Congratulations! It's a Girl!

After years of speculation, I was told significant news last night. My cat, Pudge, had to go to the vet. Sneezing, raspy breath, watery puffy eyes for more than 24 hours started to freak me out. I'm still waiting on the urine and bloodwork to collaborate the x-rays showing possible pneumonia. My poor kitty feels so bad and doesn't understand why!

But in a strange twist of fate, my cat went into the vet's office one gender and came out another. While Dr. Kee was checking Pudge out, I asked her to verify Pudge's gender. A tabby/white, Pudge is mix of colors. Many thought it could be possible, if not probable, but the cage card when I adopted the former Nikzo, soon renamed Excalibur, shorted to Callah, temporarily called Jabba the Kitty, now answering to Pudge said 'N' under sex. Neutered. Not 'S' for spayed.

However, in the words of the vet yesterday, my "cat has a vulva."

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Gone, but not Forgotten

My mother died seven years ago today. Not a day goes by that my heart doesn’t ache from the loneliness of missing her. Some days are worse than others.

Today is one of those days.

Last night I dreamed about her. I had all sorts of odd little dreams flutter through my mind, but I remember that I was dreaming that I had double-booked a weekend and Mom wanted me to go into another room with her to sort things out. Since we were both already together in a different room, I wasn’t sure why we needed to relocate and told her that repeatedly. But she was emphatic.

That was my mother for you. Things might not always make sense, but in the end one usually saw the reasons for her actions. Not always, but generally there was a method to her madness.

I talk about her often, and think about her ten times that, but I’m always concerned that I’m going to martyrize Mom. She had a tough lot in life and never complained about it in front of me. I suppose that’s one reason why I have no patience for people who complain and don’t do anything to correct their lot in life. Its fine to be in the pity pot, but don’t float in it forever. Tread water, then get out.

I’m floating in the pity pot right now, but I’m allowed that today.

I also have no sympathy for people who blame others for their problems. It won’t make them go away, so accept that life sucks and then do what you can to make it better for yourself. Mom rolled like that. Can’t say that I always do, but I try.

She was 63-years-old. Way too young. She had skipped her first day of dialysis ever, over five years of three times a week treatments. Staff at the center called her at lunch time to rib her about being a slacker. Later, I was told she took it in stride and teased back. I got home from work around 5:30. It was a Wednesday. She was on the couch. It had to have happened sometime after she got off the phone. I like to think that she fell asleep watching bad TV. After all she had been through, going to sleep and not waking up would have been the kindest thing ever.

My mother was gorgeous. A dyed-in-the-wool good-looking gal. I look a lot like her, but there’s something less regal about me, less glamorous. Every single picture I have of Mom, from baby to adult, she’s posing. Not goofy expressions (far from it!) or exaggerated posture, but rather a secret – almost Mona Lisa-like – smile would curve her lips and her eyes, even as a small child, held a ‘come hither’ kind of gaze on the viewer of said picture.

She had poise.

Her sister, my Aunt Fran, told me that my Mom stayed with me for as long as I needed her. That she wouldn’t have left me if I still needed her. One could argue that they always need their mother, but it helped. Not a lot, but it made things easier to bear.

My Mom had two massive strokes when I was a toddler. I have a few vague memories of her prior to her illnesses – sitting at the counter at a soda fountain, riding in the front seat of her Impala as we were going to the Zoo so we could pet the goats despite it being cold out – but I do know that she was told in the hospital that she was going to die.

I was three. I got 23 bonus years with her. I told her often than I loved her, but I’m not sure she knew how much I cherished her. She often said that parents shouldn’t be their kids’ best friend. I couldn’t wrap my head around that at the time, but I get now that Mom was a parent first and foremost.

And she was a great parent. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother.

I only hope that I can be as good a person as she was, despite the gravity of her health coloring her life. I wish she could have written down her story. The people that she crossed paths with, the adventures she had, the ideas that danced in her mind… they were amazing tales. Someday I might write about them, but it would be a poor stand-in for what she could have done. Besides, she would have wanted me to have my own tales to write about. Mom was always looking forward. The past was something that prepared you for the future.

She protested Vietnam, but instead of sit-ins and whatnot, she got a job with the government to see if she could learn information from the inside. She was impassioned about the fight against AIDS, participating in Dining Out For Life, even if it was the only time she had left the house all year. When I told her I made friends who happened to be gay when I went away to college my freshman year, she cried over the fact that when she herself was a freshman, people couldn’t come out for fear of being hurt or even killed. She said I was brave for loving them for who they were, not what they were.

We fought. What parent doesn’t have children who protest being told what to do from time to time? But it was rarely and when I would apologize, she always laughed it off. The older I got, the more she realized that my arguments had valid points. The older I got, the more she became my best friend, despite her attempts to have it be otherwise.

I am so lucky. Our time was short. Our time was corrupted by the unfairness of her health. Our time was so much more special because of the barriers put before both of us – my youth and her inability to read or write. We made time count. We made time together special by taking it down to bare bones learning, entertainment, interaction…

I just wish I had learned to embrace Johnny Cash earlier. He was her favorite musician and I rebelled against her attempts to educate me to the ways of “the man in black” until college. She was so mad. All those wasted years! But better late than never, right?

Actually, I now know better. Embrace what you love. Who cares about what others think. Parents do sometimes know best. I listened, but now I wish I had listened better.

I was too confused in the days following her passing to know that I needed to have this poem recited – by me, by someone else – at her funeral, at her grave, somewhere, somehow. It was very comforting to me then. So I share it with you now:

Encouragement
~Emily Brontë

I do not weep; I would not weep;
Our mother needs no tears:
Dry thine eyes, too; 'tis vain to keep
This causeless grief for years.

What though her brow be changed and cold,
Her sweet eyes closed for ever?
What though the stone--the darksome mould
Our mortal bodies sever?

What though her hand smooth ne'er again
Those silken locks of thine?
Nor, through long hours of future pain,
Her kind face o'er thee shine?

Remember still, she is not dead;
She sees us, sister, now;
Laid, where her angel spirit fled,
'Mid heath and frozen snow.

And from that world of heavenly light
Will she not always bend
To guide us in our lifetime's night,
And guard us to the end?

Thou knowest she will; and thou mayst mourn
That we are left below:
But not that she can ne'er return
To share our earthly woe.

I love you Mom.
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TGI Friday!

I had a job interview today. Even if I got the offer, I wouldn't take it. Was the most bee-zarre interview ever! They deal with pest control (hence the 'bee' ~ and yes, I think I’m clever ~ don’t spoil it for me) and I'm not sure how I feel about hawking product that kills mammals, like moles and whatnot.

But that aside, the guy who interviewed me was so out there that I can't even stand it! He wore shorts and a vacation t-shirt while I was wearing a suit. Okay, casual Friday, I get that. But I don’t think he even read my resume. He hopscotched all over my jobs, education and references. He then proceeded to ask about laser hair removal because I have two people as references who perform the service at the spa I used to work at. He thought that I performed the service and wanted to know about the training. It was obvious that he was a skeptic, but what does that have to do with my qualifications? I told him that I never actually performed the service myself, so I couldn't tell him about training.

