For someone with nothing to say, I sure do blog a lot.

Every time I hear Michael Jackson, I'm immediately 8 years old again.  I remember being thrilled by his music.  I'm ashamed that I denied that fact when he was accused of touching little boys.  I hope he didn't really touch little boys. But if he didn't, man...talk about getting a raw deal.  He was the biggest thing ever and then he was lower than poop. 

(Jimi YouTubed Human Nature and left it playing on a loop while he went into the next room to pack up the Wii we've been borrowing from Karen for the last few months.  So that's where the Michael Jackson thing is coming from.  I'm not one of those obsessed fan sort of people.  I promise.)

I wanna get in the zone and write until my fingers are numb.  But I have nothing to say.  Nothing I've not already said a million times before.  


I've felt like a bottomless pit this weekend.  I keep eating and eating and eating and I don't want to stop and when I'm too full to eat anymore I think about what I'm going to eat the next time I'm hungry.  I tell myself this is okay behavior because it's almost 'that time of the month', but in reality, this is never okay behavior unless you want to get fat. 


But at least I walked the dog this morning.  And it was a good long walk, too.  


I brought home billing that should've been done Friday and now it's nearly 10 p.m. on Sunday and it's not looking good for the billing getting done tonight.  

But I probably will have a bowl of ice cream.  Not for a while, though.  I'm still full from dinner.


Stacy called earlier and told me Aunt Cill is getting married in Gatlinburg this weekend.  She thinks we should ride down for the wedding.  If we didn't have plans to be at our spot camping for only the third time this year, I'd be in.  But alas, I really miss camping.  And I don't know if Cill wants guests at her wedding or not.  I'll call Stacy back tomorrow and get the full scoop.  I'm happy for the happy couple, though, and wish for them a happily ever after.  (And I'm wondering how Grandma's gonna take this?  They weren't telling her before...but they can't keep a marriage secret, can they?  The plot thickens.)


I'm going to start walking the dog every day.  And meditating.  Or praying.  Whatever.  


I need some focus.  I feel like I'm lost, floating, drifting.  I need some direction.  I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, but right now, in this moment, it's not enough.  I need to do more.  I just don't know what that is yet.  


Walking and being quiet.  It's a start.

I nearly broke my arm. (Patting myself on the back)

I took the dog for a walk.  A long walk.

My goodness, I'm a good doggy mom.

And now I have license to eat pretty much whatever I want today, right?  Because I totally exercised.

Note to self...

Jimi and I went to the movies with my Momma tonight.

I love spending time with my Momma.  She's funny and smart and pretty and just an all around good person.  She's classy.  (Everyone (Jimi) says i'm just like her, but I didn't inherit that particular trait, sadly.)

The movie we saw had lots of "Fuck You!"s and boobs and people having sex.  OH!  And some no-nudity scenes from a couple of gay porn videos.

Basically, it was everything you'd NOT want to see in a movie you're watching with your mom.

She did not enjoy it.  I was "eh".  Jimi liked it.  (This is especially funny because he originally was going to splinter off and see his own selection, something about some kid fighting his new girlfriend's evil ex-boyfriends? because he was convince that our chick-flick selection would be lame. Whatever.)

There were a lot of middle-aged couples in the theater tonight.  I think it must have been Silver-Anniversaries-and-above date night in Louisville this evening.  Which is cool.  Date nights are important.

After the movie, we walked up a short stretch of Bardstown Road and back, passing a 20-something street preacher twice.  He really loves Jesus.  That's cool.  We all need something to be passionate about.  No one else wanted to stop and listen, though, so we just kept on walking.  Then we went to the Valu and Momma bought some mangoes and tomatoes.  Jimi bought a beer and some cube steak, thinking he'll use it to trick me into eating hamburgers.  I ate the cube-steak burgers once.  It takes weeks to work myself up to the idea of it.  And then he goes and springs it on me?  I'll get through this somehow.  (Did I mention I'm a little fucked up when it comes to food?  No hamburgers...well, NO pressed meat of any kind, really; i.e. hamburgers, meatloaf, large chunks in the spaghetti sauce or taco meat, meatballs.  That's only the first rule.)

But back to the title of the blog, Note to self...always say "Yes" when Momma invites you out somewhere.  Momma is great company and I should jump at every opportunity to share her company and learn a little more about this awesome woman who made me.

A 20 minute drive is not the end of the world, you lazy heifer.

Natalie's Sleep Schedule: UPDATE!!!

I haven't slept well a single night this week.  Tonight's the night.  I'm going to stay up until I can't hold my eyes open any longer, then I'm going to take a WHOLE sleeping pill, none of this 'half' bullshit, and I'm going to sleep hard and heavy for 10 hours.  And then I will be like a whole new person.  That's the plan.

Sometimes I feel bad about writing such mundane shit, but then I remember the title of the blog is "My Blog Is Boring" and don't feel so guilty, because it's not like I didn't warn you.

Current facebook conversation:

Me

that's awesome

it's such a nice night!

10:43pmRob

Totally.

I'm trying to get one of my internet girlfriends to coem hang out but she's being weird for some reason. Her loss!

Well, my loss, but whatever. haha

10:44pmMe

ha!

so move on and invite over the next one

10:44pmRob

Well.

umm

I'm on #3. heh

10:45pmMe

uh oh

10:45pmRob

I waited too long, didn't know I would have a free Friday

10:46pmMe

just keep moving through the list

someone will be tired of the bar already but not ready to go home

10:47pmRob

I like how sleazy you are, that's what I'm going to do. Thank you. haha

10:48pmMe

I'm a hell of a helping helper!

