March 18th Comes Every Year

Last Saturday on March 18th, 19 years ago to date, it had been a Wednesday morning in 1987 when my mother died from pneumonia due to a lousy immune system, aggravated and tortured by a 15-year-long battle with Hodgkins disease, in a hospital room in Billings, MT. I was twelve years old and she was only 32. And get this - - when she was a 17 year old H.S. senior, she was diagnosed with Hodgkins (that's lymphatic cancer; she was in the 3rd stage of 4 stages, considered terminal) on March 18th in 1962.

Before I continue with what I have to say, lemme' just say this once and only once: I’m writing about this because I've been figuring some things out and I want to write about those things, not unlike any other post I may write; I want to share my understanding of my world and my life and my feelings. IN OTHER WORDS: I am not writing this as a plea for sympathy, nor as a ploy for attention = this is NOT a woe-woe is poor-whittle-ole'-me post, mmkay? Now if that sounds a bit snotty on my part, it's meant to be directed toward any meanies who may try to tell me, "Get over it already."

Anyhow... Although my mother has been gone for 19 years now, "March 18th" is a date that has never passed without note. Come the new year, I always buy a new wall calendar and I sit down to fill it with all the birthdays and anniversaries to be remembered. Before 2004, when my roomie Seorin moved in, I don't know why, but I could never not somehow make a mental note as to on what day of the week, March 18th would fall "this year." Really, I have never made a conscious effort to take note of the day; I don't try to remember it or even see it on the calendar, but invariably, I see it (now Seorin's birthday!) and if anyone were to ask about it or mention March 18th, I can tell them on what day of the week it'll be. This very thing happened last month in a work meeting... Something was planned for March 18th and someone wondered aloud on what day of the week would that be and I knew – "Saturday." Are you sure? "Absolutely," I say without any doubt. Now, I don't remember seeing that March 18th would fall on a Saturday this year. In fact, I have zero recollection of that moment, but I knew that I had seen it and somehow absorbed the information and that I was right... "It’s on a Saturday," almost adding "Trust me," but I didn't. Honestly, I have tried to forget. I've tried to ignore it. I've tried to hide it. I have tried and tried to treat March 18th like any other day of the year. I have tried.

Last year, a friend of mine unexpectedly lost her mother (only 55) to a heart attack. I offered to lend a listening ear, if she ever needed to talk at any time, whenever – the first time she called at one in the morning, we had a 3 hour-long talk. We’ve talked more and more since then and in talking with her, more and more of my own experience -dealing with my own mother’s death- has come back to my memory and it's been sorted some more and become more clear to me than ever before. The most prominent realization is this: If anyone -including me- expects me to ever forget March 18th and what happened on that day in 1987, I've realized this idea is completely nutso. No matter how much I try to be strong or nonchalant about the matter, I can’t forget it and certainly can’t ignore it; that day simply cannot pass without some acute pain felt, coupled with giggles and smiles through my tears, remembering her and the memories I still have... and ALL THIS IS OKAY. I don't need to apologize anymore.

At this point, I should mention this: I miss my mother every single day; not one day goes by in which I do not think about her in some way or miss her... not one day.

Whenever I eat cold cereal or hot cereal. Anytime I have French toast or a grilled cheese sandwich… nearly every song from the 60s and 70s is attached to my mum, especially anything from ABBA or The Beatles and Sergio Mendes with Brasil. The color red - the color green - and navy blue. Tulips and daffodils. Skyblue-pink sunsets. Watermelons. Raspberries. Any kind of fruit jam. Cotton pajamas. All pajamas. Every time I wash my face at night and fail to gently pat it dry, giving in to my urge to wipe and rub. Every vitamin I take. Clinique make-up and the light green color of Clinique packaging. Every cup of tea I drink. Every time I eat an apple. String cheese. Cottage cheese and applesauce. Yogurt. Tapioca. Rice pudding. Anytime I see melting chocolates or baking chocolate. Jasmine perfume. The smell of vanilla. When I go around the house (or work) turning off unnecessary lights. Every time I rinse and ring out a dishrag. Every time I vacuum. Whenever I floss my teeth. When I trim my toes and fingernails. When I brush my hair. Whenever I meditate. Shakespeare. National Public Radio. Every time I sing in my car (that's everyday). Doing yoga. Every time I kiss the angel boy-O, “Goodnight and sweet dreamings.” Every time I am sure to kiss my honey-man “hello” and “goodbye.”

Would you forget the birthday of someone you love? Okay, I know some people do forget birthdays and/or don't care about them, but typically, a birthday is considered an important day that one should never forget –just gimme’ that, k?… Well, if a birthday is considered one of the most significant days to pass in each year of a person’s life, celebrating the day that person entered this world, why wouldn’t the day he/she died be equally significant, if not more for the fact that the day someone dies, it’s the end of birthday celebrations for him/her? It’s their last day.

Another thing: I envy everyone who can simply pick up the phone, dial a number and talk to their mother.

Unlike any other day of the year, March 18^th comes and goes, but knowing I’ve lived another year without my mum, it always comes like a slap in the face. When I was 24 and realized I had lived half my life without her? It's just not like any other day.

My friend has asked me when it will quit hurting. I’ve tried to be honest, and I tell her that for me, so far it hasn’t - - but that she’d learn to feel more and more grateful for what she had, and that that would help balance some of the pain and the sense of loss.

Another realization and the most important one: Last week I ran to the grocery store for some ice cream –a different friend of mine was feeling down and it was time for reinforcements! As I walked toward the store’s entry doors, I saw a big stack of bright blue plastic childrens wading pools on sale. I used to have one with a bottom textured with images of starfish, seahorses, crabs and bubbles. I used to play in it for hours and hours in the backyard, and my mum would come out every two hours with an icy cold homemade O.J. popsicle in exchange for her chance to slather me down with a fresh application of SPF. So last week, seeing the plastic wading pools, I burst into tears - - and why? Despite all the hospital visits and my mum being sick the whole time I knew her, despite my feeling a bit overprotected occasionally and despite the continued loss I now feel after all these years, when I had her I always knew without a doubt (and still do) that I was adored and loved - that I meant the world to her - and I always knew that nothing I could ever do would change that; I had a happy childhood despite it all.

"Slightly Scattered" - or - "The Kirsch Search"

I wrote the first part below on February 28th, saved it in my drafts, and promptly forgot about it:

"To say I've been a tad outta sorts over the last couple months would be a totally right-on judgment... No, nothing really bad going on = no real crisis of any kind currently underway, but I'm so very scattered (severe understatement). My multi-tasking abilities are usually top notch, I gotta say, but lately? Those skilz have flown the coop! Twice this week already, I've almost stashed the milk away in the cabinet located BESIDE the fridge!?! I'm tellin' ya, I'm a veritable airhead right now."

