Sunday, December 30, 2012

For Shame Redbook

EPBOT: Shame On You, Redbook Magazine

Click the link to read about Redbooks shameless ripping off of other peoples ideas

Thursday, December 27, 2012

So I miss y'all!

I haven't been posting recently.  new job to keep me really busy, but hopefully now that I'm getting into my new schedule I'll be able to post more hilarity. 

PS the daily grind the best name for a sandwich shop ever!


Monday, November 26, 2012

Success and Failure, all in one! Succailure?

this November I have participated in my very first Nanowrimo Challenge.  I posted about it not that long ago. If you want to know more you can visit the website here.  this was the first time I heard about Nanowrimo, I read about it in an article posted by another participant at XOJANE.  ( I  loooove that site!  Check it out ladies!  And Gents too, but it is a "woman's" website.) 

The Nanowrimo Challenge is to write 50,000 words in 30 days.  there are places to go and meet with other writers, and a ways to track your progress and all kinds of other tools.  I have seen both praise and complaint about the program.  One that stuck with me was one of the Negative comments "Nanowrimo: Anyone can be a writer if you set the bar low enough."  I was shamed for being excited about Nanowrimo. 

As a writer with a day job, and a husband and two very demanding hound dogs to care for I find it hard to make time to write.  Even for this blog, which is mostly lighthearted and fun.  Mostly.  If you follow my other Blog, you'll see that I cant even make time to take and post a picture every day.  How was I going to write 1,667 words a day for the next 30 days? 

(Huh, I never did the math before.  1,600 words a day should have been easy!)

It is day 26 and I am not anywhere near my 50,000 words.  To meet my goal I will have to write approximately 9,000 words a day for the next five days.  Will I try?  Yes.  Will I succeed?  Time will tell, but I suspect not.  Yet, I do not see this as a failure.  I have written a novel, I am currently having it edited, before sending it to publishers.  (Scary!)  But since sending it off in March, I have written practically zero. So Nanowrimo, at least got me writing, it got the juices flowing and I wrote more in the last four weeks than I have in the past year.  (Excluding my blog here of course).

To me this in itself is a success.  Any tool that gets a writer writing or keeps them writing is a good one.  For me at least, that is the essence of Nanowrimo.  Not to become a writer, not to try something new, but to continue to be a writer.  To give myself goals and attempt to stick to them.  It's a chance to track my progress in a tangible way.  In a way that I have never really been able to before.  I am also more productive when I can track my progress in a public venue.  When others can see my progress too, Nanowrimo provides that for me.  Even though I have only written about 5,600 words in 26 days I still call this a success. 

I have started writing again, and I have given life to a new project, that will hopefully get finished and sent off to the editor like the last one.  In fact, it has sparked enough creativity to get a second story going, Part of my issue was that I could never decide which story to work on!  i can only track one at a time, so I chose one and now I am rolling on it!  I cant wait for next year!  Maybe there will be more success, or maybe not.  Either way I call it a win, and I will not be shamed for it.

Oh Thanksgiving Dinner, You Fickle Mistress

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic, so I would like to recount to you the horror and hilarity that was Mine and J's first Thanksgiving together. 

It was a mere three years ago.  We work in Hospitality, so our thanksgiving dinner took place on our day off, the day before the actual holiday.  the place we work at gives out free turkeys, so we had a ten pound bird, stuffing, potatoes and broccoli.  More than enough to feed just the two of us right?  Perhaps, but nearly none of it actually ended up getting eaten. 

So many things went so wrong with this dinner I cant even begin to tell you. 

Problem #1

J is crazy freaked out about leaving food out, to dethaw or otherwise, so we didn't even put put bird in the freezer when we got it, as it was frozen solid, we put it straight into the fridge.  The Monday before our fiascogiving I wanted to take it out of the fridge and put it in the sink.  Nope, he didn't want it out, bactieria and salmonella and if I tool it our of the fridge we were going to die.  So it stayed in the fridge. This resulted in it still being more than half frozen the night before we were to cook our bird. 

Google saved the day!  We looked up ways to expedite dethawing, and put the bird in the sink covered by room temperature water.  Overnight, to J's dismay.  Unfortunately even though our Turkey seemed to be dethawed, such was not the case, and we discovered that when, after cooking it was still completely raw, and partly frozen int he middle...

Problem #2

J was determined that even though I had cooked many a thanksgiving Turkey, he wanted to do it the way his Momma does.  So, that meant stuffing the bird with lemons and limes and oranges.  Which actually sounds quite delightful, if only our Turkey had cooked.  *Sigh* So my traditional sausage stuffing, that I always cook, in the bird, (Yeah, yeah I know salmonella blah, blah.  I've been eating this for years and I;m fine, get over it.)  would have to be made on the stove top and oven.  I looked up recipes for sausage stuffing and found one that had directions for cooking outside of the bird and went with that. 

The result:  Burned Bread and not entirely cooked sausage, and lots and lots of salt.  Yuck!

Problem #3

Instant Potatoes.  Hey, I love me some instant potatoes!  Really, we eat them a lot and its so easy for a regular weeknight!  But we now had no stuffing and no turkey, adding instant potatoes was like adding salt to the wound.

Problem #4

Gravy, J hates canned or jarred gravy (or anything really).  I endeavored to make some from scratch.  But oh yeah, uncooked turkey=salmonella and unsafe drippings.  So, no gravy.

Thankfully the broccoli and cheese came out good!  But I did cheat and buy that frozen, and I am an expert micowaver!  YAY! 

I cried and Laughed and J hugged me and reminded me that this is what memories are made of.  We have not attempted Thanksgiving since, but I will once we have a house, and I will be successful. 

This year I am tankful for all the wonderful things that life has brought, and being able to laugh at our amazing and terrible First Thanksgiving together.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

NaNoWriMo?

Hey there kids!  I know I haven't really been around lately, it's been a busy time for me, I do staffing for a third party at a theme park and we are gearing up for the Holidays!!

I am also participating in Nanowrimo (NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth)  you can get more info at nanowrimo.org

Basically it challenges you to write 50,000 that's right folks FIFTY THOUSAND words in 30 days.  I have never participated before, but its fun!  It's also a huge challenge, and I might be clinically insane for undertaking it.  I am waaaaaay behind with just 5000 words right now (I shouldbe at 20,004) and less than 3 weeks to go.   But it does have me writing daily, even if I cant get all the words down that I want it's better than not writing at all while I wait for my book to come back from the editor right?

The community organizes write-ins and you can connect with other writers through the site.  You can add writing buddies and see how they're doing too!  This is my first Nanowrimo, but it wont be my last!

Are you participating?  Let me know!  You can find me and add me as a writing buddy too, MandeeLee.
 

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be Fatties

Hi, My name is Mandee and I am fat. 

This is how I have introduced myself to a plethora of people when I was in high School.  Mostly online, because as a fattie I would never introduce myself to someone IRL.

The worst/best part is that I was not  fat in high school.  I was active and healthy, even if I wasn't a size zero.  I could shop at all the cute stores and wear pretty much anything I wanted.  But I had such a terrible body image that I wouldn't let myself.