Jimi and I went to the Kentucky State Fair tonight with Steve and Maria.  Thanks to exhibitor's tickets Stacy so generously passed along to us, it didn't cost us a dime to park and admission was only $2/person.  Stacy entered several pieces in the Fair this year, the first time she'd ever entered, and her ceramics piece won second prize!  I was so excited for her.  We didn't spend a lot of time looking at any particular exhibits, or doing much of anything, really, except eating, which was our main goal from the very beginning, after I saw Stacy's red ribbon.  We did see the cows, and the sheep, and the goats and the honey and the plants and the tobacco and the nuts and fruits and vegetables and giant pumpkins.  We only stayed a few hours, and were home by just after 10 p.m.  We're old and boring.  (!There's that word again!)  

And now I'm blogging and Jimi's watching Japanese girl-band music videos.  

No wonder my Momma says we're odd.

I'm gonna sleep well tonight.

Thanks, in part, to the fact that I slept not at all last night.

And the knot that's been hanging out in my gut for the last three weeks?  It's gone, finally!  The meeting is over, and I didn't even get yelled at once!  In fact, I was told I'd done a good job.  Fuckin' A! 

So I had 2 beers at dinner.  (The COO had 2 scotch & waters, so it was totally fine.)  And I ordered a $6.50 piece of apple pie to go (and it's the size of a NERF football.  And comes with a side of caramel.).  And then, because I didn't want to be all "Boss, I've only got one beer left because I drank 4 last night when I was up working until midnight thirty and then I drank another one in the thirty minutes between the time we got to the hotel this afternoon after the meeting and then met back downstairs to go to dinner with the big bosses.  Could you maybe stop at that gas station so I can grab a 40?", I walked my fat ass to the Kroger down the way.  Hold on...let me get you a picture...nope, too far away to photograph with my stoopid blackberry.  So I walked that far to get a six pack of busch light, knowing i wouldn't be able to drink more than 3.

or maybe I will...

And now I have blisters on my heels.  No shit.  Those stupid strappy sandals cut into the back of my foot something awful and I'm a little angry about it.  The shoes are cute, but they suck for anything more than walking out to the front porch to smoke a cigarette and then coming back inside and reclining in your chair. 

I really didn't sleep at all last night.  I saw every hour on the clock.  And now i've not talked to Jimi since a few emails sent during the workday.  And that irritates me.  I want to talk to him.  I don't have a way to contact him.  Grr.

I think it's time for bed.  Back up at 6:45 tomorrow morning, another few hours of meetings, more driving, lunch with the Cincy crew, then, blessedly, home sweet home. 

I can't wait to be there again.  With him.

I hate stoner humor just as much as the next guy...

but dude, my room number?  420. 

I had to laugh.  (But I had to wait until I was away from my boss.  He wanted to LOL, too, I could hear it in his voice when we exchanged room info, but he was polite enough not to make me uncomfortable.  Because we both know the facts.  But we both try not to address that particular elephant in the room.) 

So now, here I sit, in room 420 at the Holiday Inn Express in Columbus, OH, sipping on my first beer of the six-pack of Leinenkugel's Oktoberfest (what was that about this being a dry road trip?) that I had my boss stop at the gas station so I could procure (what was that about not being a drunk in front of your teetotalling boss?) with a stack of billing that still needs to be completed before lights out (it's 8:43 right now) and a host of emails that must be addressed (because my stoopid blackberry died before we'd left the Louisville Metro city limits making it impossible to keep up with the flow of incoming messages) and all I really want to do is curl up and go to sleep.

It's been a long day.  We left at 12:30, but didn't get on the road for another hour due to delays (dropping my car at home, stopping by his house so he could get an extra change of clothes, lunch).  Then we stopped at the Cincinnati office for an hour so I could meet the people with whom I interact almost every day yet had no faces to put with the personalities.  That was fun.  Then we just drove, and drove, and drove.  The conversation was good.  It usually is with the boss.  He's a good person, even if he is one of THOSE.  We can't all be completely awesome. 

We had dinner at a local pizza franchise that has been his favorite since childhood.  We split a pepperoni, and it was good, even if i would've preferred less pepperoni.  Then he stopped for the beer, we got to the hotel, got our room assignments (giggle) and said adieu.  And then facebook nearly didn't let me log on because it didn't recognize the computer from which I'm internetting.  But I got logged in, and now I really do have to go do that effing billing and finish with those dumb emails so I can go to sleepy time. 

G'night Moon!

OH!  And did I mention that I'm so ghetto that I'd filled the bathroom trashcan with my beer and ice before I noticed there's a mini-fridge under the TV?  No?  Cause I am, and I did. 

Hi ho, hi ho, it's back to Ohio I go.

I have to attend a meeting in Columbus on Wednesday.  Thinking about it makes my stomach hurt.  I'm fearing the worst.  (Not getting fired or anything crazy like that - I'm afraid they're going to be mean to me or yell at me or confuse me and make me look dumb and feel dumb.)  But I've got two cute outfits to choose from for that morning, so maybe if I look good I'll feel good.  Confidence is key, right?

I'm pretty sure this is the first time Jimi and I will be spending the night apart since we moved in together in July '07.  That's jacked up, isn't it?  Co-dependent much?  (Me, not him.  Though he's not too far behind me.)  I'm not happy about this aspect of the trip, either.

I need to remember to take my book, plus a spare, since I'm almost finished with this one.  And I already packed a sleeping pill, in case I'm just bored out of my mind and ready to give in and go to sleep at 8 p.m.

I feel unprepared and inadequate.  I hate this feeling.  Dumb work.  If only I could win the lottery.  All my problems would be solved.  Except for the new problems the sudden windfall created.  But I could take just as much as I needed and then give the rest away and all those problems could disappear too.