TODAY: Later that same week, right before leaving Vegas for L.A., having prepped in advance the makings of a homemade genoise (2 layers) for my honey-man's traditional Black Forest birthday cake, I stopped by a local liquor store, so as to not repeat last year's birthday nightmare search for kirsch (cherry brandy). This time, I even called the liquor store in advance to confirm first that they had kirsch in stock. So, on my way out of town, kitty-boys loaded, car all packed, plus two Diet Rock Stars chilled and ready for the road, I stopped at the liquor store for kirsch. I ran in, they had known I was coming, gave me my kirsch (their one and only bottle in stock), which I paid for with cash (a very rare thing, me having any cash), and I was so preoccupied with the handling of my change, I ran out the door without THE KIRSCH! And I didn't have a clue until it was time to construct the cake and um, hello? No kirsch?!? What the **** happened to the kirsch?!? I ransacked my car, all my bags, and searched over the entire apartment, all at least twice over and still no kirsch. Finally, I gave in and called my honey-man to report I had somehow lost the kirsch. My honey-man asked me if I remembered what they'd given me the kirsch in... "It was in a white plastic bag." Before hanging up, I told him I had no idea where it went, that I'd look around one final last time, that I felt like a total goon, etc., and with a voice laden with sympathy, he sweetly insisted that it was okay to have another kirsch-less birthday cake, that it'd be perfectly good without the kirsch. [BACKGROUND: I never found the damn kirsch last year, which is why I thought I'd be smart this time around and locate some in Vegas first before ever leaving for L.A..] Once off the phone, I was resolved to locate some kirsch in L.A., hell or high water and then? And then I realized I had NO MEMORY of my ever grabbing any white plastic bag, nor did I have any memory of ever placing a white plastic bag of any kind anywhere in my car. Before conducting an online search for local L.A. area liquor stores that carry kirsch in stock, I checked my cell phone's 'dialed numbers' and gave the Vegas liquor store a call... "Um, hello. Earlier today, I had come to your store to buy some kirsch and beforehand, I had called..." They immediately remembered me and told me how two of them had run out the door after me, but I had already taken off, never looking back. Yeah, to say I've been slightly scattered lately? Um, yeeaah. I wish I had called the store first thing - I wouldn't have felt even half as crazy as I had searching the car, my bags and my honey-man's apartment 100 times over... When I returned to Vegas, I went back to the store to claim my kirsch. We have A LOT of kirsch now - can anyone recommend any recipes using kirsch?

P.S. I had to call 5 L.A. liquor stores before I found any one with kirsch!

Drugging Doggies vs. Lazy Cats

I've been house/pet-sitting this week for a friend and she has nothing but dial-up. Needless to say, I haven't been logging online at night - - Yes, since I finally gave in last year and ordered cable modem, I CAN'T GO BACK to dial-up. I can't. Anyhow, one thing my friend's home does have is a rather large HD TV with digital cable. Needless to say, I've watched more TV in the past few days than I have in the past few months' total time combined. Tuesday night, I stayed up until 3am watching Anthony Hopkins in "The Edge." I couldn't stop myself, and frankly, I didn't want to! I knew I should be in bed and knew that I was being silly, unable to TURN OFF THE TV, but the movie was scary without any supernatural mischief [RELATED TANGENT: Aliens and paranormal flicks freak me the hell out! The Ring? -OMG! The Exorcist? -I'm gunna puke! Alien -Imagine me hiding my eyes behind a gummy bears celephane wrapper! Those flicks gimme' me nightmares! ~ yet I love a good scare!] I was riveted (despite some lousy lines), and I felt like I was a college sophomore again; yes, a sophomore, not a freshman. [SEMI-RELATED TANGENT: I didn't have a TV at all my frosh year (didn't miss it at all), and we only had a TV my soph. year because we had rented a TV/VCR combo (six of us paid $10/person each semester ~ not bad, eh?) for playing Tetris (and Tetris only - see here) and watching the occasional video rental, plus recorded episodes of Seinfeld and The Simpsons, lovingly provided by my roomie Suzanne's sister, Wendy, who lived in Salt Lake. We didn't have cable TV, nor did we have any TV station reception, none whatsoever. I know I've told this story before, um, as the link above indicates... duh!] So -um- yeah, watching "The Edge" until 3am, I felt like a college soph. again in that I was relinquishing sleep for a movie. Hardly ever now, do I fall asleep during a movie -I never do- nor do I ever stay up for a movie - - I'll just turn it off and go to bed. However, as a college undergrad, I could stay up until the crack of dawn to finish a movie, even if I had to go to work by 4AM.
Okay, enough about the TV.

So yeah, I'm house/pet-sitting and I have two doggies in my care right now... 1) There's Rebel, who is like a stout mini-black lab, but not, and his tail is like a thick, stubby windshield wiper stuck on "high", madly and stiffly swishing from side to side. He tries to hump my leg as I walk in the door and runs after me, trying to hump my legs as I walk down the hall or into the kitchen. When I turn around and tell him NO, he pouts like a little kid. Despite the leg humping, he has a great puppy-like wiggle-bummy when he's happy = very super cute and lots of energy. 2) And Jackpot, a creamy cockapoo [TANGENT: Who the hell thought that'd be a great name for the breed? even if it is derived from the combination of its origins; "cocker spaniel" and "poodle"!?!], he too has a great puppy-like wiggle-bummy when I walk in the door, but he calms down well before Rebel looses his wriggly wiggling. Poor Jackpot is 12 yrs old and his age is already hitting him with hearing loss and multiple medications to be administered; thyroid? 2 kinds of ear drops? infection pills? He must be given his drugs twice a day... Now, I've drugged animals before and this lil' Jackpot has been the EASIEST, hands down! There's o need for a 2-person team effort hold down, no jamming pills down anyone's throat, no hiding pills in chunks of cheese... He'll eat 'em plain, right out of my hand!!! And the ear drops? There's no growling, no chase down or need to corner anyone; no struggle - he lets me hold his ear open and drip the drops in, nooo problemo. Drugging this doggie is a breeze.

The Real Point of my Post, however: I've had the chance to watch/care for these two wiggle-bummy boys for a few years now. This current stint as a pet/dog-sitter has confirmed for me, I'm just not a dog person. Don't get me wrong, doggies are cute and adorable and so loyal and so doting, I know, and I do all the baby talk and playing and cuddling with them, but they are SOOOOO FREAKIN' NEEDY!!! With these two, once the morning routine is done or after the welcome-home routine is complete, at all other times I find that I'm feeling guilty. When with them, any lil' move I make from a stationery position or any mere shift in weight while sitting on the couch with my internet-less laptop (in front of the HD TV), they both stop whatever it is they're doing and they both wait for my next action, with those big, brown, swollen puppy eyes. They follow me everywhere! I can't even take a pee in peace! (There's another story here -a cat story- but I won't start.) Of course they're cute, and it's amusing to see just how thrilled they are whenever I talk outloud to them about anything, as long as it's spoken using a babytalk-voice, but otherwise, I feel guilty all the time! I'm sure, if it was up to them, we'd just play, play, play and cuddle, cuddle, cuddle all of the freakin' time! I.CAN.NOT.DO.IT.FULL.TIME. They're stinky, smelly (as if 'stinky' and 'smelly' are two different attributes), drooly, dirty, dusty, snotty, furry lil' thesis-papers-disrupters! If I had a dog of my own, I'd go for walks with 'em morning and night, I'd scoop the poop daily, I'd have to move so I could have a backyard for warm outdoors, lazy-day doggie-lounging easy-access and crazy run-around-and-catch-your-tail play, and I'd have to tear out all the carpeting in my home and, and, and I'd have to have a labotomy!!! I can pet-sit, but I can't handle owning a needy doggie of my own.

