It's not like I was sleeping anyway... but looking at the precious minutes tick past and knowing that I wasn't getting any shut-eye, I dragged my carcass up from the bed to jiggle the toilet tank handle 'one more time' and give it an evil glare. Is there anything so maddening in the middle of the night as water trickling induced insomnia? The clock said 2:10 a.m.
Insomnia is bad enough by itself, but when you have things to do the next day that require wit and alertness, it makes the next day a precarious dance between slap-happy giddiness and a tiresome slow burning anger that threatens to pop up and randomly kill someone. The appointed duty in the graying light of dawn for today was to get Beth and Pete to the airport in time to catch their flight so they wouldn't have to sprint down the runway behind the plane helplessly flapping their arms in the vain attempt at being allowed on the departing bird.
No problem. I'm happy to help. I just hope they will be happy I helped when they get to the airport. Generally, the screaming passengers from careening vehicles aren't allowed to board planes.
Lying in the bed counting breaths, I hoped time had passed by. It hadn't. I glanced at the clock again and realized that it was still well before 4 a.m. Rather than continue to lie there and stir around until I woke Rick up, I decided it was time to just get up. Tossing on some clothes, I trundled along trying not to crunch down too hard on my sore ankle and still make it to the desk where the other ankle brace lie in wait for application. It's bad enough when one leg has abandoned you. A reasonable person can still kind of hobble along and hope for the best. But when both have given up the ghost and offer crunchy pain at every step, it can be kinda disheartening.
I have no idea what is wrong with it and frankly, I'm afraid to find out. But I digress.
The airport patrol started in the driveway of the darkened home of my friends. I waited until just before the appointed time to dial their home phone because I didn't want to scare the snot out of them just in case Beth and Pete were getting a few last winks. When Beth answered the phone, I heard them both stirring around so I was glad I hadn't awakened them. Of course, they were both occupied in hastily finishing the last minute details before departure. I told her I was in the driveway and she came to the front door to let me in.
EZ, their canid child, was nowhere in sight when I got in the house and sat in a chair at the table to wait out the last few minutes before leaving. When he noticed I was inside, he growled at me. To be fair, the room was dark except for the luminous glow of the iTouch screen and I'm sure I looked like a bluish devil sitting there smiling at him. Come to think of it, if I'd seen that spectral image, I'd growl too.
When I talked to him he bounded over and we were friends once again. Poor little guy... it's patently obvious that he is in dire need of affection and care... he slavishly rolls to the floor for belly rubs and lots of patting when I come. I'm quite sure that Beth and Pete do all they can for him as he is NOT an abused, neglected or ignored mutt, but he is quite adapt at giving the impression that he is persecuted, picked on and much maligned. It's a gift. The dog could rake in money in Hollywood. I don't mind the floor show since my own mutt does the same thing.
After making sure the happy travelers had gathered all the necessary items for their boarding and departure, I headed out of the airport. I could blame the next segment on lack of sleep, other drivers or poor signage, but let's just tell the truth. I am a brilliant woman with no sense of direction.
When the happy travelers were appropriately dropped off at their flight area and I was heading back home, I had an epiphany of sorts. Apparently you can leave the airport without ever really leaving it at all. I was circling the drain. That's right. Random driving while the airport security guy was giving me the evil eye. I'm sure he thought I was some sort of lunatic. Finally, a dude on a motorcycle seemed to know where he was going and I managed to find my way out of the airport campus before running out of gas.
It probably wasn't actually that close a thing on the gas, but I always get concerned when I can't find my way around. What if I stay in a holding pattern until the tank is drained and no one saves me? Will it be of concern to others? Or will they just assume, and probably rightly so, that I have no one to blame but myself?
The strange thing is that I have navigated my way BY MYSELF through several states and around the nation from time to time. But somewhere along the way, a POOR sense of direction was replaced with absolutely NO sense of direction at all. It's not like I expect to look down and see a compass in my belly, but sometimes it would be nice to have some inner voice telling me which way to go. As it is, I do possess an 'outer voice' telling me where to go, but I left the GPS thingy hickeydoojer at home. I'm sure it would have helped me if only it wasn't asleep in my desk drawer.
The sun is now up, the day promises brilliant skies and sunshine bathing this segment of the world in a warm glow and sometime today, I have to find the time to take the resident mutt for an outdoor assassination attempt... uh, I mean a training exercise.