I like to daydream about winning the lottery. I don't buy tickets, though.  I don't think about it.

I'm hoping I'll at least get a steak dinner out of this.  I mean, if Maggie will buy me a filet, my boss should certainly be willing to.

This trip will be a dry one.  My boss doesn't drink, and while it can be fun to get drunk on overnight trips with coworkers, laughing at the Applebee's bar until they close and then giggling in someone's room till 3 in the morning, splitting a six-pack of Mike's Hard Lemonade and Hostess Fruit Pies - well, my boss doesn't drink, and I certainly won't be showing my inner-alcoholic to him first-hand, alone, with no one else to help take the heat off me when the front desk calls a third time asking you to please keep it down, the guest next door has an early meeting tomorrow morning, in just a few hours, in fact.  

At least, this is my goal.  DON'T GET DRUNK AND SHOW YOUR ASS WHILE ON A ROAD TRIP WITH YOUR BOSS.  A good goal to have.  Everyone needs goals.

Kim says the darnedest things...

She yells from her office, "Ladies, I don't know whose tampons those were in there on the back of the toilet, but I totally used one!"

The salesman waiting in the lobby looked mortified.  Kim just laughed and turned a little red. 

Shit like this keeps me coming to work each day.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to Cincinnati we...um, went.

We got up super early yesterday morning and headed up to Cincinnati, where we arrived 5 hours earlier than planned and so toured the Newport Aquarium before meeting up with our dear friend Maggie and taking her Jungle Jim's and buying a bunch of groceries and then going back to her place where Jimi cooked a gourmet dinner while Maggie and I loaded the entire contents of her basement into the magically expanded rear compartment of Jimi's truck (in which, have I mentioned?, the AC blows crazy cold). Then we went to a movie and dinner at a 5-star restaurant before magically snapping our fingers and ending up home, snug as bugs in rugs before dark.

Obviously, I'm making that shit up.

We were due into Cincy at noon.  I crawled out of bed at 10:30.  After my shower (which took longer than normal, of course, because it's Saturday, and that means I can wear capris or shorts, which means I have to shave my legs.  Only just past the knee, though - no one else will see so it'll be fine.), I sent dear, sweet Maggie a text:

"I know it's a shock, but we're running late.  New ETA approx. 1:30"

She immediately called me, and of course, she was sweet and kind about our lazy ways.  We were on the road 20 minutes later, and the trip was smooth, considering the AC in Jimi's truck went out a few weeks back.  Thankfully, yesterday was cool and overcast, with the sun only peaking out for short periods, and the humidity really wasn't bad.  And we didn't blow a tire.  So the trip was fine.

We met up and Maggie led us to her new apartment.  She's moving in a few weeks from the house she's lived in for the last 21 years to this modern "apartment community".  It's a great place and I'm so glad she found a space in which she's going to love being.  We're driving up the weekend after she moves to help at whatever tasks she puts us to, most likely painting and unpacking and opining and laughing.  (We do the last two best.)

After we measured the new place (ever the planner, this will aid her in planning where she's going to place the furniture), she treated us to lunch at a local steakhouse.  Here's the thing, though:  I thought WE were buying HER lunch.  So here's what I ordered:

Something-Pear Margarita     $8*
     *I'm guessing.  I didn't see a price when I ordered it, but it came with a little shaker thing with a "refill" drink.
Flo's Filet    $15.49
with asparagus on the side     $1.49

And I tried to order a loaded baked potato on the side, but Maggie had ordered two (one for now, one to go) because it was the only side she was interested in, so she told the guy to bring me her to go potato instead of adding $2.29 to the bill.

So when she reached for the check, I was all ONOUDONT.  I told the waiter to bring a copy of the check and not let her pay, but she ended up paying the bill and I was all IMSORRYIMAPIG.  I felt bad for the on-a-whim margarita.  I don't even like margaritas, really.  I was feeling extravagant and the pear part caught my fancy.

(Jimi, of course, ordered wisely, choosing only a baked potato and a bowl of french onion soup.)

So, after she treated us to the tasty lunch, we went back to her home, where she basically said "HERE - TAKE EVERYTHING IN MY BASEMENT!!!".  But she said it in her super sweet voice, laughing and smiling the whole time.  Jimi was like a kid on Christmas morning when she showed him the tool room.  He was thrilled about the post-hole digger.  We made out like bandits with shelving, sawhorses, outdoor tables, and an awesome butcher-block table that weighs a million pounds.  "HERE - TAKE IT, TAKE IT!!!  CAN YOU USE THIS?!  YOU TAKE IT!!!"  We felt like we were robbing her blind.

AND THEN, we're heading out, saying our good byes, and she's all:  "HERE, I BOUGHT SOME BAGELS FOR YOU GUYS AND YOU SHOULD TAKE SOME HOME WITH YOU".

I think we're going to visit Maggie every weekend from now on.

We'd planned to be up there longer and maybe even do at bit of shopping at IKEA or Jungle Jim's or Trader Joe's, but reality was, after the truck was packed, it was PACKED.  There was no squeezing anything else into that vehicle.  As it was, I rode halfway back home with the cooler wedged uncomfortably between my legs and the center console, until Jimi stopped for my much-needed potty break and found a way to clip it in with some jumper cables to keep it from sliding and hitting him in the head after he wedged it in behind his headrest.  So yeah, we were going to stay later, but after sweating my ass off loading, unloading, then reloading the truck, I was exhausted.  I wanted a nap.  And I think I'm a bit...um...whatever it is where you don't like being outside of your own home for long periods of time.  I only don't feel that way when we're camping.  I think it's probably a little fucked up, and there's probably something a little wrong with me, but I'm not concerned yet enough to go see anyone about it.  So we headed back home around 7.

