stuff) and my arm got tangled in a strap.  I only had one hand free, so I started shaking the trapped arm to get rid of the bag.  It wouldn't let go!  I went from shaking that arm to waving it, to frantically whipping around because I couldn't get the darned thing off!  I even started going "EH! EH! EH!" because we all know making sounds helps us do stuff, right?  Honestly, it looked like I was having a fight with the bag inside the car.  When I finally managed to untangle myself, I looked up, and two people were watching me have a wrestling match with a reusable shopping bag.  I'm hoping I am wrong, and they didn't know what I was doing, but I'm pretty sure they saw everything.  I just gathered the tattered remains of my dignity around me and walked into Target without looking back.

Not my finest hour.

2) I am frustrated!  I think most of you know that I have an affinity for B.A.W. (Big Ass Watches) and I've worn a huge men's watch for a couple of years.  I really liked it because it had a wide band that was more like a cuff than a watch band, and the watch was attached to it by riveted straps.  It was just a cool watch, OK. Geez.

A few weeks ago the band came apart underneath the buckle.  No big deal, I figure, so I use some E6000 to glue it back together.  E6000 is what I use when I make jewelry, and it's supposed to permanently bond everything you put it on. It worked, for a couple of weeks at least, and then the band came apart again.  So I put the E6000 on it again, left it for two days, and then made a special trip to Michael's to buy implements.

You heard me.  Implements.  Hole. Poking. Implements.

I also got some heavy duty thread and some epoxy that cures with UV light. I was going to make that watch band WORK for me, goshdarnit!  Because of the way the watch is made, you can't just buy a new band, so I had to go to desperate measures! I poked holes, I sewed, I epoxyed (?) and I did it all over again!  I fixed that watch band and it is probably stronger now than it was before!  SUCCESS!

Then I went to triumphantly put on my watch so that I didn't have to use my phone as a clock anymore (I hated that so much) only to find that the damned watch had stopped, and because I'd so thoroughly "fixed" the band, I don't know how to get the back off of it to put a new battery in it.

So I had to buy a new watch.

Silver lining?  If you need hole poking implements, I've got you covered!

3)  Oh, my goodness, I almost had a rage stroke.

I happened upon an online article about a celebrity that said in an interview that chivalry was dead and that women killed it.  Granted, that sounds incredibly inflammatory (gotta get them clicks, yo) but when you read the article, it actually made sense in context.

Like an idiot, I went to the comment section.  I've been to that particular website before and I know that the frequent commenters there are liberal thinking and consider themselves feminists and stuff like that. Great! Awesome!  Feminists are a good thing.  I even consider myself one.  But...there were hundreds of comments, mostly by women, who basically tore the man apart and went on rants about how they can't stand when someone opens a door for them.  They're capable of opening it for themselves, thank you very much, and the fact that a man does such a thing -or anything that could be commonly considered chilvaric- must mean that they are actively trying to get you to have sex with them, and will get angry with you if you don't pay them back in that way for opening the door for you.

I'm sorry.  What?

Maybe it's because I'm from the south and southern people have a different idea about etiquette, but that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard.  I mean, maybe there are some misguided men who think that being a gentleman should be repaid with sex.  I don't personally know anyone like that, but still, I won't say that they don't exist.  However, when people just assume someone who is being kind, or polite, is doing so because they're being predatory in some way, well, that's just absurd.  The thing is, it became clear that a lot of the women commenting actually believe that this line of thinking makes them a very smart, very strong feminist in some way.  No.  It doesn't.  Some of the nicest, most gentlemanly guys I know open doors for me, and they were raised by awesome, bad-ass women who taught them to respect women.  I like it and I appreciate it.  If for some reason you have come to the conclusion that a man trying to be nice to you is only doing it to get into your pants, that doesn't make you an awesome feminist, that makes you an asshole.

If someone opens a door for you, go the f*ck through it and say thank you. 

ALARMED

Steve is a very heavy sleeper.  Very heavy.  For some reason, he has an alarm set to go off at an ungodly hour that he never hears.  It will wake me up, and then I have to shake him until he reaches over and hits snooze.  Yes, instead of turning off the alarm altogether, he just hits snooze and then we go through the whole process all over again 10 minutes later.

This happens almost every morning and it drives me crazy!  Even though I shake him awake enough to reach over towards the alarm, he doesn't fully wake up, which has led to all sorts of shenanigans such as repeatedly turning on and off the light of a larger, non functioning clock he keeps nearby, patting the table top without actually touching the clock at all, or my personal favorite, picking up the entire larger clock and pointing it towards the TV like a giant remote control, and tapping it as if he's trying to turn off the television.

Honestly, I'd probably think it was funnier if it wasn't waking from a dead sleep everyday!

Last week, though, was a new one.  As usual, the alarm went off and I shook him enough to get him to hit snooze.  This happened two or three times, I guess, and I finally just thought "Screw it, let it ring."  So I turned to face away from him, figuring that either he'd hear it, or I'd just kick him if it went on too long.

When the alarm went off again, I waited, and waited, and finally I tapped him with my heel and he started moving.  Only this time I felt his hand reach over and lightly press on the top of my head.  He did it twice, and I thought that he was awake and just teasing me, so I laughed.  He didn't respond, nor did he turn of the cursed alarm.  I said "What are you doing?" and he said "nothing" but the alarm still went on.  So I tapped him with my heel again, and he reached over and lightly pressed on my head several more times.  I laughed again, but then he reached back and turned the alarm off and immediately went back to sleep.

It wasn't until after he'd gotten up and was ready for work and we were talking about his infernal alarm clock that I mentioned that he'd been tapping my head and found out that he had no idea.  He hadn't been awake enough to know what he was doing. I guess the fact that I was waking him up by tapping him meant that he was trying to hit snooze on me!

We laughed and laughed.

Maybe you just had to be there. 

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING: BLOG & TED'S BOGUS JOURNEY

1) You guys...I have to tell you what happened to me on Saturday!

Actually, I think I've just oversold it, but it was kind of strange.  Imma tell you anyway.

Saturday I was helping out at our church's golf tournament.  My only real job is to make sure that the course gets paid after the tournament is over, but I usually help setting up the prizes and things of that sort.  We (two other church ladies and myself) were sitting under the porch of the pro shop organizing the stuff when I looked around and saw a man, covered in blood, shuffling towards us.  At first glance, I couldn't tell what was wrong with him because it looked like he'd spilled chocolate milk on himself. (Dried blood looks like chocolate milk, btw.)  But I realized when I looked at his face that he'd been hurt, and the chocolate milk was actually blood.