Now Dog lovers, hold off! I already know that cats can be dirty and smelly too, but I have indoor cats ~ prestine, clean, oh-so tidy kitty cats! [TANGENT: Living in a city and off a busy road, I don't think an outdoor cat would last long, plus it's a fact that the average lifespan for an outdoor cat is 5 years, while an indoor kitty can live into his/her twenties. And yeah, I know, I know (I can hear my father speaking right now) - - "cats crap in a box and scrap at the litter with their paws" - - Yes, they do, BUT THEN they self-clean! Dogs? they just track their shit all over the place, completely oblivious! And although I know my boys -any cat- would love to be outside hunting birdies and mice, rolling in the dirt, indoors or out, cats sleep an average of 17 hrs/day, people. Here are my rationalizations for their in-house, imprisioned state: #1) They're safer indoors (irrefutable truth) and #2) I don't tease my kitties with trips outside, so they don't know what they're missing... #3 They'd rather lay around snoozing anyhow. I adore my lazy lil' cats.

I could write on and on, in what ways my personality favors cats over dogs, but I'll save it for a later post, maybe; this post has rambled on long enough. Tomorrow night, I'll be back home with my boys ~

P.S. I know my post title implies I'd be writing about drugging doggies, while it turns out, I wrote so very little about it. Furthermore, I wrote about a sweet doggie who is so easy to drug, but who said my post titles have to make sense? "Drugging Doggies..." sounds funny to me.

8th Grade Science & Math ~ I passed!

I Passed 8th Grade Science!

Congratulations, you got 8/8 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Science?

I Passed 8th Grade Math!

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

P.S. Before starting the math quiz, I was a bit worried that I'd do poorly! I have NO FAITH in my basic math skills! which is funny, since I get paid to track -um- a few million $$$ annually.

I am Wonder Woman!

Anyone remember Underoos? Now answer silently to yourselves! - I don't want to feel old here, nor do I wanna feel like a baby! Okay - so anyway, before Underoos came along to make things worse, I had always loved Wonder Woman and wanted to be her. I distinctly remember giving a shiny red apple to the Wonder Woman who came to our door, trick o' treating (this was a few years before the whole razor blade scare happened), the year I was four. She had the golden belt with the golden laso, the boots, the bustier and the hair. At the time, I really believed she was Wonder Woman... I would love to know how old that Wonder Woman chicky had been back then and to see just how complete her outfit had been. I'm tellin' ya though, I was starstruck! Wonder Woman came to my home trick o' treating! I remember that I told EVERYONE at preschool all about it! And thereafter, my insistence that I have my very own Wonder Woman Underoos became quite fierce. We moved into my parents' first house when I was five, and by then, I had two pairs of W.W. Underoos. I wore them around the house like my regular clothing... I also distinctly recall running the sidewalks of Laird Ave. in SLC, UT with my fellow Underoo companions, Whitney S. (a blonde W.W.) and Heather L. (Batgirl). Anna Dilemna? Didn't you and I also run around in our W.W. roos together too?
So check this out below = how apropos, don't you think?

My Results: (NOTE: Once published, the original table formatting goes real weird and I couldn't fix it, so I nixxed it!)
You are Wonder Woman

You are a lovely princess
with great strength of character.



Wonder Woman 80%
Supergirl 75%
Superman 70%
Spider-Man 70%
Green Lantern 70%
Robin 65%
The Flash 60%
Hulk 50%
Iron Man 50%
Catwoman 40%
Batman 25%

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

My Open Letter, Revisited

Last month I wrote an open letter addressed to an ex-boyfriend of mine who'd apparently been having a hard time moving on... and still is, apparently. Anyhow, in the open letter (see here), I briefly addressed the concept of a site meter and the wonderful info. mine provides me regarding those who visit my blog. At this point in time though, I feel the need to clarify some things about site meters:

#1 A site meter does not identify anyone by name unless someone has actually given his/her IP address an assigned name and that assigned name is his/her own name.

#2 A site meter's primary purpose is to count a site's number of visitors and does so by recognizing the info. that distinguishes one visitor from another = the server "location" of a visitor's IP address, including some of the following additional visitor details: Domain (Las Vegas Valley Water District - that'd be one of the more very specific domain listings I've seen, for example), ISP (e.g. Cox Communications), City, State and Country, and even the longitude and latitude of the location, plus the date and time of the site visit, and the referral page or web search and/or site that brings a visitor to my blog.

Using some of the aforementioned info. provided by my site meter, if I already know some things about a reader or a friend and I note particular details too close to be a coincidence, I can make an accurate guess as to who's who. Of course, it's always easier to identify visitors who comment since I can compare the date and time of a comment's posting to the site meter's record. However, let's say a friend of mine who uses AOL and lives in the rather large San Diego area (HI STEPH!) were to visit my blog only occasionally and by no means daily, and she never made a comment (until recently), I would never figure out it was her because there'd be no obvious visit pattern, no individual specific info. provided, nor any timeframe in which I could identify her visits or any comments. But if say, an old college friend of mine who uses a small internet provider and lives in a very small military town in Alaska comes by for a visit to my blog, even if she only visits once a month and never makes a comment, I can still be sure that it's her. I can also, sometimes, figure out who's-who via referral page listings or search threads, but only if I'm really paying attention.

Don't get me wrong - I am in no way tracking every visitor who comes by. I still don't even know my honey-man's IP address!?! and since he has never left a comment and never will, coupled with the fact that he's in L.A. and uses one the most common ISPs in the valley -even if I tried- it'd be nearly impossible to identify him. Only on a fluke have I been able to consistently note a few who's-who details via my site meter, able to identify Amanda B., CanadianAmy, CircusKelli, ClosetMetro, DocErn, Southern Fried Girl, my father and my friend Wendy's sister in Utah... ha! And don't forget, Mr.-not-so-anonymous-T.R. ~

Seeing that my open letter didn't do the trick (move on, I tell you -- MOVE ON!!!), I think I'll be ignoring my site meter now. I may take an occasional peek, but there's never been a need to do so.

Stuff Portrait Friday! My last for a while...

This will be my last SPF until who knows when, with my poor, witchy baby being sent away to Jersey today. Because of her current condition, refusing now to even take a semi-out of focus picture (see the first picture shown? - can you even see it? that's supposed to be a pic of my trunk!), alas, my trunk will not be featured for today's SPF - - I know, I know - - you're all really broken up about it, I know. I'm so sorry. This is all I have to offer for now and it'll have to do... FOREWARNING: This post is quite a rambling rambler...