And then we got back to Louisville and Jimi took the exit past the one that would've gotten us home most quickly (so I believed, because it was the most comfortable route in my mind), but he insisted his way was just as quick or quicker.  And we got all the way to the intersection where we were to turn onto our street, and the intersection was blocked with 5 or 6 police cars and several uniformed officers standing in the street directing all cars to u-turn and head back the opposite direction.  Across the street, I watched vehicles coming from the opposite way turning right onto our street, and I asked an officer, pointing, "We live right there, can we just drive through here and go home, please?"

"No," he barked, "You have to turn back and go up ashland or woodlawn and circle back down 3rd.  We've got a 5K race that's about to start, this is going to be shut down for 30 minutes, then it'll open back up, then it'll shut down for another 45 minutes or so."

This is 9:15 or so at night.  It was dark.  Who does a 5K race after dark?  Without posting any signs or notices through the neighborhood at least a day or two in advance?  (Oh, and did I mention?  3rd street was the "shorter" route I'd preferred, but I managed not to say ITOLDYOUSO.)  After we doubled back and circled around, we saw that there was some sort of street party/festival thing going on that had most of Southern Parkway blocked off.  If I wasn't so sleepy, I might've considered putting Finn on a leash and walking him down there, but I was tired and not interested in walking and there were a lot of kids and I didn't have any cash or know anyone.  So instead, I came in, played with the puppy, read a bit, checked my Facebook, and went to bed at 11.

One of these days, I really will go to the Newport Aquarium.  One of these days.

SPEAK YOUR MIND, EVEN IF YOUR VOICE SHAKES.

Traffic jam

This is what happens at a quarter after 5 when the only entrance/exit on the property requires crossing two set of railroad tracks and a train decides to stop...blocking the only entrance/exit on the property.

It's even better if you came in an hour early and had hoped to go home early and found that to be impossible because of the train.

YAY

The "Mosque" at Ground Zero

I posted this on my Facebook page last night:





It's 12 minutes long, but any good American would take the time to watch it.


My boss and I were having our usual morning chat session this morning, and I asked if he'd had a chance to watch it.  He told me he hadn't been on Facebook in days, so I gave him a brief synopsis.


Now, my boss and i get along remarkably well, and have a lot in common.  Our brains work in  much the same ways, but please don't take that to mean we have similar opinions on most things, because we don't.  I'm about as liberal as they come, and he's staunchly conservative.  When I finished telling him of the video, the jovial mood that had been flowing through the room suddenly became serious and rather muted.


"I wouldn't watch that," he said, deadpan.


He's one of THOSE.


He's one of the guys saying that building this community center is insulting to the memory of the victims of NINE ELEVEN.  He's concerned that if this community center gets built, millions of terrorists will be all "YAY!!! We got into their backyard!!! YAY!!!"  He doesn't care that there's already a Mosque a few blocks from the site where the twin towers stood, nor that it's been there since before the twin towers were built.  He doesn't even want to watch this video, not even for information purposes, not even to possibly gain another foothold on refuting those fucking liberal assholes that think this is okay.


I don't get it.  I don't understand that level of close-mindedness. In the words of Andy Dufresne, "How can you be so obtuse?"  I just don't get it.  The backlash against the building of this community center is incendiary and cruel and unAmerican.  It's fear mongering.  It's classless.  It's hateful.  And I don't want to live in a country where people like that are in charge and make the rules; especially not when that country claims to be "Land of the Free" and touts its "Freedom of Religion" rights as one reason it's better than the rest of the world.  


And it really shakes me that someone I admire so much is a part of the population which I view as the cruel, fear mongering, hateful, bad Americans.  It makes me sad.  It makes me think less of him, and I hate that.  


Watch the video.  And if you feel the same as my boss afterward, please don't tell me about it.  I can't stand to have my bubble busted any more today.    

My house is quiet.

Jimi and J are off to the grocery to buy milk and Little Debbies.  They're buying other things too, I guess, but those are the only ones I care about.

And I just realized I'm reheating leftover skillet lasagna, but he went to the store to buy hot dogs and tater tots for tonight's dinner?  Are we having 2 dinners?  First dinner?  Second dinner?  It's not unheard of, just unusual when we're not camping.

This is why we're fat.

I feel as though I have nothing of substance to write about.

I came home last night and found that my plant lights were burned out, even though they were only 3 weeks old. I took them back to the store from which I'd purchased them and was all, "Um, I bought these three weeks ago and they're already burned out."  He handed me two new bulbs and I was on my way in less than 2 minutes.

That is what I call a positive shopping experience.  No waiting, no exchange of money.  Just in and out.  Easy peasy.

God, I'm lazy.

I'm tired.  SO tired.  I went to bed at 9:30 last night, and slept mostly through the entire night, which is more uncommon than not.  And still I felt for most of the day as though the only thing I wanted most in the world was to curl up and take a nap.  I got home and took a nap.  And I'm ready to go back to bed.

I would, too.  But he's bringing back Little Debbies.  And this is why I'm fat.

Goals are important

My goals for today:

1.  Don't kill any co-workers.
2.  Leave an hour early.  (I came in an hour early.  This makes it okay.)
3.  Get replacement bulbs for my plant lights.  Make those emmeffers who sold me the ones that burned out in 3 weeks replace them for free. 
4.  Don't have a melt-down at work.
5.  Eat leftover tuna casserole for dinner.


Goals.  They're important.

The OTHER Roommate

I turned 30 in April.  My boss, who is without a doubt the coolest boss evar, got me this:

(The zombie, that was the gift.  I'm the one in blue.)

