Update on A

Alright, A is doing okay.  Much, much better.  She only had to stay one night in the doggie hospital.  (Thank goodness, since we may not have been able to afford to get her back after a second night!)  She bounced back very quickly.  They're still not sure what caused the original issue, but we were given two different antibiotics, and instructions to keep her on special food for a while, until everything gets regulated and back under control.
She even spent the weekend at the daycare, with E, while Alpha and I visited my family for Christmas.  I've called to check on them several times, and am always told that she's just fine, doing well.

Hemorrhagic gastroenteritis

Poor baby A.  My poor darling girl.

She's still alive, before you panic.  But poor baby girl is sick sick sick.  She was doing okay this morning, so we took A and E to daycare, like we normally do on Mondays.  But I got a phone call at about 10, from the daycare.  They said that A had been throwing up, and had some bloody diarrhea.  But they didn't seem too concerned.  Just put her in the back room to keep her quiet.
But it worried me, so I called Alpha and asked him to leave work and take her to the vet.  I made an appointment for 2pm.  When 1:30 rolled around the daycare called me again and said, A definitely needed to go to the vet.  She's had more bloody diarrhea, and obviously felt ill.

Punctuality

People, if I could give you one piece of advice, it would be this: BE ON TIME.  Better yet, be early.

Whether it's for a date, a doctor's appointment, Sunday school, or a midterm, punctuality could be considered one of the most important factors in your life.  There is a reason that doctors' offices charge fees for no-shows.  Your professor may accept that paper 2 days late, but trust me, he's not going to grade it as kindly as the others.  And when was the last time you had a second date with someone who was an hour late the first time?

Here's the thing - you may not think it's a big deal to be late, but how do you feel if someone is wasting your time?  Being late is like wasting someone else's time.  And chances are, they value that time.  I know I do.  And you, wasting that time?  That is not simply rude.  It's disrespectful.  It is NOT okay.  It IS a big deal.

What is fueling this rant?  Let me tell you:
I usually do not see patients on Fridays.  I get to the office somewhere between 9:30 and 10, and finish up the paperwork for the week, and go home.  I have available slots for patients, but the sonographers are usually busy with emergent cases on Friday, so the we try to avoid scheduling routine things (like people who see me,) on Fridays.  Because of the holidays, our schedule has been extremely full this week.  And next week.  And the week after New Years.  Basically, I'm booked solid until February.  So when the scheduler called me on Tuesday to ask about adding a Friday patient this week, I said I'd be happy to do it.  Put her in at 8:45.
Except that I had my own appointment at 8:00.  As part of the package at my new dentist's, they scheduled me for an orthodontics consult at 8am on Friday.  So I called the dentist's office and explained, and asked if I could reschedule.  Their receptionist said it was no problem, I should be done and out by 8:30.  So I kept it.
As fate would have it, I also had a patient scheduled for 9:30 on Friday, so I stayed at the office until 6:00 on Thursday evening, making sure I had everything in place for the morning, and no one would have to wait on me.  I got to the dentist's 20 minutes early to fill out paperwork, and reminded them of my time constraints.  Again, they said it would be fine.  I didn't get into the chair until 8:15, so I told the lady who brought me back that I had to leave by 8:30.  No problem.
Well, the ortho finally pops in at about 8:27 and starts looking at my mouth.  We very briefly touch on possibly doing braces, and she was about to talk about night guards (because I clench my jaw,) when she was called away.  I sat and waited until 8:40, and finally just got up.  I explained the situation to the person at the desk (who was not anyone I'd talked to prior.)  Apparently, after the consult, she was supposed to be meeting with me to talk about pricing and insurance coverage, but I told her to email me, and I left.
Sidenote: The orthodontist was actually working on another patient this whole time.  There was someone actually getting a procedure done at the same time as my appointment, and she was just supposed to pop in to see me while the gel was setting.  Seriously, not okay.
So, by the time I get into my car to go to work, it's 8:45.  I get to work, run across the parking lot, and get into my office at 9:00, already rehearsing my apology to my patient...
Bitch didn't show up.
So this patient, who so desperately needed to see me that she couldn't wait the two weeks for a more convenient appointment, stood me up.
I just compromised my own health care for someone else's, and they don't even have the damn courtesy to call in and cancel.
And to add insult to injury, my 9:30 patient didn't show either.