OK, for a moment...just a brief moment...when my mind did a waver and I saw that guy shambling towards us, bloody, dazed and slow, I thought my time had finally come.  I was going to be VINDICATED for all of the zombie apocalypse plans I'd made, and all the joking that people give me about my zombie survival stuff!  I was going to be able to stick out my tongue in the most sticking-out-of-my-toungiest moment of my whole life!  I was going to save us all from the undead and it was going to be awesome!  So, you know what I did?

I did nothing.  I sat there while a potential undead man came towards us and, for all I knew, was going to snack on us all, but I did nothing!  None of my survival instincts kicked in!  That was actually a good thing, as it turns out.  He was not a zombie at all, but he was a man who had just had a car accident and had sustained a bleeding head injury.  I suppose it wouldn't have been great if I'd beaten him to death with a chair while trying to destroy his head.

I did ask him, several times, if we could help him and he kept saying no.  I wish I'd helped him anyway, but he walked inside the store and one of the other ladies followed him in there to help and I didn't want to be in the way.  They called an ambulance, but the man refused treatment.  I wish he'd gone, because head injuries are no joke!  You can bump your head and think you're fine, and the next thing you know, you're in a coma or something. I should have helped him anyway and tried to talk him into going, but he was determined not to.  I don't feel good about my inaction. I hope the man turned out to be OK in the end.

Also, after that dry run, I'm probably going to be one of the first people eaten if the zombie apocalypse does happen because I'll be too busy asking one of them if they're ok and they'll just eat my face.  I need to write down my otherwise stellar survival plans and send them to people, so they will at least have a chance.

2) Do you remember a few entries back when I talked about the weird package I got in the mail?  Well, I don't want to say too much in case someone gets a similar package and starts Googling it, but suffice it to say that it was the best, most creative birthday gift ever!  The McGee family sent it to me, and I didn't actually get a letter explaining it until a few weeks later, so I got to puzzle over it for a while!  I basically got my own Scooby-Doo mystery in the mail and I loved it!!!!!!!  Thank you, McGee family!  Very well done! :)

3) I had to apologize to someone the other day and I still feel really bad about it.  I don't feel bad about the apologizing, but about what I did.

Have you ever gone into work, or any situation really, where everything just happens all at once and none of it is good?  It's not anything huge, but just a bundle of little annoyances that pile up until you just snap?  That happened to me last Sunday night.  I know that being a church secretary sounds like the calmest job in the world, and usually it is, but sometimes it's a huge cluster-frag and it's easy to lose patience with people because everyone, and I mean everyone, thinks that their issues are the most important thing and should be addressed immediately..

I'd gotten a call from the pastor asking if I knew where a copy of our insurance card for the church van was, because it had been in a small fender bender and the card couldn't be found in the van.  I told him where the copy was, but he couldn't find it.  I swore it was in the place that I put it, where I ALWAYS put them, and he looked, but still didn't find it.  That's kind of what started the carnival of poop that was Sunday evening, just trying very hard to walk someone through something and it not working at all.  Ugh.  So Steve and I left for church early so I could go in and find the thing, only when I got there, I couldn't find it either.  I looked everywhere.  Not only could I not find the card, I couldn't find any of the paperwork that we'd gotten with this year's insurance policy.  So, while a cop somewhere was demanding proof of insurance (and I remembered that we put the original card in the glove compartment) I felt like I was going crazy while looking for the thing. While I was frantically looking for the card, people kept coming into my office and talking to me.  I can usually handle that kind of thing, but the insistence that we find a card that seemed not to exist in the first place (it did) and people hovering over me asking if I'd found it yet, and people standing at my desk asking questions and talking to me while I tried to look for it, and then someone coming in to ask where the teacher for the class was since he hadn't shown up yet, just got the best of me.  Instead of just saying I didn't know where the teacher was, I snapped.

In words which I have not used since a whole other life ago, I snapped because "Bookie tired of ALL Y'ALL"

I grabbed the phone and called the teacher at home and basically left a message reading him the riot act about not being there and how the people in his class count on him, and all kinds of things that I wouldn't have said on a normal, non-harried day, and I said it in my nicest Church Lady Voice.  It was bad. That kind of thing is not my job at all.  I do not know what came over me, but I immediately felt terrible about it.  I couldn't do very much about it, though, because church was going to start and I had to be back in the A/V booth to run the sound. I had to sit through the music service and wait until preaching started before I could sneak out of the auditorium and call that teacher back and apologize.  I wasn't even mad at him, I was just frustrated at everything else and I took it out on him.  I really felt terrible. I know how awful it is for someone to do that to me, so I called and apologized and he was confused because he had let someone know he wouldn't be there and he hadn't heard my message and it was all just so embarrassing.  I don't want to be the guy who does things like that!  I don't like that guy.

We also never found the damned card. 

NICE (A QUICKY)

I had an appointment with my doctor this morning for a checkup, and after he'd gone over all of my stuff (barring accidents, acts of God, and jealous wives, I should live a few more years, at least!) we stood outside of the exam room and talked a bit. 

We always chat for a minute, but he was particularly talkative today while he was filling out my prescriptions. He suddenly stopped and looked at me kind of strangely.  He said:

"Wow, I've just told you a lot about myself today!  That's more than I've ever told.  How did you do that? You should become a policeman or detective.  I just wanted to tell you things.  Is that normal?"

How did I do what?  Maybe I have a nice face?  Maybe the girl who does my eyebrows makes me took perpetually interested in whatever people are saying?  I don't know, but he acted like he thought I had somehow tricked him into telling me his life story!  It was kind of funny, but I thought it was nice.

I hope people feel comfortable telling me things.

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING: THE BLOG AWAKENS

1)  When I went to the dentist the other morning, the dental assistant that was scheduled to do my cleaning was running a bit late.  I guess I look like someone who'll start eating the dental floss if left to my own devices, so they turned on the television for me while I waited for her to get there.  It just so happened that the station was turned to HGTV, and they were showing one of those awful real estate shows. This one was about people who wanted to buy homes on the coast.  Not vacation homes, but primary homes that were on the beach.  Great!  We all know that one day I want one of those, so I figured that if I was going to get stuck watching one of these damned reality shows, this one might be OK.  It was not OK. 

Let me begin by saying that I've never had to shop for real estate myself, so I don't know first hand what it's like.  I have been told that it can be a stressful, sometimes tense, activity.  You have to be picky because it's a huge, important investment, and there are probably going to be points wherein you and your significant other are not going to agree somewhat vehemently.  Why would you want to put something like that on television?  There is no way that you are going to come out of it looking good.  Probably a lot of it is editing, but agood bit of it was not. Oh, dear Lord, and they also tried to be funny.  It was cringeworthy.