#1 My garbage can: Behold, this is my ridiculous garbage can kept in the pantry of my kitchen. I'll come back to the "ridiculous" aspect in a moment, but I gotta say something else here. [TANGENTS: 1) In the upper left corner? Blue packaging? Anyone recognize this item? See here. 2) All that crap to the left of the can? It's my paper and glass recycling and I know, it's a bit outta control. You have NO IDEA though! If you could see above the can?!? there are 3 HUMUNGOUS bags hanging from the wall, loaded with plastics, all waiting to be taken to the recycling center located at the opposite side of the Vegas valley. {NOTE: Usually, my friend Ryan and I will make a morning of it on a Saturday - we have breakfast together and thereafter, we drive across town to dump our weeks' worth of recycling. Yes, we're that nerdy and that devoted to our recycling. And no, there are no recycling services at my apartment complex or his, nor do any of my local grocery stores offer recycling services, bastards! Not even Trader Joes! Why? Because Vegas sucks in the recycling department, sitting amongst the bottom 5 worst, most poorly ranked recycling states in the US. (I wrote a term paper about it last semester.) The problem is that Nevadans have access to thousands and thousands of acres of undeveloped desert property available for unlimited landfill use, and because legislation is under zero pressure to conserve the land for commercial or residential development [remember, this place is a vast and empty desert], they "don't see a real need to promote recycling." What do I think of that? Utter bullshit. Utterly shameful. I won't go on about the diverse ecosystem here or the reasons to recycle - I'll spare you.} Anyhow, having spent my H.S. years in Iowa, where they recycle more tons of material per year than some metropolitans areas and have their own bottle bill (a 5 cent payoff for each glass or aluminum bottle returned), I was well trained to conserve/recycle considering all that and the fact that my mother's family comes from rural Idaho... At my Grams' house in Bear Lake, if you ran the water for too long, the well water would turn a nice gritty, sandy seafoam green. May I also remind everyone, I'm a person who feels guilty if I let the water run in the bathroom sink while I brush my teeth.] As I was about to say, before my tangents/rant [WARNING: Here comes another weird rant!], I am quite serious about placing trash where it belongs - in the garbage - and I absolutely hate it whenever I find trash elsewhere. Because of this, coupled with the fact that I'm all about convenience in many regards, I have conveniently placed several garbage cans just about everywhere throughout my home; beside the toilet, beside the bathroom vanity, beside the bed/compooter desk, and atop the dryer. I had an extra can that I recently gave up to my honey-man and it's been placed under his desk in L.A. and I tell you, the man couldn't be happier! He has thanked me THREE TIMES on three different occasions for the wonderful convenience of having a garbage can beneath his desk. It has changed his life = I'm soooo not joking! Really! Anyhow, so far there's never yet been a garbage can in my living room, but don't think I haven't been tempted.
As for the ridiculousness of my kitchen's can (finally), do you see its size? Let's count: There's me, my roomie and my honey-man only visits about 2-3 days each week and that's it; only 2.5 people contributing trash; not a family of 5 or 6. My can is too big!!! Why I ever bought one so large, I dunno, but we do all know that when a large garbage can doesn't fill quickly, it doesn't get tossed quickly, and if anything organic and/or wet is thrown in there, it will stink to high heaven in less than 24 hrs. In my case, it doesn't help that I have a roomie from Japan who cooks sometimes super strange, super smelly foods daily and I'm in love with a carnivore! The can must go! Twice, I have sworn to get rid of the damn thing, waiting to do so until I'm out of large-size garbage bags. So why hasn't it happened yet? My sweet and most reliable, most courteous roomie, Kanako, dutifully switches off with me for the buying of water filters (we share the same Brita) and dishsoap (we share this too) and also GARBAGE BAGS! A few months ago, just when there were about 6 bags left from the bulk size box my previous roomie had bought, Kanako beat me to it, buying ANOTHER BULK SIZE box of 55 bags before I could tell her not to do so!!! Right now we're about 1/2 way through that box. Once the bags are about 3/4 of the way gone, I imagine it'll be time for me to move. *sigh* I am soooo not taking this can to Cali with me. Honey-man? Do not let me do it!!! And do not let me rationalize its use as a can to keep our recyling in either.

#3 My junk drawer, as found: If our new place in Cali doesn't have room for a junk drawer, I'll be sad. I use something out of this drawer almost daily. I love my junk drawer. Every home should have a junk drawer.

Hasselhoff, Hooked on a Feeling (OMG!)

I was visiting Journalicious this morning (had finally asked for and received access), where I discovered one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen online. Ya gotta go take a peek here. I copied the link and sent it to some friends... Wendy emailed back, telling me she couldn't open the link because her place of employment blocks access to the site! I was actually impressed to hear this! Such wise, very wise employers for whom she works, indeed! Of course, the site's name should serve as a wildly flaming red flag for any employer anywhere... www.i-am-bored.com

Farewell, Sweet FinePix 550E, Until We Meet Again

A couple weeks ago, my digicam's LCD quit working inexplicably. I called and emailed all the proper FujiFilm warranty authorities [NOTE: First of all, how dare my girl try to quit me like this? and with only a month before the warranty expires?!? She's screwin' with me, I swear!! Lil' witch needs to be spanked!], and I was given the instructions for arranging her repair. However, not wanting to let go when my honey-man's bday was just around the corner, I held off and continued using her, all the while taking generally terrible and painfully out of focus pictures ever since. So as of tomorrow, I'm sending my poor witchy baby off to New Jersey for repairs and I'll be digital-camera-less for who knows how long (sniff, sniff). I do still have my very nice, very reliable, very neglected Canon RebelG 35mm, but using a camera that requires film?!? Do they sell film still? I'm sooo no longer into taking 'mystery' pictures anymore, always having to wait and see what only developing can reveal - - not that I took bad pictures though! By the time I finally bought my digicam, I had become a pretty a-okay amateur photographer. Anyways, the point is this: I'm now digital all the way, man and I'm quite certain I will be going through a serious withdrawl while my baby is away. Also, I seriously doubt I'll resort to film in her absence. CLARIFICATION: Yes, my digicam is a girl.

Blogging Blockage

See this? Oh sure, Otis is so cute n' all, but do you see that lone lil' kitty leg of his hanging over the desk's edge, sitting atop my hand which is placed over my keyboard? This lil' disruptive habit of his makes it entirely impossible for me to work on my blog, I mean, my thesis research...

Granted, I could move his lil' fat furry bum outta my way, but he looks so cute and too comfortable, doesn't he? Anyhow, I've learned that were I to move him, he would spontaneously return to the spot, just as he'd been.

One of the Many Reasons I Love My Honey-Man

This past Sunday, driving into Vegas from L.A., we saw a large, very prominent casino dance club billboard posted to the right side of the I-15 highway, touting the slogan "Tap This" with the image of a svelte woman wearing a dress with a deep, plunging, severe backline, and male hands reaching from what would be her front, back to her behind... My honey-man saw it before I did and spoke up with firm conviction, "I find that offensive." At first I didn't know what he was talking about and he then angrily read aloud, as much as two words can be spoken angrily, "Tap this." I couldn't help but grin like mad, pleased with his disgust. He is such a cutie-patootie.

55 More Trivial Things About Me

Adding to my first list of 55 trivial things about me, here's another 55... *UPDATES* for #s 35 & 38!