He repeatedly went back to laser hair removal. I almost wished I had a menu of services from the spa despite the fact that I quit at the end of February.

But… he also seemed to think that he knew one of my other references. I hope he’s more focused when they get together – if they do indeed know one another – because he really hurt my head.

He then asked all sorts of dippy questions... Did I know the mayor of Crestwood? Did I meet any rich people at St. Patrick Center (his words... rich people)? Did I bring any samples of my design work (for a receptionist position)? Did I go to Ursuline High School? What’s my favorite neighborhood in the city? If he wanted to find me on the internet, where could he go to get information? Do I have a Facebook page (I told him that I wasn't that cool)? Do I have a MySpace page (again, not that cool)? What kind of cellphone do I own? Do I own an iPod? What kind of music do I like? What was the last concert I went to? Is Tom Waits really all that great? Why is Bob Dylan more popular? What's the next concert I'm going to (Nine Inch Nails, btw)? How many times have I see Nine Inch Nails in concert? Who opened for them last time? Did I buy their most recent album or just download the free version? Have I ever seen Tool in concert?

Twenty minutes about music. None spent on my qualifications, other than it looks like I can't hold a job. Great.

But he did tell me that I have great taste in music.

As he walked out of the room, he did tell me that my hair was 'hot.' What the hell does that mean? Was that a come on or was it just that he thought it was very current?

I also got parting gifts. Ant killer spray and traps.

Please don’t be jealous. If you can help me get a job, I’ll gladly part with them.
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It's A Ten

My dog, Lance, turned ten-years-old on July 14th – Bastille Day. I was somewhat in denial about the whole thing because the higher his age ticks up, the less time I have with him. Lance is, without a doubt, the best dog I’ll ever have. Knowing that all the dogs after him will be great, fabulous dogs is still somewhat hard to swallow because the bar has been set so high.

And I’m as equally devoted to Lance as he is to me.

Lance came into my life the way any younger man does… sad brown eyes and a sob story that tugged at the heartstrings. Let me tell you, am I a sucker for the underdog! And yes, pun intended, so stop groaning. But people who meet Lance now-a-days can still see shadows of who he might have once been, but really – who Lance is now and who Lance once was is night and day.

Lance, short for Lancelot… because Arthurian literature has the best names for pets, was a severely abused puppy when a Humane Officer from the Humane Society of Missouri picked him up. His life had been spent living in a backyard with no shelter and hardly any sustenance. In fact, it was his lack of food that caused a neighbor to put in a call for animal neglect.

The Humane Officer actually had to go by the house where the neighbors said the abused puppy lived several times. The little brown and black puppy had tucked himself into a hollow by the back porch steps and blended right into the dirt yard. But a bit of movement on the last visit caught her eye.

Knocking on the door, she told the family that she was taking the dog in, pending the results of the allegations of animal neglect. The family protested, to which they were told that if they willing gave up the dog, it would cost them $35.00, but if they fought and it turned out that there was neglect, it could cost them upwards of $250.00.

They gave up Lance willingly.

The cage card for Lance said Mohammed when I first met him. Such a strange name for a scrawny puppy, but the Humane Officer told me that it was either Mohammed… or Killer. And she said that there was no way she could put Killer down as his name.

Lance hadn’t been fed for four days when he was picked up. Four months old and only weighing 12 pounds, he was severely underweight and had a slight case of rickets.

He also had no soul left.

I won’t get into the existential argument of animals having souls, because I believe that being able to communicate and express emotion are the building blocks of what comprises a soul, but Lance didn’t car if he lived or died. I would pick him up and he would drape himself on me. Not drape as in clingy, but drape as in wilted.

He hid in the back of his cage, piling up the bedding in front of him to act as a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. But I would have none of that. Not to be biased, but he was too good looking of a dog to not fall in love with. And really, abused animals can become untrustworthy. There was none of that in Lance. He was a dried up little sponge, just waiting to be rehydrated with love.

And I loved him as hard as I could. Multiple trips outside housebroke him within a week. And if I got busy and missed a trip, he would potty in the far corner of the cage. I taught him to sit and shake. I wanted him to become adoptable.

Wasn’t happening.

He was terrified of everyone else but me. No one else could go near him without shaking like a leaf. I was told over and over again that if I didn’t take him, Lance would get put down.

I made a decision. I brought him home for my Mom. It had been a few years since we had had a dog and I knew she needed a companion. A quiet, gentle dog for my quiet, gentle mother… What could be a better combination?

Well, the only thing better would have been if Mom had wanted a dog. She refused to come out of her room to see him, completely breaking my heart. But back Lance went to the shelter.

Immediately, I started thinking about how to save Lance. Lightbulb moment – move out and get an apartment that took dogs.

Mom ended up seeing Lance about a month or so later and FELL IN LOVE WITH HIM. I mean, it was almost disgusting how much Mom loved him. He was perfect for her. Sat by her side. Shook hands with her. Let her rub his chest.

Mom got Lance. Not only had he been neglected with no food for days on end, but a five-year-old boy who lived with his original owners used to punch Lance in the head. There had to have been yelling, too, because Lance still cowers at elevated voices. And Lance hates baseball caps. Something there, too.

Dad never got Lance. Head rubs were the way you showed affection towards dogs. And Dad was excitable and would raise his voice often, sending Lance running for cover.

But it was like a grandchild visiting. Bring the little lover boy and then take him home at the end of the day.

Which was fine because there was no mistaking whose dog Lance was.

I moved back home two years later to take care of my ailing parents. Lance was with my Mom when she died and was elemental in getting me through that tough time. Lance would go with me to visit Dad in the nursing home. I took him to restaurants that had outdoor seating. I took him to friends’ houses. We went to obedience training.

He ended up failing the Canine Good Citizenship test because he loved the other dogs too much. But really, I never saw that as a detriment. Lance IS love.

In fact, as a reward for his years of devotion, I got him a sister. Now, there are those of you who know Lainey and will argue that Lance was not rewarded but penalized. Yes, yes. I know. But they are faithful companions.

Just learn from my mistake and don’t get a Border Collie as a pet. They need to be working dogs. Anything less and you and the dog will want to kill each other.

I mean it.

Seriously.

But now that Lance is ten, I reflect back upon the years with affection and a bit of melancholy. I mean, he’s closer to his death than his birth. But I am a better person for having Lance in my life.

And there is no better dog than Lance for me.
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Steal You Blind

Last night was one of those evenings where everything seemed normal, but something was a little bit off and threw everything into a pattern of near-chaos.

Barry went to get money out of the ATM and while the machine did dispense the amount he requested, the receipt slip stated that his account was negative. Funny, since yesterday was payday and he has direct deposit. I chalked it up to a glitch with the bank and to check his online bank statement when we got home. Barry agreed and we went on our merry way.

Our merry way was to dinner with his family. It was much more pleasant than I imagined. I don’t know why I do this to myself… Generally when we got out with them, we have a pretty good time. But beforehand, I always imagine that we’re practically martyrs for going out with them. I suppose it’s because he grew up with them and there wasn’t always good times. And since both my parents are gone and I lack siblings, I kinda feel like an island sometimes.

But his parents are always warm and gregarious. His brother always has something funny to say. His sister-in-law is always asking for advice. And his sister is completely different from me, but we seem to be in sync with most of our hobbies.