These people obviously had the means to buy very nice houses, but their arguments about things that were wrong with the ones they were being shown were ridiculous.  I get it, they want what they want and there isn't really anything wrong with that, but they just sounded so silly.  Rich people whining that the walk to the beach from their back door is just a bit too long is not a thing that I want to hear.  I know it's dumb that these people aggravated me so badly. I recognize that.  I just...I don't usually use the word privilege very often, but these folks didn't seem to recognize just how good they had it, and their fussing and complaining about these dumb things on freaking television in front of God and everyone just bothered me.  Also, the real estate agent kept taking these people to houses that were way out of their budget.  Why would she do that?  If you have a budget, and you tell them that, why would they show you a house you can't afford? I got stressed out just thinking about it and wound up talking to the TV like the people could hear me.  I'm sure the other patients were just loving that.

I think I'm just annoyed way to easily! :)

2) I had a terrible dream the other night, and I couldn't escape from it!  I won't go into much detail, because I really don't remember a lot of it, but when the dream started, I remember thinking "Oh, no!  Not the intruder dream again!"

For the record, I don't remember having a dream like this before, so that was kind of odd.  However, sure enough, it was a dream that someone had gotten into my house and was trying to hurt me.  It was one of those dreams where I couldn't get away from the man, no matter how hard I tried.  He was supernatural in some way, so no matter what I did, I couldn't stop him.  Then I either kind of woke up, or was dreaming that I was waking up, because the next thing I knew I was lying in my bed with the remote control to the light in my hand, trying desperately to turn the light on.  It wouldn't work.  I couldn't get the light on no matter how hard I tried.  Then I slipped right back into the dream and at that point I was fighting the intruder off.  I wasn't alone, although I don't remember who was with me, and we all had weapons. I finally got a clear shot and stabbed him in the chest with whatever it was I was holding.  He didn't die.  He just kept coming!  It was so scary.  I finally, finally, woke up, but was in crazy town for a few minutes.  I was convinced that the intruder was actually in the house and I knew I couldn't sleep anymore until I found out for sure.  I got up and went to the living room (no intruder, of course) but Steve had forgotten to set the alarm which freaked me out all over again.  I set it and wound up falling asleep sitting up in my chair.  That dream was not at all fun.

Although, on a lighter note, the intruder who was scaring me so badly was Tom Cruise.  I'm sure IRL, he's a lovely man, but in my dreams he was a scary mothershutyourmouth.

3) I thought something was terribly wrong with me last week.  I'd go to bed, sleep all night as far as I know - except that night with my Tom Cruise dream, and wake up with these horrible black, puffy circles under my eyes. It looked very much like I had black eyes, although I had not engaged in any fisticuffs that I remembered.  I actually started to get scared something was really wrong.  My skin is so pale that any spot or bruise is very obvious, so I started looking up what could cause something like that to happen.  As I said, I was sleeping all through the night, and although I was tired during the day, it still didn't explain why I looked so sick.  I even went through some trouble to find and buy special make up to neutralize the color under my eyes. I have a checkup with my doctor this week, and I was gearing up to tell him that something HAD to be wrong with me when I finally figured it out. 

Three Words:  Cheap. Ass. Eyeliner.

I wear dark eyeliner, and it doesn't always all come off when I wash my face.  I had gotten a sample of some black eyeliner and I'd been using it.  Apparently it was running down under my eyes at night and staining the skin.  Instead of looking like makeup, it faded just enough to look like bruises, and the stain wasn't rubbing off when I rubbed my face.  I feel like such an idiot.

Silver lining, though, at least I figured it out before my doctor did a bunch of blood tests on me!  Go Me! :)

4) My mom told me something that my dad used to say, but it doesn't sound like him at all.  Has anyone ever heard the term "Pee like a tied coon?"  Apparently it means you pee a lot.  I don't know.  I know it's crass, but it tickles me!  I like finding out bits of info like that.  It makes my parents seem more like real people, rather than just parents. 

POSTAL

 I got the weirdest thing in the mail the other day.  I've been kind of hesitant to talk about it because I had to check it out first, but as far as I can tell it's nothing nefarious, just strange. 
I got home from work the other day and saw a package sitting on our stoop.  I had been waiting on a package, so I was expecting to open it and find a bunch of art supplies I had ordered.  Instead, the box was full of packing peanuts and a wooden box that had an envelope sitting on top. I had never seen anything packaged like that before, but I'd never ordered anything from this particular company before, either.  I opened the envelope, thinking it would contain a packing slip, but it was a letter that started out "Dear Kelly." OK, then, maybe it was a very friendly art supply company. 

The letter was long and kind of hard to read because the handwriting was very cramped, but I figured out right away it wasn't a packing slip of any kind.  It was from a guy named Tom, and it said he didn't know me, but he needed to warn me, and he'd been given my name.  He said he needed to relieve himself of a terrible burden and turn away from his memories of "this terrible woman." It also said that fate had its reasons for wanted me to hear the story.  It didn't make a lot of sense, but it sounded like a warning.  I thought I'd been the recipient of some kind of chain mail, but it didn't tell me to pass anything on.  Like I said, it was weird. 

 I immediately started to document everything I did from that point on for Twitter, because if I'm going to wind up with a human organ, a box of bees, or anthrax I want people who know me to know how it went down.  There are too many people who'd think I was up to shenanigans were I to be found dead with something like that on me.  The next step was to actually open the box, which I was hesitant to do.  I was home alone!  The box look like it had been left over from some kind of old industrial use and it didn't give me a clue of what it was and it could have had anything in it! 

 I managed to pry it open (and it wasn't bees, thank goodness) and it was full of old newspaper packing.  Underneath that was an old book with a burn or stain on the cover, a metal thing with symbols on it, and a missing poster of some kid I'd never heard of. 

I was grateful it wasn't anything disgusting or dangerous in there, but still...WTF?  The newspapers didn't give any info away, because it was just classified ads that didn't seem to be specific to one place, and the book was all scribbled in and full of newspaper clippings.

I didn't really know what to do with all this.  I mean, I've always wanted to get a package in the mail that had some kind of mystery in it, but I had always thought it would be something Indiana Jones-esque where I'd have to grab my passport and fly to some other place to solve a mystery.  This was more like someone with a weird nephew who had gone nuts needed to get rid of evidence!  Still, though, I was intrigued.  Tom had evidently known someone I knew, so why not send it to me, right?  I still got my cool mystery box from an unknown sender, so I was kind of digging it, creepy or not!