No tank tops, God forbid anyone see my grossly fat arms.  No short skirts, unless I had opaque tights on, and even then I felt awkward all day, cause eew, thunder thighs much? Boot cut jeans were all t he rage when I was in high school, and it took me years to get in on the trend (Turns out it's actually pretty flattering).  The thought of anything fitting my body so closely was repulsive to me.  I didn't need to show off my body, I needed to hide it. 

i am fat, i come from a (mostly) fat family.  I also come from a mother with some serious body issues and what I now recognise as the eating disorder anorexia with continued and constant disordered eating periods between the full on anorexia.  (These things are not one and the same or mutually exclusive)

My relationship with my mother varied from strained/bad to non-existent while I was growing up.  But her actions have had a huge impact on my life.  How I view myself and treat myself have been impacted by things that she has done or said.  Most of this was harmful, and I have to work very hard to not let the self hate overwhelm me. 

Harvard Medical School researchers did a study and found that girls who thought their mothers wanted them to be thinner were "two to three times more likely to worry about weight".  Girls who "thought" their mothers wanted them to be thinner. 

What about girls like me who knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that her mother wanted her to lose weight.  The article says:

“While it’s less likely that parents are directly saying something about their children’s weight, a mother’s desire to become thinner can directly impact her children’s attitude.”

Not only did my mother make direct comments to me regarding my weight, more and more as I got older.  But she also had patterns of eating disorders and poor body image.  Things did not bode well for my own body image from the beginning.
There is one incident in particular that sticks out in my mind regarding my mother and my body image.  It is an event that I go back to time and time again. 

It was summer time and we were headed to a BBQ.  This was an event for co-workers and friends of my mothers at another co-workers  house.  There was a pool and volleyball, tether ball, bad minton, horseshoes, cards, it was going to be so much fun!  Me and my best friend at the time went.  She had slept over the night before so that we would be able to leave early and get there right on time. 

The party started at 10am and went until everyone went home.  We rushed around all morning getting ready to leave at 9.  For those of you who may not know thins, getting 2 pre-teen girls, we were 10 or 11 at the time, up early on a Saturday in the summer is not an easy task.  We didn't have time for breakfast so we just headed up the the house, there would be food there after all it was a BBQ right?

Wrong.  There was no food when we got there at 10.  In fact we were the only ones there at 10.  (the reason for this became obvious later) But whatever it was sunny and awesome and my friend and I were going to hang out outside, poolside, all day. 

We skimmed out of our shorts and T-shirts and perched ourselves in chairs facing the sun.  Then my other walked by.  "You know Amanda, you really should put your T-shirt on if you aren't in the pool." 

My mother is an avid tanner, baby oil and iodine and hours laying perfectly still was how she got her tan on.  I was at least wearing sunscreen to avoid burning.  Clearly her comment was not about sun protection. 

"We're trying to get a tan!  I don't want to have a farmer tan," I replied in that snotty pre-teen way, I was so classy.

"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you if people laugh, or boys won't talk to you.  Cute Bathing suit *Crissy."

Just go back and read that again.  Don't say I didn't warn you if people laugh and boys wont talk to you.  Really?  I mean, Really?!

If only it stopped there.  It gets worse. 

At around 12:30 Crissy and I were getting Hungry.  Remember we didn't eat breakfast, and we were active tween girls, who had just spent the last two and a half hours on the Sun and fresh air. 

I approached my mother while Crissy was in the bathroom.  "Mom, when are we going to eat?  I'm starved."

"I think they're cooking at 2," She said between sips of her Kahlua and Milk.

"But I'm really hungry, my stomach is growling," I said, hoping she could at least offer a snack or something to hold me off until lunch. 

Instead she said, "Good, maybe you'll lose some weight," and walked off.

I didn't respond.  I just kind of stood there trying not to cry.  I went back to my beach chair and promptly put my shirt on, where it stayed for the rest of the day.  I did not take it off to go swimming, in fact, i did not go swimming because if I took off my T-shirt people would see me, and if I didn't then it would get all wet and clingy and then it would be like I had taken it off.  Y'all I love  to swim, and I didn't because even my own mother thought I was fat.  And how dare I subject people to having to look at me. 

When 2 O'clock rolled around and the grill was finally on, and my stomach hurt from being so hungry, I ate half of a Hot Dog and 10 potato chips.  I counted. 

Guss who noticed exactly what I ate?  That's right!  My beloved mother.  (No really, I love her, despite her flaws)  "Thought you were starving," she mocked.  She and the friend with her laughed and turned back to the volley ball game.

I went to the bathroom and threw up. 

This wasn't the first time she made negative comments about my appearance, and it wouldn't be the last.  i don't know what it was about this particular event that has made it stick with me for so long, and in such vivid detail.  I can describe my outfit, my mothers, my friends, i can draw a map of the yard and the festivities.  I remember every grueling detail of that horrible day.

Like being a tween/teenager isn't hard enough.  Basically everyone I know hated their body at that time.  It's changing and becoming something you aren't familiar with.  It's getting squishy and hard and smelly and hairy and where the hell did these tits come from anyway?  You should be able to count on your parent to help you through this rough time.  This was not my life.  Instead I had a mother who judged me and my body even more harshly than I did myself. 

My waist wasn't small enough., my butt wasn't big enough and my boobs were to "saggy".  I was a pretty young girl, but all I could see was the imperfections.  the dreaded double chin, which I so did not have, the hugely fat upper arms, gigantic thighs, not to mention my stomach wasn't totally and perfectly flat. 

Even as a grown woman I don't have an hourglass figure regardless of my weight loss or gain.  All my weight centers in my belly, I don't have wide hips or a small waist.  I have large breasts, they are not perky, and never have been.  People often tell me that I "carry my weight well".  And I'm not sure what that really means.  But the basis of it is that I'm fat, but not totally gross.  Is this a compliment? 

Even when I did not live in the wonderful fat comfort zone I am in now, I hated my body.  I still hate it, and I am working really hard at loving myself and my body again. 

I can;t help but wonder how much of this I would have to endure without the reinforcing of poor body image, as opposed to my mother teaching me to love my body and all it can do regardless of size.  Maybe i would still b self conscious as society wants fat people to be hidden away like the uncontrolled beasts so obviously we are.  But maybe, just maybe I would love myself a little more.

Lot's O talking going on in my house, mostly at night

So, J has been talking in his sleep lately.  Like a lot.  Like every. Single. Night.  Y'all he talks some crazy bullshit in his sleep.

For Example, there was some inane fairy tale craziness going on in his head recently, it went as follows:

J was laying on the blankets in the middle of the bed, i was cold and wanted to get under the blankets, which was impossible without asking him to move.

Me:  "Babe, roll over so I can get under the blankets."

J: *yells* "What time is it?!?" while rolling over

Me: "1:30"

J: *yells*  "It's 2:30?"

Me: "No it's 1:30"

J: "Wake me up at 2:30, I need mumble mumble mumble..."

Me: "What was that?"

J: "Wake me up at 2:30 so I (slowly waking up) can get my mirror?  So I know when I turn into a pumpkin?"

Me: *Laughing hysterically*

J: "What the F*** am I taking about?"

Me: " I have no idea, what were you dreaming about?"

J:  "apparently mirrors and pumpkins!"

At this point I continue to laugh so hard that I am literally crying.  J is crazy mad about this mirror/pumpkin exchange for some reason and gets up out of bed to stomp around and Wonder, loudly what on earth he was thinking about.  Once he calms down and lays back down, I cant resist but poke more fun at him about it.  (I'm a terrible person, I know)

Me:  "So... you still want that mirror at 2:30?"

J:  "Just prop it up on the night stand so you don't have to get up."

More laughter ensues.

The next afternoon via text message at 2:30pm

Me: Hey, it's 2:30 do you have your mirror?

J: It's only st 2:30 am.