So seriously, people.  Be on time.  Have some fucking courtesy.  And show a little respect for the human beings who are generously waiting on you to keep up your end of the bargain.

Kitten

You moron!  You blind fool!  She was talking about you, not Lady.  You... me... She likes... me?  Seriously?  Seriously.
And to make matters even more perfect, Alpha is okay with this.

I'm still in shock from both of these revelations, I assure you.  Seriously.

Funny thing happened the other day...

So, there's this couple that frequents the same parties we do.  We met them almost a year ago.  They are great people.  One of those couples who seems to really be on the same page.  The guy has always been quite friendly, but the girl took quite a while to warm up.
I wasn't sure if she was just shy, or if she didn't like me, or exactly why I got such an odd vibe.  But I wanted to be friends with her.  Well, I have to admit, I had thoughts about being more than just friends with her, but that didn't seem like a realistic option, for several reasons...

Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

I miss you.  I miss spending time with you, and I miss talking to you.  There was a time when we were nearly inseparable.  We talked every day, and did almost everything together.  Grocery shopping, baking Christmas cookies, homework, or gossip about the latest show...

Now we barely speak.  I haven't seen you in months.  Sometimes it feels like years.  Life gets in the way, I guess.  You have your own life now.  You have a job, and other friends, and family nearby.  And I'm not sure why, but I feel like I'm getting in the way when I try to talk to you now.

I know you're busier than I am, so I try to let you make the plans.  I've told you my schedule, and asked you when we could meet, but you won't commit to anything.  I'm tired of suggesting that we meet for lunch and getting turned down.  Tired of sending text messages and IMs into the void.  I would stop by your house to say hello, but I can't.  I don't even know where you live anymore.  You haven't given me your address, despite me asking for it, though I hope that's not on purpose.

This has happened so many times to me, and I don't know why.  I have a friend, and become so close to them, and share all my life and my secrets... and they drift away.  I told you how scared I was of losing you, and you promised that it wouldn't happen.  Not this time.

But that's exactly what happened.  You got a new life - a new boyfriend, husband, job, home, car, etc - and you didn't need me anymore, I guess.  How else am I supposed to see it?  Did I offend you somehow?  Was I simply too honest when I gave you my opinion?

I am glad to know you are alive, and doing well.  Facebook is good for that, at least.  I hope you continue to enjoy the new things in life.  But if you ever need me, you know where to find me.  My phone number hasn't changed, and my email is the same.  But it won't be the same, and I hate that, but I don't know what else I can do about it.

Now where?

This time last year, I was at a pretty low point.  My marriage was at a low point.  My husband had moved with me to a new state to start my career, and his had fizzled.  We had moved into an apartment with a budget that assumed that he was working, and he was not.  Had not since we'd moved.  And the purse strings were beginning to tighten like a noose.
I was lonely.  Part of the joy of moving to Kansas was the knowledge that we already had friends here - my closest friend from graduate school and her husband had moved to the area just a few months before us.  But those friends had full time jobs (whereas we were living on my half-time salary,) and they quickly cultivated other friendships.  We weren't invited along.  And we hadn't cultivated any other friendships outside of the World of Warcraft.  With little dispensable income, it seemed impractical to go out and try to make friends.
We had a Come to Jesus meeting, Alpha and I.  We acknowledged how hard our relationship had become.  Mistakes were made.  We decided/agreed that we needed to try harder.  Counseling wasn't really in the cards, but we decided to try.  Reinvest in each other and the marriage.
Part of that was kink.  It's a world that has been a topic between us for longer than we've been together, but the actions had fizzled in the recent years.  It comes up a lot on this blog because, honestly, who else am I going to tell?

