Am Too Busy To Title This Post.

Looking back at the last month is a bit overwhelming.

I haven't been around much because my job - they are making me work really hard for the money. Really hard.

Buying a new house? Um, time-consuming. Getting ready each morning is much more difficult when you have to wiggle along the floor past the windows, naked, because you haven't put up curtains yet. Also, losing the keys for 3 weeks is a bad idea.

New homes? Don't have innernet access. You have to have a huge tunnel for cabling dug in your backyard. And then they don't bury it.

And you live in fear that the new dog that you just got, is going to eat the cable. But you can't decide which is worse - the potential for electrocution of the dog or the loss of internets once the dog gets electrocuted.



Sorry the pic kinda sucks. I can't find my camera, so this is a phone pic. And he doesn't stop moving ever. He is an 8 week old border collie. Please name him. We suck at naming animals - our 1 1/2 year old cat is officially named Kitten. So please help this poor dog.

Don't even get me started on Christmas. My sister - employs slave labor and pays in tamales and Monster energy drinks.

I spent my Christmas vacation putting this together.




It took 4 people 2 days to put it together. 2 entire days. From 7 AM until dark.

My kids - never getting a play set. They have their aunt to blame.

So, in review:

2007 - This Year Can Totally Suck it.

2008 - The Best Year Ever.

2009 - On Track to Be The Best Year Ever.

Fred Thompson on the Economy

Hello (Family) and Goodbye (Cass)

For the past 2 weeks, beyond the thrill/fear/panic of buying our new house, I have been freaking out about today. A couple weeks back, it was decided that Not Craig’s family was going to come to our house for Thanksgiving due to a series of events. Then, due to a series of canceled plans of their own, my parents were asked to come to our house. Our apartment, which does not fit more than 4 people comfortably, was soon to have nearly 3 times that many people, 3 cats and a huge bird.

I have never cooked a turkey before. I have never been responsible for such a huge meal before. Well, I chickened out and bought a box of pre-cooked stuff from Kroger. They say it is pre-cooked. While it is easier than cooking everything from scratch, it was still a 2 ½ hour production.

Dinner turned out great. The first meeting of our parents, turned out great. In between dinner and dessert, we all drove out to our new house so that our families, which all live out of town, could see the home. Our parents all rode together. And they loved each other.

They all oohed and aahed over how wonderful their son, and their soon to be son-in-law did at picking out a conflict free gem for their daughter and soon to be daughter-in-law.

Nearing the end of our Thanksgiving celebration, I gave my parents a gift, which they never disclosed to me that they wanted. A secret wish for a sweet cat they kept for months during my transition back to Houston last year, which I spent living in a hotel for 2 months. A secret they never shared with me, yet readily disclosed when Not Craig drove 4 hours to ask for my hand. My sweet Cass will be overwhelmingly happy with my parents living as an only child.

What a perfect day.

What a wonderful way for our families to begin the sharing of our lives together.

How thankful I am.

Spewing Forth The Words

I am an extremely polite person. My mother is a quiet, calm, introverted woman who rarely makes any manner missteps. She taught me by example to be a quiet, polite, respectful person.

One thing she was never able to pass on to me is to keep my mouth shut. If she has something to say, she won’t say it. It drives me crazy to this day that she would never express an opinion about some of the wayward things I did when I was younger. After I broke off my previous long-term relationships with jerky, lazy, good for nothing no-gooders, she expressed relief and said that she was concerned about the relationship, that she didn’t agree with it. I always wanted to scream at her, “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING!” Words from my mom may have made me come to my senses before I spent 5 years with each of those losers.

But never….she always kept it in. Waited until I realized, on my own, what a bad decision I had made, before she said a word.

The extreme politeness.

I have none of that. If I feel something, if I am mad, if I think the movie sucked, if I think your boyfriend is a jerk, I will try to keep my mouth shut, because as my momma taught me, it is polite to shut the fuck up, however, I promise you that my feelings are going to come out at some time. I can’t help myself. The words sit at the back of my throat gagging me until I have to either get them out or suffocate.

This is why I haven’t been around here. I had words that have been smothering me. Words that I wanted to say so badly yet I couldn’t do it yet.

Another way I am completely different from my mom is that I am not very good at keeping my business a secret. Not in the Britney Spears way of exposing her business, but in the, I am an open book and will tell some stranger at the grocery store my life story way.

And excitement. I have rarely seen my mom truly excited. She has such a calm nature whereas I am, well, spastic at times. I am not easily contained.

My feelings, my excitement, my words spew out of me, out of control.

So when, several weeks ago, Not Craig and I did something wild and crazy and utterly awesome, I didn’t tell many people.

Oh I told some, he told some. We couldn’t keep ourselves contained that well. However, pending actual definite approval, we kept it a bit under wraps. I haven’t told anyone except the absolute required people I work with and I didn’t write a word on here, because I knew I couldn’t write about anything else so I stayed away.

In fact, now that I am getting closer to leaking it to you guys, I am not sure if I want to spill it just yet.

Nothing is final yet, what if it all falls through.

And for some, others who have already walked in these shoes, it is not a big deal. To Not Craig and I, though, it is huge. We have been wanting to do this for some time and hadn’t thought it possible just yet. Thought that although we had been doing things responsibly for some time, that we just weren’t quite in the right position yet, apparently however, some fool disagreed and totally qualified us to buy our very first home.

A gorgeous home.

A home that I am so in love with.

In a place that I am so in love with.

With a man that I am so in love with.

So Yea us. And Yea me for keeping my flapping gums shut for a whole three weeks.

We were just approved for the mortgage, a daunting thing given the current climate. I guess I should thank Barney Frank and his stupid cronies for making it possible that banks are continuing to lend. Thanks Paulson. Thanks RINO’s. I appreciate you giving Not Craig and I the same opportunities millions of other people get. The opportunity to foreclose on our very first home. Thank you. Now I am going to go tell every single soul I run into.

Three's Company Had a Very Clean House

I just saw a news snippet about polygamy. I only saw a minute of it, but it appeared to be a threesome in some third-world country stating that their way of life is the only way they knew, that it was normal for a husband to have two wives.

Maybe I am just tired and my fingers a bit dried out from cleaning the shower, but I think it is safe to go on the record in support of multiple wives. Personally, I need to find a wife that can be the bathroom cleaner, the laundry washer, the floor scrubber, the cat handler, the grocery buyer, the dinner preparer, etc., and so forth. I can handle the couch cuddling, companionship, lights going out wifely duties, I just would like to interview a few Stepford Wives to handle the other duties I have.