I finally managed to read the book, which turned out to be a journal of some kid who evidently thought he was either haunted by a ghost, or possessed by something.  The newspaper clippings were obits, apparently from the same family of people, but I still haven't put it all together yet.  I guess it could be a joke of some kind, but it's really freaking elaborate, and I don't know anyone who'd go to that much trouble to play a prank on me.  I'm still trying to go through everything and see if I can figure out what's going on.  I haven't gotten anything else from Tom, so maybe this is it?  We'll see!

I'll let you know if I figure anything else out about this! 

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING 6: THE BLOGGANING

1) This morning while I was getting ready for work, I reached over and grabbed one of the sample bottles of perfume that I keep on the edge of my vanity.  I have a lot of these tiny bottles as a result of being a member of Birchbox and because I'd sent off for some samples from a new perfume company I found on the web. The vial didn't have a name on it, just a number, and I couldn't smell which one I picked up through the glass.  I was in a hurry, so I didn't think about it before I sprayed it on and immediately realized that I'd put on one of the samples of men's cologne that I'd been sent from that new company.  Since it's one I don't usually wear, I haven't gone nose blind to it and I have been smelling it all morning.

I normally wouldn't have a problem with that, but y'all, this is a sexy smelling men's cologne and it's distracting!  I love it when I come across a good smelling man. I used to make my boyfriends uncomfortable at times because if they just naturally smelled good (maybe it's a pheromone thing?) or wore cologne that I liked, I'd pretty much latch myself to them and just sniff them for a while. That actually sounds pornier than it should, but it's true. 
 
I think that because I don't see very well, my sense of smell is heightened more than it should be. Because of that, I am affected by scents almost more than any other thing. I can't help it!  It's a very primal thing.  Of course, with great power comes great disappointment. If I don't like the way a person smells, it can ruin the way I feel about them. If I really don't like the way they smell, I can't be around them at all.

Good grief, I just made myself sound like a golden retriever. :) Well, at least I don't bark. OK, well, sometimes I do.

Anyway, so this cologne is awesome and would smell good on a man, and Steve doesn't like wearing cologne, so I need someone who will volunteer to wear this stuff (I don't even know what it's called) so I can just stand by and sniff you.  That's not a weird request, is it?  Anyone?

Eh, I can probably find someone on Craigslist!  ; )

2) I hurt myself this morning when I was getting some Jell-O for my lunch.  I hurt myself on Jell-O.  How is that even a thing that can happen?  That's more embarrassing than the time I hurt myself crocheting.

3) Last Saturday night, Steve, Anthony and I went out together for the evening.  We started out at the food truck rally, which would have been cool if the lines weren't so darn long!  The only things I was interested in trying had ridiculously long lines, and we didn't have a lot of time, so I ended up having a hipster, Margarita popsicle for dinner.  It was very good, hipster or not! I should have fancy popsicles for dinner more often! :)
After that, we went to a play Anthony had heard about.  It was very unusual.  I don't mean it was bad, because it wasn't, it was just very different from what I'm used to.  For starters, it was held in an old, historic house that I didn't even know existed called The Lowry House.  It was a really beautiful house, and I wish I'd had time to tour it, but there were a lot of people wondering around and I didn't want to lose my seat, so we sat and waited for the show to begin. We saw "Bluebeard: the Trial of Gilles de Rais" which was the story about the man who inspired the fairy tale Bluebeard.  Only instead of killing his wives, he seems to have been a child rapist and serial killer.  Maybe.  No one really knows if he actually did those awful things or if he was only accused of them and then admitted to them so that he wouldn't be tortured.  The play was set up like a trial.  It was actually interesting, if not a bit long.   The main guy (Gille de Rais) was a fantastic actor, and as far as I could tell, they were all local folks. so it was both odd and impressive.

Once it was over, all of the actors stood outside in a kind of receiving line so that you could talk to them as you left. I know it was rude and I shouldn't have done it, but I felt too awkward talking to them, so I just ran past them all and hid in the car. I'm an awful person, but I was just too shy.  I might have shouted that they did a good job as I went by, but I can't be sure any of them heard it. :(

4) I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: How did the couple in The Pina Colada song not end up in a screaming fight when they met up with each other?  Basically, we are led to believe that they are perfectly OK with the fact that each of them were caught getting ready to cheat on the other one, but there wasn't a problem because they still ended up together at the end?  I call shenanigans.

I think they needed couples therapy, not rum drinks.

5) I accidentally killed a turtle over the weekend.  I feel really terrible about it.  Its ghost will probably haunt me.  It will haunt me slowly!

AN INTROSPECTIVE QUICKIE

Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't just grow up.

I'm a ridiculous, silly person and I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing.

I know so many people who do amazing things, and I'm just here...making dumb jokes, telling weird stories and making videos and pictures for friends.  That's not a very useful thing.

I feel like I should apologize to everyone I know for not having it more together.

Sorry, you guys!

I feel like I'm running out of time.

Maybe one day I'll figure it out.  I hope so.

A QUICKY: A SILVER LINING

Last week I finished my physical therapy! 

I can definitely tell a difference in how I feel, so I know it helped.  My arm doesn't go numb nearly as often and I have learned some stretching exercises to help if my neck and shoulders start hurting again.   I still have some pain, but so far, it's not nearly as bad as it was before.  It's more annoying than anything, really.  It's like sitting in a chair that has a big button in the upholstery, right at the top of my back, and no matter where I turn I can't get away from the button.  But hey, it's better than not being able to feel my hands, so I'll take it! :)

The silver lining I spoke of isn't that I was done with therapy, though.  It's better!  As I mentioned, the doctor said I have bone spurs, degenerative disk disease (which sounds worse than I think it really is), and arthritis in my neck. Apparently, the arthritis has made it possible for me to tell when it's going to rain!  My neck knob (or the C7 vertebra prominens if you're nasty) now functions as a weather detecting device!  I never thought that was a real thing.  You always hear of old timers that say they can tell the weather by their knee or elbow or something like that. It's really a thing, though! I can attest!  Every time it gets ready to rain, my neck starts hurting.  How funny is that?

So if you ever see me rubbing my neck, don't plan any picnics!

James Spann wishes he was that accurate.  

(Also, just like Karen, my boobs can tell the weather, but that's a different process.)

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING 5: ELECTRIC BLOGGALOO

1) I had a weird and kind of upsetting dream the other night.  I'mma tell you about it.