1. Your name spelled backwards. - nnylejenna
2. Where were your parents born? - Ovid, Idaho (mum), Pittsburgh, PA (father) and Orange, CA (step-mum)
3. What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer? - "I Like the Way" by Bodyrockers ~ goooood song!
4. What's your favorite restaurant? - hmmm... for right now? I've got a crush on The Bangkok Orchid, but I really and truly love Hires in Salt Lake City, UT.
5. Last time you swam in a pool? - early February
6. Have you ever been in a school play? - Yes, I was a house mouse (age 9), a news reporter (age 13), and a bratty, gum chewing teen (age 15).
7. How many kids do you want? - Originally three, but my honey-man has one already, his angel boy-O ~ hopefully we'll have at least one, if not two.
8. Type of music you dislike most? - Ggangstah rap
9. Are you registered to vote? - you betcha, although I haven't yet been happy with any of my voting options!
10. Do you have cable? - Not to insult nor to judge anyone out there, but this one's a big, fat NO THANK YOU; I think cable/digital is a waste of money and more importantly, MY TIME! The basic channels do me just fine if I ever feel the need to veg out, but honestly, there's a ton of stuff I'd rather do than watch TV. For sure, I could watch TLC or The History Channel or the Animal Planet and the Discovery Channel round the clock, 24/7, but that doesn't mean I should.
11. Have you ever ridden on a moped? - Yes, plus I own a 1971 bright, almost dayglow, orange Honda Trail 90 - bore the core to 105. Top speed is only 45mph, but it's street legal. I bought 3 different bikes to make this one. I call 'em "Whippit."
12. Ever prank call anybody? - Of course, when I was like, 8? and 9 and 10 and 11 and when I was 12 and, um, 13 and... ?
13. Ever get a parking ticket? - Never (total sarcasm applied heavily)
14. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving? - OH YES! me! me! yes! ME! (wavings my arms wildly, jumping up and down).
15. Furthest place you ever traveled? - Honolulu, Oahu
16. Do you have a garden? - Not at this time (*sniff, sniff*)
17. What's your favorite comic strip? - What? um, geesh, I dunno! I've always liked Calvin & Hobbes - ?
18. Do you really know all the words to your national anthem? - Yes
19. Bath or Shower, morning or night? - Depends; I do it all; I like to mix it up, crazy girl that I am (again, apply heavy sarcasm).
20. Best movie you've seen in the past month? - Um, I really did like Brokeback Mountain. We both cried.
21. Favorite pizza topping? - Pineapple without the Canadian Bacon or ham, please. Just pineapple.
22. Chips or popcorn? - If ya got any Salt & Vinegar chips, oh yes... or Act II's Kettle Corn? oh oh oh yes!
23. What color lipstick do you usually wear? - I hate lipstick - I use Clinique's Almost Lipstick in either "Black Honey" or "Almost Blush"
24. Have you ever smoked peanut shells? - What the hell does this mean?
25. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? - Heck no.
26. Orange Juice or apple? - I'd have to pass on either one - I'd rather have something else.
27. Who was the last person you went out to dinner with and where did you dine? - With my honey-man at Pei Wei's.
28. Favorite type chocolate bar? - Something with cookie or waffer crisp = 1) Twix and 2) Kit Kat ~ also like York Peppermint Patties, Caremello, and 100 Grand.
29. When was the last time you voted at the polls? - November 2004
30. Last time you ate a homegrown tomato? - September 2005
31. Have you ever won a trophy? - Long gone, thrown in the trash; meant nothing to me.
32. Are you a good cook?- I like to think so.
33. Do you know how to pump your own gas? - What kind of question is this?
34. Ever order an item from an infomercial? - No.
35. Sprite or 7-up? - Neither; I usually don't do soda (or beer) unless I'm up for some tummy torture. [*UPDATE* I can't voluntarily burp, despite all the coaching offered by my many male cousins, and I don't often burp involuntarily.] I'll happily suffer for a Dr. Pepper though - mind you, I don't ever buy soda for home consumption = it's no good for anyone.
36. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to work? - Why yes... "Welcome to Hardee's. How may I help you?"
37. Last thing you bought at a pharmacy? - Low Ogesterol
38. Ever throw up in public?- Unfortunately, yes - - age 6, in a McDonald's entrance, after consuming a Happy Meal ...that could be a story in itself. [*UPDATE* How could I forget!?! Also at age 24, the first time I ever got drunk. I had had FIVE Long Island Ice Teas, completely unaware as to how much hard liquor I was consuming. One moment I was fine, talking annimatedly, and the next? - WITHOUT WARNING - No dizziness, no salivation, no queasiness to speak of - I threw up right on the bar! I then threw up in the parking lot, in my uncle's front yard, in my boyfriend's front yard (had left the uncle's home, realizing he shouldn't witness my state at the time) and in my boyfriend's bathroom, twice! NOT A PROUD MOMENT!]
39. Would you prefer being a millionaire or find true love? - True love, all the way.
40. Do you believe in love at first sight? - Absolutely.
41. Ever call a 1-900 number? - No.
42. Can ex's be friends? - Yes - this topic should be a whole 'nuthah post.
43. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital? - Not sure, really. Jasey, post back surgery?
44. Did you have a lot of hair when you were a baby? - Yes, I had a veritable shag carpet on my head!
45. What message is on your answering machine? - "Hi, we're either away from the phone or screening our calls, so please leave a message. Thanks."
46. What's your all time favorite Saturday Night Live Character? - Gilda Radner's lil' Girl Scout
47. What was the name of your first pet? - Thumbelina, along with Simon, Solomon, and Sampson (goldfish).
48. What is in your purse? - My cell phone, a sterling clasp (essentially my wallet), my business cards case, a USB flash drive, a ballpoint pen, lip gloss and chapstick.
49. Favorite thing to do before bedtime? - no comment.
50. Favorite Girl Scout cookie? - Carmel Delights, with Shortbread running a close 2nd.
51. Favorite grade school teacher: Mrs. Kristoff from 1st grade at Uintah Elementary, 1981
52. Favorite grade school playground equipment: Monkey bars
53. Favorite grade school subject: Social Studies
54. Most hated grade school subject: Mathematics
55. What is one thing you are grateful for today? - My life

Blurred Vision

*UPDATE/CORRECTION* Things DID NOT slow down in pace = I was wrong; the moment came and quickly passed once I published this post last Friday. It was just another BUSY BUSY BUSY weekend of constant plans to attend to and continual running around, EXCEPT we did sit down after a 4hr+ brunch/lunch gathering to watch a DVD together on Saturday before running to Moorpark for a Symphony performance, followed by a long wait in a long line at Pink's. Back in Vegas now, my honey-man gave me a ride to work this morning, and while on our way, we had difficulty recounting all the many things we did over the weekend.
It's all a blur.

Written March 3rd: I'm in L.A. right now - arrived yesterday. Funny enough, for the moment things are finally slowing down to a pace where I may soon be able to see straight... in L.A. of all places. This week has been a total blur - I had tried earlier in the week to write a post about my feeling real scattered lately, but I was too scattered to finish it.

I have some things to work on - that thing called my thesis - and some errands to run later, provided I really do get some work done. I'll stop before I run on and on, incoherently. I'll only say this: The quest for some decent house slippers for the angel boy-O continues... NOTE: I DID NOT SUCCESSFULLY LOCATE ANY SLIPPERS FOR THE ANGEL BOY-O, NOT ANYWHERE.