I understand that from the beginning of time, women handled the household duties while men hunted, came home and sat around the campfire farting. No matter how I consider that women all across the world are doing more than men are at home, it doesn’t make me feel any better or less tired or less resentful that I am scrubbing dishes at 10 at night instead of curled up on the couch.

Years ago, yet in an incident I remember so vividly, I was with my parents handling the cleaning of a relative’s home after the mother had died. My mom and I scrubbed and swept, and dusted and mopped while my dad sat on a bench outside and stared into the sky. I asked my mom how she handled that all these years. She just sighed, and said, “Well, I got used to it.” I remember being mad at my dad initially, and then getting angry with my mom as the words settled in. She allowed it to happen. She allowed him to be lazy and not give his share. I told myself that I wouldn’t allow that, it was going to be equal in my house.

Oh, youth. How naive I was.

Or maybe it’s true, men marry their mothers, women marry their fathers.

Give me a woman who doesn’t feel that she does more around the house, with the management of finances or chores or the children. I want to meet her man. And kidnap him.

I don’t want to come across as too much of a Complainy McComplainer Pants. Not Craig is amazing. He is such a great man and I love him to pieces. He is wonderful in a million different ways. I would rather have him be all that he is, than merely a great housekeeper.

Thing is, I just wish that I wasn’t in charge of everything at home. I wish when I got home one night, the house would be clean, the laundry started, dinner on the table, the cats fed. I wish my weekends were spent carefree, not wondering where I was going to squeeze in a stop at the grocery store or wondering just how many days I can wear those pants before they start reeking.

It is one of those great axioms of life. To make a man feel loved, give him sex. To make a woman feel loved, do the dishes.

How about you? How are the household chores divided up? Do you feel that you do more than a fair share? Does your hubby help out willingly or just because you have threatened castration? How do you handle the anger/frustration about this topic? How often does it come up as an argument point?

Just tell me I am not alone here.

My Finds

I have posted before (and again and again and again ) how I love estate sales and thrift stores. This weekend was a good one... I took my chances at an estate sale advertised as having great stuff, despite being in a bad part of town. "You can find awesome knick-knacks while dodging bullets." Great marketing, folks.

If I was still Ebaying, oh how I would have spent so much money. As it was, I had to limit what I bought as I have a quasi-policy of buying only items I need or have an idea of exactly what I will do with my purchase.

So what will $15 buy you at an estate sale in Houston?


Books! An illustrated Bible story book published in 1939.

1960 printing - Why It's A Holiday

Oh look... a fitting holiday... Do I get that day off?


Do you remember when I said a few sentences ago where I buy only things that I have an actual purpose for? Forget that. This thing has no purpose other than to make me smile at its freaking adorableness. I love this! And I have no good reason to have it. It doesn't match anything at all in my house. So yea, this was something I just had to have.

And Kitten had to get in the picture. She is something that I did not have to have. She is completely Not Craig's fault.


I do have a problem with collecting coats, purses and small bowls that hold sauces. Granted, I use a lot of honey mustard, barbecue sauce and other dippables, but it doesn't really make any sense to have as many small bowls as I have. Nor does it make any sense why, when I live in a subtropical climate, that I own 14 coats.


Astroworld closed sometime ago. Any time that I spy any Astroworld stuff I get it. I will most likely sell them.


I love this shallow metal pan. I have no idea what to do with this either, but really, how could I not bring it home. I will probably either hang it somewhere or will use it is a catchall by the door.
My habit of collecting purses continues. Does anyone have a closet I can borrow? I am just not a shoe girl. Instead, I collect coats and purses.

(There is one other book I bought, but I am not showing you. If I ever get around to mailing things - ahem - Jamaica prizes - ahem - Kaytabug will have a present. So look for it sometime in 2011.)

Racist, Decapitating Elevators and Other Things I Make Up

This morning when I was in the elevator, the doors were closing and out of nowhere, this guy pops up, throws his arms between the doors, setting off the sensor and allowing the doors to reopen.

While ascending to the lobby, we have the standard banter about elevators, banter like I typically have with others who threaten amputation by elevator door. (Look, it happens). In my building, some elevators don’t respond to an obstruction in the path of the doors. They just keep closing no matter whose arm, leg or bag may be trying to set off the sensor so the doors reopen. You can trust your various body parts to some elevators, but need to be wary of others. (And I am not even mentioning how rude it is to force someone to wait on you when you were clearly not in time for that elevator. It is extremely rude, but I am not mentioning it.)

Personally, I respect the sovereignty of the elevator doors. If they are closing, I don’t try to get them to reopen by throwing my arm in between the doors. I wait for the next elevator.

I have strange fears - I refuse to put any item in the back window of my car because if I am in a car crash, I will be decapitated by the flying box of Kleenex. I once heard that in driver’s ed. Or somewhere. Same thing with the elevator, I just can’t bring myself to test fate and hope that the elevator I am trying to catch has a sensor that isn’t dusty and will definitely not crush my arm and then once trapped, will decapitate me.

Ok…so…. Moving on from the decapitation. Because I am pretty sure now everyone knows elevator = decapitation.

So this guy and I are talking about how some elevators you can get to reopen and others won’t reopen no matter how anxiously you wave your arm between the doors as they close.

Some elevators close no matter what.

And this guy says, “Those must be Republican elevators.”

I laughed, “haha, yea.”

Yet I have NO IDEA what that means.

How is an elevator either Democrat or Republican, how do we know it isn’t Independent or perhaps a Libertarian? I bet that elevator actually is all “Ron Paul 2012!”

I am so tired of the election, talking about the candidates, seeing their mugs all over the news, hearing all the allegations of who is being meaner, who will ruin the economy, who is the racist-ist. I am so sick of it all.

I want to say that as soon as I finish voting, on October 20^th, the day early voting opens in Texas, that I will be done with it. That I won’t watch anything about it on TV, or read Drudge, or discuss it with my co-workers. Yet I can’t say that because I know it is a lie. I will. I will stress out for the remaining weeks wondering who will win. Although I am sure this election will have another Florida mishap and we won’t know who the President-Elect is for weeks after November 4^th.

I am thinking that maybe I should just tempt fate once I have voted and see if my fear of decapitation by elevator is warranted. I consider it my civic duty.

The Bailout

I found this somewhere today. It speaks perfectly to where our nation has fallen.

From Bondage to Spiritual Faith

From Spiritual Faith to Great Courage

From Great Courage to Liberty

From Liberty to Abundance

From Abundance to Complacency

From Complacency to Apathy

From Apathy to Dependency

From Dependency back to Bondage

A Democracy will prevail until the populace learns that they can vote themselves entitlements. This leads to Governmental Fiscal Irresponsibility. And this leads back to bondage.