A very odd dream

I generally don't remember my dreams, but I remembered one from last night.  And it seems like there should be a significant message in there somewhere...

I am driving to school/work.  It seems like perhaps I am in my hometown (in Texas,) because I recognize Avenue N.  Its just like any other day, and I zone out while driving.  When I blink, I realize that there's a cop two cars behind me with his lights on.  I turn into an apartment complex parking lot to give him space, and he follows me.  Apparently, I was speeding.   Over 100 miles per hour, he says.  I am baffled.  I have no memory of going so fast.  I mean, doing 40 in a 35 isn't unusual for me, but 100?  No way.
I guess I seem sufficiently perplexed that the cop isn't going to write me a ticket.  But he wants to stress that it was very dangerous, and he's talking about some kind of community service program he wants me to attend.  Something about the consequences of reckless driving, or something.
I remain looking baffled and dumbfounded as he goes back to his squad car to phone in the details, and put me on the schedule for this program.  Best I can figure is that I just wasn't paying close attention when I began speeding down the road, and I vow to try to stay more alert.
The next thing I remember, I'm coming to a stop sign a few blocks away, and I realize that I up and left the cop.  I just backed out of the parking lot and drove away while he was in his squad car.  I have no memory of it, just the feeling of being on auto-pilot.  And then I begin to worry - if I ran off, the cop will think I was being suspicious, and I really do deserve a ticket.  Since he never got my name, could I just keep going and forget it?  Or should I backtrack and try to apologize and ask for forgiveness?  And what the hell is wrong with me that I did that?  Am I sick?  Brain tumor?  Would anyone believe me that is was honestly a mistake?  Do I need to get help?

That's essentially where it ends.  Pretty strange dream.

Christmas

Oh dear, is it really only 9 weeks away?  Two months until I see my family again?  (Of course, putting it in those terms, it feels like a long time.  I'm so homesick, it's not even funny.)

Now that Halloween is (almost) passed, I'm starting to look towards the December holidays with a mix of giddiness and trepidation.  Seeing family!  Going to see their new home in Georgia for the first time!  Christmas cookies!  Dad's cooking!  The first time in three years that Alpha and I are going to spend Christmas together!  But then... I have to find the space in the budget for gifts, and cookies.  I have to find and buy gifts.  I'm facing the annual Christmas cookie marathon alone, seeing as how my partner for the last two years hasn't contacted me in months, and I have no family nearby to recruit.  I have to board the girls in a kennel for the first time ever.  Heck, we don't even have anyone to drive us to the airport, so we'll have to pay for parking...

Failure

Got an email from ABGC yesterday while I was at the mall.  "We regret to inform you..."

The worst possible news, aside from death and/or dismemberment of a family member.

On Children...

Okay, do you know what will happen to Christina if she has a kid that she doesn't want? It will almost kill her. Trying to pretend that she loves a kid as much as she loves surgery will almost kill her, and it'll almost kill your kid. Do you know what it's like to be raised by someone who didn't want you? I do. To know you stood in the way of your mother's career? I do. I was raised by a Christina. My mother was a Christina. And as the child she didn't want, I am telling you, don't do this to her, because she's kind and she cares and she won't make it. The guilt of resenting her own kid will eat her alive.  -Meredith to Owen, Grey's Anatomy, Season 8, Episode 2: "She's Gone"

The question comes up occasionally - "When are you two going to have children?"  Usually from relatives or acquaintances who we don't see very often, or who don't know me very well.  People who know me better know the answer to that question.  And its an answer that hasn't changed in the past 10 years.