The other night I dreamed I was dead.  I didn't die in the dream, because when stuff like that happens a person tends to wake up completely.  No, I started off the dream knowing I was dead.  I could see my coffin, I could see my body in the coffin (although even in my dream I wouldn't get close to it or look at it in detail because it was giving me the serious wiggins) but I could still walk around and interact with people.  I guess I was dreaming I was a ghost, which is a new one for me.

I don't remember many details, but I do remember that I understood that I was going to be lying in state three days.  I only had those three days to do whatever it was I had to do as a walking dead person.  On the third day was my funeral and the minute they closed the coffin lid, I'd go on to wherever it was I was going to go.  It was a stressful dream.  As I said, I can't remember what I actually did, but one thing I know I was trying to do was look for people I loved so that I could say goodbye, only I couldn't find them all.  I was rushing around until my funeral (and I didn't recognize ANYONE who was there. Boo, you guys. Seriously.) and when it was over, I knew they were going close the lid, so I ran up and tried to keep that from happening.  I didn't make it.

When the lid closed, I blinked and realized I didn't go to any afterlife that I'd ever heard of. I wasn't in heaven or hell, I was in a library of some sort.  It didn't have books, but it did have computers.  I finally asked someone what was going on, and they told me I was in the year 3017. I'd been sent to the future!  I was horrified, because I knew I was too far gone to ever see anyone I knew again, but I jumped onto a computer and tried looking up information on my friends and family, only I couldn't find it because it was over 1,000 years ago and no one had kept records that long.

It was a sad dream and I didn't like it.  I did get to go to the future, though, so that was kind of interesting.  Silver lining, I guess.

2) Steve and I went to a very sweet wedding on Saturday!  His band director's daughter got married at a place called Hudson Family Barn, which was a lovely, lovely spot.

I wasn't exactly expecting the place to be as nice as it turned out to be.  I had designed their wedding invitations and when she told me where she was getting married, she just told me it was in someone's barn.  Now, I'm not so far out of the loop that I didn't know that barn weddings are a thing.  I have Pinterest, after all!  I was literally expecting a barn that had once held animals and farm equipment, but as it turns out, it was a gorgeous spot that (I think) had actually been created to hold events.  There were three buildings, all designed to look like old farm buildings, but in a good way.  It's kind of hard to explain, so here are a few pictures I took:

 It really was a great spot for a wedding and the day was slap your eyes out gorgeous, so everything turned out beautifully!

There was only really two things that bothered me about the whole thing.   Let me just get this out of the way first: I personally think that it is absolutely tacky to take pictures with your phone during someone's wedding.  I know, I know, that isn't a popular opinion, but people holding out phones ruins a lot of the professional pictures AND since some people haven't figured out how to mute their phones, you hear camera sounds during the ceremony.  I'm a big believer of having fun during your wedding ceremony if that's what you want, but still, it's a sacrament and should be treated with at least a little solemnity.  When the bride walked down the aisle, at least 5 people in front of us (we were on the third pew, so I have no idea how many people behind us were doing it) held out their phones to take pictures. There was a brass ensemble playing and it was interrupted by camera sounds.  Even when the music stopped and the preacher started the ceremony, someone's mawmaw held out her phone and started snapping away, sound on her phone turned all the way up.  It literally sounded like:

"Dearly beloved, we are *CAMERASOUND* in the sight of God and *CAMERASOUND* *CAMERASOUND* *CAMERASOUND* and I believe it was the Apostle John who said *CAMERASOUNDCAMERASOUNDCAMERASOUND* bond between two people who...."

It was so annoying and rude! Maybe the bride and groom didn't care and therefore I shouldn't care, but I don't like it when people have no manners!  Then there were the people sitting in the seat directly in front of us. Oh. My. Word.  These people got on my nerves!  When we arrived and sat down, as I said, we were on the third row.  We were sitting towards the middle, and the man of the couple was sitting ahead of us, but got up and went someplace.  I thought he was one of the photographers, because he had a big DSLR camera around his neck, but he never moved to take any pictures before the wedding started.  He came and sat down right in front of me.  I mean, he blocked everything.  Then his wife (I guess) walked over and he pulled out a big, blue towel and spread it over the pew.  Now, the pews were a little splintery (I lost a new pair of hose that day) but they weren't dirty.  This lady came wearing a white pants suit, and I guess she figured that the outside was just too filthy for it.  Even the mothers of the bride and groom, wearing their fancy dresses, didn't drape a towel over the pew.  It didn't really annoy me, exactly, I just thought it was tactless and made the pews look junky, plus it made me feel as if they were making a big deal about having to be outside or something. How about you don't wear a white suit to an outside wedding? (Or at all, but that's just my humble opinion.)

Immediately after the ceremony began, both of these people pulled out cameras.  He had his big DSLR and she had her phone, and while she took pictures, the guy was filming on his big ass camera and he didn't care how much he was blocking everyone behind him.  I couldn't see the couple get married because his big, damn camera and his big, damn head, kept getting in my way.  I made a dramatic recreation so you can see what it was like for everyone behind him:

Today the rude wedding man will be played by Baby Chewbacca.

 

Just imagine Chewbacca holding a big, bright camera and waving it around his head and completely blocking what was going on.  I actually did that thing where I sighed really loudly, hoping he'd hear and maybe have a little shame, but he never did.  Steve thought I was disapproving of the ceremony and just being rude, but really, I was just trying not to punch this guy in the back of the head.

I did have one moment of embarrassment right before we left the venue.  The groomsmen were tearing down the wedding decorations and carrying them back to the storage shed, but I wanted to get a picture of the arch before they got to it.  I walked up ahead of them and sort of bent down to get the shot I wanted, when a big gust of wind blew the back of my dress pretty much over my head. I'm just thankful I was wearing a slip and decent underwear!

But everything else was great and I'm glad the wedding went so well.  :)

 3) I woke up at 2:00 AM with a weird desire to learn how to make edible sequins.  I don't know why.  Anyway, I looked it up online and those are actually a thing!  Who knew?

WAIT, I REMEMBERED #3

3) Because I know a couple of you were concerned, I was going to let you know that my dingy gray funk is now just sort of really pale gray.  It's not so much of a funk anymore as it is a film over everything.  A much thinner film than it was, though, thankfully. 

This has been a tough one, but I'm definitely feeling better than I was.

My inner music is almost back, though, which is good.  I now that sounds weird, so let me explain.  I usually always have music in my head.  It's a good thing, because when it isn't overpowering stuff (like Fat Bottomed Girls was literally stuck in there for days) it's just a good thing to have inside.  It gives me a beat to walk to and something to hum. It's a happy thing. Sometimes, though, when things get funky (in a bad way) the music stops and it gets too quiet in my head and everything feels too heavy.  That isn't a thing that happens a lot, so when it does, it's just a little scary.  It's like being in a house when the power goes off, so instead of that background noise of the little machines doing their thing that we get used to, you hear the weird sounds of your house settling.  I don't like it when my house settles. 