If Only All The Pundits Paid Their Two Cents

I rarely talk about money on here. If you keep an eye on the various links I post off to the side (which I have not updated in forever – but, Whatever), you will see financial things pop up quite frequently.

This bailout/credit crisis/end of the world gloom and doom being splayed all over the news problem affects us all. It affects our jobs, our homes, our credit lines, hell, it affects what I will be giving for Christmas.

I was completely against the bailout as it was presented in the House. I believe I will be against the Senate’s version as well.

I am against it, knowing full well that several of my family members and friends will probably lose their jobs and homes as a result of it not passing. I am against it in spite of that because if it doesn’t pass, they will still lose their jobs and then their homes. If they are in a difficult position now, that position is not going away due to a quick bailout.

We are in a recession. It is not going away. One article I read stated it simply, we are only in the second, maybe third inning of this ballgame. So if it is all going to hell way before the seventh inning stretch, why spend $700 zillion dollars. It will only delay the inevitable breakdown for a very short time. Injecting cash the nation does not have into a broken economy built on people living beyond their means is not going to fix anything.

The only thing that is going to get us out of this mess is what we should have been doing all along. Save money. Don’t buy things you can’t afford. Spend less than you earn. Don’t use credit. Dave Ramsey, Suze Orman, David Bach and countless other financial hacks had it right all along. Hope you aren’t sick of them already, they will be everywhere for the next few years. Because they have it right! Although personally, let’s get rid of them, because I would rather hear from Trent at The Simple Dollar.

During Friday’s debate, McCain suggested a spending freeze. To which I shouted, "Amen!" The government needs to do exactly what I do when I run out of money. Quit spending. No dinners out, no dry cleaning, no movies, no quick runs to the grocery store. I make do with what I already have. Why? Because that is what you do when you are broke. I don’t go and charge things in order to make it to my next paycheck. I stop spending money until I have more money. What a novel concept.

The government has to freeze their spending. Cut it down to the very bare basics. There is no other way. Spending more and more money will not get you or me out of this mess. It won’t get the government out of it. It won’t get the country out of it.

By the time this is posted, it may be too late to contact your congressmen regarding this bailout. However, keep in mind that this problem is not going away even if the bill passes, so keep their contact info handy. You need to vocalize your opinion. Tell your elected officials what you think. Don’t hesitate to let them know that you will vote them out of office for ignoring your desires.

Click here to find out how to contact your Senators.

Click here to find out how to contact your Rep.

On a more personal scale, everyone should be working on their own spending freeze. Save your nickels and dimes. They will turn into many dollars over time. Be prepared for the recession.

I loved these links:

http://www.bripblap.com/2008/how-the-bailout-failure-affects-us/

http://www.thewisdomjournal.com/Blog/back-to-the-basics/

http://www.wisebread.com/whats-the-big-deal-about-banks-refusing-to-lend

However, there are so many more resources to figure out ways to cut your spending, save money, do the right thing with the money you have. You can find a ton of blog posts on all possible personal finance related issues at pfblogs.org.

And that is my two cents.

This is Definitely More Eisenhower than Turner.

Out of all this hurricane mess and complaining and bitchy, smelly people and just sadness, anger, and all sorts of negativity, there is good. Which is so important to remember. It is so easy to dwell on the bad things about this hurricane. It is so easy to do. It is harder to appreciate the good. Which is so true about life in general.

The other night, sitting around the radio for the evening Fireside Chat, the radio station changed it up. As things have improved, they have stopped taking calls of problems and complaints, but were asking what people were doing to pass the time without electricity.

The answers were heartwarming. People explained how they were telling their children and grandchildren stories, our history, about the World Wars, about 9/11, about how they met, about growing up.

They were playing Uno together. As a family. They were teaching their children Mother May I, Red Light Green Light, Simon Says. Kids were playing outside.

Couples that used to sit, not talking, vegging out to the television in the evenings, are rekindling their romance. Remembering what brought them together. Talking at length for the first time in a very long time.

One gentleman discussed how his family is spending the hurricane. He was reconnecting with his wife and daughter. Playing games, talking, getting to know them again. He was brought to tears as he explained how he was afraid for the lights to come back on. In fact, his family had decided to have "Hurricane Thursdays" where they flip the breaker and spend a night without power, to recreate the closeness they have just discovered.

I too would like to have power out days (Not any time soon as I really want power on days first). I would like days to appreciate the slowness, the stillness, the thoughts within. To appreciate why I am with Not Craig, why I am so madly in love with the man.

I want to remember to slow down. Consider the basics - Family, Friendship, Work, Daily Living, Spirituality. I don't want to take these things for granted when the power returns and I return to being addicted to the internet, Not Craig to his computer or Fox News. Not talking.

I don't want to take for granted these days without power and what I have learned.

I typically keep myself very busy. There is always something for me to do, to clean, to take care of.

Constant motion.

With the power off, I have slowed. I don't have the ability to do certain things I would typically do and I don't really have the desire to do those things that I could do. Instead, I sit in thought, I do simple things, read, play Yahtzee, listen to the radio, pet the cats.

Today, I have absolutely nothing to do. Hours stretch before me while I wonder how to fill them. While it is relaxing, refreshing, it is also stressful to my Type A personality. How do I do Nothing?

Shouldn't I be doing something?

Of course, I should be doing something. I should be appreciating what I have, enjoying my time with my loved ones, spending time in my favorite activities.

One more lesson from Ike.

The Ike Effect

I was planning on writing a positive, upbeat, uplifting post about the awesomeness shutting the power off for days on end can produce in a relationship. How close you can become with your loved ones. I even have a full page of notes about it, written over lantern light last night.

But the never ending question of “Do you have power yet?” has resulted in some type of jealousy syndrome. Let’s call it the Ike Effect. Part of it is that needling feeling of hopefulness when you return home after a wonderfully cool day at work where they have all the modern conveniences of life like coffee, internet and air conditioning. That hopeful glee with which you flip that light switch. That insulting lack of response which dashes all hopes of spending the evening watching mindless TV while eating ice cream kept in your perfectly frozen freezer. That life where you take electricity for granted.

Which is fine, I am ok with it. I am in the same boat as countless other Houstonians. The true Ike Effect takes over each morning, the question that has replaced how about them _insert random sports team here_?, when everyone you pass asks “Do you have power yet?” Then that asshole admits that yea, he got power last night. To which you picture strangling him, hiding his body in his swimming pool that is covered in leaves and miscellaneous storm debris so that his body won’t be found for a long, long time and you will be able to enjoy that comforting A/C while you surf the innernets on his couch.