The Amazing Beauty of Karma

Karma is a fascinating things.  Karma is like fate, kismet, the idea of "what goes around, comes around."  You reap what you sew.  Life has its ups and down.  There are definitely highlights and low points.

Thank you, thank you, thank you - this month has brought forth an upswing.  It's like all of a sudden, things have fallen snugly - joyfully - into place.  My board exam is finished, and while I haven't found out if I passed or not, the pressure is alleviated.  The people I work with like the way I do my job, and are wanting me to go full time.  Alpha has procured a job with a nice company, which pays well and he seems to enjoy.  And we've begun making more of an effort to be sociable with people we already know, and we're really making friends.

Update on E (And my obsessions)

I realized that I haven't been talking about my girls very much, and just jabbering on about myself and my drama.  This morning, I read over the post I made about A and E.  Well, let me tell you, E has made so much progress.  We go on walks consistently now, and she adores going on car rides.

Well, we're doing well, considering.  E has gotten comfortable enough with us that we have returned the crate we borrowed from the rescue.  She doesn't run away from us on every approach (but still flees quite often.)  I think we assumed/hoped that A would help E, and E would just follow her lead.  But I forgot how long it took A to figure out where to go.  And I think I took A's trainability for granted, and assumed that E would be just as quick to pick things up.  Well, E is getting started with life two years later than A, and has to cope with a lot more changes.  E has never seen grass before.  She'd never been in a household, or a real "pack" before.

Lady

We haven't seen her in weeks.  Haven't spent actual time with her in... probably two months.  Oh, there's been the occasional emergency babysitting, and we've been to the same parties.  But the three of us haven't been together since middle of July.  It was easy to say it was over; harder to make it feel real.  Even harder to believe it.

Better this way, I know.  She no longer fit the dating criteria, so it was time to be done.  I really hope we can still be friends, but I don't really know what she thinks of it all.  She's a hard person to read - someone who just flits in and out of your life in a whirl of charm and energy.  She's barely online to chat anymore.

On jealousy

I frequently (read, always) find myself jealous.  Usually of other women.  For any and every reason I can think of.  They're prettier, or I like their taste in clothes, or they squeal nicely when they get flogged.  Maybe they have a hardcore d/s relationship, and I wish I could be that submissive.  Or they're allowed to play with others, when I'm not.  Maybe they just own a nicer car.  Whatever.

But I get jealous.  I don't know why.  I mean, I have a great life.  My body isn't perfect, but I have nice curves.  And I'm not 19 anymore.  I know that.  And I don't actually want a hardcore d/s relationship.  I'm not interested in worshiping anyone's feet, or sleeping around.

Ask and ye shall receive...

My great-grandmother, Mamaw, was an awesome woman.  She was strong, and wise, and intelligent, and clever.  When I was little, she'd pick me up from school, and we'd hang out.  Mmm, Chick-Fil-A and Braums.  She took me to the pet store, and the mall, and to the movies whenever a Disney came out.

She was a woman who survived the Depression.  She lived on a farm.  She went to college.  She married a businessman, and raised two children.  She was an icon in her local church.  And she and her husband were key supporters in the formation of the Oklahoma Christian Women's Association.

Mamaw passed away almost 15 years ago, in her 80s, from a series of strokes.  Her legacy is a myriad of wisdom, anecdotes, patience, paintings, turquoise jewelry, and cookbooks.  The OCWA compiled recipes from their members and sold the books as a fundraiser.  I grew up with two editions of Stepping Stones to Good Eating.  I have memories of my mother and I flipping through the pages, looking for tasty things to make.  Southern banana cake, Dina Shore brownies, jello with applesauce and red hots... We would write comments in the margins, and I remember drawing little cookies on the face page of the "cookie" section, salad on the face page of the "salad" page, etc...  But when I got married and moved away, I missed having them on my shelf.

Who are you, anyway?