Me: Well did you have it?

J:  I told you to get it for me.

Me: Uh-oh, are you a pumpkin?

J: Probably

Me: Awesome, I'm making muffins when I get home.

(for those of you who don';t know, I frequently call J my Pumpkin-muffin)

I haven't let him live this down yet, it may take a year or two... (I already told you , I know I'm a terrible person)

Friday, October 26, 2012

J Talks Football

My husband talks about things in his sleep that he would never talk about while awake.  Like football.  Not only is he not a "sports guy" the only sport he really follows is baseball, and he's so superstitious that he wont watch a game because when he does, his team inevitably loses. 

I know, I'm so lucky.

The other night he fell asleep pretty early, I wasn't tired, and I was off from work the next day so I was up reading in bed when the following occurred.

J: *Sits up in bed*, "They changed it."

Me: "What?"

J: "They changed it."

Me: "Changed What?"

J: "The head coach." *Lays back down*

Me: "The head coach of what?"

J: "The football team."

Me: "Which one?" *Thinking of professional (American) football*

J: "Both of them."

Me: "Oh" *realizing he must be talking about school* "Do you think they will do better now?"

J: *disgusted scoff* "No."  *Snore*

Later that night J got up and headed for the bathroom, he stopped to pet one of our beloved pooches and I figure he was awake enough for real conversation.

Me: "Hey, were you dreaming about high school?"

J: "Yeah, why?  What did i say?"

Me: they changed the head coach."

J: "What?"

Me: "Yeah, apparently they changed the head coach of the football teams.  You were unimpressed."

Then I related the entire conversation to him.

J: *chuckle chuckle, snore*

The next morning.

Me: "Anymore high school dreams?

J: "What are you talking about?"

Me: "You don't remember?"

J: "Um, no."

So I retold both stories to him.

J: "Hm. Love you! Have a good day."

Then he went to work.   Not only did he not remember the sleep added madness of the first conversation, but the second one, when he was supposedly awake was even wiped from his brain.  And the next morning he could not have cared less. 

This is my life.  And I love it!

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Dealing with Writers Block

You guys, I got it bad.  Like, bad bad.  I do not know what to write about.  Nothing seems to be striking me lately. 

I mean, interesting and funny things happen to me, but is any of int funny enough to share with the world?  Not really.  And I feel ways about things, but not all of it is worthy of space on my blog.  And then there's all the junk that "responsible adults" won't write about cause, you know, what if your boss reads it?  And then there's all the fun sexy stuff that I don't/can't write about 'cause:

a) My husband is a private person and I would never do that to him
b) My Dad reads this shit y'all
c) It's none of your business and why do you care (Stalker)

What do you do to combat writers block?  I have a few go to's but they aren't hacking it, so I just decided that writers block should get it's own damn post.

Here are some of my go to's:

Free write

I know, gag me, I remember HATING free write in high school.  I never knew what to write about so I would always, always, start with just that.  And eventually I would get a good idea and run with it.  That's often how I get my best stories.  My Novel (currently at the editor aieee!) started out as a free write. 

Writing Prompts

Just Google writing prompts.  Ah, Google, what would I do without you.  There are like a million and 12, read through some and pick one.  It gives you something to focus on.  There are writing prompts for all age groups and writing ability.  You can even look up specific kinds of prompts if there's a particular thing you want to work on.  Like Description, or dialogue.  Even if you don't decide to use one of the prompts it gets the brain juice flowing and can give you an idea of your own!

Story Starters

Google is my best-freaking-friend.  Type in story starters and you get a veritable schmorgass board of answers! A story starter should be one or two sentences to get your story started, and then it's all you from there on out.

Those are my go to's for getting my creative on when my brain refuses to produce.  What do you do?

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Things to do when the power is out at work...

So, the other day my office was subject to a power outage, and even 2.5 (ish) hours later when the power came back on, the Internet and our network were down.  This meant very little work was getting done.  Okay fine, NO work was getting done, except for the people with fully charged laptops and/or battery backups.

I decided to make good use of that time and surveyed the office for things to do at the office when the power is out, here are the results!  (WARNING: Some are boring, some are hysterical)

1- File
2- Journal
3- Chat w/ Co Workers ( You know, cause this never happens when we have power)
4- Play flashlight Tag
5- Read a book (Assuming you have an office with a window)
6- Draw/Color
7- Do yoga!
8- Covertly check if the toilets work (Ours do!)
9- Truth or Dare
10- See if anyone is brave enough to eat the "thing" in the fridge that no one claims
11- Pictionary!
12- Charades
13- Practice braiding hair
14- Paint your nails (or a friends)
15- Coat room sex w/ the hot intern (We don't have any interns, let alone a hot one, so.... yeah)
16- Have a camp style sing along
17- Play Hide and seek
18- Play Duck, Duck, Goose!
19-Have a Fashion show
20- Waste Paper Basket B-Ball Tournament (Or in my office a regular one, because we totally have a basket ball hoop int he warehouse)
21- Have a Photo Shoot!
22- Learn Origami
23- Reorganize other peoples offices
24- Have a scavenger hunt
25- Play Red Rover
26- Play Simon Says
27- Play Red Light Green Light
28- Play Dominoes/Cards (Assuming someone had them)
29- Play Eyes Spy
30- Play Black Magic (No one but me seems to know this game....)

Clearly my office is run by 10 year olds and we should have a full on playground outside!  This is why I love them!

Friday, October 19, 2012

Creative Writing Promts II

I found this via google.  It's 5 seemingly unrelated prompts that should give me a unique description of a person I love and/or admire.

Begin by thinking of someone for whom you have strong feelings, and then complete each of the five steps.

You'll notice that each brief instruction is on a separate page. This was done to prevent you from looking ahead. The exercise works best, and is easiest to do, if you really take one step at a time. Don't worry if the steps -- and your responses -- don't seem immediately related to each other. Seemingly illogical associations often result in more interesting and truer work.

*****

They were small and weathered.  Chipped yellowing nails attested to a life of hard work and nicotine addiction.  Her hands were not soft, even at this advance age, and being as vain as any other elderly french woman.  Her hands were rough and callused and a testament to her nature.  Resilient and strong, but tiny and fragile too.  There were liver spots here and there, and deep set wrinkles in her dry skin.  Her hands were so thin you could see her veins protruding, and if you looked hard enough you might just be able to see the pulse as her heart pushed blood through her veins. 

Her hands sat in her lap, a cigarette hung loosely between the fingers of her right hand.  Occasionally it would lift the vice to her lips, or adjust the volume or station on the radio. 

The humidity was thick like fog, and the sun hung low in the sky.  A ball of molten lava turning the sky orange and pink, with simmering lines of evaporated moisture radiating skyward.

"How can you sit out here in all this heat?" I ask wiping the sweat from my brow.  "I'm surprised you can breathe with the smoke and the air feeling so thick."

She looks up from her daydream, seemingly just noticing me.  "I'm not hot, it's nice out here," she responds before looking off into the sunset once more.

*****
The end tells you to take your responses and use the to create a poem or use them as a juming off point for a freewriting session.  But I like mine the way it is.



Thursday, October 18, 2012

What? Or, the joys and sorrows of writing ideas from the middle of the night.

So, the other night I had a weird awesome dream that gave me an excellent writing idea.  I wasn't sure if it would be a fiction piece, or a blog entry, but it was phenomenal!  So great in fact, that I got my ass out of bed at like 3 in the morning to make sure I wrote this nugget of excellence down.  Thereby ensuring that I wouldn't forget it.