So dinner was amusing, even if the restaurant was loud and dark. I have a mental list of pet peeves and while loud, dark restaurants don’t annoy me enough to rank in the top ten of my list, I have to wonder why bad lighting and lack of good acoustics seems like a good idea to restaurant owners. I mean, the food was good. But not great. Certainly I could get the same quality at a place that is better lit and has a quieter environment.

After much good-bying, Barry and I headed home. His car was needed a fill, so we swung by a BP to fuel up.

Only, his card kept getting rejected.

I finally swiped my card, we got the gas, and then we headed back to the homestead to see what the heck was going on with Barry’s bank account.

There are very few things in this world that scare me as much… and that I really am ignorant in the ways of…

Barry is the victim of identity theft.

Charges were pending for things that just didn’t make any sense. It would be almost comical to imagine what it was they were actually buying if it wasn’t happening to us.

Immediately, he called the 24-hour fraud line and was told that they had planned on contacting him in the morning.

Since I wasn’t in on the conversation, I have to wonder if the account would have remained active long enough for even more damage to have been done. I’m glad to know that they were aware that A LOT of money had been transactioned within a 48-hour period on his account, but it did bother me that the bank was going let it happen all night long, too.

So glad that Barry called when he did.

Because of the amount – over $500 – the feds are now involved. I presume that the feds are involved in almost every case because I can’t even begin to imagine that a stolen credit card number would be used to only buy one thing.

Of course, I’ve been known to be wrong before.

But it’s a scary world we live in. I hem and haw about actually wanting to bring children into it. I cry when I watch and read the news.

But I’m one of those people who think that things will never happen to me…

…until they do.

Or in this case, to Barry.

Which somehow wounds me worse.
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Happy 232nd Birthday!

God Bless America.

Even if you don’t believe in God, on today, our nation’s birthday, you have to stand up a little straighter, sing a little louder and smile a little broader when you sing our national anthem or watch a fireworks celebration.

I’m a zealot patriot, even if I’m not the most informed when it comes to current events. Oh, I’m more informed than most, but most of what I see or read makes me cry. Barry has had to put me into news blackouts because of how upset I’ve gotten. The world breaks my heart, but also makes me proud. We do indeed live in the land of the free and the home of the brave. It’s easy to get jaded about the world outside our windows, but our founding fathers got it pretty darn close to perfect.

The national anthem makes me cry, too.

So many people see it as entertainment at sporting events, but I think it an HONOR to be able to sing the praises of our country. I hate the applause that follows the singing of The Star Spangled Banner, as the song itself is not meant to be entertainment. Just what is it that people are applauding? The singing? The flag? The song? A moment of solemn silence following the song, with hand still over heart, would seem more respectful.

I went to Fort McHenry in 8th grade, too young to appreciate the gravity and enormity of what I was being subjected to, but I wanted so badly to be a sponge and ‘get it.’ Sometimes mind over matter can be the most powerful decision one can make, but it wasn’t until I saw the flag that flew over the fort at the Smithsonian did it hit me.

The national anthem – in all it’s difficulty to sing – finally clicked. It wasn’t just a song, it was indeed an anthem for my – OUR – independence.

It was Tom who told me that applause for The Star Spangled Banner was considered offensive and I breathed a sigh of relief. For years now, he and I stand stoically after the anthem ends. And it feels good, knowing that my silence speaks greater volumes than all the hooting and hollering around me.

And when I hear it on the 4th of July, my chest tightens and I mourn for all those who made it possible for me to have the freedoms that I do.

But isn’t that what the Fabulous Fourth is all about? It’s a day reflect. To remember. To remember the heroes of the American Revolution. To remember the birth of a new nation.

When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

I mean really, how much more perfect does it get? Oh wait, it’s followed by:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

It’s easy to forget. And so hard to remember. But remember we must, for we are standing on the shoulders of men and women who clawed and climbed their way into a new way of life. Yes, some of our past is ugly and downright despicable. But while there is no going back, we can make sure the mistakes of the past are never repeated.

But for everything wrong about this country, I am grateful to be an American.

God Bless America, land that I love.
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Choose thy love, love thy choice

An anniversary is a time to celebrate the joys of today, the memories of yesterday, and the hopes of tomorrow. ~Author Unknown

Today, I have been married for one year.

Happy anniversary, Barry.

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To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...

To say that I am a poor sleeper is a complete understatement. I have spent my whole life wrestling with the god Hypnos and his brother Morpheus to allow me some respite.

I can go days where I lay awake all night, waiting for that moment where my body just gives out. In high school, I missed almost a whole semester because I would go so long without sleep that I would cry from the physical pain my body would be in. I graduated on time through correspondence classes and summer school.

I sent this link to Tom because I am highly jealous of the fact that he can nap. And he does so on a semi-regular basis. He sometimes takes two on a Saturday if he gets up early to go out and shoot pictures. Never mind the fact that he’s always exhausted. That’s not the point I’m trying to make right now. My point is that he can lie down and drift off.

All my life I have taken – desperately at times – medication, both prescription and over-the-counter (but never at the same time), to help me sleep. I apparently slept through the night almost immediately after my parents brought me home from the hospital as a baby, but somewhere – somehow – I became an insomniac.

I have to sleep at a regular bedtime. My body tells me ten o’clock is a good time, but I always try to push it a little bit longer. Okay, sometimes a lot longer. But I pay the consequences for reading “just one more chapter.” I have to have sleep schedule or I’m in physical pain.

I was going to say that lack of sleep causes me to not function well, but isn’t that everybody? And the truth of the matter is, I do function well on little sleep. Before my Mother died, she had congestive heart failure and lying down would put too much pressure on her chest, causing her to go into coughing fits. Sitting up took the pressure off her chest, but there was always the coughing. Which kept her from sleeping much.

So I would sit up with her most of the night, then either take her to dialysis or, after I went back to work, go to my job.

I was getting two to three hours of sleep a night. And felt every missed hour in every part of my body. But I wouldn’t trade one moment because sitting up with Mom is time I cherish.

Now, I read for 30 to 60 minutes before I turn off my lamp, cover my eyes with a sleep mask and put in my ear plugs. Why didn’t I think of earplugs in college? The loud dorm was when I slept the worst, but it took my husband, Barry, working nights, for me to come up with the near-perfect solution of almost-silence and absolute-dark.

But Barry does tell me to nap when, on a weekend, I had an especially poor night of sleep – or lack thereof. I’ve tried. I want to. I just either lay there – THINKING about wanting to sleep – or I do drift off, only to wake more exhausted than I began. What’s the point of trying when each and every time I fail?

How is it that I come from two parents who – literally – could sleep ANYWHERE. I mean, Mom took two naps a day and still got a full night’s sleep before her kidney’s failed. And Dad… it was almost rude how he could fall asleep mid-conversation.

Why didn’t I get the genetic ability to sleep with the skills of a professional? I swear, I would think I was adopted if I didn’t look just like the two of them.

Maybe it’s like twins… it skips a generation.
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Not So Momentary Lapse of Reason...

Do you ever have moments were you aren’t exactly sure why you open your mouth and then once you do, you can’t shut up?