When I was little, I had trouble deciding what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I wanted to be a professional ice skater, a veterinarian, an Egyptologist, and a marine biologist.  I wanted to be a journalist, or write fiction.  Eventually, I zeroed in on the biological sciences, especially medicine.  A virologist, a pathologist... I wanted to be a psychiatrist for a while, until my father's mocking shamed me away from it.  That, and a few surgery videos made me realize that I didn't have the stomach to get through medical school.

During my first year in college, I was listed as pre-med, even though I doubted I would follow that path.  (My father wanted me to get an MD/PhD and do research.  Ha ha.)  After my first semester, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.  Genetics.  I'd loved it in high school, and I loved it even more in college.  Loved it enough to stay awake at 8am in a lecture hall of 100+ students, with a monotone professor who still used an overhead projector and slides.

But a few trips to the lab, and I realized it may be a dream half-realized.  I HATED the lab.  So tedious, so monotonous... I could become a medical geneticist, but that would require not only and MD, but more study beyond that.  And then, that darling, monotone professor suggested genetic counseling.  He wrote it on my exam when he graded it - yes, he did essay style exams, hand written.  He wrote, "Great way of explaining things!  Have you considered genetic counseling as a career?"  And that was it.  I was hooked.

What to do?

My schedule was recently shuffled, and I now work all day on Monday and Thursday, mornings on Tuesday and Friday, and have all of Wednesday off.  And I ad no patients to see today, so am already caught up with yesterday's reports.  This means that I can study this afternoon, and have a precious evening to spend with the one I love.  (And the dogs.)  And, not surprisingly, I'm thinking about what to cook for dinner...

When I looked through the fridge this morning, I realized we now had TWO entire packages of bacon.  I attribute our recent bacon binge on the discovery of grilled bacon and onion pizza.  But I don't really want pizza tonight, so I'm thinking breakfast.  Bacon, eggs, toast with raspberry jam... good ol' breakfast.

But I really need a vegetable.  We generally only get one vegetable cooked for any given meal, but you really need at least one.  My standard go-to veggies are broccoli and zucchini.  Sometimes corn, but I'm conflicted over if it's actually a vegetable.  Sweet potatoes in the winter, but I find I don't want to eat them in the summer.  Occasionally, I'll go on a wild tear and buy pickled beets, and eat an entire, liberally salted jar over a bowl of cottage cheese.

Overload

Work hard, play hard. And the harder I work, the harder I play.

When we started this journey in earnest, last fall, saying that it was a bumpy road was putting it mildly. We felt awkward meeting all these self-proclaimed kinksters, and it was difficult to figure out exactly where we fit. At times, it wasn't even clear how we fit together.

I can't even begin to thank those we have met. Those who welcomed us. Those who answered our questions, and showed us where to grow.

Left Behind

I feel like life is leaving me behind, due to circumstances which are, for the most part, beyond my control.  I've been married for five years, yet I feel like I've been left behind.  I didn't "experience life" before marriage.  I played the good girl card - went to school, graduated in a timely manner, graduate school despite itself, professional job in a professional environment... and yet, I still have debt to my ears, still renting an apartment, still have a crappy car, still feel guilty every time I buy a cup of coffee or wish I had another pair of shoes (not guilty enough to stop me from buying the coffee though, apparently.)  Lady lives closer, yet we talk less.  We see her less, and I miss her.
My next "good girl/professional" step is board certification, and I've been studying for it more and more.  Which means less leisure time and less time at home.  Less cooking, less baking, less stress relief.  And I'm still consumed with the dread that I won't pass.  That I'll be mediocre, compared to the "smart girl" I know, who just bought her first house.  Who has parents that help pay for things, despite her being married.  Who has a husband who is working.  Who I look at and envy her (apparently) easy life.

I tried to do everything right.  And then I said, I'll do it my way, who cares if it's right.  But it still doesn't feel right yet.  I still don't know who I am, or where I'm going, or how I will ever feel settled.