Isn't that the worst?  Having the best idea ever in the middle of the night, then forgetting it by morning?  I hate that.  But there was simply no way that was going to happen to me.  I wrote it all down.

Y'all, my notes make no fucking sense. 

Here are my notes, as they appear in my notebook.  They are almost  coherent, but not quite.

Necklace and Pendant.
Brings Statues back to life.
Destry! Hide forever.
At A School.  Island.
Vacation?
Giant Nose.            Flying.          Dragon?
Driffin?  PEGASUS!!
Black Lake.  hole.

It seems to be making sense at the beginning.  then it goes downhill from there.  Giant nose?  hole?  What was I thinking?

I do remember the part of the dream where I am flying over a lake.  But it wasn't black.  I don't recall being on any kind of animal.  Also I'm pretty sure Driffin=Griffin. 

Maybe I was thinking of Harry Potter?  Who the fuck knows?!!

Do my notes make sense to you?  Have you ever had your middle of the night best ideas notes come out as complete dreck in the morning?  Or forgotten what you know was your million dollar idea? 

Spill it in the comments!

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

To Write Full time or Not?

So I have a dilemma, or an idea, a scary terrifying idea.  It's one I have kicked around before, but I am a giant chicken shit and will never actually pull it off.

I want to get paid to write.  I want to be able to write for a living.  I want to be able to give voice to my thoughts and ideas.  I want to talk about important issues, and frivolous bullshit.  I want to write relevant articles that help people and awesome scifi- fantasy YA Fiction. 

Y'all I want to write with every fiber of my being. 

But...  I have bills to pay.  Not just little bills like the telephone, I have major bills, like rent and a stupid high car payment and Insurance and vet bills for my boys, who I would NEVER EVER IN A MILLION YEARS trade for anything.  Plus you know food and lights and electricity and all that. 


My Babies! Boomer and Hunter!

My husband works, but we live in an area that is scarce on high wages.  Hospitality is the name of the game and hospitality jobs don't pay. 

It's frightening to think about taking a chance to do something I love.  I mean what's the trade off?  I get to be spiritually fulfilled, but have to eat dollar store hamburger helper?  (No judgement, I have done this many times)  I just don't know if I can willingly put myself in the situation. 

I come from a background of barely making ends meet.  My mother had government assistance at a few points, and my father has had assistance for most of my life.  I remember surviving off of ramen noodles, not because I liked them, which I do, but because it was necessary.  I even recall getting a can, with just a picture of cartoon cow on it.  When we opened it it was corned beef, and we had sandwiches.  It was delicious, but we had no idea what we were getting into. 

12 for $1.50!  Boo Ya!
I don't laugh at jokes that include, government cheese, or poke fun at people for being less fortunate.  That shit is not cool. 
I remember going "school shopping" with my best friend.  She, along with her mother, would ooh and aah over the excellent things that they found at places like Macy's and the Gap, while I watched and tried not to feel badly about not buying anything.  To this day my mother swears she sent me with money to spend, but she never did.  If she needs to tell herself that to feel better, it's not really hurting anyone, so I let her have this indulgence.  Later on, after everyone else was done shopping we would schlep to Wal-Mart or K-Mart and get me the things I absolutely needed. 

Let me clarify, I never went without the things I needed.  But we rarely had extra.  Of anything.  I remember having to wait to flush the toilet because the water bill was going to be too high.  I remember having no water, and having to shower across the street at a friends, or not at all. 

My mother and father both worked very hard for what we had, my mother even managed to put herself through college, and now, has a wonderful job, doing something she loves.  But the fear instilled in me from growing up in a place where we weren't always sure where we were going to get the money for rent, or where the next meal was coming from, or if I would have to make sure I didn't gain weight so that I could still wear my last years jeans for school have made me terribly afraid to take a risk when it comes to money. 

Is it a fair trade off to be comfortable and miserable?  I still don't know.  I have been taking steps to write more, and often.  This blog being one of them.  I am also in the process of having my first novel edited so that I can submit it to publishers.  This is a long process.  I recently submitted an article pitch to XOJane.com.  Baby steps I suppose. 

My dream is to eventually make enough money between my writing, and my husbands job, to support ourselves and our family.  The one we don't have yet due to financial constraints.  Because let's face it, if I have to pay for Daycare, It will take most of my current paycheck.  If I am a writer, I can potentially write from home, and care for my child(ren) at the same time. 

It is unfortunate that we live in a time when this is the kind of choice that has to be made.  My job and money VS My happiness and raising a family.  What kind of choice is that?  the sot of living nation wide has gone up so significantly that it is rare to get to have both.  You can make money OR be happy.  You can have a family OR have a job you like.

I have a dream... to write the words

More and more people are choosing not to have families, or to delay having families.  I am running out of time.  Granted I am only thirty, but women in my family have a history of early menopause.  My Grandmother was done by the time she was  40.  That give me a rough estimate of 10 years to have my family.  The pressure is on, and there is no starting line in sight right now.  It seems like I am not the only one in this kind of situation, birth rates are down in the US, and I am pretty sure that the economy is the #1 culprit for that. 

Do you find yourself in a similar place?  What would you do?  Say fuck all and write?  I mean I get that the whole starving artist is supposed to be sexy and trendy, but starving is not sexy, ever.  Ugh!  Help me out with advice in the comments!

Monday, October 15, 2012

You better blog about that sh*t.

So, the hubs decided that this must  be blogged about.

My dogs have rules about where they can be in the house.  They can't be on the furniture, (this makes me sad but the hubs is actually allergic to dogs), and the can't be in the kitchen.  For two reasons, they would beg, and that's just a no-no and my kitchen is tiny, like crazy tiny.  We have a "galley style" kitchen, which is a fancy word for "hallway that barely fits appliances and cabinets."  Seriously y'all I cant open any 2 appliances at once. 

Anyway, the one rule that my dogs cannot seem to get, is stay out of the kitchen.  I am constantly turning around and tripping over a dog.  I mean, I get it.  It's hard for them to resist, that's where the food comes from.  It's hard for me to resist too.  But Jiminey Cricket!

So the other night I was scooping ice cream for J.  Sure enough, there was Boomer.  So I put on my best crooner voice and sang, to no discernible song:

"Boomer, get the fuck out of the kitchen, before I stab you in the eye with this spoon.  But then I'd have to get a new spoon because I don't wanna scoop ice cream with an eyeball spoon."

giggle, giggle, "What was that last part?" asked J.

"Huh?  I was singing to Boomer."

"I know, what was the last line again?"

"Then I'd have to get a new spoon because I don't wanna scoop ice cream with an eyeball spoon."

J Burst into hysterical laughter.  "You had better blog about that sh*t so everyone knows I'm not the only one who says crazy stuff."

And so I did!  The end! :-)

Thursday, October 11, 2012

On Loss, and Rememberance



On October 8th, 2005 my life changed forever.  On that day I lost two people very close to me.  My Step-Mom (Donna) and Paternal Grandmother (Grammy).  They passed form different causes, hundreds of miles away from one another, and from me.  I can't even imagine being my father.  He lost his wife and partner as well as his Mother within hours of each other.  By far and away the most important women in his life.  Loss of any loved one, pet, family member, friend, is hard.  And it never gets easier.  Having such sudden, unexpected, significant loss all at once can give you a little perspective. 

I'll talk about that later.  Right now I want to talk about my loved ones.