I hope the crunchiness in my ankle works itself out. Otherwise the walk will be slow and painful. Which simply gives Gypsy more time to plan my demise. It's not like she is in the will, but she tries hard. And I'm quite sure she can use the time to get even with me for petting and loving on her cousin EZ while I was at his house. She is a jealous thing.
Vaya con Dios! And be sure and call if you need a ride to the airport. I'll be happy to take you if you tell me how to get there and eventually, I'll find my way back out to the highway.
April 2, 2010
March 27, 2010
Good Morning, Sunshine
I'm sure I went to sleep last night. I remember it distinctly. Yet, this morning, it is as if I never made the weary trip down the hall to the bed.
It's one of those days that started before bed last night. You know the kind. Where you are in a perpetual fog and every movement seems like an exaggerated mime of activity that would normally take much less time and effort.
Jared cooperatively woke up about six. Great time for school days. Not so great for a Saturday.
I can't recall the last time I got the opportunity to 'sleep in'.
Even if I am sick, I can't be sick and lounge around in bed because there is just too much to do.
Despite evidence to the contrary, I do make at least a half-hearted attempt to clean the house and do laundry, it's just that I'm swimming against the current on the effort. When there are 4 human and 1 non-human messmakers in the household, as well as the assorted canid guests (I do babysit my furry nieces and nephews from time to time), there is always something to sweep up, wipe up, pick up or straighten up.
Times like these, I am all in favor of living in the great outdoors.
Have you ever awakened from one of those "gee, I'm sure I went to bed but why am I so dang tired" nights and felt as if only careful movement would keep your head from rolling right off of your body? I haven't got reliable experiences to share regarding the degrees of hangover since I am not a boozer, but I have been told by those who have abundant life experiences waking up in odd places so frequently that it has become 'normal' to them that the foggy "I'm not sure how I got here" feeling is a major league component of the event.
I'm thankful that isn't a daily occurence in my own life. And I'm thankful that this groggy morning will pass as the sun eventually climbs into the eastern sky and stops burning a hole in my retinas from the window by my desk.
I started the laundry about 6:15 this morning in the hopes that I can get it done and relax this evening. Ha ha ha! Yeah, I know. It was funny to me too.
Even if the clothes are washed, there are beds to strip and recover, sheets, pillowcases and the assorted wayward sock that must be gathered, mopping that calls out to be done, carpeted floors in need of a serious vacuuming and bathrooms that desperately need their weekend reprieve from the grime of daily living.
I'm thinking there won't be much relaxing going on if these chores are to actually be performed.
Just sitting here looking at the items on my cluttered desk in desperate need of organization, I am reminded of a favorite quote: "A clean desk is the sign of a sick mind." Ha! I love that, simply because if my desk IS clean, then I can't find anything. That sounds stupid, but it's true.
This morning, my eyes feel as if they have been used to play marbles in the sandbox. It's a real shame I can't do as Mad Eye Moody and plop them into a glass of water for a quick once over rinse. Some days, they really feel like they could use one.
I suppose there isn't any reason for prolonging the inevitability of the chores that await. They will still be there if I do nothing, but the depressing thing about that is that they will still be there... No magic fairy dust sprinkled over the chores to miraculously complete them, no wand waving spectacle - just elbow grease and hard work.
Enough slacking. If I continue to sit here and type, I'll completely talk myself out of doing anything resembling useful effort. And somehow, that won't feel so good later on tonight.
It's an odd trade-off. Exhaust yourself now to feel good later.
Time to move, people. We're burning daylight!
It's one of those days that started before bed last night. You know the kind. Where you are in a perpetual fog and every movement seems like an exaggerated mime of activity that would normally take much less time and effort.
Jared cooperatively woke up about six. Great time for school days. Not so great for a Saturday.
I can't recall the last time I got the opportunity to 'sleep in'.
Even if I am sick, I can't be sick and lounge around in bed because there is just too much to do.
Despite evidence to the contrary, I do make at least a half-hearted attempt to clean the house and do laundry, it's just that I'm swimming against the current on the effort. When there are 4 human and 1 non-human messmakers in the household, as well as the assorted canid guests (I do babysit my furry nieces and nephews from time to time), there is always something to sweep up, wipe up, pick up or straighten up.
Times like these, I am all in favor of living in the great outdoors.
Have you ever awakened from one of those "gee, I'm sure I went to bed but why am I so dang tired" nights and felt as if only careful movement would keep your head from rolling right off of your body? I haven't got reliable experiences to share regarding the degrees of hangover since I am not a boozer, but I have been told by those who have abundant life experiences waking up in odd places so frequently that it has become 'normal' to them that the foggy "I'm not sure how I got here" feeling is a major league component of the event.