Update

Okay, things are better.  Sort of.  We talked to Lady on Tuesday, and I think we're at a better understanding.  We haven't been completely discounted, but... she isn't ready to commit.  And that's fine.  Finding out yesterday that she had continued to sleep with another person (the "other man") that she's considering, well, hurts, but... All is fair in love and war, I suppose.

A letter to my lady...

Dear Lady,

Last night was not okay.  I only console myself by believing that you honestly didn't realize how that would hurt our feelings.  But by buying into that belief, it tells me that you don't understand because you simply don't care.  Which, of course, kinda ruins things.

Shut up, brain!

I don't know how to make my brain stop.  Alpha complains that I never relax.  And I really don't.  How do you relax when there's a list of chores to be done?  I feel like I take Saturday to do whatever, and when Monday rolls around, well, shit has to get done.  The time to relax is over.  It was allocated, and done, and now it's time to go back to work.
He gets upset that I am always go go go.  But if I wasn't, when would we get going?
Some of it is just the constant stress.  For the last two years, I was in grad school, and crazy about the horror that was my academic experience.  Then I was hunting for a job, and stressed about the lack of interest.  Then I had started my job, and was trying to adjust to the working world and our new location.  Now it's time to study for boards, on top of my already busy job.  Once boards are over, will I be able to breathe?  Doubtful - once my exam is over, they're wanting me to go full time, and I'll lose my three day weekends.

Do you ever just have so much going on that you become paralyzed?  So overwhelmed by responsibilities that you are literally unable to decide what to do?

On unicorn hunting

Are you, dear reader, are familiar with the term "unicorn" as it applies to polyamory?  A unicorn - a mythical beast, oft hunted and rarely (never) found.  In polyamory terms, a unicorn is a single female, hunted by a married (male/female) couple.  A single bisexual female who is interested in a married couple, in what would usually become a closed relationship.
Unicorns are notorious because there aren't very many out there, compared to the vast numbers of unicorn hunting couples out there.

Meet the girls!

The story of how we got our Italian greyhounds...
I found the Italian Greyhound Club of America, and began working with their local rescue group (which, unfortunately, was based in Dallas.)  There weren't many IGs in our area, but the lady who led the group was fabulous, and really believed that we could give an IG a good home.
We got A on December 31, 2008.   We met her that day - picked her up in Dallas, driving from visiting family in Texas.  It was nerve wracking.  She lived under our bed for a month, and only ate when we left the apartment (and peed everywhere.)  She had demodex when we got her, and we later realized that she had worms as well.  But we persevered - lots of love, puppy massage, training classes at PetSmart, and visits to the dog park, once we felt she wouldn't run away.  I remember, it was at the end of October that year that I saw her as a true dog, running to greet another dog instead of cowering.

Why Italian Greyhounds?

I realized today that I haven't properly introduced the inspiration for this blog: my two Italian greyhounds, Aubri and Emily (aka A and E.)
But first, why did we end up with Italian greyhounds in the first place?  Even before we got married, I wanted Alpha to get a dog.  He'd never had dogs growing up, and had a phobia of smaller dogs.  When he first got his apartment, I had visions of getting him a Newfoundland, but he kept putting me off for some reason.  Once we were married, the dream had to be put on hold, just for life reasons.  We spent our first two years in no-dogs-allowed apartments.  When we moved to Oklahoma for me to attend graduate school, we ended up on the eighteenth story of a high rise complex, which restricted dogs to under 30 lbs.  But after we'd settled there, we agreed it was time for a dog.  So I started searching for the perfect dog.

How hard could it be?

Okay, techies.  All I want to do is connect the laptop to the tv, so I can stream NetFlix without buying a Wii (or similar system.) It shouldn't be hard.  The tv has standard A/V input, and my dvd player and PS2 are connected to it via an selector box which has standard A/V and S-video input and output. The laptop had VGA and S-video outlets.