Buuuut, recently it's been like someone inside of me has been rolling a radio dial really fast.  So I can hear it, but I can't really catch it yet. I did have a moment when I was getting ready this morning when "Me and Mrs. Jones" came up on my play list and I almost had it back!  So, I'm getting there.  I'm hoping it sticks.

Thank you for caring, though! I'm glad you do.

Oh, and while I'm here...

4) Do you know why I was late to work today? 

Just as I was getting into the shower, the guy who does our quarterly bug spraying thing showed up.  When I say I was just getting in the shower, I mean I was completely ready to get into the shower, only the water wasn't warm enough.  I had to turn off the lights, stand for a minute or two wrapped in the decorative outer shower curtain in case he passed by the bathroom window until I could actually stand to get under the water, and I just stayed in the shower until Steve told me he was gone.  Steve was kind enough to make himself late for work so that he could let me know when it was safe to come out. I was in there a LONG time.

I'm glad the hot water held out.

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

1) I went to see Batman vs. Superman on Saturday night and I liked it.  I don't care what anyone else says, it wasn't terrible.  It was dark and kind of humorless, but it wasn't a bad movie.  If you want a funny superhero movie, go see one from Marvel!  I even liked Ben Affleck as Batman!  So there, world!  Someone out there liked it.

I didn't have the best time while I was in the theater, though, because a teenage couple decided that they were going to sit right next to me and carnally explore one another during the movie.  I was so grossed out.  It was a weird situation, because even though there was an almost entirely empty row just ahead of us (we were in the back row of lower seats) and, in fact, many other places they could have sat, these two goobers decided that sitting right next to me was the best course of action.  When they first came in and sat down, I thought they were preteen kids coming in with their parents and they just didn't want to sit right next to them.  The boy sat down next to me and then the girl sat next to him.  I was uncomfortable, because I don't like strangers sitting that close to me when they don't have to, but what could I do?  Then they got up, moved down a seat to leave one in between us, but then got right back up and moved back.  Then the guy raised the armrest in between them and the girl pretty much lay down in his lap with her feet up on the seats ahead of us. I glanced over and saw how old they were, realized they were on a date, and prayed that they'd just watch the movie and leave each other alone. 

That prayer was not answered.

Look, I was a teenager once and did my fair share of movie theater kissing. However, when I knew I wasn't going to be watching the movie, I didn't sit right up in front of the theater, pressed up against a perfect stranger while I was doing it!  They were practically in my lap!  It was like they saw me and thought "Oh, she looks nice and squishy, let's go lie on her while we are publicly inappropriate!" They were literally so close to me that I could smell what she'd washed her hair with, and the grease from whatever restaurant they'd had dinner at. I could feel their body heat, and that is closer than I allow a lot of people I know and like to be to me.  Really, if I want to feel your temperature through your clothes, I'm really going to want to have to be that near to you at my own discretion.  I'm also going to expect you to take me to dinner and I at least know you're first name! Oh, and they were kissing SO DAMN LOUD.  It was gross. So gross.  I was so uncomfortable, but I didn't know what to do!  I wanted so badly to be mean and say something rude to get them away from me, but I couldn't do it! Times like this are when I really wish I hadn't had politeness instilled into my brain. I simply didn't know what to do.  Had I known that there were empty seats on the other side of my friend, I'd have just moved, but I thought the seats were full.  I didn't want to have to drag Steve and Anthony off somewhere else in the middle of the movie. I was stuck.  Y'all, by the time the movie was over (2.5 long ass hours later) I was afraid I was going to need to go to a clinic for an STD panel and pregnancy test.   Oh, and to top it off, when that dumb chick wasn't attached to her boyfriend's face, she was texting, and the light from the screen was in my eyes. So...yeah.  Good times.

But Wonder Woman was in the movie, and she's been my favorite since I was young enough for Underoos, so I was glad for that! 

Bleh.  I still feel unclean.

2) So, I've been going to physical therapy for my back/neck and it is actually noticeably helping!  The woman is from my church, and the pastor's daughter, and she is the DPT at the clinic I'm going to.  I'm glad for that, because I feel more comfortable knowing the person who is helping me.  She was glad that I wanted to come to her clinic, because where she's located is in a pain management center and she told me that a lot of the people who come in to be assessed are people with chronic pain and on really hardcore pain meds, and that there isn't really anything she can do to help them. 

I am someone she can help!  Yay!  What she is helping me with is to stretch the muscles in my neck and upper back, which is helping me regain the natural curve to my spine. I have to do a lot of weird neck stretches and posture exercises. She also applies this heated thingie (that is it's scientific name, I swear) to my neck and back, and she digs around in my muscles with her exceptionally bony fingers to undo knots and realign some kind of thing I have in my neck.  If it wasn't for the more painful things, it would almost be like going to a really unusual spa for an angry massage. My favorite thing, though, is the E-Stim machine!  She applies these big pads to my neck and back and sends electric pulses into my muscles. It was the thing I was worried about before, thinking it would be like electro-shock treatment, but it is very nice and relaxing.

In fact, when I told the pastor that I liked it, he brought his own at-home e-stim machine to let me try out.  His daughters bought him a small one to use after he plays golf.  I was willing to give it a shot, but unfortunately, it wasn't a nice as the big, professional machine and I couldn't quite get the setting right and it was actually kind of painful.  I reached over to turn it off, and I accidentally turned the knob the wrong way! That was incredibly unpleasant!  I did manage to turn it off before I did myself any more damage, but I think I'm going to leave the e-stim treatments to the professionals. :)

3) There was more, but I can't remember what it was!  I'm sure it was entertaining, though. :) I'll probably remember it later.

THE NIGHTMARE SOLO

Have you ever had one of those nightmares where you walk into school, and someone grabs you by the arm and tells you that you're late for your presentation, and you're all "What presentation?" and you get pulled into an auditorium full of very serious people who are interested in your presentation, and you still have no idea what you're supposed to be presenting, and then you look down and you aren't wearing pants, and it's not in any of the good ways that not wearing pants can be, and everyone is looking at you and you still have no idea what you're supposed to be presenting, but it is obviously very important?

(Wow, holy run-on sentence, Batman.)