I named him Turner.  He was the star of my Super AWESOME 30th Birthday Partay.  (Wherein I asked everyone to dress as a zombie, ninja, or pirate.  That's where the boss got the idea for the zombie-gift.  These are the only costumes that appeared at the party.  I'm the zombie in the middle.  Kim was a zombie clown, kinda:

But they're pretty awesome, so that made it okay that everyone else sucks and wouldn't dress up in the middle of April.)

Since the party ended, Turner has lived behind the chair in the front sitting room.  He scares Jimi and I every now and then, even though we know he's there, but the best reaction comes from unwitting guests who don't expect to see a haunted-house-quality zombie bust coming out of the floor behind the chair in which they're sitting.

J, our new roommate, keeps forgetting he's there.

(Here he is again, in front of my desk at work:

He's super scary.)

She claims she peed herself a little this last time.

I'm a bad person for laughing, aren't I?

And then there were three.

Our friend, J, has fallen on hard times and needs a place to crash.  We have a 1600 square foot house, of which we are using only approximately 400 square feet.  She's moving in today.

I'm not sure how I feel about this.  I am a creature of habit, and my habit doesn't typically involve interacting with people other than Jimi after I get home.  I'm afraid I'll either be a cold, heartless, silent biotch, giving off a "IF YOU TALK TO ME I MAY CUT YOU" vibe, or that I'll try to be all "HEY, YOU'RE HERE!!! LET'S HANG OUT" because I'll think that's what she wants and then I'll resent her for taking up my valuable "silent" time.

See?  I really am crazy.

And I like being able to walk around the house naked.  Not all the time, I'm not one of those.  But I do like to get out of the shower in the morning, dry off, hang my towel, and walk my happy naked butt down to the basement where my clothes all live.  Pick out the day's choices, walk my happy naked butt back upstairs to get dressed.  Jimi bought me a fabulous robe for Christmas the year we met - I've not seen it since we moved into this house and that concerns me since it's bright orange and kinda hard to miss.  Now I'm going to have to find it.  And wear it.  All the time.

Is it completely effed up that this minor inconvenience is turning me into a whiny baby?  There's something wrong with me.  I'm a bad person.

And then there's the fact that we're slobs.  There's no polite way to put that, and I'm not going to try to qualify the term.  We're slobs; and any mental images you're able to conjure, well, our house has probably looked like that at least once.  And now we're going to have to try harder to not suck as bad at housekeeping.  And I really suck at housekeeping.

She's only here for two months.  That's long enough to change a habit, right?  Like, maybe we'll get used to picking our shit up off the floor.  Maybe we'll get used to putting our shoes away.  Maybe it'll become habit to do the dishes every night instead of waiting for them to pile up so that nothing more can fit into the sink, not even a spoon.

And one day, maybe pigs will fly.

For my 100th boring blog entry...

I was going to tell you about how I got a nickel-sized rug burn on my big toe last night.

But then I had the most incredibly shitty day at work.  Like, a classic soul-sucking whore sort of workday.  It commenced in my complete breakdown behind my boss's closed door, wherein I told him that I feel incapable of doing the job to which I've been assigned and that I'm seriously considering seeking other employment, and by the way, did I mention that I'm a horrible manager and I totally suck at my job?  And he, of course, talked me down from my ledge, but I was emotionally drained and my eyes were red and swollen from where I'd cried shamelessly for 45 minutes.  And then, as if that weren't bad enough, I had a second emotional breakdown in front of one of my employees while trying to convey to him that it is NOT okay for him to ignore my phone calls and refuse to return my messages and that when he does that it makes me sad.

Fuck.  I should've stayed home today.

But then I got home.  And took a shower.  And Jimi got home.  And a neighbor came over and shared a bowl.  And our new roommate showed up to discuss our new living arrangement.  And there was leftover pizza.  And more beer.  And chocolate. And this:

"Prop 8 - The Musical" starring Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and many more... from Jack Black

So I'm feeling better now.  And really, you didn't want the story about the nickel-sized rug burn on my big toe, anyhow.  I promise.

Roommate? Wha...?

Yeah.  We're getting one.  I'm cool with this, except for the whole "you can't walk around your house naked anymore" thing.

More details to come.

It's 8:40 a.m.

And work has already stressed me out to the point where I've yelled, thrown things, and taken a 1mg xanax that I borrowed from my officemate. 

It's gonna be one of THOSE days. 

It's not a marriage, but it's close.

Jimi and I have been living happily ever after in sin for just over 3 years now.  We have no plans to change our marital status, as our arrangement is perfection and why would you ever want to fuck with that?

But last week at work, one of my employees was hospitalized.  And his live-in girlfriend was a complete jackass when relaying the details to us.  She was abusive and mean and it got to the point where my boss said, "Don't talk to her anymore.  She's just the girlfriend - she's nobody."

OH FUCK.

Warning bells went off in my head and I started thinking about things I'd only kind of thought about maybe in passing briefly for a few seconds over the course of our 4 years of non-wedded bliss.  Things like, "If something happened to me, would they treat Jimi the same way?"  and "I don't even know his social security number - what if he was incapacitated?" and "what would happen to the house if he died without a Will?  Would they really let me pay it off and keep it with the life insurance money he's left me, or would I find myself kicked out of the home we share with just our things and a big fat check?"

So last night over dinner, I brought up my fears.  And I told him what I'd been thinking.  And I asked him what he thought.  And I asked him if he would "Civil Union" me. (He said yes, by the way.  He'd been mulling over the situation, too, it seems.)