Day one: After looking at adapters and such online, I decide I need a S-video to standard video adapter.  I already have A/V cords to connect to the selector box.  I have a gift card to Office Depot.  They don't have em.  Ran an errand to Target.  They don't have em either.

Day two: Radio Shack doesn't have em either.

Day three: Check this place called "Micro Center," which is apparently the place to go (according to the Radio Shack guy.)  Buy adapter.
Go home.  Plug in adapter to S-video of laptop and standard audio cables into the headphone jack.  But the adapter has a 4 pin S-video, and the laptop has a 7-pin S-video.  And standard audio cables do not really fit in headphone jack.  Decide that it's a failure, and give up.  However, notice that selector has 4 pin S-video input.

Day four: Return adapter.  Can't find a cord that has 7-pin S-video anywhere.  Explain to employee.  Employee googles and concludes that 4-pin should work with a 7-pin.  Buy S-video cable.  Also remember to buy cable that adapts headphone output to standard audio.
Go home to finally hook up system.  Plug in audio, which works fine.  Plug in S-video from laptop to selector box, which doesn't work at all.  Spend several minutes on google and various help forums, to no avail.  Google more and realize that selector box does not convert S-video to standard video on the whim of the user.  Finally decide to just plug the stupid S-video straight into the TV... TV does not have S-video input.
So, really, the only way to get this thing connected is to go back and buy the adapter (which was returned earlier in the day,) and then use the adapter and standard video cable to connect laptop and selector box.  Which is what I did yesterday, except I gave up prematurely due to the pin discrepancy.  All I've got to say is, it better work this time...

Update (06-14-11)  Everything works!  Although I'm a little disappointed that NetFlix doesn't have all the shows I want available for direct streaming.  Some, I'd have to order on dvd, which isn't nearly as gratifying.

The three letter word...

(Note: This was originally written in October 2003.  I found it among some old emails, and was so impressed with my own writing skills that I thought I should share.)

The three letter word that should have been four. Perhaps one letter got dropped in the rush. People use the word often. Verb form. They get carried away. They go crazy. Caught up in a moment that they've been planning their entire lives. It's a good word, I hear. It's a dirty word, too, or so I'm told. A naughty word; a nice word. Confusing and compelling and lovely and forbidden and intimidating and gentle and understanding and sweet and bitter and cold and hot, all at the same time. Do you know the word I mean? You know the word; we all know it, due to overexposure in the media and half heard gossip in the locker rooms of America. The dirty jokes, and the giggles at slumber parties.
Sex.
It is evil, or is it good? Perhaps it can be both at the same time? Religion warns against it. Movies glorify it. Newspapers use it for a headline, and magazines sell depending on how often it's printed on their covers. Parents worry about it. Children wonder about it. They stay up all night, concerned that you're out using the word; you stay up all night, wondering if you should. (Of course, some of us already have. Though it may come as a shock, your parents use the word, too.)
How can such a short little word be so loaded? How can a single syllable spark so much controversy? Of course, there are codes and buzzwords we use to get around that delicate little word. We wink and nudge, and you get the point across through a subtle combinations of carefully placed phrases and carefully timed glances. But why don't we go ahead and just use the word itself? What are we afraid of?

A Come to Jesus meeting

How do you tell your grandmother that you're going to hell? Or better yet, tell her that you seriously doubt there is a hell?
I woke up this morning with a "Come to Jesus" meeting in my inbox. (Not literally, you understand. I'm using a metaphor, kids.) The recent changes in my family in Texas seem to have shaken my grandmother a bit, and now she's worried about my soul. Okay, wait, let's back up. Let's give you some more pieces of the story. (Note: this has turned out much, much longer than I expected. For those patient enough to read it all, I apologize and thank you. For those not patient, well... that's okay too.)

A test photo... with amazingness

How cool can ya get?  Hanging out with the Kansas City Society of Burlesque at their May show.  It was a prom theme, so Lady and I went shopping for prom dresses at a local thrift store, and we all dressed up fancy.  Didn't win prom queen, though...

