A message I sent from my cell phone to Blogger about a week ago just showed up today. Way to go!
I'm at school. I'm early. I'm not in the mood to practice. I'm not in the mood to do anything. I think I have an iron deficiency. No, seriously. All I wanted to do this weekend was sleep. I got up on Saturday only because I was expecting a friend to stop by and pick something up. Otherwise, I would have stayed in bed. Sunday, I slept until noon. I got up and took a shower because I felt grungy. I started to knit a baby hat and had to get the calculator from my bedroom to do the cast-on math. I sat on my bed and suddenly felt so tired that a natural disaster wouldn't have moved me. I fell backward, feet still on the floor, and was asleep in minutes. This was 2:00ish. I slept until 4:00, had dinner, then went back to bed from 6:00 to 8:00. Got up, watched some TV, and was in bed by 10:30. I feel sleepy and listless today, but I need a paycheck so I'm all doped up on the coffee.
Must eat iron-rich foods. Peanut butter and jelly just isn't going to cut it. Any suggestions from my health conscious friends?
Monday, July 31, 2006
Friday, July 28, 2006
I think I need a good cry
I'm feeling jangly. I can't think of another word for it. I'm jittery, but not from coffee. I haven't had any more coffee than usual. I'm easily annoyed, but it's not PMS. I'm in a relatively good mood, in spite of this feeling. I just feel...oh, I don't know. Anxious? Apprehensive? Like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop but no shoe dropped in the first place? I can't explain. I need something but I'm not sure what. And, no, it's not sex, because if that were the case I'd be feeling like this all the time.
Usually when I feel like this, I go and talk to my friend Nick. Not that he offers any pearls of wisdom, but he has a way of putting things into perspective that calms my nerves. He listens. He appears to be paying attention. He asks all the right questions. Granted, if you asked him what I said the next day, he'd have no clue, but in the moment, he's good to have around. Plus his voice has a very soothing quality. Thursdays are the day that we (the circle of friends and acquaintances in which he runs) usually get together. I called him at 10:15 and got a strange digital recording on his cell phone. That's not unusual, as his home phone answering machine usually plays some quirky song instead of the "I'm not here" message. I hate the "song in lieu of message" types, but I accept it as one of his endearing quirks. I called his work number and it rang so long the fax machine picked up (always a treat). I waited until 11:00 and called his cell again, only to get the same bizarre digital recording. WHY ISN'T HE ANSWERING ANY PHONES??? I left a message to call me back. He didn't call back. I got mad.
Those of you who know the Nick friendship saga know that it's not unusual that he didn't call back, but last night it really, really, REALLY hurt my feelings. It shouldn't have. He was probably busy, or with his girlfriend, or out somewhere. Whatever. It's not like he owes me or anything, but of all the times for him to be himself, last night was not the night. I really needed to hear his voice last night. Damn man.
Usually when I feel like this, I go and talk to my friend Nick. Not that he offers any pearls of wisdom, but he has a way of putting things into perspective that calms my nerves. He listens. He appears to be paying attention. He asks all the right questions. Granted, if you asked him what I said the next day, he'd have no clue, but in the moment, he's good to have around. Plus his voice has a very soothing quality. Thursdays are the day that we (the circle of friends and acquaintances in which he runs) usually get together. I called him at 10:15 and got a strange digital recording on his cell phone. That's not unusual, as his home phone answering machine usually plays some quirky song instead of the "I'm not here" message. I hate the "song in lieu of message" types, but I accept it as one of his endearing quirks. I called his work number and it rang so long the fax machine picked up (always a treat). I waited until 11:00 and called his cell again, only to get the same bizarre digital recording. WHY ISN'T HE ANSWERING ANY PHONES??? I left a message to call me back. He didn't call back. I got mad.
Those of you who know the Nick friendship saga know that it's not unusual that he didn't call back, but last night it really, really, REALLY hurt my feelings. It shouldn't have. He was probably busy, or with his girlfriend, or out somewhere. Whatever. It's not like he owes me or anything, but of all the times for him to be himself, last night was not the night. I really needed to hear his voice last night. Damn man.
I think I'll just open a bottle of wine when I get home.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Good thing I'm perfect
I may not be America's Next Top Model, but I know a few basic tenets of fashion, and one of those is that if you're going to layer your clothing, at least one of the shirts should fit (see white arrow). How about forgoing the layers and just find one shirt that actually fits you instead of trying to squeeze into something you wore in high school. Perhaps the fleshtone shirt under the tiny white one was an attempt to wear a belly shirt without actually exposing the belly.
Also, if you're going to wear strange, thick, cotton undergarments, you should make sure your track pants come up far enough to cover them (red arrow). If you absolutely have to expose your panties, make sure they're pretty, not old and threadbare. Seriously, these pantaloons were thick, like long johns, and had a button fly. I believe there's a rule about not wearing your man's undergitchies. It would be better to go bare-assed.