Kitty Posts are ALWAYS a Good Thing...

Whenever I don't feel like sharing anything silly or fun, twisted or amusing, productive or enlightening or cathartic, I resort to Otis & Owen kitty pictures... because kitty posts are ALWAYS good.
NOTE: The best was saved for last - don't forget to scroll down through these cutie-patooties!

Above: One of my new favorites of my baby Owen ~ the quintessential "kitty in a bag" shot.

Another oh-so typical Otis posture ~ lying in the middle of the floor in his most favorite position; on his back, spread eagle with a slight upper twist.

Owen's brief stint as "King of the Comforter by the Bedroom Window" ~ Otis is the one to usually rule this most favored and coveted kitty nap location.

Once again, Otis demonstrates his infinite patience; tolerating mommie's very intrusive-in-your-face camera clicks.

More cute kitty in a bag...

Another "cute kitty in a bag" shot... Owen always loves a good bag.

And the best saved for last...
These last three pics have been in my Flickr for a while now, but these few always deserve another nod...

My not-so-little-16 pounder, Otis has to be the cutest, most laid back cat. I kid you not, he hung out in this plastic grocery bag - as you see here - for over an hour!

Kitty in a bag = pure kitty contentment = pure and absolute kitty-cuteness at its utmost best!!!

I so adore my warm, fuzzy baby boys.

Self-Portrait Day ~ with a Frown

Do you think I look a lil' grumpy here?
If you do think so, you'd be abso-freakin'-lutely right.

A New Perspective on "Jack"

Last night while watching the Ladies ice skating short program with my dear friend, Ryan, the following was actually spoken aloud while watching a "Jack in the Box" commercial in which "Jack" is seen having a high school flashback, remembering the girl he had asked to be his prom date: "I find Jack attractive. It's the voice, I think. I really find him attractive - he turns me on." It wasn't me.
BTW: Check out the Jack in the Crack pressroom release on "Jack"... link here. <--- this is TOO funny.

Blithesome Bloggiversary to Me!?!

NOTE: This was written on February 16th and then...? Then I forgot to post it!?! So it begins...

Yuppers, my blog was born a year ago today [that would have been February 16th, last week]... See my first post here. I had read a very sweet Valentine's Day tribute written by Dang Cold for his wife. It was such an adoring, endearing tribute, and I was touched to tears and I had wanted to tell him "You so rock, dewd!" Going through the motions of creating a Login profile so I could post a comment (not understanding the Anonymous option at the time - and not all blogs allow anonymous posting), my blog was inadvertently born. SIDE NOTE: Sadly, Dang's lovely tribute to his wife was later lost, when Blogger wigged out and sacked Dang's entire original blog site and all its previous posts!?! ANOTHER SIDE NOTE: Although Blogger is free-free-free, she can be a bitter bitch at times!

The Blog Birthing Process or "How it all really began": Sometime in mid-December of 2004 - or was it November? - I was in L.A. at my honey-man's ex-wife's home and she and I had sat down together for some chit chat. [Tangent: I'm gunna haftah come up with something better than "the ex-wife" = I just don't like that for that fact that #1 - She has a name, ya know? and #2 - I happen to have a good, healthy relationship with "the Ex." Unusual for most ex-situations, I know, but we're friends and I just can't call her "the ex-wife." Hmmm... how 'bout "the angel boy-O's mommie" - - ? Nope; that's too long, and well, it's a ridiculous way to refer to her, even if she is his mama! Need to come up with something more personal, as in "she's-a-person-whom-I consider-a-personal-friend." I'll have to have her help me come up with a pseudonym. End of Tangent] It was then, during that visit, that she told me about a fellow recovering mormon who went to and graduated from BYU (as did I) and lived in L.A. (as will I), later relocating to Ootah (Utah), who has a hilarious website called dooce.com, "spelled with two Os, unlike deuce." She told me I'd love it and then some, and that I had to look it up. Once I returned to Vegas from L.A., in the midst of a work day, I made a point to search out the dooce site and bookmark it as a future read. Then the holidays kicked into high gear and I plum forgot all about dooce.

Over the Chrimpus break (we're still referring to 2004), while visiting a ton of friends and family in Ootah with my honey-man, I had to see my longtime childhood friend, Anna Dilemna. She was home from Japan, staying with her family in Salt Lake for a few weeks. My honey-man and I were sitting with her in her parents' front room, visiting and enjoying some coffee together, and at one point, I had to ask her why she kept looking out the window from where she sat on the couch. She then told me that for months she had been reading a particular blog she had found online while in Japan, and that she had just figured out during her SLC visit that the owner/writer of this particular blog lived right across the street from her mum... "Oh really?!? What a small world!" We asked her some questions and many answers were given... Specifically, "It's spelled with two Os, unlike deuce" and WAH-LAH! Excitedly, we told "Anna" about how I had just heard about this dooce blogger by my honey-man's ex-wife-who-deserves- a-nice-pseudonym, and that I had been told that I would love this blog and that it's hysterical and blah, blah, blah, etc. etc. etc. And loud and true, we all declared to one another over coffee, sitting across the street from where the Dooce lives, peering out the window together, "Ohhh yes, what a small world it is!"
What was even better than that was the reaction we got later on... On our way up to Bear Lake, Idaho, we stopped in Ogden, UT where I met for the first time the large extended family of the ex-wife-who-deserves- a-nice-pseudonym, and I told her the news of my it's-a-small-world-after-all discovery. And again, we declared together, "Ohhh yes, what a small world it is, indeed!"

Back in Vegas, I rediscovered my dooce bookmark, and so began my dooce obsession of sorts. Initially, I spent hours reading dooce archives - laughing, crying, laughing some more, and laughing to tears. After a couple weeks of that, things began to progress further... At the time, there were post comments and daily picture comments and I began to check in to read those too. And things progressed even further... I began to check out the blogger profiles and the websites of those who posted regular comments on dooce.com, and soon thereafter, I began to watch for the comments of certain "doocelings." Yes, this group of regular commenters on dooce.com even took on the name of "doocelings." NOTE: On a case by case basis, this term is either loved or hated by the said doocelings. Eventually, I posted a comment(s), sometimes reaching a level of unprecidented lunacy. For a brief time, before the Dooce turned off all comments for good (with good reason), I became a fellow dooceling, although not as prominent a dooceling as others... Amanda B., Bucky 4 Eyes, CanadianAmy, ClosetMetro, CircusKelli, Dang Cold, Doc Ern, Greenthumb, Kristine, Ladybug, Mihow, Mrs. Strizzay, RazDreams, Susie, UPPERCASE GOD, Wave of Modulation, etc. etc. etc. The dooceling list could go on and on.