I bet right now, you’re wondering what the hell I’m talking about.

Friday night, I was hanging out with Tom and we were heading back to his car when I saw an old acquaintance from Mizzou. We didn’t part on the best of terms and yet, for some reason that I can’t fathom, I said ‘hi.’

Now, the last time I saw him was about ten or so years ago. It was Christmastime and there was a blizzard that made driving almost impossible. I was tooling around in a ’68 Impala… which wasn’t made to have the best traction. So I slid. A lot. And my passenger would scream each time I went a little sideways. Scream a lot. Which was very distracting. During a time I didn’t need to be distracted.

Now, mind you, just because I slid doesn’t mean that I ever lost control of the vehicle. I never went across lanes, despite having repeated urges to take my passenger out – even if it meant I was going with them. But in the Impala, I think the concrete barriers would have given before the Detroit steel did.

So in the middle of this blizzard, I had to find something for us to do because there was no rescheduling – they had driven up from Festus and I had to entertain them. Dammit.

In a bind, I called Tom, who was putting up his family’s Christmas tree. His friend Tim was helping, so I had two people to torment. Well, it wasn’t me who was doing the tormenting. I know one comment was made that when one stood close to the bookcase and bookstand, it was like being in a library. A silly grin was also cast in Tim’s direction, to which I took some heat afterwards.

We didn't stay long, but it was longer than was welcome by however long we were there, plus ten minutes.

I blocked out most of the evening, but bits and pieces came back to me Friday night.

And yet, I couldn’t shut up. I couldn’t walk past and not acknowledge him.

What is wrong with me?

Really, there is no need to answer that.

It would take way too long.
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I Said 3 ½ Tons and Whaddya Get?

Another day older and deeper in debt.

Another summer in St. Louis and a new milestone in my life is occurring this week.

Hopefully by this weekend I will have a new air conditioning unit, plus furnace.

I am quite excited about the prospect of more energy efficient appliances, but there’s also a sort of melancholy that’s mixed in. Why would anyone feel any sort of sadness about an old A/C unit and furnace?

Well, part of it has to do with the fact that with the replacing of those appliances, there’s one less thing in the house that’s attached to my parents.

Living in my parents house results in many mixed emotions – sometimes within the same day. With each passing year since my parents passing, Mom in 2001 and Dad in 2004, things get easier. But as much as I have a hard time with reminders that they’re gone, so I have the same problem when those reminders are removed.

The furnace is original to the house. Dad moved into the house in 1968 and the furnace is dated 1958. A 50-year-old furnace that apparently sat around for ten years before the contractor installed the unit. That in itself is amusing, but who has a 50-year-old furnace in their homes now-a-days?

The air conditioner is only about 25 years old. I say ‘only’ like it’s a young whipper-snapper. But I remember the girl who lived across the street coming over after it was installed and how we spent hours (okay, 15 minutes) talking into the unit while it was running, fascinated with the echo the blades caused when it was running. I also remember my poor mother dragging the old ‘landing pad’ that the original A/C unit sat on – which was actually in two equal pieces – from the middle of the back part of the house to the corner of the yard and painstakingly digging out the ground to set the concrete squares into.

Damn if she didn’t get them level, too! This past summer when we were putting a patio for our wedding, several of us dug out and found them. The level was out for the retaining wall bricks we were using and someone checked the concrete squares Mom set so many years ago.

Not bad for a woman who had had two massive strokes. Team Betty all the way!

So I suppose feeling bad that I’m replacing two antiquated appliances is silly, but since I live in a house where I’m surrounded by memories I think that embracing a little nostalgia isn’t TOO bad. After all, I’ll be lucky to get 10, maybe 15, years out of these new units. To channel both of my parents, they don’t make ‘em the way they used to.

But don’t think that I’m not a little giddy about getting new heating and cooling system. It almost makes me feel like a grown up.

Almost.

Maybe I'll feel a bit more mature when the check clears.
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In Rememberance of Things Past...

The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers in arms on other fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.

--Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, addressing U.S. troops before the Normandy invasion

My father often reminisced about events that meant little to me at the time, but the emotion behind his stories often moved me... even if I had heard the stories many times over.

As was usually the case because I think he believed that if someone enjoyed a story once, they would enjoy it even more with multiple tellings.

But the war… talking about it always made him cry.

And today, he would have cried.

D-Day, the 6th of June. The largest single invasion in human history.

He often talked about the invasion of Normandy and how it changed the course of the war. About how more than 175,000 troops – boys – who, in the largest sea-borne invasion fleet in history landed on the beaches and hit the water, trying to battle past the armies of Hitler and the Third Reich. And even though many fell that day, many more pressed on, turning the proverbial tide and on D-Day, the 6th of June, when the beachhead was captured and wrestled away, it signaled the beginning of the end of World War Two.
Dad’s father was the block captain when the whole country was practicing blackouts in an attempt to prevent any sort of attack. Dad spoke almost reverently of how his father would walk the streets to make sure everyone on the block complied with the 60 second warning.

Dad grew up on the near north side of Chicago. While many of the coastal cities had more to worry about in terms of invasion, Chicago was a large enough city to merit concern.

Mom grew up in Webster Groves, a rather tight-knit community where everyone knew everyone. She lived on Elm Street, in the heart of Old Webster, in a gorgeous two-story home that I covet to this day.

It was a far cry from the apartment building my Dad grew up in, but there's no comparing city living to suburban living. It's apples and oranges.

I pass by my mother's house on a semi-regular basis and it still boggles my mind that although the yard is large, they raised chickens and turkeys right next to their Victory garden.

Dad would never eat chicken because, he said, whenever his mother made chicken and dumplings, seeing the chicken fat float to the top turned his stomach so badly that he could never fathom eating the poultry.

Mom always replied that she used to wring chickens neck when she was but a girl and she LOVED the taste of it.

But I digress, as I am wont to do...

While I had no direct impact of War World II personally, it moved me that my father would cry, sob sometimes, over the broken bodies that made sure that not only the United States remained safe

64 years ago today, boys – BABIES – went through the gates of Hell.

My father always remembered. And not just when June 6th would roll around. But often. And with great reverence.

And with lots of tears.

Today I cry for those who never came back because my father is no longer around to do so.

I might not remember, but I'll never forget.

And to those that I know – and to those that I don't – who are stationed overseas, please come home safe. My tears today are not only for those 64 years ago, but also those today.
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Watching Paint Dry...

As I write this, it’s about 6:30 in the morning, a little late if I were to be rising to go to work, but not by much. The smell of paint fumes no longer registers, as it’s all I’ve smelled the past few days. The ground is saturated with rain from a sky that has been relentless the past few days. And I am sore in places I didn’t know existed.

Compared to next weekend, where I have work a special event for work on Saturday from 8am to sometime past midnight, the past few days have been almost relaxing.

And no, I’m not living for the weekend of the 7th, where I plan on doing nothing – why do you ask?

Barry and I have been wanting to paint our dining room for months. Maybe even months upon months. But there were a couple of stumbling blocks. Namely, time was a factor. We wanted to knock the room out and not work at it over the course of a few weekends. But there was also the fact that my Mother had put in a small extension wall in an attempt to enclose the kitchen. All it did was create a bottleneck when we had people over and cause delivery persons to curse us when anything had to be brought into the basement. The wall had to go. No sense painting the wall, only to tear it out later.