Well, that happened to me on Sunday.  Ok, not exactly that same thing, but very similar.  I didn't have to make a presentation exactly and I at least had an idea of what I was supposed to be doing, but I was pulled into a situation that I was not altogether prepared for and it wrecked me for a while.

I actually wasn't wearing pants, though,  but since I had on a dress that didn't seem to matter.

When our minister of music picked out the Easter music earlier this year, instead of picking out a proper, ready made Easter cantata, he picked out three songs that were specifically arranged for a choir.  One of those songs was called "This Blood" and it is a beautiful, very powerful, very long and kind of complicated song that was a soloist backed with a choir.  Originally, the music minister wanted me to sing it and I had agreed to do it, but I was very intimidated.  It wasn't exactly in my range, and it had a lot of ad lib sections that I didn't know if I could pull off.  After I thought about it, I asked Jim (the music minister) if he thought me doing it was actually a good idea. Number one, I'm not exactly in the choir.  I am the sound tech and I really enjoy doing that job.  I've sung with the choir as a featured singer, but I never know if people get offended that he'd pull me in to do a solo since there are so many other people already in the choir that are available. Number two, it's such an awesome song, I didn't want to screw it up. I suppose he must've had second thoughts about me doing it as well, because a week later he told me that he'd asked another choir member to sing it instead of me.  To be honest, I was relieved.  I really liked the song, and wanted to sing it at some point, but it was supposed to be the climax of the Easter music service and that is a lot of pressure, even at a relatively small church such as ours.

Jim is such a sweetheart and he was convinced that by asking someone else to sing, that he had hurt my feelings. That wasn't the case, but he was genuinely worried about it. He fretted so much that I finally told him that I'd learn the song on my own as the understudy of the woman he'd asked to do it.  We do not generally have understudies for our choir, so I mainly offered to do it to make him feel better about the whole thing. I didn't really bother to learn the song, because what are the odds that the woman wouldn't be able to sing on Easter Sunday, right?  I mean, I knew the song well enough from sitting in the sound booth and listening to her during practice, but that was pretty much it. I knew enough of it, but not enough to perform the song.

The soloist Jim had picked had been working her ass off for weeks learning this song.  She had the range, but she mainly sings country/gospel songs, and this was not in her comfort zone.  She was very worried that she couldn't do it, but she could do it and she was coming along very well during practices. She practiced during Wednesday choir practice and sometimes on Sundays in between services. She was very dedicated.  She was also terrified of singing this song, but she had a lot of encouragement, and I think she was feeling better about the whole thing.

Saturday afternoon, I got a call at about 2:00 PM from Jim telling me that the soloist was sick and she didn't know if she'd be able to sing, and he wanted me to be ready to sing just in case she wouldn't be there.  I believe my initial reaction was a silent, but very intense "F*ck!!!!!"  I didn't say that to the music minister, of course, but I felt it in every cell of my body.  I'd been telling him this whole time I'd learned the song, but of course, I had not.  As I said, I knew it enough, but not enough to perform it, but I told him I'd be ready, just in case. After we got off of the phone, I went to my computer and played the song on repeat for two hours.  I didn't know all of the words, so I had to pull them up on the iPad to look at while I was making strawberry pretzel salad (the word salad doesn't make sense here, but just go with me. At least it didn't catch on fire.)  to take to my mom's house for Easter lunch.  So in between making a horrendous mess and getting covered in jello and whipped cream (also not in any of the good ways that can usually happen) I learned the words to the song, tried to figure out the ad-lib parts, and tried not to have a complete nervous come-apart.  I also didn't know if I'd actually have to do it at all, because for all we knew, the lady would be much better by the next day, but that didn't help me feel better about it!

I barely slept the night before because all I could think of was how badly I could screw up the song if I had to sing it.  My whole thing was this: church music can be incredibly important in setting the tone for the service, and I know from experience that if you really, really screw up a song, that will be the only thing people will remember when everything is over. I didn't want that to happen since there would be people visiting because of Easter and I didn't want to take away from the service.  I was also supposed to sing "Via Dolorosa" before the choir songs, because that song is kind of a tradition for our church and I know how to pronounce the Spanish parts. Y'all, I was so scared.  I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, and it shouldn't have been one, but I'd gotten so psyched out about everything that I was convinced I was going to ruin church forever!

When I got to church the next morning, sure enough, the soloist couldn't come because not only was she sick, but she had completely lost her voice. My nightmare solo was a go.  Oy.  I only got to practice twice before services and then everything happened.  I got through "Via Dolorosa" just fine, and went to stand with the choir after that and pretended (I mean, literally, I mouthed the words to the song like a freaking muppet) to sing the next song with them. By the time it was time for me to do the other song, I'd worried so much that I broke through to the other side and managed to sing the song without any major incidences.  I know that sounds anticlimactic and everything, but I was so relieved that I didn't ruin the song. I'm sure it wasn't as good as it could have been, and that if I'd practiced the way the original soloist had done, it would have been much, much better, but I didn't mess it up at least.  I was so riled up by the whole thing that by the time I got back to the sound booth to finish the services, I had no idea what the pastor talked about. I honestly don't remember big chunks of Easter Sunday services.  That's just how nervous I had gotten.

Anyway, as it turned out, for a last minute, barely practiced solo, it wasn't terrible and I didn't ruin Easter.

And not ruining Easter is a good thing!

BTW, this is the song I sang yesterday, only we used a recording, there wasn't any hand waving that I know of, and our choir is much smaller.



 

RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

1) For those of your wondering, I have another update about my back!  Aren't you excited!

I believe I mentioned that I was going to have to have an MRI done.  I've had numerous scans done because of my lungs, so I wasn't worried about that bit of it at all.  At least I wasn't worried until they called me back and handed me a booklet that just so happened to mention that people who are claustrophobic might have a problem.  Sigh.  Nice.

I had thought it would be an open MRI, but I was mistaken.  However, I put on my brave pants and decided that since it was only my neck that would be scanned, I'd mostly be outside of the machine and would be able to stand it.  The radiologist gave me a set of big, 1970s DJ earphones and said we would listen to the new Loretta Lynn album and everything would be over in 10 minutes. So I lay down on the cot and the lady got me settled, handed me a panic button, and then she inserted me into the depths of Hell's belly button.