He's in a bit of a better position than I, as he is the owner of the house we call home.  He bought this house in his name, with his credit.  I have no legal claim to this property.  And while that doesn't bother me while we're still of sound mind and body, don't think I haven't lost hours of sleep worried about what COULD happen if something were to happen to him.  Because I have no legal claim to this property. Even scarier for me is the idea of him being hospitalized and me not being able to talk to his doctors, or to make decisions in the event he's unable to do so.  Or even talk to our service providers (cable, gas, electric, water).  Or handle his banking needs.  Or...

You get where I'm going with this, right?

So now I'm googling and facebooking and networking and trying to figure out what legal documents we need to make sure that in the event of catastrophe, we can each make decisions for the other without relying on the kindness of strangers who are willing to overlook our technically "single" status.

Of course, one phone call to an attorney would probably answer all my questions, but why would I ever take the easy way?  Why start now?

Random Ramblings

~  I dislike the work that is involved in mowing a half acre yard after ignoring it and pretending someone else will do it for nearly 5 weeks.

          ~ I really like the way it makes my skin glow afterward, though.

          ~ And I really like the way Jimi is super attentive and sweet after I've finished.  I went straight into the shower after mowing, and he came in and washed my back then shampooed and conditioned my hair for me.  Pampering is always welcome, and he's oh so good at it.


~  I'm fixing The Pioneer Woman's Bow-Tie Lasagna for dinner tonight.  (Except I'm using rigatoni instead of bow-tie pasta because I like it better.  And I have it on-hand.)  Cheese, sauce, carbs, garlic - what could be better?

~  The beer has been moved into two smaller carboys for secondary fermentation.  I had a taste.  It is delicious, and it packs a punch.  I will have to be careful in my consumption.

I have to post things like this.  Otherwise, how will my blog ever live up to its name?

Sunday Morning

I went to Valu Market this morning to pick up Juice, Milk, and English muffins.

They don't have English muffins at Valu Market.  Not one package.  Not even an off brand.  No English Muffins.

And their milk?  It's priced a dollar higher than milk at Kroger.  Every day.  All the time.

So, my lesson of the day is to go to Kroger on Sunday mornings for my Milk, Juice, and English muffins, not Valu Market.  Even if Valu is closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We went to the Edwards Family Reunion yesterday, in Acton, KY.  This is my maternal grandmother's family, and we've held the even at the same Church Retreat compound for the last...lord, I don't know...20 years?  When I was a child, we'd show up on Saturday morning, and there would already be a crowd of folks from the country.  (If you didn't live in Louisville, like my family, you were from "the country".)  This always included my Great-Grandmother, Mae Edwards, the matriarch of the family.  She wasn't in attendance yesterday.  She's 98 years old, and she's not been in the best of health for probably the last year.  She still has good days, just not as often as she used to.  I'm disappointed we didn't see her, and I wish we'd left early enough to visit her at home.

Granny and Papaw weren't there this year, of course.  They've been gone for years now.  I miss them every day, but our loss is more pronounced at gatherings such as these, where Granny used to be the life of the kitchen, chopping and stirring and baking, and where Papaw would be over on the couch in the corner with his guitar, pickin' and a grinnin'.  I miss the music they made together, after dinner or supper, when we'd all crowd around and listen to them harmonize to old gospel songs.

Aunt Cill wasn't there this year, either.  She didn't want to get her feelings hurt.

There was good, though, and plenty of fun.  Spending the day with my Momma and my aunts and my cousins - a good time was had by all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimi and Steve are moving their beer into the second fermentation rack today.  I think that means they're basically transferring it from one carboy to another and then letting it hang out for another few weeks while it gets delicious.

I'm going to be doing some gardening.

And then we're supposed to mow the yard.  We'll see about that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And then we came to the end...

I'm not trying to be mean.

I'm just being glib.  I swear.  I used a winking smiley and everything!

Sweet Nice Guy who doesn't deserve any hatefulness says:   Jesus could come back any day or any time! Are you Ready?

WATCH THIS! 

This Video is so Awesome, if you don't watch anything else I post, PLease Watch This! Sam Samford

Length:2:06

27 minutes ago · Comment ·  · Share

• • 

    Natalie Anderson I'm storing up a few years' worth of food. I'll totally be ready for the after-party. ;)

    2 minutes ago ·  · 

    
    

Anne Rice Quit Christianity.

You heard about that, right?  She was all "eff you, mean meanies!  Jesus LOVED LOVE!!!"  (Okay, she was a bit more eloquent.)  Her exact words were:

For those who care, and I understand if you don't: Today I quit being a Christian. I'm out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being "Christian" or to being part of Christianity. It's simply impossible for me to "belong" to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For tenyears, I've tried. I've failed. I'm an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.

..., I quit being a Christian. I'm out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.

I mean, she's got a good point.  The exclusionary practices of organized religion are what turned me off.  The hatred that is spewed in the name of an omnipotent being that... loves us?  I don't get it.  And i'm really bad at theological discussions because I can't quote from the Bible or the Book of Mormon or the Torah or the Qur'an, so I don't want to delve too deeply into waters where I know I'll sink.  I just know what feels right in my heart, and a group of people filled with hate for anyone who doesn't fit a certain mold ain't it.  You can't be all love and sunshine on Sunday morning and then attend a protest carrying a "God Hates Fags" sign after Sunday Brunch.  