Grammy was, well, a grandmother.  She was soft and kind and loving.  She played Bingo, smoked like a chimney, and did plastic canvas.  She bought TONS of Avon Jewelry, not the good stuff, the cheap plastic kind. 

When I list things about her on paper, she sounds dreadful, but she wasn't.  She was just kind of old-lady-boring.  In the very best way. 

I had to watch a ton of old western movies (BARF), but I got to have my nails painted (usually hooker red) and wear her dangle-y earrings.  I also used to take her silk night gowns and wear them like princess dresses.  But I think I was a movie star, not a princess.  I mean it was the 80's, we weren't princess crazy back then. (Thanks Disney!) 

She taught me to do my very first crafts; I remember making a DREADFUL plastic canvas heart.  I couldn't decide what shade of red/pink to make it, so she chose a giant needle and strung up all 3 colors for me.  It was insanely difficult to make because pulling 3 strands of yarn through a tiny plastic hole at the age of 8 was so not easy, but I did it, kind of. 

As I got older I saw her less and less, I moved away and got married, she wasn't able to be there.  But on a visit shortly before my wedding I asked her if she had anything she wanted to send.  I had a necklace from my great grandmother who wouldn't be able to attend, and wanted to know if she had anything to send so that she too could be a part of my day.  She gave me a plastic purple flower.  I gave it to my florist and asked them to incorporate it into my bouquet.  I never saw it again.

I still miss her.  Every Day.  Every time something wonderful or awful happens to me I want to call her and tell her about it.  And I can't.  This particular instance is a good example of not knowing what you have until it's gone. 

She was in the hospital in Maryland when she passed.  She had been ill for a while but everyone had expected her to recover.  She had a bad heart, and I think the news of my step mothers passing, just hours before she passed herself, was just too much for her to bear. 

Donna was, wow, I don't really know where to begin.  She was wonderful.  She was young and vivacious, a mother, and wife.  She loved horror/mystery novels, particularly Stephen King.  She was into Angels and Reflexology.  She loved unconditionally and fully. 

She was honest, brutally so.  And thus often came across as a bitch, but she simply thought honesty was important enough that it didn't matter if it wasn't what you wanted to hear. (This was prior to the I just feel like being a bitch and cover it by saying I'm being honest BS that is all the rage right now)

She loved my father, and made him so happy.  She loved and was loved by her children, My Brother and Sister, as well as myself, her step daughter.  She taught me a lot about a lot of things.  Growing up I wasn't close with my mother, but I was close with Donna.  She was still an authority figure, but she was one I was much more comfortable approaching.  My mother and I are very different, but Donna and I were kindred spirits, making it easier to talk to her.  Whenever I need advice or to share a truly great novel with someone it hurts just a little because I would have been sharing them with her.  And though I love my friends and family no one will ever replace her in my life. 

Donna passed just a few hours before Grammy leaving behind my father who was just 42 at the time my sister who was 10 and my brother who was 13. 

She had been suffering from insomnia and depression, and was also a recreational drug user, she liked pain meds.  Her Doctor (idiot) prescribed both antidepressants and sleeping pills.  Which you are never ever supposed to mix.  She had a terrible headache and took some sort of crazy strong pain med that she had in the cabinet for her recreational use and her sleep aid, and her anti depressant before bed.  She never fell asleep, but she did get fucked up and forgot she had already taken her sleep aid, and took another and another and another.  She died of an accidental overdose, sleeping in bed with my little sister in the room.  (Thankfully she never really knew what was happening)

I had just started a new job.  It was teaching mommy and me classes and preschool readiness.  Still in training, I had just taught my first class on my own.  It was the last class of a sunny brisk Saturday morning, the kind of morning only autumn in the North East can bring.  Turning on my nearly dead phone I saw that there was a message in my voicemail.  Two actually.  The first had been left that morning by my frantic and obviously crying father.  The second was an eerily calm message from my grandmother.  The same one who I would learn had died before I ever got to call her back.  There wasn't enough battery life to call them back.  My job was locked up and I couldn't get into the building to use the phone there.  I went to a few other stores in the strip mall, but no one had a phone that would call long distance.  I was in a panic, terror stricken.  I don't remember getting in the car, or driving up the road to a friend’s house. I do remember ringing the doorbell a million times and banging on the door as hard as I could.  I just needed someone, anyone, to come and give me a fucking phone.  No one was home.

Hysterical crying at this point I am certain I should not have driven, but what else as I going to do?  I got back in my car and made the 45 minute long drive back to my house.  My husband met me at the door and told me to sit down.  I wouldn't, I kept screaming, "just tell me what happened!" 

At this point all I could think about was my siblings.  That my brother had had a bad dirt bike accident, or my sister had a broken leg, maybe someone was in the hospital.  These were all things I expected, and though I would be upset, I could handle it.  I was not expecting what I next heard from his mouth.

In the calmest voice he could effect and with a bounty of sorrow in his eyes, "Donna died."

I didn't recognize the noise that came from my throat as human, let alone coming from me.  My knees gave way, he managed to catch me and keep me from hitting the floor too hard.  And then he just let me cry.  I sobbed longer and louder and harder than have ever cried in my life.  I could hardly breathe and my vision got a little blurry at times from the lack of oxygen.  It was slobbery and snotty and ugly.  I was shaking, and heaving my chest to try and get air.  It was physically painful, and mentally excruciating.

It was all so surreal; I kept hoping that it was just a horrible dream and that I would wake up soon.  Each time I would slow in my crying, I would hiccup "Is this real?" my husband would have to tell me that yes, it was, and my sobbing would begin again.  This was so sudden and such a senseless tragedy that my brain couldn't process it. 

Smack in the middle of my melt down his grandmother came in.  I didn't look up until she spoke, and then it was a good thing that I was unable to move in my grief stricken stupor, because I would have slapped her.  She said "These things happen, now get up off the floor."  The shock of what she said still gets me each time I recall it.  Of all the things that have been said to me, hurtful, hateful, mean things, this sticks out more than most.  Like she was making this huge thing, insignificant in a way that it clearly was not. 


I called my father once I could speak and he sounded like I felt.  Raw and open and hurting in a way we had never hurt before and we would hopefully never have to again.

I don't really remember the words, so much as the mutual feeling of devastation.  We cried and said I love you, a lot.  I remember being worried about my siblings staying in the house where their mom died just hours before.  Daddy had sent them to a friend’s house.  They weren't going to school for a few days.  My Dad wasn't alone either, friend and family were everywhere.  You really learn a lot about your friends, family, and community in general when tragedy strikes.  There was more crying, and my assurances that I would be there ASAP and I would help him with everything. 

I remember him telling me he felt responsible for her death.  For not realizing something was wrong until it was too late.  He had performed CPR on her, praying that it would work until the paramedics arrived. Not only had he "failed" to notice something was very wrong, he also hadn't been able to save her, so a double dose of failure in his eyes. 

I reassured him that it wasn't his fault, (it wasn't) that he had done everything he could (He did), that it was just her time and all the other things you are supposed to tell someone.  Some of them I believed others not so much, but I would have said anything to try and take the hurt away. 

Once I could stand again I started to pack, because we were leaving for Maine right fucking now.  I never really stopped crying, but it would let up a little, and I could go through the motions, without really knowing what I was doing.  Then I would break down again.

I was later convinced that in order to not cause another tragedy via fast driving and bad weather and grief, we should wait to calm down and get some sleep before the seven hour drive.  My keys had to be physically removed from my hands.  I was allowed to finish packing.  Then I was forced out of the house, and chauffeured to get some (free) food at the restaurant where my brother in law worked.  My husband’s phone rang while I was attempting to compose myself in the car, still in the parking lot. 