Y'all, it is well established that I am violently claustrophobic. I've gotten claustrophobic is small places and I've gotten claustrophobic in huge places that just happened to be full of people.  The only, and I swear the only, way I'm usually able to handle it is if I can convince myself that I can get out if I have to.  Sometimes I have to literally get up and leave, but mostly as long as I know I CAN leave, I can deal.  When she slid that cot into the MRI machine, I was in there up to my knees. I think I was in there for 14 years, and every second of that time I was in a state of high adrenaline fight or flight mode. I immediately started to panic, but I stayed still because I knew if I freaked out and pressed the panic button, they'd just stuff me back into the machine. I clamped my eyes shut and counted forwards and backwards, tried self hypnosis, and did everything I could to stay calm.  At least 10 times I came within an inch of screaming and clawing my way out of the thing, but I barely managed to stay inside. She finally slid the cot out, and it was only when I tried to stand up that I realized those giant earphones were attached to clamps that basically had my head in a vice.  If I had known that, I really don't think I could have stayed in there.  At least before, I thought I could get out, but if I'd known I was clamped in, I would have probably Hulk-smashed my way out of the thing and gone running off into the night.  After it was over, I shook for a solid hour.  It was terrible.

But the scans turned out to be super awesome.  I saw my spinal cord and medula oblongata, and also saw that my disks are slightly bulging into the spinal cord, which is less awesome, but still, the fact that I can see it is pretty neato. I even got to keep the scans, so when we finally get another chair and can have a friend over, I'mma pull those things out and show them off like vacation slides!

2) So, my blue funk has faded a bit and now it's just sort of a dingy gray, but the funk it still around.  At least now I can make complete sentences and just look at otters on my own.  I don't need to post them here.  I hate feeling like this, but I still can't seem to shake it off.  (Cue Taylor Swift.)  I don't know.  I'm ok sometimes, when I'm distracted or talking to someone, and other times I just sit staring at the wall and feeling sad.  Haha, it sounds weird to type it out like that.  Very emo of me, no? The weirdest part of it is that my music is gone. That has happened twice before, and it came back, but it's really quiet in here when it's gone.

I've mentioned that I don't like to feel feelings anymore. One day, when I don't feel so weird and protective about it, I'll explain why so that you folks will get that it isn't just something I say and you will understand me a bit better. All I know is that I usually have my armor on and it protects me and I can just let it all bounce off. I get dented, of course, but not too badly.  Sometimes, though, something just whacks against me hard enough, my armor falls apart and I open up like a busted can of biscuits and feelings go everywhere. With a bit of perseverance (and duct tape) you can eventually get the biscuits back in the can, but it takes a while and stuff gets messy.  I'm in the process.

Thanks to those of you who were concerned, though. I appreciate it. I'll be fine. I always am!

EDIT: Heh...I'm a busted up can of emotional biscuits.  Emotional Biscuits is going to be the name of my new band. 

3) So, yuck, enough of that.  Look! Puppies!

4) I went to see a movie by myself the other day!  I've done that once, years ago, because I got stood up for a date and figured maybe the whole evening shouldn't be a complete loss.  Steve was working last weekend, so I decided I'd go see 10 Cloverfield Lane because I wanted a excuse to get out of the house.  It wasn't bad.  It was more like an episode of the Twilight Zone, or X-Files than a movie, but it was entertaining.  I've realized I don't mind going to movies alone, but it is better when you have someone to talk to afterwards so that you can pull yourself out of it a bit. That is true, especially when the movie is creepy, and this one was.

At any rate, to date, I have finished an entire tube of Chapstick on my own without losing it, and I went to see a movie alone!  At this point, I might as well run for President because I'm on a roll!

I've been in sort of in a blue funk and I can't seem to shake it off.  So today we get otters. One cute "hug me" otter and one "grumpy otter." The grumpy one looks like I just told him I failed Algebra even after he spent a lot of evenings tutoring me.

(Steve's grandma used to make the same face that the grumpy otter is making.)

AN UPDATE

A couple of entries ago, I mentioned that I'd hurt myself somehow, probably last year, and had probably pinched a nerve in my back.  It only made sense, seeing at how my arm was going numb and everything was tingling.  Even the DPT I know said it was probably just a twisted disc or something similar, so when I went to my GP and he told me to go see an orthopedic (I think I said an osteopath, but I didn't know the difference) doctor, I figured that I'd be directed to the nearest chiropractor and be popped back into place!  Easy peasy.
Not so much, actually!

Yesterday I had my appointment. I honestly had no idea what was going to happen (I made sure to wear decent underwear just in case) but all they did was take some X-rays of my spine.  It was actually a bit anticlimactic, to be honest, but they took the things and sent me back into the exam room to wait on the doctor.  By this point, I was feeling as though I'd been repeatedly stabbed in my neck with a butter knife, but I had faith that they'd come in and twist me around a bit and fix it all.

The doc came in showed me my x-rays (I have lovely bones, just so you know) and as it turns out, I had not hurt myself and my problem is just a tiny bit more complicated than a pinched nerve.  It took her less than a minute to figure out what was wrong. She pointed out that my cervical vertebrae (which were way, WAY higher up in my body than I had thought) had a problem. Apparently, I have degenerative disc disease, arthritis and bone spurs! All in my neck!  That's kind of an embarrassment of riches.  You'd think stuff like that would get spread around in my body more.  She also pointed out how straight my spine was.  I was a tiny bit flattered until she said that was because my muscles were pretty much in a state of pissed off contractedness, which is a bad thing.  She did tell me, happily, that she didn't think I'd need surgery, but that they'd treat me with anti inflammatory drugs, muscle relaxers, and epidurals.

Haha, no. I know what an epidural is and I don't think I want that unless there is just no other way.

The muscle relaxers were a bit of a letdown, but the anti inflammatory thing works well for a while.  I also get to have another MRI done tonight, but at least this time they don't have to inject me with anything, so SCORE!

So what does all this mean?  Well, it could mean nothing.  The pain can just go away on its own. That would be number one on my wish list!

It can also mean I might have to be on medication forever, which would be OK as long as it helps.

It might also mean I will eventually lose the ability to do fine work with my hands if the nerves that are currently being irritated get damaged, which would be sad, but it would keep all of you from having to pretend to like the stuff I make for you!  Honestly, how much more jewelry and crochet can you really be polite about?

I might also eventually end up in a wheelchair, which would suck, but I'd save so much money on buying new shoes!

In a nutshell, I have a whole spectrum of possibilities!  I'll actually find out more next week when I got back to see the doctor.  Let's hope it's a lot more of the pain going away on its own and a lot less of the wheelchair thing. That's what I'm hoping anyway.

So, you know, finding out all of this was just a cherry on top of one of the best weeks ever for me!  If it gets any better, I'm going to be tempted to fling myself in front of a train out of sheer delight!

I did find a silver lining, though!  If I wind up not being able to use my hands for things, I'm one step closer to that helper monkey I'm always talking about!

I'm going to name him Henry.