The number of people I know that have power is increasing exponentially all while that damned tree remains firmly on top of my suspected power line. I hate that tree with every bit of my being.

There is only 1 person I know that has a similar problem. Her power box was pulled off her house by a tree limb. She will have to wait for the power company to reattach it to her house. It is probably really wrong on all levels that I am hopeful that at least one other person in my small circle of friends and acquaintances will get their power on sometime after me. I want everyone to get it back, I just don't want to be the last person!

I promise to write about the wonderfulness that being powerless can bring to your life. Probably the day after I get power. (I also promise to stop writing all hurricane all the time posts. Also probably right after I get power.)

Hurricane Fatigue?

We are continuing on in the land of gas lines and the unbathed. More and more electricity is getting reconnected. Or so I have been told. 2 of my coworkers have power now, which, if I can still do math, means about 5% of the city of Houston has power. Some peeps, those with wells, or apartments with weird water constructions that I don’t understand, don’t have water because the power is out.

I can handle no electricity. I am perfectly fine at home without power….I have a job to go to that has power and electricity and TV dinners and supposedly open restaurants within walking distance (I am a bit excited about lunch, ya’ll. A hot lunch. Wee!) At home, I finish Sudoku puzzles, and swat mosquitos and go eat dinner elsewhere. Or pick my toes. There are lots of things to do without electricity.

We have candles and lanterns for light in the evening.

We constructed a fancy ass screen out of a mosquito net for our open windows.

Get this – The Academy store did not have power. When Not Craig went on a mission of mosquito control, he had to be escorted around the dark store by an employee wearing a headlamp and then walked to the registers, the only portion of the store with power, supplied by a generator.

We have tacked up mosquito nets over our open windows, we have plenty of poptarts left, we are doing well. Thriving.

We listen to the radio in the evenings a la Fireside Chats. (Which given the economic news recently, quite reminiscent of the actual Fireside Chats!) It is kinda irritating listening to the callers though. Many, many people are taking this all in stride, calling in to thank the workers who are trying to restore power, those serving ice, water and MRE’s at the “Points of Distribution” or POD’s, thanking the Mayor and his sidekicks in keeping the public well-informed. Others…..well…. the hurricane left some complainers behind.

Callers complaining that they don’t have power. Hmm? 1.5 million households don’t have power. Ya think calling a radio station or your power company or your mama will get your power turned back on ahead of those 1,499,999 other households. Callers complaining that a POD ran out of ice and how are we gonna survive another day without ice or complaining that they can’t wait in a gas line for an hour or complaining that the curfew is martial law or complaining that the city didn’t respond quickly enough. And on and on and on.

It is really sad.

It is really sad that when people have lost their homes, every single belonging they have, their place of employment, pets and photos, and children’s toys and so many things that they cherished, that people are complaining about having to drink room temp water.

It sucks. Yea, it does. I wish I had power to my coffee maker and could take a hot shower in a room that was well lit.

I wish that my friend didn’t lose her house, too.

She doesn’t have a house. So shut up that you are missing out on So You Think You Can Dance. Because I am about to shove a mosquito net down your throat.

Eisenhower or Turner? He Made A Mess!

We returned from our evacuation getaway yesterday. It was a bit surreal as we got closer and closer to Houston. We passed up Centerville, which is the halfway point between Houston and Dallas. We zoomed right past it without stopping, not really thinking that the problems would be so far north. As we passed, we noticed that a bunch of cars were backed up on the exit ramp going north. We continued on to Madisonville where we stopped in order to top off our tank, knowing that Houston was a wreck of no power and no fuel. Madisonville, a full hour and a half north of Houston had no power and no fuel. As we continued into Huntsville, more and more trees were downed, more billboards had been knocked over.

As we approached Huntsville, stop and go traffic began. We started getting itchy. Worried that this stop and go business would continue all the way into Houston. While we were perfectly fine on gas if traffic moved at normal speeds, we were not going to be able to go 10 mph and make it. We pulled out Tom Tom and tried to find some out of the way gas stations within the center of Huntsville. Unfortunately, there was no power anywhere we drove. The 2 gas stations that we did see with fuel, had a major police presence as they attempted to maintain order for the 50+ cars attempting to fuel up. The police were only allowing a car into the gas station as another left. The backup from the gas station is what caused the stop and go traffic on the freeway. Once we passed Huntsville, without filling up, we really didn’t have any problems with traffic. We turned off the AC and started to trail a semi, in order to draft off of him in an attempt to save all the fuel we could.

We made it into Houston, not too far behind the standard time of 4 ½ hours. The damage that began in Huntsville continued all along the freeways into Houston. Trees, signs, light poles, everything just torn up. Once in Houston proper, we saw some feeder roads that were flooded out. Very few gas stations were open, very very very few places had power. Those gas stations that were open, had ridiculously long lines and a heavy police presence.

Our house is not damaged, none of the houses within the very short distance we have traveled are damaged, just lots and lots of dead trees and downed power lines. We don't have power, but um, yeah...who does...

1.5 million are without power currently, down from 2.1 million. Gas lines are insane and have police out in force. The stores that are able to open do not have much on the shelves as they cannot restock.

I am quite proud of my city. I continue my love affair with Bill White. I continue to despise Sheila Jackson Lee. Ed Emmett seems to be a cool cat although I cannot understand why judges are constantly helping out with disasters. Is that really their expertise?

Houston is recovering. People are helping their neighbors, we are doing ok here. Say a prayer for those that were stupid enough to stay in their homes in Galveston, Crystal Beach, Surfside, etc. They did not heed the warnings. Did not listen and I hope they survived.

I think though that overall we are doing pretty well. I love this town.

Too Sleepy To Title This Bad Boy.

I was up at the ungodly hour of 4 a couple weeks back. It is much easier when you are headed to a sandy beach than when you are working on outrunning a hurricane the size of Texas.

We are heading to Dallas to wait out Ike. We live next to downtown Houston, in an old house, next to a freeway that collects water.

I have parents begging me to bring the grandcats for a visit, so I guess I say, Ike, I surrender. You Bastard.

Don't take out the trees next to my house. I like electricity. It powers my Roomba. K. Thx.

Perhaps the Paring

This Morning.

Not Craig: Oh my God! Turn around. Let me see your butt.

Fianna: What? NO!!!

Not Craig: Serious. What the hell is that?