I'm thankful that isn't a daily occurence in my own life. And I'm thankful that this groggy morning will pass as the sun eventually climbs into the eastern sky and stops burning a hole in my retinas from the window by my desk.
I started the laundry about 6:15 this morning in the hopes that I can get it done and relax this evening. Ha ha ha! Yeah, I know. It was funny to me too.
Even if the clothes are washed, there are beds to strip and recover, sheets, pillowcases and the assorted wayward sock that must be gathered, mopping that calls out to be done, carpeted floors in need of a serious vacuuming and bathrooms that desperately need their weekend reprieve from the grime of daily living.
I'm thinking there won't be much relaxing going on if these chores are to actually be performed.
Just sitting here looking at the items on my cluttered desk in desperate need of organization, I am reminded of a favorite quote: "A clean desk is the sign of a sick mind." Ha! I love that, simply because if my desk IS clean, then I can't find anything. That sounds stupid, but it's true.
This morning, my eyes feel as if they have been used to play marbles in the sandbox. It's a real shame I can't do as Mad Eye Moody and plop them into a glass of water for a quick once over rinse. Some days, they really feel like they could use one.
I suppose there isn't any reason for prolonging the inevitability of the chores that await. They will still be there if I do nothing, but the depressing thing about that is that they will still be there... No magic fairy dust sprinkled over the chores to miraculously complete them, no wand waving spectacle - just elbow grease and hard work.
Enough slacking. If I continue to sit here and type, I'll completely talk myself out of doing anything resembling useful effort. And somehow, that won't feel so good later on tonight.
It's an odd trade-off. Exhaust yourself now to feel good later.
Time to move, people. We're burning daylight!
March 18, 2010
Surviving on Less Addendum...
A couple of other really good suggestions were brought to my attention regarding our elected representatives who only represent themselves these days. And I believe a concerted effort to implement these changes would do us all a world of good.
(1) I think we should also initiate a lottery system for their removal to match the official national unemployment figures. If 10% of the nation loses their job, that should be matched to the percentage point in their august body. That way, when the rest of the nation loses jobs, some of them should also lose theirs without any advance warning. Then, just maybe, they will understand how the rest of us feel when we see our family and friends suffering due in large measure to stupid decisions they make on Capitol Hill.
(2) Their salaries should be tied to the same index used to pay SSI and SSI Disability payments. If our disabled and elderly can't be afforded a rise in their cost of living, then the Federal Government can't afford one either.
(3) Salaries of all elected officials should be mandated to be set at a national average wage that is not to exceed $75,000.00 per year. It can most certainly be LESS - especially since the politicians keep screaming about what an 'honor' it is to serve the nation and they are, for the most part, more than capable of living on their dividends, stocks, bonds and offshore accounts.
(4) When a simple majority of their constituents are not happy with their performance for the public good, oh, say like right now - when they aren't listening to us on this health care debacle that is about to destroy our nation - we should be able to vote their butts out of office immediately.
and finally,
(5) This idea is the brainchild of Republican Rep. Jason Chaffetz, R-Utah, and is worth a great deal of merit. "Nearly 100,000 civilian federal employees owe the IRS $962 million in back taxes. He thinks they should pay up or be fired. Chaffetz has introduced a bill that calls for the federal government to "ferret out" civilian employees who have "seriously delinquent tax debt" and prevent the hiring of other tax delinquents."
To put it into perspective (quoting from the article): "More than 3 percent of the 2.8 million federal civilian employees owed the Treasury unpaid federal income taxes in 2008, according to the IRS. If you include retirees and military service members, the numbers go from nearly 100,000 up to 276,000 current or former workers who owe $3 billion in taxes.
If you get to the point where the government is putting a lien on their property and they've exhausted their appeals… the right thing to do is fire them as a federal worker," said Chaffetz. "If you're going to take federal tax dollars, you should be paying your federal taxes."
http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/Tax/100000-federal-employees-owe-irs-back-taxes/story?id=10125860
All I have to say is: AMEN, brother, AMEN!!!
Just a few things to keep in mind about those who are alleged to serve us, but who increasingly serve only themselves.
(1) I think we should also initiate a lottery system for their removal to match the official national unemployment figures. If 10% of the nation loses their job, that should be matched to the percentage point in their august body. That way, when the rest of the nation loses jobs, some of them should also lose theirs without any advance warning. Then, just maybe, they will understand how the rest of us feel when we see our family and friends suffering due in large measure to stupid decisions they make on Capitol Hill.