Anywhooo, so before Dooce turned off her comments for good, many fellow doocelings created their own blogs around the same time and "blog rolling" became my next obsession... and many of us, for a year now, have continued to blog and visit one another's blogs still. Soooo, as a mere visitor, I entered the Blogosphere, and quickly, I was drawn in by the growing dooceling community. And inadvertently, I became a blogger. That was a year ago - I know, I mentioned that already - and it's funny to realize I'm still blogging and what it's become for me = an outlet... even if half (no, more like the majority) of what I share is total fluff and utter nonsense. Overall, it's been fun! I wonder for how long I'll keep this up? Nevertheless, Happy Bloggiversary to me!
*UPDATE* The pseudonym for my honey-man's "ex-wife" has been determined = She shall be referred to as "Wendy."

SPF ~ In All My Glory!

Once again, according to Kristine... under my bed as it is, my pots and pans as they are, and my stereo(s). I think the idea behind this "In All My Glory" theme was to reveal unkept spaces... I'm an anal retentive, insanely organized looney! Very few messes to be found; everything has it's place and I own a gazillion Sterilite storage bins... how many? I really don't think I should have to count - trust me.

Self-Portrait Day!

Trying to be happy, while stuck in traffic...
*Update* CLARIFICATIONS: 1) the car was completely stationary, 2) I only take pics in the car when I'm NOT moving, 3) Yes, this a very FORCED smile, 4) I was NOT happy

This one is for Sheryl

Last night I was a bit wound up and I couldn't relax - my brow was furrowed, my jaw was clenched, my shoulders were haunched up - wound up real tight, I was. Sooooo, I smeared on a mud mask and drew a HOT bath (why is it "drew"?), and I heated up a small glass of milk in my non-smoke-spewing microwave (there's a story there, but I'll spare you), and mixed into the hot milk SEVERAL drops of lavendar, eucalyptus, and peppermint essence oils. This lil' milky oh-so strong very smelly concoction was then dumped into the steaming tub water and ahhhhhhh... instant relaxation.

While soaking, eyes closed, mud mask still on and dripping, long beyond the getting-pruney phase, I reached up to the spot where my facial scrub, among other things, sits on a ledge. Groping around, I felt what I thought was the right tube (can you see where this is going?) and dispensed a generous nickle's worth of cream into my hand and then I began to rub both my hands together... Can I tell you how ssooo very grateful I am for my sensitivity to texture!?!? It was the texture that alerted me - oh yes, my nose was absolutely worthless in this situation. Although I have an excellent sniffer, with all the lavendar and peppermint wafting around? I couldn't distinguish minty toothpaste from dog shit! Yes, I had grabbed the toothpaste. It was then that I thought of Sheryl and the story of her unfortunate midnight (2am) mishap came flooding back to me. I was not so unfortunate as she had been, and of course, wouldn't have been so, even if I had gone ahead and applied toothpaste to my face... See Sheryl's 2005 November 3rd post. And by the way, I adore this woman's stark honesty.

Happy Hearts and Sappy Love Day!

This has been 'it' for me...

"Eventually you will come to understand
that love heals everything and
love is all there is."

- Gary Zukav

It's not the job at which I slave away, nor the independence I fight for to protect myself from loss... not even my own health. It's love. I learned this from my mother and have held on to it for years, despite everything I've experienced since she died, that may seem contrary to her message. It's her message - my mother's love - that keeps everything in perspective for me. It's all about the LOVE.

Whenever I hear The Beatles' "All you Need is Love," I tear up every time.

SPF - Love it, Not so much, and Me!

On behalf of SPF and Kristine, Kami had taken over last Friday's SPF theme - and I'm just getting around to it. Yes, I know it's no longer Friday, but hey, if I wanna play, I gotta play when I can - right?

#1 What I love about my home: I love that I have a washer and dryer available 24/7, for my own discretionary use AND it's right outside my patio door, tucked away in a double-doored closet. Why is it outside? Any person living in Vegas would prefer to have his/her dryer running outside = 1) much more quiet, 2) won't heat up my home interior, and 3) results in lower electricity bills. Another thing I love about my home: See the dark, open doorway behind Otis?
This is roomie's bedroom door. Now, see the other pic which shows a large frame on the wall, beyond Otis, who's looking back at me over his kitty shoulder? To the left of that wall with the large frame is my own bedroom door, on the complete and total opposite side of the front room/apartment, away from my roomie's.
This means that we don't share a bedroom wall between us. It is soooooo nyce. This aspect of my apartment's layout was what sold me on the place - that and the washer/dryer kept outside. Oh, and I also absolutely love my kitchen "passthrough" window.

#2 What I don't love about my home: I can't really think of anything I don't like about my current abode, other than the fact that I don't own it and pay rent for it. I could say I don't like the water heater(s), but that's hopefully now a thing of the past. There is one little thing, however: See the pic with the beige little box inserted into the lower part of an electrical outlet, with Owen standing off to the right side (he always sniffs it - I have no idea why)? One day, oh-so casually, I unplugged this box and immediately, the security alarm for my apartment went off, blaring like an ambulance siren! Thankfully, ya plug the damn thing back in and it'll quit right away, BUT the first time I discovered this deafening phenomenon? One of the alarm speakers is just to the right, above the bed and its sound-off is aimed directly at whomever unplugs that lil' beige box. I about had a freakin' heart attack! I swear! And Otis and Owen? They both poofed up like racoons, sprinting from the bedroom, to only be faced with double the alarm power in the front room, where two alarm speakers were sounding off! They were so rattled by the experience, their little hearts were still racing almost 20 minutes later.

#3 What I love about me: I love that my honey-man loves me!

It's Gunna Hafta be a "Stuff-Portrait Monday!" for Me

I'd like my open letter to "Anonymous" AKA Mr. T.R. to remain prominently at the forefront of my blog until next week... So ladies and germs, I won't be playing SPF today, this Friday, but rather on Monday or maybe Sunday. Of course, this doesn't mean I won't come around and take a peek at what everyone's shared!

Hey, Mr. T.R.

I seeee yooou RIGHT NOW...

Open Letter to "Anonymous" AKA Mr. T.R.