Also, if you're going to wear strange, thick, cotton undergarments, you should make sure your track pants come up far enough to cover them (red arrow). If you absolutely have to expose your panties, make sure they're pretty, not old and threadbare. Seriously, these pantaloons were thick, like long johns, and had a button fly. I believe there's a rule about not wearing your man's undergitchies. It would be better to go bare-assed.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
I guess I'm choosy
I was raised on Skippy peanut Butter. It's the only kind my mom bought. She would scoff at those "Choosy Mom's choose JIF" commercials. Once my Aunt Wicki (I think it was Aunt Wicki--it may have been Aunt Janet) gave us a Salton Peanut Butter machine and we made all-natural peanut butter like gangbusters. Oh, it was soooooo good, but you could only make about 2 ounces at a time. For a family with five growing kids, that was not going to cut it. Also, I think my parents got tired of having to buy pounds of raw peanuts only to net a tiny jar of butter. Plus, the clean up was a mess because peanut butter is gooey, people.
Anywho, it never occurred to me to buy any other brand of peanut butter when I got out on my own. Skippy was good enough for Joanie; it was good enough for me. Then, I moved in with Tami, who ONLY eats JIF. She won't even try another brand. That was fine with me. I'm not picky--or am I?
This week, Target has JIF on sale 3/$5. I'm po' folk so I've been eating a whole lot of PBJ (well, not so much on the J, since I ran out on Sunday). Target is a haven for cheap groceries. Normally, JIF is only $1.82 a jar. Bread is only $1.29 a loaf. For a little over $3, you have food for a week. And that's just the beginning, my friends...but I digress. Where was I? Oh, yeah, JIF on sale. Naturally, by Saturday at 4:00 they were sold out (even though the circular didn't arrive until Sunday). The only peanut butter left in the store was Skippy, and only three jars of that were left. I was desperate and didn't want to drive to the next nearest Target (NoHo), so I bought two jars of Skippy. I should have taken the drive.
Having eaten JIF for 11 years now, I have to say, choosy moms are right. Skippy does not have the consistency of JIF nor the great Peanuty taste. Skippy tastes like that "Better Than Peanut Butter" fake crap that they tried to sell us on at my Weight Watchers meetings. Now, I'm stuck with two jars of Skippy to choke down before I can buy more JIF.
Live and learn.
Anywho, it never occurred to me to buy any other brand of peanut butter when I got out on my own. Skippy was good enough for Joanie; it was good enough for me. Then, I moved in with Tami, who ONLY eats JIF. She won't even try another brand. That was fine with me. I'm not picky--or am I?
This week, Target has JIF on sale 3/$5. I'm po' folk so I've been eating a whole lot of PBJ (well, not so much on the J, since I ran out on Sunday). Target is a haven for cheap groceries. Normally, JIF is only $1.82 a jar. Bread is only $1.29 a loaf. For a little over $3, you have food for a week. And that's just the beginning, my friends...but I digress. Where was I? Oh, yeah, JIF on sale. Naturally, by Saturday at 4:00 they were sold out (even though the circular didn't arrive until Sunday). The only peanut butter left in the store was Skippy, and only three jars of that were left. I was desperate and didn't want to drive to the next nearest Target (NoHo), so I bought two jars of Skippy. I should have taken the drive.
Having eaten JIF for 11 years now, I have to say, choosy moms are right. Skippy does not have the consistency of JIF nor the great Peanuty taste. Skippy tastes like that "Better Than Peanut Butter" fake crap that they tried to sell us on at my Weight Watchers meetings. Now, I'm stuck with two jars of Skippy to choke down before I can buy more JIF.
Live and learn.
I pay for this torture
No A/C at school, and no windows to let in a forgiving breeze. It's good to see how my tuition dollars are being spent.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
I suspect a plot
Remember way back when I may have sideswiped a bus? Well, I believe they are out to get me. I think the busriders' union is behind it. Or perhaps the MTA itself. They resent losing my $3 a day bus fare. They hate my smug glances as I drive by. They won't stop until I'm squashed beneath the wheels of a brightly festooned bus on a major thoroughfare.
I was minding my own business, driving down Melrose, when a bus, the #11, stopped in front of me (at a stop). I went around and got in front of it at corner of Vermont and Melrose. I made a right on red and was blissfully singing along to the CD ("I'm walking on Sunshine...Whooooaa") and it DID feel good until--HELLO--out of nowhere the #11 bus was right on my front bumper!!! Holy Fender Bender, Batman. I stopped just in time and the behemoth cut into my lane, no doubt laughing maniacally and saying "ha ha, Green Jetta. We meet again." Dang! And, of course, he took his sweet ol' time turning on the green arrow leaving me to fend for myself and try to make a left onto Beverly at rush hour. JERK!!
I was minding my own business, driving down Melrose, when a bus, the #11, stopped in front of me (at a stop). I went around and got in front of it at corner of Vermont and Melrose. I made a right on red and was blissfully singing along to the CD ("I'm walking on Sunshine...Whooooaa") and it DID feel good until--HELLO--out of nowhere the #11 bus was right on my front bumper!!! Holy Fender Bender, Batman. I stopped just in time and the behemoth cut into my lane, no doubt laughing maniacally and saying "ha ha, Green Jetta. We meet again." Dang! And, of course, he took his sweet ol' time turning on the green arrow leaving me to fend for myself and try to make a left onto Beverly at rush hour. JERK!!
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