Fianna: thinking - if he is about to point out a zit or cellulite on my ass...I am going to grab a knife.

Not Craig: That is so gross!

Fianna: Inching towards knife drawer.

Not Craig: That is jacked up.

Fianna: Hmmm ... Butcher knife or steak knife?

The deck in Jamaica is slippery. Be careful.

Although with views like this, who really cares about that baseball size bruise on your ass cheek?

Last Discussion About the Hurricane (Which is Such a Lie.)

I don't mean to drone on and on about the storm. On Twitter, Plurk, here, at work, on various chat boards, yawn!!!

How would ya'll deal with a fucking huge storm on top of your island oasis? You would be pissed. And hope for the best. Optimism! Wee!

Then....add on to that stupid asshole of a storm, a potential that while you are working on getting a tan in potential downpours, that same fucker of a storm hits your hometown. Where your friends, favorite bar, home, job and cats are. All unattended.

I would probably guess that you would develop an ulcer (and then you would name it Tom).

And then you would drink Vodka. And maybe tequila. And if you had red wine, you would drink it, but you don't, so you stick with vodka.

And then you would pack and hope that all those cute little skirts and bathing suits will come in handy.

At this point, due to the insurance industries' strict definition of "uninhabitable" and disregard for "ideal vacations" which is totally not defined within the policy, it appears that we are going to Jamaica, bitches.

Of course, just like the spot where the storm will hit the U.S., that will change in the next update, in the next hour.

Palpatations

There is a fucking hurricane over Jamaica right now. I am going to kill Gustav. Ya'll...I am freaking out and am super pissed and want to destroy Gustav and his family.

I hope I don't run into any guys named Gustav today. Because I will spit in their general direction. And maybe hiss.

What the hell do you do when there is a fucking hurricane in the path of your vacation?

I twittered that it should hit Europe. I don't hate Europe or anything, well not most parts of it, but I am not flying to Europe in a matter of days. Flying over a fucking hurricane.

Ya'll, I am about to puke and then punch out random people. Which is probably better than the Bloggess who is tattooing random cats today. But whatever. Fucking hurricane.

Someone count the number of times I have used fuck in this post, because that, my friends, is the definition of restraint.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!!!

Point by Point

1. Texas should not have any open air stadiums. Houston v. Dallas? Houston wins every time. Because we air-condition our stadiums and equip them with retractable roofs, should there be a single day out of the season where it is below 105 degrees and only 92% humidity. Dallas? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. This is Texas, folks. The annual "Governor's Cup" or whatever it is called, with Houston Texans vs. the Cowboys was this past weekend. At 10 P.M., I was sweating. Football is a cold weather sport. Not a sweating activity. I hate you Texas Stadium. I vote to tear it down.

2. Could anyone out there explain what "wallygosses" are? They are a sort of scary monster to a 3 year old. I have spelled it phonetically, but of course, from a 3 year old, she could be referring to Barney or the Teletubbies.

3. Why did I play a game with a 3 year old where we were breaking out of jail and hiding from the cops. One of us is a bad influence on the other. I am pointing at the kid.

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

Oh Hi. Um, how are you doing? Me, I’m fine. Just have been a bit overwhelmed with, well, living, I guess. I never meant to go so long without calling you. I just, I don’t know... it just slipped my mind. You mean so much to me, I am so sorry. I am embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me.

When last we talked, I posed a contest. A How Long Does It Take Fianna To Be a Lobster Contest.

No one guessed it right! There wasn’t even a closest without going over winner.

Which truly, does not surprise me. At all. Because can anyone even count that low?

The answer to how many minutes did I, the redhead, stay in a tanning bed on her first visit to a tanning place ever. How many minutes did it take to turn me to a pretty pink pink, is . . .

4 Minutes.

Oh how pale I am of the Palest variety of the Pales.

I have gone a total of 3 times so far. I did 4 minutes, then 3 minutes, and 4 again. The last 2 trips, I wore SPF 4 tanning lotion and have not turned pink pink again.

And! Lines!

I has tan!

There is clear and convincing evidence of a tan. Now… look at a piece of white paper. That is before, now, go look at a sheet of ivory paper – like resume paper. That is now. Well, maybe a bit optimistic, but I really really think there is a slight change of color to this white soul.

And if my mom Kaytabug Sophie is reading this, don’t worry, I am taking SPF Forty Bazillion with me to Jamaica.

Winner!

We have 2 winners. Because I said so.

BEV AT SAUNTERING SOUL! She guessed the closest with 5 minutes. I have thought about going 5 minutes…but am skerred. Of the red.

KARMYN R! Karmyn gets first and a half place because she was the closest winner on the first guess.

Ladies! Email me at fiannafiannafianna AT gmail DOT com and provide an address where I can send super cool Jamaican stuff. The supercool stuff that doesn’t get confiscated or end up with me in jail. Sorry. I may love you, but I have been watching Locked Up Abroad. Red is not the only thing I am skerred of.

Operation Jamaica

Our efforts to look like Adonis and well, Adonisa, I guess, at the beach continues.

Tonight I got off work late, ran to the gym, killed myself there, ran home for a quick shower, went tanning again and came home. Once home, I cooked a grilled cheese sandwich and now, minutes after eating it, I sit here typing at 10:30. Whew.

I apologize for not being more responsive on the tanning contest. It does continue as no one has guessed the right number. I will leave it open awhile longer, at least until I get a chance to properly draft a blog post about my tanning adventure.

In the meantime, here is some training for you:



I go bed now.

An Amazing Shade of Red

Facts About My Weekend:

We spent a fortune on booking and buying crap and preparing ourselves for Our Big Vacation. We are going to Jamaica, bitches.

Snorkel! Cannot wait to snorkel. Wonders if I must have flippers. I do have water shoes, for the corals and stuff. Anyone? I am not a lover of the flipper, the shoes, not the dolphin. Dolphins are ok, I guess. Except kinda dumb for swimming with Charlie the Tuna.

I ran another 3 miles without feeling quite like I was going to die. Just kinda sorta. Would have been much easier if I wasn’t wearing shorts that insisted on crawling up inside my body during the run.

In addition to snorkels, and clothing and water shoes purchased for the vacation in Jamaica, we joined a NEWER, BRIGHTER, PRETTIER, THINNER gym. Because if we go to a gym that has skinny, pretty people, maybe we will become skinny and pretty, by osmosis. To me, if it means that I can run the treacherous 3 miles indoors as opposed to outside the doors, I am happy. Even if I have to watch anorexics wander the gym. Although, I could eat them I am so hungry, so they better stay clear.