FOREWARNING: My Dear friendly, fellow Bloggers, friends and family ~ The tone of this post may seem somewhat outta character, but trust me - it's been a long time coming, well overdue... My PREMISE: It's amazing, the information a site meter may provide! ~ Ya know, referral pages, the city locations of visitors, who's viewing my blog right now, how many pages each visitor views and for how long, plus the actual domain names and the IP addresses of my visitors. Anyhow, it's not uncommon for a new visitor to come by for a first-time and then never return - however - some visitors come back repeatedly... Repeat visitors who don't post comments are called "lurkers," (like you, Poppy) but sometimes a lurker will occasionally "delurk," to post a first-time comment or two - - usually a most welcome occurrence, but not in this case...
This is where my open letter to Mr. T.R. really begins: For several weeks now, I've noted the existence of one particular lurker - - that would be YOU, Mr. T.R. - - Yes, I SEE YOU and your recent 'anonymous' comments were not quite so anonymous as you may have thought, although you had to have known that I'd know those comments were from you. Who else? Granted, my blog is published to the internet for ALL to see, whoever may know of it, happen upon it or seek it out; this is all understood. Albeit, to have you as a regular visitor? It's downright CREEPY to discover an ex-boyfriend repeatedly visits my blog on a regular, almost daily basis! And the day I discovered you had viewed my blog at least 4 times in one day?!? - REALLY CREEPY - Of course, you should realize I've kept my friends and family abreast of the situation and then some, including my honey-man. Oh and by the way - please, no more drunken midnight calls, okay? And those ridiculous, absolutely obnoxious calls the night/morning of New Years, while I was in Keystone, CO with my honey-man and my entire immediate family? Yah, it's finally official: My whole family thinks you're frickin' nuts.
NOTE: At this point (the getting nasty point), I must admit my honey-man has wisely advised that I ignore your calls, your emails and your visits to my blog, and now, your 'anonymous' comments, and he told me I should just wait to make things clear to you the next time you may call again or email me directly. The problem with all that is this: I don't want to wait around for the next time. I've had enough and I want you to know it, so in case there's any doubt, I'll now respond to your not-so-anonymous comments, inserting therein my writing between [ ] marks:
#1 comment from "Anonymous" aka Mr. T.R. (my original post here): It looks amazingly just like a stocking my ex-girlfriend [you mean ME, you schmuck] made for me about 3 years ago [As I said before, I've made other stockings - my old kitty had one and my ex-hub too. In fact, I hope to make a Chrimpus tree skirt next year from my remaining scraps and remnant quilt squares, some of which I've had since 1997]. I gave it back after we broke up [and it was happily passed on to Goodwill], along with everything else she every [his typo, not mine] gave me [That's not true actually - you kept the blue devil jammies and some other stuff I won't bother to list cuz that stuff matters in no way at all, except that I'm sick of hearing how you gave it all back.] because she broke my heart [Speaking of which, some of the stuff you did and said and wrote to me, the majority of which I wouldn't dare mention here? I've wondered a thousand times what the hell was wrong with me, dating you as long as I did.]. I'm glad I did because I would never had enjoyed it because it reminded me of her.
#2 comment from "Anonymous" aka Mr. T.R. (my original post here): My ex-girlfriend [again, that would be ME] made me a drawing just like that for Valentine's Day [Admission: I began working on it well before I ever met you, when I first moved to Vegas - my father, Jasey and Loren would all back me up on that - and I had decided to give it to you since I hadn't anything else in the works, but at the time, I had been saving it and had wanted to give you something special, even though I had worried I'd regret it.]. I had it up in my office for about 1 month until we broke up. I was surprised myself that something that seemed so genuine at the time just shattered to pieces less than one month later [Again, had I known better, our relationship would have ended months earlier]. I ended up giving it back [thank God], but she had already made a copy for herself [I have three copies now, including an electronic scan]. It was very impressive [still is], I thought it was an original [still is one] until now, she must have copied it from you [You are a schmuck and an ass to pose as an anonymous stranger in my comments - did I say that already?]. I wish I still had it to remember her by, but I have nothing but her memory now which is probably for the better anyhow. [Frankly, you should forget me entirely - PUHLEEZE!!! Do you wanna know how I remember you? Huh? I remember that you thought my preference for an ice cream cone over a paper cup was too sexually suggestive?!? - - how's that for a reality check!?!]

So what's the point of this open letter? #1) I want you to know that I see you and know that you come here, and #2) considering your most recent attempts to contact me, these visits are INCREDIBLY CREEPY, and #3) If you have something more to say to me or questions to ask, I suggest you get it over and done with and MOVE ON! Again, I understand my blog is out there for public viewing and I can't stop you, but honestly, your visits to my blog are not welcome for the fact that you and I are NOT on friendly stay-in-touch terms... Do I ever call you? do I ever email you? write to you? No, I do none of these things, and I can't imagine your visits here are truly healthy or helpful to you in any way, shape or form. Upon telling friends and family about all this, the general consensus amongst them goes along the lines of "Holy Shit! How creepy is that!?! He needs to move on!" - I couldn't agree more.

ka ka ka Keystone! Show me the Powdah!

Once again, as was the case with my Montreal pics (5 related post found in my 2005 October Archives), I'm not sure in what order these babies will post, sooo figure it out (click on the images for a larger view): Alrighty now - - the "Testicle Festival" pic is actually a T-shirt that my big (6" 6' tall) little, 17 yr-old brother owns and proudly wears. He went with my father and my father's best friend, Don, to the event last year and yes, they all had themselves some beef balls. Why they wanted to do this? For the life of me, I can't figure it out. Then there's a smiley pic of me, goggled and hooded, hangin' on the side of a ski slope - this pic was taken on my 31st birthday I think.

Then, there's a scenic pic of the valley view taken from a ski lift - it was ahhmazing and I'm sorry I never really got a shot that truly captured the breathtaking views from atop the mountains. Then there's the pic that shows the one of the 4-seater chair lifts visible - look to the right in that pic (may need to enlarge it) and you'll see mardi gra beads hangin' in the trees. There was a red bra on the next tree that - alas - I did not capture, but we laughed every time we saw it on our way up that lift.

The most amazing hot chocolate - for a machine mix! Look at that?!? The topping was real whip cream! It was rich enough that we shared 'them' (yes, plural) between the two of us. Mmm... I want one right NOW.

And the one in which you see the tailgate lights of a semi-truck? We were driving back to Keystone from Vail at the time. Lucky for us all, our driver was a driving- in-the- snow veteran from Billings, Montana. I spoke to a friend on my cell during this drive and actually failed to accurately relate our driving conditions to that of a "snow storm/blizzard." Everyone in the car had heard me and immediately, I was offered a ringing 3-part chorus of corrections.

Okay now, don't be alarmed - naah, go ahead, be alarmed. We were. Our first full day in the condo, things were quiet and I realized at one point, everyone's here, but where? I went to the top floor to find my sis, my bro, my father and one of our family friends all hangin' out in the master bedroom, glued to the boob tube. This commercial came on - the commercial ran long enough for me to run down 2 levels of stairs and return with my camera = I had to take a picture. As you can guess, the product is made to remove urine - not just pet urine, but human urine - - ??? Lots of blacklighting was used in the ad to reveal how nasty a household bathroom could be - everyone was thoroughly grossed out and laughing deliriously. It may have been the altitude, but we were all dying. *UPDATE*: THE DISCOVERED LINK (don't ask me how I found it - No, I didn't search for it!)
Mmkay, a much needed change of subject: From the top of "Schoolmarm," you can see all throughout the valley, including ski slopes visible across the way. It was absolutely breathtaking - and it was awesome to hear Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" playing over the loud speakers while taking in the view Can you see those slopes?

Then there's the pic of me lounging at the bottom of "Mozart." The bizarre growth at the back of my head is my own arm. And then the frosty ski poles... had we not gotten up early to hit the slopes that day, I would have missed 'em.

Those of you with a blogroll, so sorry for the repeat publishing - blasted format edits!

Happy Monday - what a whopper of an oxymoron!

*UPDATE* I'm always going to remember this marquee and it's most valid point.
Worries never help a thing.

Although today's a Monday, I think today's gunna be a gooood day! WOO-HOO!
Hope everyone has a good one!
P.S. This Buggy Bath posts all sorts of quotes on their marquee - here's a previous one.

Very 1st Attempt at Audio Posting

Naah, it's A-okay ~ I don't need anyone to tell me I'm a nerd; I'm well aware.