Ms. Rice's proclamation has apparently stirred up one heck of a national discussion on religion vs. spirituality.  Two of the articles spawned in response, and my favorite quotes therefrom:

I have not left Christianity but I am grossly disappointed in this religion which is supposed to exemplify love. One can probably get closer to God, actually, if one rejects the kind of religion we pass off as Christianity. Yes ...I am saying that one can be spiritual and not be religious. I am not talking about New Age. I am talking about being a person who has studied the words of Jesus the Christ and tries to follow them. That person will be spiritual; one cannot escape being spiritual, being transformed and empowered when one reads and studies the words of Jesus.  ~  SENIOR PASTOR, ADVENT UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST IN COLUMBUS, OHIO,  Susan K. Smith

According to my grandfather, M. K. Gandhi, religion and spiritualism are distinctly apart -- that is, it is possible to practice one without believing in the other. Religion, as it is commonly understood, is the practice of a set of rituals based on the interpretation made by human beings. Since we humans are imperfect, our interpretation too is imperfect. On the other hand Spiritualism, according to him, is achieved when one comes to one's own understanding of the Power that we call God. When we truly accept all religions as simply different roads to the same destination and respect them all equally.  ~  CO-FOUNDER OF THE M.K. GANDHI INSTITUTE FOR NONVIOLENCE,  Arun Gandhi

All we need is love, people.  The Beatles should've started a freakin' religion.

Work

I'm trying hard not to blog too much about work, because let's face it, you don't care, do you?  You don't care if today is one of those days where my job is the best job in the whole wide world or if today it's being a soul-sucking whore.  But I care.  And because this is my blog, I get to pretend that everything that is important to me is important to everyone else, too. 

So yeah, I'm glad it's Friday.  5 o'clock can't come fast enough.  I'm trying to work out a way to get out of here sooner, but blogging instead of working is not helping make that happen. 

And why does my admin. assistant get all huffy every time I ask her to do work?  Why does she act like that's not her job?  Why can't I tell her to stop huffing and puffing and shut up and just do it?  I mean, she is doing it, but still, I wish she could have a sunny attitude about it.  LOVE YOUR JOB DAMMIT.

Yes, I'm a hypocrite. 

Shit Jimi Says

Me:  "I'm so crazy, I don't know why you even tolerate me.  Is love really that strong?"  I look over at him, smiling, but half serious.

"Like motherf&*$in' Super Glue," he answers without missing a beat.

I beam at him, all googly-eyed with love.  He smiles back at me, just as sweetly and lovingly, and says:

"Or like the way cum will stick a sock together..."



Yes.  We are all CLASS up in here.

Reading

I just finished reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the second time.  Kinda.

I didn't remember much of how the story went from the first time I'd read it, see.

Sometimes, mostly when a book is really exciting to me and I can't wait to find out what happens, I'll skim a book more than I'll actually read it.  Like, I'm reading along and things are getting heated and there's lots of dueling and shit's blowing up and...my eyes wander over to the next page and give it a quick skim to see if someone's about to die, and THERE IT IS!!!! THERE'S THE WORD BODY!!! OMG!! and so I have to read that chapter to get the context, but then I have to back up and read what happened before that because now Fred's dead and    I have no idea how we got here and    what happened and   where was I a minute ago       I should just let the author tell the story in her own time...

So yeah.  I miss things sometimes.  And let's face it, when you're reading like that, and reading that fast, how much can you really be retaining?  

But that doesn't happen with every book.  I mean, I read parts of every book I pick up in that manner, but most books I haven't anticipated the release of for months and then stood in line for an hour or two at midnight to get one of the first copies and then gone home to devour as quickly as possible within the next 24 hours.  Most books get only a little skimming, like when sex between characters seems imminent and I want to see if my hunch is right or if the author is being a tease again.   

But still, even with my horrible reading habits that often result in missing key minor details, reading is one of my favorite things ever.  If I had to make a list of things I wouldn't want to lose the ability to do, reading would be on the same list with loving, having sex, sleeping, and eating.

I love being immersed in the visions of others.  I love journeying along the paths of characters both fictional and real.  I love the inevitable dreams that result for days after hours of reading a particularly enthralling story.  

I love the color that reading brings to my world.  I love the look of the spines of the books lined up in the bookcases; the whites and blues and yellows and greens and oranges and reds and blacks and golds.  Their presence makes the room feel warmer, more inviting, more comfortable.  

My love for reading makes me feel sorry for non-readers.  If they can't read, I feel sorry for them and feel that they're missing out on something wonderful and this is an oversight that must not stand and must be rectified posthaste.  If they just don't read, I just don't get it.  I feel sorry for them and wish that I could show them the magic that I see in words.  It's like they're missing out on a treasure.  I try to give them books that I know are awesome and that they'll love and they're all, "I'll try to read it, I promise."  (I'm talking to you, Kim.)

Okay, I'll get it eventually.  Things that are important to me aren't necessarily AS important to everyone else.  

But they really should be.  

(IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU, NATALIE.)

OKAY.  GOSH.  

But yeah, reading is cool.  

You should try this.

One whole wheat english muffin, toasted. Slather one half with nutella. The other half gets a generous helping of cherry preserves. (With lots of whole chunks of cherry, not just the lame jelly part.). Put it together and what've you got?

A chocolate covered cherry sandwich.

Do it. You can thank me later.

Proposition 8 is Unconstitutional

SAN FRANCISCO — In a major victory for gay rights advocates, a federal judge on Wednesday struck down a California ban on same-sex marriage.

Chief U.S. District Judge Vaughn Walker ruled that the voter-approved ban, known as Proposition 8, violates due process and equal-protection rights under the U.S. Constitution.

"Moral disapproval alone is an improper basis on which to deny rights to gay men and lesbians. The evidence shows conclusively that Proposition 8 enacts, without reason, a private moral view that same-sex couples are inferior to opposite-sex couples," Walker wrote.

I'm not sure what's left to say after that.  

I'm happy for every man, woman, and child whom this will impact in a positive way.  

As for the rest - I hope they are able to learn to put their vigor and fervor and effort into love rather than hate. 

About Me.