I tore out the drywall in the extension wall last weekend. Okay, so Barry helped. But I figured, enough talk. But the light switches – and the terrible wiring that went with it – proved to be more than either of us could handle, so we had to wait until this past Friday when Barry’s dad could help. He ever helped Barry take the wall frame out.

Let me back up a little and say that sometimes it’s cool to live in the house I grew up in. Sometimes it’s not. And sometimes it’s trippier than Hell. Coming home Friday and seeing the wall gone – the wall that I have known for about 20 years – with the original linoleum showing… Well, it dawned on me that having super short hair was appropriate because that’s the look I sported before the wall was put in. The more things change and all that.

Saturday came me painting the ceiling and Barry repairing the drywall. I hate painting ceilings, but who doesn’t? But the room is large and connects with the kitchen, so I had to add that to my painting dance card. Thank God, I wasn’t painting the kitchen walls, too!

I now have blisters on my hands and my wrists are still throbbing. Barry couldn’t paint the ceiling because he had neck surgery last September, but I think I have undiagnosed Carpel Tunnel. Barry suggested several times that we should invest in a sprayer, but despite my bitching, there’s something primal about painting. How often do I do physical labor of any real magnitude? While I won’t go so far as to say that I wear the blisters and blanket of soreness across my shoulders as a badge of honor, I will say that it’s satisfying to know that I can see the fruits of my labor every day. So yeah, worth it.

The dining room is now a soft grey. The kitchen, royal blue. The family room, brown, red and rose. The office, green and purple. The bedroom, aqua. I feel like I somehow am going in a new direction.

But the reason for the muted color choice was two-fold for me. I wanted something soothing while I was eating and we were also wanting to do something more architectural with the room. Sleek and mod and all that.

The grey looks amazing.

It’s also kinda cool to have an actual dining room. The house is a three bedroom ranch with a kitchen and two rooms that I grew up with as a living room and family room. Now, I see no difference between a family room and living room except the level of formalness. So not formal. The front room has a chandelier in it and our dining table always sat beneath it, used only when I did homework. It was designated a living room and had dated custom drapes that my Border Collier ate and dated green carpet that I tore out on a whim, only to discover gorgeous hardwood floors beneath. Not so gorgeous now with two dogs, but that’s not the point.

The point is that I got rid of the dining table and after many, many, many furniture arrangements, we now have a very comfortable family room where a room that was barely used once sat. The room that used to be the family room left us with a bit of a conundrum. I got rid of my dining table because I never grew up using it. Now, it seemed like a good idea to get one. To eat at. To have friends over to eat with us. To have friends over to play board games. To set things down on and walk away.

And a dining table would be perfect in the room that now had no purpose. Well, I guess it now had a purpose, huh?

So a little trim work today and some rearranging and we’re in business.

We’re just trying to figure out why the largest room in the house, give or take, has no ceiling light. So almost in business, but that’s a project for another weekend.

Until then, floor lamps are our friend.
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The Short and the Long of It...

Last night I decided to get some things done that had been on my list for quite some time, but never near the top. I went to Kohls and bought some shorts. I have not bought new shorts in many years and have not actually worn any for the past year or two because I didn’t have any that fit.

Like most women, I hate shopping for pants, jeans, shorts. I am not the size I once was and the reality of it always hits home in dressing rooms. They are so depressing that I’m not sure why I don’t even hear cries of anguish or cursing of anger. I think it’s because we all blame the lighting. There’s no way we could look as bad as we do in the dressing rooms if it wasn’t for the lighting.

But, for some reason, I’ve had the best luck at Kohls.

I used to always buy at Marshalls and TJ Maxx, but they are so hit and miss that some days I’d make out like a bandit and other days I’d walk out so thoroughly frustrated that I swore I’d never go back. It got to the point where I was comparing it to a bad relationship.

So I cut ties with those stores for basic needs, putting them into the category of shoes and household items only, and moved on to Old Navy. It worked for a while, but either the store is sliding into a much younger direction or I’m sliding into a much older direction. I’m going with Old Navy moving away from me rather than the other way around.

I can’t really remember the epiphany I had over Kohls, but it was rather recent. I suppose it’s the residual effects of the Advil PM I took last night to sleep. However, in less than 30 minutes I walked out with four pairs of shorts. On sale, no less!

So then I hit the Goodwill by my house looking for more work tops. I really love the faux sweater/button down shirt combos that came out last fall because they’re dressy and comfy. My problem, which isn’t really a problem since it’s self-inflicted, is that I have tattoos on my upper arms and want to cover them for work. I know in the summertime I’ll hate the tops, but my department is generally kept pretty cool and I’ll only have to worry about the walk to the car and from the car. I hope.

I struck out at Goodwill. Bleh.

Off to get a pedicure!

I must admit that leaving the spa had some perks that I sorely miss. I got used to trading for a massage by doing the service provider a favor. Or getting my brows done for free because the esthetician had some free time and was bored. But a pedicure was something I rarely did. Namely, because it was one of the few services the spa offered that I could actually do myself with some proficiency.

But since it was evening, and I always use more coats than I probably need, I decided to go to a professional so that they would be dry by bedtime. Which I was hoping would be very early last night.

Now, I went to the place I used to get my nails done at when I used to do acrylics. It’s funny to think I used to be that person, but my mind is slowly moving back to that place. However, my nails are in better condition than they have ever been and I’d be a fool to mess with them at this point.

But the place had changed. It’s about half the size it used to be and very few of them spoke any English. And that was one of the reason that I used to go there – great conversations. Ah well. For a $20 pedi, I suppose I can’t complain too much. I mean, no one talked to me, there was no music or television to distract me from the fact that I could give no input into my pedicure, but it did look good when all was said and done. And the price was a far cry from what I was paying at the spa when I worked there.

I just need to remember to bring a friend next time to talk to. It was a very lonely 45 minutes, but my toes look damn good, if I do say so myself. A nice sparkly blue to go with my red flip flops that I plan on wearing to the Cardinals game next Wednesday.

And speaking of the great American pastime, have a wonderful Memorial Day weekend. But please take a moment to remember the meaning of the day. All those men and women who died in combat so that we might have the freedoms that we do, deserve just a few moments of our time.
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Splitting Hairs...

I TOTALLY rock short hair!

Today I chopped my hair and I love it. I must admit that I was apprehensive about it when I was sitting in the chair for the first half of the cut, but as I was able to see how it was beginning to come together I began to get excited. I know some women get emotionally attached to their hair, but it’s never been that way with me. Hair grows. Hair changes. Hair evolves. But a vast difference is always a little scary.

And so mine has morphed into a very Kiera Knightley-esque cut a la the movie Domino.

I decided to cut my hair because my friend M had to buzz hers. I won’t get into the details behind the need because it’s not my tale to tell, but to say that her life is complicated is like saying that I’m busty… it’s such a vast understatement.

But M is going through her complexities with aplomb and humor. We were friends before this latest chapter of her life, good friends, but I really hope she knows that although I think what’s happening sucks worse than anything could suck, I am grateful that it brought us closer together. I just can’t wait ‘til it’s over and we can get back to having fun.