On this super fast track to looking awesome for Our Big Vacation which is happening in like minutes, we also went to a Tanning Salon.

Hi, my name is Fianna, I am a freaking redhead.

However, I am ever so grateful to have accepted the ribbing from Not Craig about wearing my tightie whities to the tanning salon. I am ever so grateful for the tightie whities. ‘Nuff said.

Today, I am pink. With shades of coral red! This is my first ever visit to a tanning salon. Between Mr. Abercrombie and Mr. Fitch at the front desk talking like retarded valley girls and the Pink Skin, an interesting experience. We are doing this under a free 2 week trial membership so at least I am not paying to burn. And yea, no lectures. I am the one that nicknames her friends, Mela-Noma. I am trying to prepare for spending long hours on the beach. In Jamaica. Bitches.

Let’s have a contest! How many minutes was I in the tanning bed in order to turn a wonderful shade of coral?

The winner will get a prize from Jamaica. But you must be prepared to be patient. When I say I am going in minutes, I mean more like weeks.

I may be an exaggerator. But this exaggerator? Is going to Jamaica!

Preparations for the Tropical Storm.

I wanted to post this last night. You know, in case I woke up dead. Or with the power off. Or hung over with no ambition for blogging.

Blogger hates Tropical Storms apparently. Including any freaking out! Respect The Storm!

So, anyhoo, I prepared thoroughly for the Tropical Storm.

I looked through my cupboards. Found granola bars, green beans and Vodka.

I was nervous. I was out of red wine. I seriously considered venturing out for red wine. However, the news was reporting that lines at Wal-Mart reached to the back of the store, I felt that I could do with vodka. I know. I am taking my chances. What if I am unable to get out of the house for days on end. The closest gas station that may sell a really cheap wine or Shiner, which could serve as a substitute, is a full 2 blocks away. TWO BLOCKS!

So, if you don't get another update, send a nice Shiraz. K? Thx.

With plenty of alcohol and canned goods, I then ensured that all outdoor items were secured. Well, items that were under my control and not icky like the trash cans. I pulled all my plants inside.


I would like to bring everyone's attention to 2 things in this picture. Look at how well my plants have recovered from my murder attempts. Second, see the cats. 14 hours later, the damn cats are in the exact same location, eating leaves.

I am off from work today, due to inclamate weather. It sure is clammy weather.

The Sweet In Between

It isn’t that I am at an in-between stage anymore. I am in a completely different stage.

The problem is, I haven’t quite figured myself out in this new stage or even exactly what stage I am in, or how to meet and make friends with others in this new stage, whatever it may be.

A stage beyond the last one. A stage where I have left a good friend of mine.

It sucks to notice the different settings we are in. To look back and wish her the best. But know that I am not there anymore and I don’t want to be. She does. This creates a rift.

It might be easier if I had more friends in this new stage. If I could just say, sorry, too busy, can’t do what you want to do.

Instead, I say naaahh, not interested. And stay at home. Because I haven’t quite figured out where I am and how to meet other people that aren’t sure where they are at either. So at least we could be at a spot unknown, together. So I won’t be alone in this in-between.

My Boss Thinks I Am Crazy. Again.

I was late to work today.

Not because I slept in or played too long on the computer this morning or because I couldn’t figure out what to wear or because I had a flat tire or because of traffic or because of any other plausible excuse.

I was late to work this morning because on my way into the office, just as I hit the downtown streets, the downtown streets of the fourth largest city in the U.S., at 8 A.M., which is rush hour, in a huge metropolitan city, there was a frigging horse in the road. A HORSE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION IN DOWNTOWN HOUSTON.

What was a horse doing in the middle of a freaking intersection in the middle of rush hour in Houston?

The Horse was surrounded by large buses and a bazillion cars in the middle of an intersection, because the Ass that was riding it was pulling over someone.

A mounted cop, took his horse into the middle of an intersection, causing traffic to back up onto the freeway, causing people to slam on their brakes in order to avoid hitting a HORSE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION in order to pull someone over.

I can’t come up with a good reason to pull over someone that involves taking your HORSE INTO THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION. Can you?

/Rant

Houston Music Fetish

I have been trying for some time to sit down and tell ya’ll about my Sunday. It was a most awesomest Sunday. But then I had the most awesomest Monday, which will or will not be featured another day. Now that it is Tuesday, Kaytabug is bugging me to Plurk and I am being stubborn. I won’t do it until I get this wordy and Youtube intensive research project done. Amen. Word to my Mom.

For many a year now, I have gone to the thingy ma bobber that I went to on Sunday. While out and about, I saw a tee that said 1997, so the event has been going on forev-a. Almost as long as I have been out of high school, which is an eternity. There isn’t a wiki page dedicated to the deal, so I can’t say how long exactly. And, um, could we get a wiki page going, because that is the only place I get my facts. Help a girl out.

Every July, Houston’s “alternative” press paper throws this huge event in downtown. At 17,000 clubs, there are 70 billion different bands playing. You pay a pittance to get into all these venues and see all these bands.

They have every genre imaginable playing at these assorted venues. For the diligent sort, here is a long-azz review of the bands that played this year.

Without further adieu, let’s see who I saw:

At 5 P.M., we started off with Brian’s Johnson (We really did start at 4, but we totally did not like the band that was playing at the venue we selected as a gathering point, so let’s just pretend we were late and started at 5. K? Thx.)

Brian’s Johnson is an ACDC cover band that one person in our entourage had seen the night before and declared them “awesome”. I will say they were good. Not freaking amazing, but strongly good, bordering on great. . . . (youtube search break) . . . Apparently, I will not qualify as an ACDC fan, because it appears that someone in ACDC is named Brian Johnson, hence the name, how clever, Fianna had no clue. Moving on.

I couldn't find a video for your listening pleasure. So here is an ACDC video, imagine other guys up there playing, and fewer people, and you are nearly there.



6 PM – Once it was 6, I was rocking with Mighty Orq. The lead singer, Orq, is freaking awesome. He is a nice guy when a mic isn’t in his face, so he gets extra points. I have seen him many times over the past few years, but the first time I saw him was at the Press Awards years ago, and my ass was shown shaking it on the evening news. The next day, one of the partners came into my office first thing in the morning and asked me about it. Yea. . So yea.

I couldn’t find the song I wanted to link to, but if you work with me a bit, you can hear a small portion of it by going here, and then clicking on Carry Me Home. One of his chillax songs. Not booty shaking. The news didn’t show me while this song was on.

It coulda been this song that introduced my shaking azz to the Houston Lawyer's Association.