Making friends in the age of OCD and technology

(Originally written and posted elsewhere in April 2011.)

My friends, I have a confession to make. I'm a little bit crazy. Not sure if you knew that already. The DSM says that something isn't qualified as a disorder unless it is disruptive to your life. And as much as my compulsions make my life easier, I wonder if they don't damage just as much. And as crazy as I am, I reserve the right not to make sense all the time...
The issue is dual, my friends. My need to control, and the way I relate with people, and the world we live in sometimes do not mesh well.
I am a bit of a control freak. I make plans. Even if no one else realizes that there is a plan. It is not uncommon for my to suggest something to Alpha, and if he doesn't absolutely, flat-out refuse, I will assume that that IS the plan. Or someone says, we should go do X, and I say okay, and I fully expect X to happen.Alpha  teases me, but it really is a problem sometimes. I don't like things to change. I don't like to not have a plan. At times, when I am aware that circumstances are out of my control, I honestly have to plan to surrender control and not have a plan. (That doesn't work very often.)

Rain, rain, go away...

(This was originally posted on my facebook on May 20, 2011.  But since it was written as a "test-blog", I wanted to post it here as well.)

I have come to a very important conclusion.  Growing up in a small(ish) town in the desert has left me unequipped to handle any other type of weather.  Specifically, rain.

I decide what to wear based on what I think the weather will be like that day.  I really do.  But in the desert, it hardly ever rains.  Even if its supposed to.  So I get up in the morning, and my thought process goes like this: is it raining outdoors?  And depending on that answer, I dress appropriately.  If it is actually raining when I wake up, I am very diligent about wearing a coat, hat, and sensible shoes.

However, clouds do not figure into this.  If I wake up, and it is cloudy, my brain processes that as "no rain."  Doesn't matter how ominous or dark the clouds are.  Because in my small(ish) desert town often got clouds, and rarely got rain.  Here, however, in the country's bread basket, it rains all the freaking time.  Here, it's more like, if there is a single, fluffy, cute cloud in an otherwise clear blue sky, it will probably rain later today.  Which is why I ended up wearing cute, completely not rain appropriate shoes and clothing to work for most of this week, and, at the end of the day, got quite wet while walking in the rain to get to my car.

And if you know me, you probably know that I am not a fan of rain.  At all.  Ever.  (Unless I am indoors and completely dry, and have no intention of leaving wherever I am until the rain is over and everything is dry again.)

To blog or not to blog...

(This was originally posted on my facebook account on Thursday, May 5, 2011.  Since it is really the origin of this blog, I wanted to have it here.)

So, firstly, I want to explain the recent deluge of facebook "notes" I've been writing.  (All two of them.)  A friend I exchange emails with has recently commented that she likes the way I write, and have I ever thought about writing a blog?  Well, in fact, I have.  In fact, I did.
When I think back on my former blog, I'm a little embarrassed.  Almost three years of daily writing, a sad, self-centered teenage female's opinions on what the world owed her.  Rarely witty or interesting, but usually well written.  I don't even know if it exists anymore.  I stopped posting soon after college/marriage.  The last time I went to log in, I was told that password was invalid, and I didn't care enough to pursue it further.
I've considered writing another blog.  But what that past blog, and the time since then has taught me, is that I am very selfish when I write.  I exaggerate situations and circumstances to my own benefit, usually painting it as "poor me against the world."  Part of why I stopped writing was because it ceased to be fun.  I'd hurt people's feelings.  (Mostly my parents.)  And I'd been called on it.  Back then, I didn't understand why it was "a big deal" to write what could best be described as liberally colored non-fiction.
I get it now.  And I'm sorry to those I wrote about, and hurt.  The best I can do is say that I was a pathetic, whiny teenager, and I hopefully have grown out of it.