BLOGGED ALONG THE WAY: ERIN GO BRAGH EDITION - MONDAY, JUNE 13, 2016

They're trying to kill us. I just know it.

We had to get up early to have breakfast at the hotel, and I barely made it. We finally got some food into ourselves and we headed off again. This time we had an appointment to go to Malahide Castle, which was located somewhere in Egypt, if the time it took to get there was any indication. 

One thing I've noticed about where we drove around today is that it looks a lot like home, vegetation wise at least. I could almost imagine we were back home, until we got to the big-ass castle. We don't have those back in Alabama! It's funny.  At home when you drive through a rural setting you might see a falling down barn. Out here it's an old, falling down castle or Norman outpost building.  Very cool.

When we got to Malahide, I immediately went in to take a foot picture and sat in a puddle of water on a bench.  There is nothing better than a wet butt while walking around, is there?  Haha!  Since I had no idea what we were supposed to be looking at, I spent quite some time photographing an old, fallen down chapel thinking it was the castle before someone set me straight.  What?  Like I'm supposed to know the difference?  We went on a tour of the castle, which was impressive on the outside, but on the inside it didn't look like I expected. It was more like just another big house.  A freaking nice 18th century manor house, but still...not very castly.  There were two rooms that did look like I expected: One was a room with reed flooring and lots of carved oak (I think) wall panels, the other was the dining room, which was impressively covered in paintings and had a big table and a minstrel's gallery!  It also might have had a ghost, but I didn't see him. :(  There has been a disappointing lack of ghosties on this trip!

 Not Malahide Castle!

 From here on down...Malahide Castle!

By the time we made it through that tour, I started feeling sick. Like, really, really, sick. I don't know what was wrong, but even drinking water made me feel nauseated. I took some medicine, but it didn't help much. Unfortunately, we weren't going back to the hotel any time soon, so I had to suck it up.  The bus driver dropped us off at Trinity University library. because we were going to see the Book of Kells! That was one of the things I studied about when I was in college, so I was excited to see it. Luckily, I started feeling a little better by the time we made it into the exhibit hall.

Trinity University Library and a LONG ass line.

Again, some people genuinely do not know how to look at an exhibit, and I barely got a glimpse of it before a bunch of people crowded around and hung over it and just stayed there.  What are we, animals? Geez. I finally decided that I was going to be rude too, so I just kept sliding over until I'd displaced everyone! HAHA!  FACE!! 

The book was awesome and so beautiful up close. It is really hard to believe someone wrote and drew it by hand, because it's so intricate. There is a very famous depiction of Jesus in that book that has luscious, golden curls, which made me laugh.  Still, though, it was a gorgeous piece of handiwork. I finally let someone else slide over and we went over to see the library proper. It was  huge! I noticed that the second that everyone walked in, they got quiet! I don't think that you ever stop being quiet in a library. :) So many, many books.

We left there and had a few hours to kill in Dublin. We didn't really know what to do, but we walked around looking at what was there on the streets closed off to traffic. We got lost once and ended up in a weird mall where you had to pay to go to the toilet, but found our way around again. I was feeling much better by then, and Steve was hungry, so we stopped in a little place called Bailey's and had a very good ham sandwich and chips (or fries if you're nasty.) We were actually having a great time and suddenly I started feeling sick again. It was the weirdest thing. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I'd been poisoned somewhere along the way. I've been kidding about actually being poisoned, but in hindsight that's the only excuse I have.  Not poisoned on purpose, obviously, but maybe something at breakfast was bad?  Who knows?  We stayed at the restaurant until I felt well enough to leave and went back to grab our tour bus.

By the time we got back to the hotel, I thought I was going to die. We had another thing we had to go to later that night, and I didn't know if staying behind would be an option, so I got ready and lay on the bed, and tried very hard not to die. When it was time to go, I walked downstairs, but had to run back up because I thought I was going to be sick. I didn't, thank goodness, but I felt terrible.  I even fell down in the vestibule because I couldn't keep my balance when I stepped from the hard floor to the carpet, and Steve had to help me up.  I knew it would be rude not to go along with the band to our next activity, so I got on the bus and dozed on the way to the Abby Tavern in Howth (not pronounced like it looks, folks.) where we were going to hear some Irish music and see some Irish dancing. It felt like a long, long drive.

Thankfully, once we got there, I started feeling a bit better and I managed to sit through the whole thing, even though they kept bringing me food. I was able to eat a little, but not much. I really enjoyed the music and dancing, though. I wish I had known the words to the traditional songs they we're singing. The three musicians were very good and funny, so the show was very enjoyable. The dancing was whatever Riverdancing is, so that was fun. I'd love to learn to do that, but I'm pretty sure I'm too old and too fat! We also sat next to two guys from the band that we didn't know before, and had fun talking with them. Well, actually, Steve and I had sat down at a table and no one sat with us, so they felt sorry for us and invited us over. It was fun, though. I made the mistake of making a joke about being a stripper. There was a part at the end of the show where the musicians asked if anyone in the audience had a talent that they wanted to showcase. We had a couple of cloggers with us who danced, (and I can only assume that clogging is a bastard step-cousin to Irish step dancing because it looks similar to me.) and I asked what would have happened if I had told them I was a stripper, and one of the guys took it and ran. :) He was funny about it, so I didn't mind him joking on me. By then I was feeling human again, just in time to go back to the hotel! 

We turned in as soon as we could. I have no idea what was wrong with me, but it must have passed because I haven't felt the same way again. Huh. Weird.

(EDIT: I just learned I didn't cross the international Date Line, I just saw the sun come up. Little bit of column A, little bit of column B... Oops!)

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!