The Seven O’Clock special, Fondue Monks, is another repeat that I saw at the Press Awards a while back. We later met the lead singer, “Denver” who was very nice and appreciative and maybe a bit drunk.





8 PM – Skyblue 72 rocked. I saw them for the first time a few months back at my beloved Mucky Duck. When I saw the lineup for the Press Show, I only called this band. I let the others decide on who else we saw as long as I got my Skyblue 72. Girl power, Rwwaarrr.



At 9 P.M., nicely soused, we saw another redo, Lonestar Pornstar. I saw them a couple years ago, and then went to them again the next year and lookie here, they are back again. Awesome band. Awesome way to end the night. Bouncing around to some badass rock.


Their brand of music does not translate well to handheld video cameras or cell phone recordings. I found the following video, but it is totally Milli Vanilli'd.



I hope you guys enjoy a bit of this music. I had a wonderful time seeing some great live acts. If you think I have horrible taste, check out this review of the bands and find somebody better and then come back and tell me about it.

(And let me apologize if this post makes no sense. I know the grammar-ly issue is worse than most of my non-grammar-ious posts. Mama is tired. I have been having lots of fun and my old bones are screaming for sleep.)

Girl Schmirl or The Pugilist (Because I Really Wanted to Use That Word Somewhere)

I am not a girlie girl. I am pretty close to the opposite of one. From what I remember, it has always been this way, which given my upbringing, is odd. I grew up with a sister, my best friends were 3 girls, one of which had a sibling – a girl. There were no boys around when I was growing up, until, of course, they were an object of lust.

For some reason, these girls, my 3 best friends, my sister, and my friend’s sister, I would hesitate to call any of us anything other than tomboys.

Sure, we played with dolls, had a list of boys that we thought were cute, with some convoluted system of rating said cuteness (K – do you have these anymore? Because that – total blog fodder), took home ec, sewed, cooked, etc. and so forth.

Even though now, I won’t go anywhere without painted toenails and lipsticked lips, these are probably the only things that make me a girly girl. If there was a club or an organization of girlness, I would be on probation all the time. Or more likely, banned for life.

For example:

I prefer steak and potatoes to … well anything.

I have had one pedicure in my life, and that was only because the wedding party I was in, all got pedicures. Which just as an aside, the bride, just to point out the type of girls I get involved with, announced loudly while we were getting ready that she needed to go to the bathroom. #2. And she went #2 in her wedding dress. I am pretty sure that she is quite proud of this to this very day. She probably farted really loud walking down the aisle and blamed someone else, too. I know there is a video with her belching into the camera extremely loudly. Again, in her wedding dress. I love that girl.

I have never had a professional massage. I despise chocolate. I hate diamonds.

Friday night, I could have watched either While You Were Sleeping or Pulp Fiction. No way in hell that this was even a contest. Pulp Fiction, even though I have seen it 72,821 times. While You Were Sleeping? I don’t believe I have ever seen it. Nor do I have any desire to do so.

I do have a couple girly friends. Ok, one. She lives in another state – (not Kaytabug). This friend was wishing that we lived in the same area the other day. She commented that if we were in the same city, she would like to go have some coffee and then go see Mamma Mia.

I am not a good friend.

Because I could not stop myself from immediately busting out laughing. Um, Mamma Mia? Do you even know who I am? I would rather go see Batman, X-Files, Step-Brothers, Hellboy or even Journey to the Center of the Earth. Honestly, if I had to choose between Death Race and Mamma Mia? The previews for Death Race make me want to vomit and then fling the vomit at the screen, it is so bad. But if I had to choose between that stupid flick and Mamma Mia, I think I would choose Death Race. At least people would die in Death Race.

Most of the time, my girliness or lack thereof, isn’t on my mind, or considered in any sort of fashion, but between the above movie discussion and my day yesterday, I was quite intrigued by my failure as a chick. Intrigued enough to actually sit and write a post which is something that I have really, really sucked at recently. Although if you knew how exciting my life has been recently, you would so totally forgive me.

Yesterday, we went to a Gun Show. And I totally enjoyed it. And then we went to a friend’s house where they have 2 TV’s. I had a choice between hanging out with the wife watching old X-File episodes(which is a hell of a lot better than any other potential chick watching item) and with the guys and the TV with the PPV boxing.

You know what I chose, of course you do, we are cool like that.

Music Friday - Journey

As soon as you start the video, close your eyes. Halfway through open them. Just trust me on this.




Did he fool you? Here is a small portion of the story behind this.



How cool is that! Thanks to the Houstonist.

Name This Post.

I feel that it is important to accomplish something every day. Big or small. Although the big accomplishments should, of course, outweigh the small on the grand scale. So I live my life that way, curing polio one day, taking a shower the next. Big and small.

Today - I did not punch out the dentist. It took great strength to hold back, yet I did it.

Big or small? Who knows, but now, I can go back to bed.


And if you were wondering where I have been, I blog all the time over at Twitter. Do you have any idea how hard it is to create posts that require over 141 characters? Nearly impossible, folks. I have found just enough strength and not utterly boring stuff to blog at Twitter. One day, I may do better. But today, I didn't punch out anyone. Work with me here.

Oh and think positive thoughts as my sis rides out a hurricane. A baby hurricane, but those things are powerful. 6 hours north of her and we are getting rain bands. Rain bands, much like rubber bands.

(Is this really a blog post or just the mad rantings of an idiot. It is hard to tell sometimes!)

Rhetorical Thought Patterns

I need to start carrying a voice recorder with me. I have some amazingly funny thoughts. Yet I never get them written down and when I remember, hey, you had some unbelievable hilarious stuff to tell the internets, it never fails, my memory falls short.

Yesterday, I had numerous instances like that. There were some very funny things to tell ya’ll about my trip to the downtown grocery store. The one where you park beneath it and you ride an elevator to get to it.

And the bus barn? Or bus stop? Oh wait, terminal. Greyhound has a huge terminal (that is right, right?) in downtown Houston. This area is not for the suburbanite, non-city dweller, not used to seeing people peeing into the gutter. The area frightens me sometimes, me, the one with a crack house on the corner of her street (it is being remodeled now, but I reminisce to the days of yore), the one who recognizes all the panhandlers around her neighborhood, and says hello to them. Transient folks circle the place, I have no idea if they are planning on hijacking a bus or what, but there is a bus/homeless person problem off downtown.