My father had called my husbands grandmothers house, we were staying there having just moved back to NY from FL, and told her that Grammy had also died.  She told my husband over the phone so he would be prepared when I lost it again, I wasn't supposed to hear, (but I did) I was just supposed to call my Dad.  I screeched and my hard won, barely there composure was gone.  People stared as they walked past the car, unwilling witnesses to my worst day ever. 

I called my Daddy again.  I remember him not really being able to talk, and I told him that I knew.  He was mad, he was supposed to tell me, but I think he was secretly glad not to have to say it again. He expressed more grief and feelings of being responsible.  My Grammy was sick, she had a heart condition, and hearing about Donna's sudden death was just too much for her.  Since Daddy had called and told her, this too must be his fault. 

Clearly this was not the case; his other option was to just not tell her, which in reality was not an option at all.  She loved Donna too, and she had a right to know.  It would have been so much worse for him to not tell her.

After I got off the phone with my Dad, I called my voicemail; Grammy had left me a message just that morning!  I could hear her voice again!  It would be calm and comforting, and I could hear her tell me she loved me just one more time.  What a precious gift!  Except when I got to my mailbox it said I had no messages. 

In an attempt to ensure that I got home safe, my husband had dialed into my voicemail and deleted the messages, hoping I had not yet heard them.  Instead of being thankful that he cared enough o try and ensure my safety, I was incensed, beyond angry.  How could he have taken that from me?  Looking back, how could he have known that she would die that same day?  He couldn’t have, and he was actually trying to do something nice.  But at the time I was outraged.  In my already hyper-charged emotional state I was unable to understand the logic.

Eventually, when I was out of tears to cry I was led in a fog into the restaurant and as much junk food as I wanted was set out on the table.  I'm sure I ate, but I don't really remember.  I was exhausted when we returned to the house and slept like a rock until we left at 3 in the morning to beat the traffic.  I slept the entire way there.  By the time I got to my Dad's I was numb.  Thus began the absolute worst day(s) of my life.  The next few days were spent at wakes and funerals, making sure that my brother and sister and father were fed and clean and ready to go face the music.  I don't really remember much of the days leading up to the funerals, which were, of course, on the same day. 

Donna's was first.  And two things stand out to me from that event.  One was amazing, and one was awful.  I will tell you the awful part first.  I sat alone.  Like, all alone.  It was horrid.  There was no spot for me at the front with my Dad, and Brother and Sister and Donna’s parents and step parents, and brother.  I wasn’t even in the second row, close to my family.  I was 4 rows back sitting next to Donnas Step-brother and his girlfriend.  My husband went and sat at the back of the room with my best friend, who had taken the day off from work to be there for me.  I sat alone, and cried the ugly cry through the whole thing, without tissues, or a hand to hold, or shoulder to cry on.  They played Free Bird and to this day I can't hear that song without getting emotional.

The second thing that happened, which actually happened first chronologically, was that one of my best friends from High School showed up at the funeral.  I hadn't seen him since we left for college, and it meant so much to me to know that he saw that this awful thing had happened to me, and my family and wanted to be there to support me.  You really learn who cares when your world crashes down around you.
Earlier I mentioned perspective.  And I never ever thought I would use that word in respect to this particular topic.  But let me tell you, losing two people who you love dearly on the same day within a few hours of one another gives you some effing perspective. 

In the late winter/early spring of 2009 my now ex-husband came home and said "I want a divorce."  It was heart wrenching.  We had been together for TEN years, I was attached to his family, they were my family, I was going to miss so many milestones of people I now loved.  He had been there to catch me when I literally fell over getting the news of my loved ones passing so many years ago.  It was hard, living in the same house as him for the two weeks it took me to pack up my life and my dog and move away.  And I cried, but not every day, and only two or three times after I left our house.  I cried as I left, but was done before I got to the highway, and I never really looked back. 

You know why? 

Because compared to that day in October 2005, it wasn't that bad.  Yes, it sucked.  No, it wasn't easy.  But everyone came out of it alive, and in the long run we are both happier people.  I have been able to remain close to the family I left behind, and I love my life now.  We were miserable; he was just the one brave enough to admit it. 

In March 2010 I lost my Great Grandmother, Memere.  She was 92 years old and she had lived a long happy life.  She had gotten to see her daughter grow up, and her grandchildren, and ever her great grandchildren.  She even got to meet her great-great granddaughter.  She was the last of her siblings and in laws left and she was ready to go.  She spent her last few weeks in hospice care, and we never left her alone.  Family and friends came out to ensure that she always had a companion with her who loved her.

I had spend the entire day with her, singing to her and holding her hand, and as much as it hurt, telling her it was okay if she couldn't hold on anymore.  She hadn't been awake since the second or third day there.  I got the call while I was making dinner.  I was strangely accepting of the news, and just a few stray tears escaped until dinner was finished. 

It all boils down to perspective.  As humans we naturally compare ourselves to others.  I call it "Joneses Syndrome", you know, keeping up with the Joneses. But we also compare our current circumstances with those of our own past. 

For me losing two people on the same day, one very young, she was only in her 30's, has made other traumatic experiences pale in comparison.  My divorce really wasn't that bad, Memere passing was heart wrenching, but she had lived a full life and was ready to go.  She made peace with us and herself.  With her demons and God. 

These were also major life changes, total uprooting of my life and the loss of another family member, but I was able to see the positive, the silver lining if you will. 

I mean, I had my Great Grandmother until I was nearly 30.  I was so lucky!  I still have one complete set of Grandparents now, just past my 30th Birthday.  My parents are so young, especially to have a child who is 30, my mother is 47 and my father is 49.  I have many, many years left with them.  My ex and I were miserable, now we are both happy.  He is re-married and I am engaged.  And I am as happy as all get out!

My point is that this one truly horrific day, has made me so much stronger.  I am able to see the silver lining on nearly every cloud.  I am able to be calm and reassuring to those around me who aren't able to be as strong, and I know, that even when it hurts, and ever when we are at our most devastated and desperate, life does indeed, go on.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Happy Halloween!

Ifyou have ever read my blog before you should know I ADORE Halloween!  It's my favorite and I will have my wedding on Halloween so that I can have an Awesome Halloween/steampunk/victorian Masquerade Ball, with a Star wars twist.  I know right!

Anywho, I am looking for fun easy work appropriate crafts to do for my desk.  I have this big empty space on one corner and I don't know what to put there.  It's not really useful for work space as I can't really reach it from where I sit.  My Birthday is in the Summer, so there are usually flowers there and after thanksgiving I have my Christmas Tree.  (Which is Awesome and I will post a tutorial on it later this year!)  But, From September through Mid November and January through June it's a big glaring empty space.  And it drive me crazy.

Here are some Ideas I have had and their pros and cons:
Jack O'Lantern:

Pro: Takes up enough space!  Fall colors!
Con: rots quickly, more Halloween than Fall, might look silly after Halloween.

Glitter Pumpkins!
Pro:
Glitter
Pumpkins!
Good right through thanksgiving!
Paint will seal it!

Cons:
....

Leaves of some kind
Pros:
Good all season

Cons:
Would have to be fake because I live in Florida and we dont get foliage...

Im thinking glitter punpkins?  You?

Whatever I decide I will make it this weekend! And pictures will come soon!


Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Mandee's Musings

Men are Weird

I realize that if any of you are men, live with men, or know men, this comes as no surprise.  But seriously, I. Don't. Get. It.
The purse fear in particular is one that I struggle with. 

Me: Hun, can you get my phone for me?

J: Sure, where is it?

Me: In my purse.

J: ...

Five minutes later brings me my entire purse.

J: Here you go.

Me: Thanks, but I only needed my phone.

J: Yeah I don't look in purses.

Me: But it's my purse.  You already know what's in it.

J:  Yeah, no.  You keep lady stuff in there.

Me:  What?  so you can go to the store and buy me tampons, but you cant look in my purse because you might see one?  That's fucked up.

J:  I'm sorry I learned when I was a kid never to look in any woman's purse.  It stuck.

Me: ...
Walks off.

I mean, reallyWomen use tampons/maxi pads.  Is this some sort of secret?  I'm pretty sure most people are aware of this from about age 10.  What is so intimidating to men about purses?

Seriously, my husband will go to the store and buy tampons.  No big deal.  Why is it different once it's in a purse?  I mean, it's not used it's the same exact thing you buy in the store.  Maybe because it's out of the box? Is there some crazy secret out there that I don't know about?  Like does seeing a tampon outside of the box give you "lady parts"?  Or do your eyes and ears start to bleed if you look upon feminine hygiene products as a man?  WTF?

 I dunno.  This is making my head hurt.

Monday, October 1, 2012

I was plannin' on a day off Mother Fucker.

This is an actual conversation had with m husband driving home from picking him up at work late on a Sunday night.

J: Freedom!

Me: Rough night?

J: just tired, and hot.  Can't wait to get home!

Me: We have to stop at the grocery store for soda and corn bread to go with the chili I made.

J: Fine.  Then I am going to play SWTOR* until my eyeballs fall out.

Me:   that might be a problem.  I mean, I would still love you and take care of you if you were blind.  But it would be a real downer and a pain in the ass.  I mean if you could just stop right before the actually fell out that would be really helpful.

J: You totally just killed my buzz.

Me: I mean I guess if they fell out but didn' like Detach or anything we could go to the emergency room and have them put back in right?  Just give me some warning so I already have pants on and I'm ready to go right when it happens.  (Pause) Plus!  then I can call in and get to have a day off!  Awesome!

J: Uh yeah.  But don't go planning on that day off or anything.  Cause I'm not sure if my eyes will actually fall out and I'd be kinda pissed to wake with you taking a fork to my eye all like "I was plannin' on a day off Mother Fucker"

Me: Spoon.

J: ?

Me: i would use a spoon, not a fork, cause then it would be all holey and useless if they put it back in.  (Pause) The bad kind of holey not the good Jesus kind.

J: ...

True Story.

*SWTOR = Star Wars The Old Republic.  Its a game, like WOW, but WAAAAAAY cooler

Mandee's Musings

Like Chicken.

Someone used the phrase, "Running around like a chicken with it's head cut off" the other day.  And I had a chuckle.  As twisted as it is, watching headless chicken run around sans it's head, can be kind of funny, in a seriously dark way.  And if you are a child when you witness said act, it could cause trauma and thousands of dollars in therapy.  Just sayin'.
Like this, only more headless and bloody
Anyway then I thought about a human being running around all headless and I was entertained.  Then OI thought, how would one become headless in a way that would leave you running around?  Oh!  I know!  T-Rex!

You may of may not already know this, but I have an irrational fear of Dinosaurs*.  So immediately anything bad that happens inexplicably, I blame Dinosaurs.  So of course  that's how one would end up headless and running around.  It was dark, and the T-Rex was all still and you didn't notice it then BAM!  It takes off your head!  And thus you are running around like a chicken with its head cut off. 


Yipes!

*I know what you're thinking!  "Dinosaurs aren't real"  Yes, yes they are.  Fossils and science have proved it.  Now you're thinking "But they're extinct".  No. They. Are. Not.  I give you exhibits A-E: Crocodiles, Alligators, Giant SeaTurtles, Giant Squid and Nessy**!  THE END.

** What do you mean you don't know who Nessy is!  The Lochness Monster!  DUH!  You really need to get out more.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Snooka'd Like Jimmy. (Or how I had a wrestling match in my sleep)

I will admit 2 things:
1- I am an "all over" sleeper.  I move  A LOT during the night.
2- I sometimes have full on conversations that I don't recall in the morning
3- I sometimes wake up nekkid with no recollection of how that came about
(Me and math, not so good)

According to my husband, I am a violent sleeper with a tendency to attack him in the middle of the night like a WWE (WWF for us old timers) Wrestling super star.  Apparently  i have put him in a headlock, scissor lock, and Landed Several Supa-fly Splashes on him, all whilst blissfully asleep.  I call shenanigans.

Sometime last week the following (allegedly) occurred.

J: *shake, shake* Babe. (Pause) *shake* Babe!

Me: ngf wha!?

J: Move over a little, I'm falling off the bed.

Me: emgfdls, fnduioe, brf.
Doesn't move at all.

J: Babe

Me screaming so loud I may have woken the neighbors and did wake the dogs: Yeah!

J: Jesus!  Don't scream!  Move over a little so I can have some room.

Me still Screaming:  I did!

J: No you didnt.

Me pouting: I just wanna cuddle you

J: That's fine but lets move to the middle of the bed so I don't fall off.

Me: Okay.
Rolls over

Me five minutes later:
Rolls over throws my arm heavily on top of my husbands midsection and proceeds to snore loudly in his face.

J: Babe, roll over.

Me: Okay!
Moves UP and proceeds to wrap my arms around his face/neck headlock style.

J Grunting: Babe, Leggo!  I can't breathe! *gasp*

Me: Meh.
Lets go and moves the top half of my body to my side of the bed

J decides that having my feet by his isn't such a bad deal considering whats been going on and drifts to sleep.  Five more minutes later.  I wrap my legs around him in a scissor lock.  I wasn't sure what that was so i looked it up.  Apparently this is when you wrap your legs around a persons torso or neck and squeeze.  Oops!

J: Babe, wake up and move over!  What the hell are you dreaming about!

Me: FINE!
Gets up on my knees and proceed to bring down all of my weight on top of my husbands chest a la jimmy Supa-Fly Snooka.  He called this the supa-fly swat.  this is not pleasant when a small person does it.  I am NOT a small person.

I rolled over, still sleeping, leaving my husband a gasping mess clutching his chest, my lust for violence apparently sated.

He's mad, but I say it's his fault for making me watch WWE.

If this had been the WWE, I WIN!


Friday, September 28, 2012

Like Butterflies

A Writers gotta write.  that was my thought yesterday when I bought a journal small enough to vary all the time and large enough to be able to be useful.  And its pretty, bonus!  I also got some multi-colored pens,m cause that's just how I roll. 

The plan my sweets, is to keep the journal and pens with me at all times.  Because let's face it, I am as forgetful as they come.  My husband has legitimately made me go to the Doctor because of my terrible forgetfulness, fearing early onset Alzheimer's.  True Story.

Good Ideas are fleeting, so you have to catch them while you can.  Sort of like Butterflies they are here to day and gone tomorrow.  I like the butterfly analogy.  Ideas and inspiration are very much like butterflies, beautiful, fragile, and fleeting. 