But until then, she completely owns the pixie look.

Because M had to cut her hair, I felt compelled to shed some of my length. It’s not as short as M’s, but it is way shorter than it was before. Her hair was freakishly long – okay, gross exaggeration… but not by much – and while she may not have been emotionally attached to it, having to cut your hair versus wanting to cut your hair can be very traumatic.

I had to cut my hair in November. Eight inches. I was pissed. But M’s situation is not because the people at her work – a spa – decided that growing hair out for Locks of Love was not a flattering look. Her reasons are much less shallow and much more about… battle.

So I chose to cut my hair to support her. Out of everything I could do for her, this is the most visual. And the easiest. And since it was my choice to support in this manner, I am thrilled to lop my locks. I kinda even thought it would be shorter, but the way it is now makes me so very happy.

Plus, I think it makes my cheekbones look amazing.

M is not overly fond of her shorn look, but I think it makes her look impish and makes her eyes sparkle. She’s tired a lot, so the twinkle is not constant. However, whenever there’s a gleam, now you can really see it. And while not continuous, they are frequent. Hence, the impishness…

Yes, M is a fierce warrior, if also a weary one. I am proud of her and love her very much. She knows that. But I hope she sees her new ‘do as empowerment. The hair will grow back. But until then, I hope she embraces how kick ass she looks… and kicks some ass.

I just hope she knows that there’s an army of friends behind her. I, for one, am glad to help her fight any fight she needs fought. I just somehow think that she’d do it all on her own if we weren’t behind her.

But at least we’ll be sportin’ some rockin’ ‘dos in the meantime.
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The Write Stuff...

I started writing this blog as an exercise in developing my story-writing skills. In retrospect, I see that I write as I talk. With little continuity, but with much passion. Which doesn’t always make for a bad story. Just not a very thorough one. I also think it means that I’m turning into my father, who always had a story to tell. Generally it was the same story he told the last time, but for people new to the tale, it was usually pretty entertaining but usually pretty shallow.

But I think my lack of depth in this writing has to do with the fact that I see this as unstructured writing. I tend to write my entries as more off the cuff rather than concentrated efforts. I come home and write, then immediately post. There’s little self-editing and even less time in trying to decide on a topic.

But I shall keep writing and, hopefully, keep honing my skills.

However, this is not my first foray into writing. In fact, I have been writing for years. I started writing the ‘Great American Novel’ when I was high school and plugged away at it through my college years. Then I set it aside, realizing that I was burnt out from it. And besides, art was my creative calling.

Or so I thought.

I love words. It sounds weird to say that, but it’s true. Why limit the way you express yourself to a few standard adjectives? So I began to read authors that felt the same way I do. And when I read books, stories, articles where I thought the author could have turned the phrase differently, I began to think that I could write better than them.

And rather than just bitch, I decided to put my money where my mouth is.

So I started writing again. But not my book. Not yet anyways.

I write fanfiction.

There. I put it out there and so I cannot take it back. I mean, didn’t someone once say that if something is on the Internet, it’s on there forever?

I’m actually quite embarrassed about the fact that I write stories based on other people’s ideas.

Which is not to say that I am not a good writer. On the contrary. Yes, I am tooting my own horn, but I happen to think what I have written so far has been quite entertaining. And based on the amount of reviews I have gotten, other people agree.

But it’s not something I tell too many people about because, well, as I said, I’m embarrassed about it. People who have read what I have written have invariably asked me why I feel that way and the truth of the matter is that I wish I was more original. I mean, I’m taking other people’s ideas and developing them. I have the easy job. Developing characters that are well-rounded and believable is the hard part. Plus, I already have a built-in audience – people who like the same characters I do.

Bu let me explain how I started down this path…

It all started with the movie ‘Hellboy.’ I love that movie, don’t get me wrong, but there were some parts of the film that I felt needed to be addressed and corrected. Like the fact that he has way too many cats. That all seem to interbreed. There are laws restricting the number of animals one can own before you must get a kennel license. It varies from state to state, but I know that a government run agency would not condone such actions, no matter how super-secret their top agent is.

So, no massive amounts of animals in my version. And no Hellboy/Liz Sherman romance either. Of course, then the story is going back to the Mike Mignola version, isn’t it?

But the truth of the matter is, as I sat in that darkened movie theater, I developed a massive crush on Hellboy.

See, this entry is all about embarrassing.

But I loved the fact that he was all about self-effacing, self-depreciating, and plain ol’ sarcastic. Plus, those washboard abs and leather pants. I wanted to give him a world where he still might be different, but where he was appreciated.

So I wrote a story. And then set it aside and went on my merry way. But then another one began to formulate in my head and I wrote the tale. This time, however, I began to look for other stories in the same vein. I could not be the only one doing this.

And I found that I was not. By a long shot.

Fanfiction.com is filled with tons upon tons of people who write about their favorite movies, television shows, comics, books… It’s almost crazy that people get so impassioned about what entertains them.

But still, I didn’t post.

Then, came ‘Pirates of the Caribbean.’ I remember walking out of the theater, being totally blow away by the movie. I had always thought of Johnny Depp as a good actor, but he was… breathtaking with dreadlocks and kohl eyeliner and swishy hands.
And soon an army of teenaged girls felt the same.

Bleh.

I then watched the second movie. I loved the first so much that I was eagerly anticipating this latest installment. And it didn’t disappoint. In fact, I like it better than the first. Namely because it introduced a truly despicable character named Cutler Beckett who is truly just the rottenest man you can imagine and it gave me scruffy and dirty and sexy James Norrington.

Oh, I liked him in the first movie, but only because he was the only truly decent person in the whole flick. And despite the white wig, there is nothing like a man in uniform.

BUT…

…I like the bad boy version ever so much better.

That voice. Those eyes. Yum. What a tall, cool drink of water.

I had heard rumors of his demise in the third film and quickly went to work to correct that possible scenario. I wrote. And rewrote. And edited some more. And after all that work, I decided that someone – anyone – needed to see what I wrote. So I created an account and published the first chapter. As the hits started to accumulate and the reviews started to fill my inbox, I felt giddy. So I kept going with my experiment.

Then, the third movie came out. And the rumors were indeed true. And I was pissed. Oh, I’m not going to bemoan the fact that they killed off my favorite character. But I am going to bemoan the fact that they killed him off in the manner that they did. James Norrington deserved better.

So I wrote a new story. Which got me more positive response than the previous ‘book.’ Which blew my mind because the previous tale I had labored over in the writing and rewriting for a good part of a year or so before I had the nerve to post it. This time around, I was posting as I went, having no idea where the tale would take the characters.

So then I posted the second ‘Hellboy’ story I wrote. Smaller audience, but not less enthusiastic.

Then I started a third ‘Pirates’ tale, this time focusing on Cutler Beckett. Still working on it. And have no idea where it will end up.

I still have not posted the original story that started it all. Maybe someday.

My Fanfiction webpage
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The Never-Ending "Getting to Know You" Survey

I am one of those people who incessantly fill out, and forward, those "getting to know you" emails that fill your inbox. Probably because I was the one who forwarded it on to you.