On the way home, again, lots of funny crap swirling in my brain-o, yet I forgot to write it down. There was the caddy with spoke type rims and protrusions from said rims. It reminded me of cowboy spurs or that stupid movie they are showing previews for, Death Race, I think. It is so bad I don’t want to even bother looking it up to get you a proper title. But, this caddy, if it got too close, or if I wandered out of my lane at all, poof, my tires would explode due to his protruding rim thing. Now it is morning, the time when I typically write my ramblings, and I have no idea what my thoughts were. Because the recall I just gave you – not funny.

The actual thoughts last night – Funny with a capital F.

I do recall one not so funny thing. Not nearly as funny as the things I was going to tell you.

When I was doing this carousing downtown yesterday, mid-day, which I am not wont to due typically, I realized I have a lot of those tag things on my keychain. The ones you get from stores.

These things.

I either have my priorities straight or I have a serious drinking problem. (Don’t answer that.)

Two from Spec’s.

You don’t have to laugh, it’s okay. I know my other stuff was freaking hilarious.

Now if I could only figure out where I placed those thoughts.

My Greenery

This is my makeshift patio.



I only know what the 2 right pots are - tomato plant and rosemary, and the front rectangular holder, catnip and basil. The others, mmmeerrr, not a clue.

I took the picture to capture the gross bug on one of the pots. See it?

And yea, I am too lazy to actually go out and look at that little tag on that pot to identify it.

The above photo was taken in early June.

I still have not been able to get those tomatoes to grow. This is my first year trying tomatoes.

The first year I even ate fresh tomatoes.



They really aren't doing well. Really really not doing well these days.



Apparently, even though it rains every single day, the plants didn't get all that water.

I feel such guilt.

I am a plant killer.

I loved my little garden. I used the basil quite frequently.

And my cats, they were developing a bit of a 'nip habit.

Maybe it's all for the best.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!

I hope everyone had a wonderful 4^th. I sure did. We live on the edge of downtown. Very close to city center, very close to where the fireworks are shot off. The nation’s largest firework display – in Houston. I figured if we could watch the fireworks from our place, it would be awesome.

You know what is so much more awesomer? Being invited to a new friend’s house that is blocks from the actual launch site of those fireworks where you are at a perfect eye level just above the tree line, you can feel each firework go off, they feel like they are exploding within just a couple feet from your face and you are drinking the best mojitos gay men can make. I heart living downtown.

We will be moving when the lease on this place is up. There have been weeks worth of discussions and internet searching for where we go next. Do we buy? Do we rent? Where? The ultimate consensus after all these talks is that we will continue living down here. No suburbia for our future.

With the move (in 5 months) in mind, my Type A personality has been freaking out about downsizing our crap stock. I closed shop on my Ebay store a month or so ago after dismal sales. I have pulled all my Ebay stuff together and plan on sorting and selling it in lots, most likely to other sellers.

I have gone through my closet pulling things to get rid. I have gone through the cabinets with the same intention. All in all, I have only 2 garbage bags full of stuff to get rid of outside of the Ebay piles.

This really surprises me. However, I have downsized considerably each time I have moved over the past 3 years. I am now at the point where there just isn’t much more to go. I have quit buying unnecessary knick-knacks and I get rid of clothes as I buy more. And if anyone dare chimes in that a Wii and a Roomba are unnecessary, you are off the Christmas card list. Well, you would be if I ever sent Christmas cards.

I am quite pleased with myself that my consumerism ways have been checked. My savings account reflects it and my closets reflect it. One more way, my Frugal McFrugalitis is working in my favor.

How did you spend your long weekend?

Go Go Gadget!

When I went to my sister’s for a family get-together this past week, I really didn’t mean to spend a fortune on gadgets.

Ok, that is a lie.

I totally planned on buying a Wii as they are known to be quite populous in that area. And where my parents live. Yet Houston, nowhere. Houston, we have a problem. Well, not anymore because I have a Wii now, but we did. I guess…

I did not plan nor expect nor even ponder buying a robot floor cleaning wizard. It was a decision thrust upon me by my pushy big sister.

That’s my story.

And the store was going out of business so it was a steal.

And I have always really wanted one.

And with the recent death and resulting thoughts surrounding wasted time and pointless arguments that I would always regret, over all things, housework… I needed a Roomba.

That may be the real story, although my sister? Really good for the economy. Dubya may want to give her a call.

The Roomba? I lurve it. With all my heart.

It works wonderfully, sucking up all the stray cat fur, litter and various crumbs that 3 cats and 2 humans shed.

It has caused me way too much happiness for being just a simple cleaning tool.

My love for the Roomba Vs. the Wii?

A close race.

I Got My Hair Did!

It started as simply as not feeling comfortable in Oil Field, New Mexico. I didn’t trust my locks to someone whose sister couldn’t serve me a cheeseburger without making me want to cry.

Before last week, the last time I got my hair cut was before moving to BFE, NM, 19 months ago.

Somewhere along the way, I got an idea in my head.

There are 2 organizations (that I am aware of) where I could donate my hair. Locks of Love, the well-known organization that creates wigs for needy children that have suffered hair loss due to a medical condition and Pantene’s Beautiful Lengths program which has partnered up with the American Cancer Society to provide wigs to women with cancer.

The big difference between the two organizations is the length requirements for donated hair. Locks of Love requires 10 inches while Pantene’s requirements are 8 inches.

I am donating my 11” ponytail to Locks of Love.

It may have started with a bit of anger and hatred towards the circumstances of my living situation, but has turned into a wonderful gift to a (presumably) cute little kid.

Now if I could just get used to that stranger in the mirror.

What I Have To Say Now

Thank you to all for the kind words in response to my last post. They really put a smile on my face when it was hard to stop crying, much less smile. I have wondered exactly how much to tell as it is not my tragedy. It is a tragedy belonging to a family I love very dearly. To a friend I call a sister, to her mother, who I call Mom.

The best I can come up with are just some things I really want to say.

Don’t take life for granted. It can end in moments.

The little things count. Make an impression on someone by simply being friendly, considerate, just there. No matter what.

Get your finances in order. Don’t be caught unexpectedly in an emergency. Have some cash stashed. Have a way to pay for expenses that you never ever ever thought you would have to pay.

Work in a job where they care enough to let you leave at a moment’s notice and for as long as necessary for a friend.

Get a will. Also get a living will. Making your family make those decisions… …. Just don’t make them think about it…. Discuss the undiscussable.

Spend more time with people and not so much time online, cleaning, sleeping, and working.

No matter what you say, you can’t say the right thing to make someone who has lost their dad or their husband feel better. There are a lot of wrong things you can say. Don’t say those.

And never, ever forget to wear sunscreen.