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Mandee's Musings

When I can’t sleep because my brain won’t shut down, sometimes I get all philosophical and come up with truly amazing theories that no one will ever test, because they can’t.  Because I’m super advanced like that, not because it’s stupid.
So here are the kinds of things I think about when I can’t sleep. 
1~ The truth about colors
I think that everyone sees different colors form everyone else.  Okay maybe not like everyone, everyone, because I’m sure there are waaay more people than colors out there.  But what if what I see when I see blue is the same as what you see when you see orange, but we’d never know because regardless of what we see we have been trained that that is the color blue.
2~ Shadows are Alive
I think shadows might be alive.  I’m pretty sure this stems from a scary story I read as a child, but as I watch the shadows moving around on my walls and ceiling, I am almost certain I can see them moving with purpose.  I think maybe it’s another dimension that we can only see when it’s dark.  My husband says that’s crazy.
3~ Stop telling me dinosaurs are extinct
Alligators, crocodiles, Sea Turtles.  The end.  Won’t y’all be surprised when we get attacked Jurassic Park style and I’m all like “HA, Bitches!”
More musings to come as I think of them….Maybe.  No promises, I’m not that responsible.

Something Vaguely Witty Here

Guys I am sad. 
I read a ton of awesome blogs, like cakewrecks.com and epbot.com and thebloggess.com and OhNoa.com.  And these are hysterical, smart funny women who get to make a living writing and doing what they love.  Which is totally and unbelievably awesome, good for them! 
Then the evil jealous crazy girl who forever roams the halls of the high school of my brain rears up and is all, “WTF?!?  I want that!  And she gets whiny and bitchy and starts saying things like “I’m clever!  I’m funny!  Why can’t I be an awesome satirical blogger with a gagillion followers?”
I usually respond to that with, “Because you’re a bitch.”  But that never seems to go over well and she gets all mopey and calls me mean and cuts herself. 
Instead I said “Your book is almost done being edited!  Then you just have to make a million and twenty-three corrections/additions/omissions, and you can spend years sending it to publishers!”  This doesn’t really work either.  Apparently I'm not being "positive" or "encouraging" WTF me!?
Anyway my point is that my book is nearly done being edited!  WOOT!  Now I just have to find/make time to make all the awesome revisions that my editor suggests.  But for a lifelong dream, it’s worth it, right? 
I do need help naming said novel.  It’s a YA sci-fi fantasy about witches in current day Salem.  Anything?
I might be distracted by cute animal and/or shiny things so bear with me.... Is that a kitty!?

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Nail Polish Fairy, I have a question.

Ugh!  So frustrated right now.  I got this truly excellent *looking* Wet'N'Wild Mega last nail polish.  I know, I know, Wet'N'Wild, really?  Yes, really.  I love it!  Its bright and cheap so I can keep up with the latest trends and not feel too guilty. 

Anyway, pretty much every nail polish I have ever bought was spot on.  It was basically the same color on my nails as it was int he bottle.  Which is a good thing, cause, ya know, we buy it before we put it on our nails, I can only assume that the goal is for the polish to be much the same on your nails as it is in the bottle, right?  Right?

Not so this time around.  I bought what appears in the bottle to be a dusty-rose mauvey color.  really great for fall, and keeping in with the wardrobe guidelines at my job.  (Well, on site, at the office it make no flipping difference) But lo and behind once it was on my nails its like this dark brownish RED.  Much, much more red than pink and not keeping with the guidelines AT ALL.  This color is not even close to the color it looks like while in the bottle. 

( I was going to put a picture here but i cant find one one the web and my camera is at the shop)

Don't get me wrong, it's a VERY pretty color and I am happy to wear it when it's appropriate, but I am not much of a red polish girl, and the whole reason I bought this was for days when I am on site and cant wear my super bright fun colors.  And glitter.  Lots and lots of glitter. 

Gripe number two with this polish, that's right, the color being off wasn't enough for WNW this time around.  The Brush is awful!  I am all for the trend of making the brushes more flat than round, it does make for easier painting in my opinion, but this is absurd!  Its HUGE!  It's just over half of my thumbnail.  Which means that painting my pinkie leaves big ol' red smears on either side of the nail.  It only takes one swipe to do my index finger for crying out loud!

While I am talking to the nail polish fairy I also have a wish list.

1. China Glaze Capitol Colors Collection

Okay, I admit it.  I read and LOVED the Hunger Games Trilogy.  But that is notwhy I love this polish!  (but it IS why I looked it up to begin with)
This collection has 12 colors based on the 12 districts in the books!  Here they are!

China Glaze Agro (District 11 – Agriculture) Is a metallic olive green with flecks of gold. The base isn’t overly warm which makes it very wearable though peeps with uber cool tones may have a hard time pulling it off.

China Glaze Dress Me Up (District 8 – Textiles) is the color that was originally named for Primrose and given its dusty rose color, that would have been a great fit. It’s creamy with a soft, delicate nature, just like Prim.

China Glaze Electrify (District 5 – Power) is a clear-based packed with yellow gold and red glitter. The gold is the more prevalent color. The overall effect looks like gold foil peppered with red sparkles.  Thanks to the density of the glitter, you can get decent coverage without a ton of coats.

China Glaze Fast Track (District 6 – Transportation) is a cool beige packed with gold micro-flecks. It has a similar finish as Knotty from Anchors Away except the base is cooler and more opaque and the flecks are gold instead of silver. It’s a great twist on your average neutral.

China Glaze Foie Gras (District 10 – Livestock) is a dark, moody mauve creme. I’m calling it Below Deck After Dark. It’s a member of that whole taupe-y purple family that Chanel Particuliere and SOPI Metro Chic belong to.

China Glaze Harvest Moon (District 9 – Grain) is a burnt copper foil metallic. It had the autumnal, fall feeling that represents the idea of a bountiful harvest really well.  It is packed with pigment.

China Glaze Hook and Line (District 4 – Fishing) is a muddied, pewter metallic. There’s a bit of taupe to its underbelly that makes me think of a fish hook that has a thin layer layer of dried dirt from years of use. It’s definitely unusual, and you know I love that!

China Glaze Luxe & Lush (District 1 – Luxury) is the FLAKIE top coat.  In the bottle you can see flecks of fiery orange, blue and a lilac leaning pink in a milky base. I think it would pair well with Dress Me Up.

China Glaze Mahogany Magic (District 7 – Lumber) is a rich, yellow-based, brown creme. It’s meant to have a woody feel. Undoubtedly this will rock on warmer/olive skin tones but on me.

China Glaze Riveting (District 3 – Technology) is a jelly-fied gem. A sister to two classic China Glaze jellies, Orange Marmalade and Orange-Pacific this color has one thing going for it the others lack, pigment. Two coats and it’s on!

China Glaze Stone Cold (District 2 – Masonry) is the matte color in this collection.  It makes total sense to have this graphite glitter dry with a matte finish. It’s so asphalt-esque. Though very similar to Nubar Matte Midnight. With a top coat the silver sparkles come alive and it resembles graphite.

China Glaze Smoke & Ashes (District 12 – Mining) The love child of Blk-Bila-Bong and Glittering Garland, it has the inky base and blue micro-flecks that made BBB a star. Mix in the emerald fleck from GG and we have a rising star on our hands.



Also I REALLY want to try a french manicure with colored tips, like a different one for each nail, but I FAIL at french tips with a brush y'all.  I totally cheat and use a nail polish pen for that, but the coloured ones are like 8 bucks each and I'm kinda poor right now... WTF...  How do I fix THAT Nail polish Fairy.

(If there is a nail polish fairy I'm sorry for being snide!  I love you and your product please bring me free nail polish pens and the hunger games nail polish! Thankyouverymuch!