I'm not sure why I relish filling out personal information so much, but maybe it's because I think the more you know about someone the stronger your relationship is with that person.

Well, I hit the mother load...

The longest and best getting to know you survey around
ABOUT YOU
What's your name?:	Jeanne
Ever used any other names?:	Jeannie
Do you have any nicknames?:	Jeannie, Jelibeanne
Where were you born?:	In a hospital
Where do you live now?:	In a house
When were you born?:	On a Friday morning
What is your sign?:	Stolen
What is your Chinese zodiac sign?:	Tiger, tiger burning bright
Are you married/single/divorced/widowed/taken?:	Taken? As in abducted? How awful! But no, married
Do you have any children?:	Five 4-legged ones
What are your parents names?:	Legally? I think Joseph and Elizabeth, but they went by Pat and Betty
Do you have any siblings?:	After me, there was no way they could top perfection
Are you closer to your Mom or Dad?:	was always close to both of them. More protective of Mom though
Are your parents still together?:	Uhm... they're in the same plot. Does that count?
What kind of home do you live in?:	3-bedroom Ranch
What are your living arrangements?:	Me, my husband, our five 4-legged children
Do you have any pets?:	No. They own me
Do you collect anything?:	Do books and magazines count?
What do you do for a living?:	The more I think about it, the more philosophical the question actually is...
How much money do you make in a year?:	No, no... will not fall into that trap. Then people want to borrow money
What kind of vehicle do you drive?:	A tiny silver Toyota
What color is your bedroom flooring?:	Uhm... wood color?
How big is your bed?:	Not big enough for two humans and five 4-legged children
Do you sleep with any one/thing in the bed with you?:	With my husband to the right and kitties all around
Do you like thunderstorms?:	I sleep so much better through them, but when awake it's the lightening that fascinates me
Do you know how to swim?:	Like a fish
Do you know CPR?:	Not as well as I should
Would you rather fly, take a bus, take a train, or drive on a trip?:	Flying through a cloud bank is almost a religious experience, but there's nothing like seeing the USA in your Chevrolet!
When did you graduate from high school?:	Yes
What high school did you graduate from?:	Lindbergh High
Do you sing in the shower?:	No often, but I can belt out a mean Janis Joplin
Do you read on the toilet?:	It's a family tradition started by my grandfather
YOUR FAVORITES
Color?:	Green
Food?:	Not picky, but salmon
Restaurant?:	Amigo's Cantina in Kirkwood
Season?:	Fall
Holiday?:	Not a holiday person
Animal?:	Dogs
Clothing item?:	Hoodie from the Biltmore Estate
Scent?:	The ocean
Shampoo?:	Whatever is on sale and doesn't test on animals
Non-alcoholic beverage?:	Sweet tea
Alcoholic beverage?:	Don't drink much, but amaretto sours bring back fond memories
Store to shop in?:	Ikea, Target and HomeGoods
Author?:	Too many to choose
Actor/actress?:	Benicio del Toro
Movie?:	Again, too many to choose
Book?:	White Palace
Director?:	Kevin Smith
Musical artist or group?:	Inxs or Nine Inch Nails
Song?:	"Need You Tonight" since it was sung to me in concert
Music genre?:	Rock
Ideal vehicle?:	'68 Chevy Impala
Sport to watch?:	Football
Sports team?:	St. Louis Rams and St. Louis Cardinals
Sport to play?:	Don't often play sports, so we'll keep it low-key... catch
TV show?:	House or Bones
Card game?:	Solitare
Board game?:	Scrabble
HAVE YOU EVER...
Been arrested?:	No
Been in jail?:	I've visited historical ones...
Stolen anything?:	Hearts
Cheated on someone?:	Yes
Lied to a friend?:	Yes
Lied to a relative?:	Yes
Lied to someone you were in a relationship with?:	Yes
Killed anything?:	Yes. I worked at an animal shelter
Hit an animal with your vehicle?:	Yes.
Called out of work for no reason?:	Yes, but that was forever ago
Skipped school?:	No. Too afraid of getting caught
Gone bungeee jumping?:	No
Gotten a tattoo?:	Many times
Gotten a piercing?:	Many times
Been in a fight?:	It's been a long time
Lost a fight?:	I don't think anybody won
Done any gambling?:	Slot machines
Cheated at a game you were playing?:	Does cheating at Solitare count?
Pretended something was worse than it was for sympathy?:	I am an only child. Of course!
Made a prank phone call?:	At a fifth grade slumber party
Been drunk?:	Yes
Been drunk enough to puke?:	Yes
Puked on someone?:	I don't think so
Peed your pants since being an adult?:	I don't think so
Fainted or passed out?:	Passed out but could still hear everything when I needed to get my reconstructive plastic surgery on my face
Seen a dead body?:	Yes
Seen someone die?:	No
Been in love?:	Yes
Been married?:	Yes
Loved someone you couldn't tell?:	Yes
Fallen for a friend?:	Yes
Had sex with someone you were not in a relationship with?:	Yes
Been the person someone cheated on someone else with?:	Yes
Dumped someone?:	Yes
Been dumped?:	Yes
Lost someone you loved?:	Yes
Cried because your heart was broken?:	Yes
Loved someone so much it made you cry?:	Yes
Done something illegal or immoral?:	Yes
Been high?:	Yes
Bought drugs?:	No
Sold drugs?:	No
Broken something when you were angry?:	Maybe accidentally
Punched an inanimate object in anger?:	I tried it. Not me.
Lied about yor age?:	Yes
Had your license suspended or revoked?:	No
Been in a car accident?:	Yes
Gotten a ticket?:	No
Given a gift "just because"?:	Yes
Forgotten someone's birthday or your own anniversary?:	Maybe?
Bounced a check?:	Yes
Had an overdrawn bank account?:	Yes
Kissed someone of the same sex?:	Yes
ABOUT YOUR PERFECT SIGNIFICANT OTHER
Age range?:	5 years younger to 10 years older
Height?:	My height or taller
Build?:	Average to thick
Hair color?:	Matters not
Hair style?:	Long
Eye color?:	Matters not
MORE ABOUT YOU
Religious preference?:	Technically Catholic, but have become very disillusioned and right now consider myself more spiritual than religious
Political affiliation?:	Liberal
Ever worn glasses, contacts, or braces?:	Yes, yes and yes
Describe yourself in 4 words::	Funny, quirky, passionate, giving
Describe your perfect mate in 4 words::	Funny, smart, passionate, strong
Name 4 places you have lived::	My parents' house, college dorm, my apartment, my parents' which is now my house
Name four occupations you have had::	Cashier, PR & Marketing Assistant, Spa Coordinator, Executive Assistant
If you could have 3 wishes, what would they be?:	This is undoubtedly going to set me up for failure, so I pass
Do you miss someone right now?:	Absolutely
Do you have a crush on someone right now?:	Why not?
What shoes did you wear today?:	Barefoot so far
What are you wearing right now?:	Jammies
What time is it right now?:	10am
IF you could vacation any 2 places in the world, where would they be?:	I want to go to Poynton, England and see the Anasazi Indian ruins in Durango, CO
Name 4 things you'd rather be doing right now?:	Sitting on a beach, sitting in a hot tub, horseback riding, getting a facial
When was the last time you wrote someone a letter and who was it?:	Not a letter writer via longhand. Hurts my wrists too much
Who was the last person to write you a letter?:	I get a lot of credit card offers...
Who was the last person you got an email from?:	Kimmy