I'm 30 years old.  I turned 30 in April.  For my birthday party, we had a cotton candy machine and a pink and purple Barbie Princess bouncy dollhouse.  "How old are you, Natalie?" my mom asked with a sneer.  "Only as old as I feel, Momma!" I answered with a smile.

I'm not married.  I've been married, but I'm not married anymore.

I live with my boyfriend.  He's been putting up with my particular version of crazy for nearly 4 years.  We probably won't get married, but we'll live happily ever after anyhow.

I don't have any children.  As far as I know, I've never been pregnant.  I'd really like to know what it's like to be pregnant.  I'm not sure I want the responsibility of raising a whole other person, though, so we'll leave this as it is for now.

I have a job.  It is alternately the best job in the whole wide world and a soul-sucking whore.  Which definition fits is dependent upon which day you ask the question.

I've never been a member of any organized religion.  When I was growing up, it was a special treat if a friend or family member would let me tag along and go to church with them on Sundays.  Yet I was raised by two parents who have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.  My Granny read us Bible stories and taught us how to say our prayers.  My entire religious upbringing consisted of "Know to whom you are thankful for your blessings" and "you don't have to go to church to get to Heaven".  Now my religious views are something like: Don't be an asshole, and you'll probably be okay.

I love Mormons.  I would join their church, except for the whole tithing thing, and all the service requirements, and the religious beliefs.

I like to smoke.  I like to drink.  I like to cuss.  I'm trying to not do all of these, or to at least do them not as much.

I am tactless.  I'm an open book.  I am obnoxious.  I am self-obsessed.  I'm moody.  I'm lazy.  I'm a perfectionist, when I do try.

I love plants.  I don't exactly have a green thumb, but there are definitely shades of blue and yellow mixed in there somewhere.  I've got a house and front porch full of things I've managed to not kill.  I've never tried to garden, but I'm going to one of these days.

I want to have a year's supply of food stored in my basement.

I want to be a runner.  Most days, I can't find enough motivation to take the dog for a walk.

I love to cook, but sometimes I forget.  The work and effort required to get the kitchen clean, do the cooking, then clean the kitchen all over again...it makes me forget and carryout sounds easier.

My parents are fantastic, good, warm people.  They adore me and love me and are on my side even when the rest of the world is against me.  My Daddy told me once, "No one will ever love you the way your mother and I love you.  No one will ever want good things for you the way we do.  You can trust us always, because we will always want only the best for you."  They've never let me down.

My brother is...not someone I want to talk about.  I love him.  I want good things for him.  I want to bitchslap him.

I've only got the one blood sibling, but my cousin Stacy is like a sister who didn't live with us when I was growing up.  Maybe she went to boarding school?  A close one, though, because we still saw each other all the time.  She was my partner in crime, my worst enemy, my true bff, the person I played "doctor" with (our own version, more "E.R."-esque, that didn't involve any touching or taking off clothes), the person I got into trouble with, the person who explored The Property with me, the one who I told all my secrets to and who loved me anyhow, the one who "got" me, always.  (And later confessed that she looked up to me and wanted to be like me, and I'll always love her forever for thinking I'm cool.)

I'm a voracious reader.  I prefer books, paperback ones, but a hardback will do, and if a computer's all that's available, bring it on, too.  I don't want a Kindle and I don't want an IPad, but I will if I must.  I love to go to the Book & Music Exchange and sort through the mishmash of titles on display - and I can't walk away from the shelves until my arms are full or my basket is heavy.  I come home and line up my new-to-me selections on the second shelf from the top, on the bookcase closest to the front door in the front sitting room.  Then I spend the next few days/weeks/months making my way through that shelf, saving this silly romance for later, after the serious Oprah's Book Club selection, and then after that we'll have Amy Tan because hers are always good.

I love elephants.  My Granny loved elephants.  Maybe I get it from her.  Maybe they're just really awesome creatures.  This video makes me teary-eyed, and made me decide I'm going to Thailand on my next real vacation.  And I'm going to buy this:

and two or three like it and I'm going to hang them all over my house.  

I'm a sentimental sap.  I hold on to ticket stubs and show programs and little origami figures he makes out of the foil ripped from the inside of a fresh pack of cigarettes.  I have a treasure trove of shit/garbage/junk stowed in various boxes and drawers and bowls and vases all over the house.  In our last home, I even displayed it, using push pins, on the wall in the kitchen.  When we moved, I packed it all into a box.  That box is in the upstairs closet.  Yes, you probably will see me on an episode of Hoarders one day.

I don't watch television.  (I'll give you a minute, I know it's a shock.)  But no, I don't watch TV.

That's kind of a lie.  I watched 6 episodes of Weeds last night. We have a Blockbuster subscription and they mail movies to our house.  It doesn't count as TV watchin'.  And Friday?  When we were over at Rick's?  I totally watched a half hour of DC Cupcakes (which I'd never seen, and adored) and (you'll never believe it) Say Yes To The Dress!  (Can you believe it?  Jimi and Rick both put on their big boy panties and let me watch the pretty dress show!)  But before that, I probably didn't turn a TV on for 2 weeks.  That's why I say I don't watch TV.  I don't have "my shows".  I don't care.  It's all a bunch of shit, and most of it is gross or depressing or nasty.  (But some of it is great, like the cupcake show and the pretty dress show and the one where those people have all those kids, that one's good too.)

I'm a bad story teller.  I go off on tangents and forget the point and then can't find my way back to it and so I just get to the point and everyone's standing there looking at me like "Did you really just take ten minutes and a detour to talk about gun control legislation to tell us that cherries are on sale at Kroger?"

Now that you know all this...aren't you glad you started reading my blog?  I'll bet you can't wait to hear what kind of crazy shit I talk about next.