Who was the last person you sent an email to?:	Barry
Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?:	Kimmy
Who was the last person you kissed?:	Barry
Who was the last person you hugged?:	Barry
Who was the last person you said "I Love You" to?:	Barry
Name 4 places you have been on vacation::	Charleston, SC; Asheville, NC; Portland, OR; Chicago, IL
Name your 5 best friends::	I refuse to hurt the feelings of the 6th person by excluding them
THIS OR THAT
Coke or Pepsi?:	Pepsi
Mickey D's or BK?:	Wendy's
Chinese or Mexican?:	Mexican
Cats or Dogs?:	Both
Fish or Birds?:	Neither
Reptiles or Amphibians?:	Neither
Early Bird or Night Owl?:	Early Bird
Winter or Summer?:	Winter
Spring Break or Christmas Vacation?:	Christmas Vacation
Hambuger or Cheeseburger?:	Bacon Cheeseburger
Chocolate or Vanilla?:	Chocolate
A LITTLE MORE ABOUT YOURSELF
What are you afraid of?:	Landing. Hard.
What is your mood right now?:	Bored
Name 4 things you like to do for fun::	Read, write, try new restaurants, watching movies
Ever been skinny dipping?:	No, but
Do you smoke?:	No
Do you drink?:	No
Do you believe in love at first sight?:	No, but within an hour of meeting someone I believe you can know if you have a future with them
Would you rather have 10 aquaintances or 2 close friends?:	2 close friends
If you had a child today, what would you name it?:	Jill or Asher
Do you know the words to The Star Spangled Banner?:	Yes
Do you like fire?:	Uhm... yes?
Are you afraid to die?:	I'm afraid of dying in pain
Do you believe in Heaven and Hell?:	Mostly
Do you own a cell phone?:	Yes
Name 4 websites you visit every time you get on a computer::	CNN.com, IMDB.com, KSDK.com, Google.com
Where is your computer?:	Family room
What are you listening to right now?:	Today show
What is the last CD you got?:	Ledbelly and Robert Johnson
What is the last gift someone gave you?:	I got an Easter basket
What is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you?:	Aw crap... So many people have done wonderful things for me. The most obvious answer is that my Mom defied her doctors after her stroke and lived to take care of me.
How would your friends describe you?:	Twisted but lovable
When was the last time you cried?:	I cry a lot. I think a day or two ago when I read/watched the news
What was the last thing you ate?:	Chips and cheese
Do you prefer mini blinds, shades, or drapes?:	Shades and drapes
Do you have any pets?:	I know I answered this earlier
When was the last time you moved?:	I moved home in 2001
Do you get along with your neighbors?:	Mostly
Are you friends with any of your exes?:	Not any more
Do you get along better with guys or girls?:	Guys
How do you want to die?:	Doesn't everyone say "In my sleep"?
Do you bathe daily?:	Mostly
Do you prefer baths or showers?:	Showers
What is your favorite sleeping position?:	On my right side
Would you prefer to sleep in a warm room or a cold room?:	Cold room with lots of blankets
Who was the last person who drove you somewhere?:	Barry
Where was the last palce you drove to?:	I drove to Target last night
When was the last time you took a "road trip"?:	August 2006 to Chicago
How many DVDs do you own?:	Over 300
How many CDs do you own?:	Less than 50... MP3s now
What is your favorite radio station?:	106.5
What is your favorite cologne or perfume on someone else?:	Drakkar, Cool Water, Axe body spray
What is your favorite cologne or perfume?:	Aveda's chakra scent, Bliss
What is your least favorite smell?:	Cat boxes
ABOUT DATING
Is it okay for a girl to ask a guy out or should the guy always ask?:	Of course a girl can ask a guy out!
Do you think the guy should always pay on the first date?:	I think whoever asks the other out needs to pay on the first date
Where would you go on an ideal date with someone?:	City Museum
Do you like public displays of affection?:	No
Would you rahter go to a theater or cuddle on the couch and watch a DVD?:	I love seeing a flick in the theater, but hate everyone else in there
Do you know what the "door lock" test is?:	Haven't a clue
When was the last time someone hit on you?:	This question depresses me
Are you a flirt?:	Oh yes...
MISCELLANEOUS QUESTIONS
What was the last thing you bought?:	Clothing
When was the last time you stayed awake for over 24 hours?:	Since an hour of sleep here and there doesn't count, it's been a very long time
What is the last movie you watched?:	Beowulf and Grendel
What is the last movie you saw in a theater?:	I Am Legend
Did you get anything in the mail today?:	Mail hasn't run yet
Do you have myspace?:	No
What was the last comment you got on your myspace?:	N/A
What was the last comment you put on someone's myspace?:	N/A
If you could have any job in the world what would it be?:	Romance novelist
If yo could only have one food for the rest of your life what would it be?:	Reese's peanut butter eggs
What would you do with a million dollars?:	Get out of debt, then invest
Have you ever been in the hospital?:	Yes
What is your least favorite food?:	Sausage
Tell me something I may not know about you?:	I would be a vegetarian if it wasn't so expensive.
In the last week, has anyone told you a secret?:	No
Are you straight, gay, or bi?:	Mostly straight, but I can appreciate an attractive woman
Have you ever dyed your hair?:	Excessively
What were you doing for a living 9 years ago?:	Working retail
Who were you with 9 years ago?:	Two guys... Steven and Brian
Have you gained or lost weight since high school?:	Both
What was your favorite subject in high school?:	Creative writing
Were you in any clubs/sports/activities in high school?:	Drama club, but hated it
What is your favorite number?:	7
Do you have any lucky charms?:	Not that I recall
Are you superstitious?:	Sort of, but not really
Do you believe in ghosts?:	I believe they could exist
What do you think of psychics?:	Generally frauds, but some real ones are out there
Are you picky about grammar or spelling?:	Yes
How many keys on your key chain?:	Too many. Need to thin the herd
How many rings until you answer the phone?:	I try for no more than three
What is your favorite ice cream flavor?:	Chocolate/Peanut butter
When did you lose your virginity?:	19
Who was the last relative you talked to?:	My Aunt Fran
Have you ever aced an exam?:	Not as often as I like, but yes
What is your most used catch phrase?:	"No worries" and "Pretty"
What's the best pick-up line you've ever heard?:	Never really got pick-up lines. Either dated friends or it was a mutal decision
What is the best compliment you have ever heard or received?:	Any compliment is the best compliment
Do you think you are attractive?:	Usually
Would you rather take a picture or be in a picture?:	Take
Number of things in your past that you regret::	I try to live my life without regrets, but those I have aren't on a list
What is the craziest thing you have ever done?:	In a whole list of crazy things, how can I claim one as the craziest?
Do you have any bad habits?:	I'm sure
Do you have any psychological impairments?:	Not officially, but my friends could tell you about some
Are you taking any prescription medications?:	Not right now
How long did it take you to complete this survey?:	Too long
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