(2) Their salaries should be tied to the same index used to pay SSI and SSI Disability payments. If our disabled and elderly can't be afforded a rise in their cost of living, then the Federal Government can't afford one either.
(3) Salaries of all elected officials should be mandated to be set at a national average wage that is not to exceed $75,000.00 per year. It can most certainly be LESS - especially since the politicians keep screaming about what an 'honor' it is to serve the nation and they are, for the most part, more than capable of living on their dividends, stocks, bonds and offshore accounts.
(4) When a simple majority of their constituents are not happy with their performance for the public good, oh, say like right now - when they aren't listening to us on this health care debacle that is about to destroy our nation - we should be able to vote their butts out of office immediately.
and finally,
(5) This idea is the brainchild of Republican Rep. Jason Chaffetz, R-Utah, and is worth a great deal of merit. "Nearly 100,000 civilian federal employees owe the IRS $962 million in back taxes. He thinks they should pay up or be fired. Chaffetz has introduced a bill that calls for the federal government to "ferret out" civilian employees who have "seriously delinquent tax debt" and prevent the hiring of other tax delinquents."
To put it into perspective (quoting from the article): "More than 3 percent of the 2.8 million federal civilian employees owed the Treasury unpaid federal income taxes in 2008, according to the IRS. If you include retirees and military service members, the numbers go from nearly 100,000 up to 276,000 current or former workers who owe $3 billion in taxes.
If you get to the point where the government is putting a lien on their property and they've exhausted their appeals… the right thing to do is fire them as a federal worker," said Chaffetz. "If you're going to take federal tax dollars, you should be paying your federal taxes."
http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/Tax/100000-federal-employees-owe-irs-back-taxes/story?id=10125860
All I have to say is: AMEN, brother, AMEN!!!
Just a few things to keep in mind about those who are alleged to serve us, but who increasingly serve only themselves.
March 15, 2010
Nigerian Bank Scam In Reverse
I've decided I've had enough with those emails begging for my help with transferring the multi-gozillion dollars of some Nigerian Prince/magnate who has to ask a total stranger over the internet in a random email for assistance in transferring his valuable holdings from his woefully unstable nation and its collection of undermanaged and risky banking entities.
Now, I'm going to strike a blow for the REST of us.
From now on, I'm going to send out random emails from "my solicitor" (a.k.a. ME) to strange people over the Internet and have them take over the payments of my bills.
To be sure, I am not offering them anything in return but that warm feeling deep in the heart from knowing they have eased the suffering of my wallet. But hey, if enough suckers (uh, excuse me, I meant to say philanthropists!) are around, they can feel better about themselves and I can be debt free by nightfall tomorrow.
Because I am not stupid enough to do this haphazardly, I will set up a PayPal account with a completely new and separate banking organization that will only do one-way transfers from their wallets into mine. I will issue each and every person who is caring enough to get involved in my personal financial meltdown a certificate which they can print off using the cardstock of their choice and which will then be rendered suitable for framing.
Even a philanthropist wants a pat on the back and a few public accolades will certainly boost their stock at the Country Club come the weekend.
This way, they get something for their money so kindly invested into the future of my personal fortunes and hopefully make up for a few reversals, unexpected medical expenses and help replace an aging and tired van.
I can even send them sponsorship photos of the van and of me crying at the mailbox and while answering the phone for yet another bill collector and collection agency screaming about how they want their money even if they have to squeeze the blood out of this particular little Southern turnip green.
I am quite sure the Nigerians and those lovely people in England who claim I am the relative of some Duke of Cheesecake or whatever it was will be happy to donate to ME. After all, they were all confident that they could count on me when they needed help...
Sadly, the only thing I can donate to them is my indebtedness and a heart brim with gratitude when they help me break the yoke of the oppressive compound interest from draining my checking account.
I know it might sound self-serving on the surface. And it is. But why should downtrodden, humble, decent people who only need my help getting their vast fortunes out of Nigeria get all the breaks?
This is America, baby, and the proud, poor and slackers all are deserving of an equal chance to redistribute the wealth from someone else's wallet into their own. Proudly, I am willing to be the first to accept the donations to make my life better through absolutely no work on my own.
I do wonder though, how much tithing you owe on extortion?
Now, I'm going to strike a blow for the REST of us.
From now on, I'm going to send out random emails from "my solicitor" (a.k.a. ME) to strange people over the Internet and have them take over the payments of my bills.
To be sure, I am not offering them anything in return but that warm feeling deep in the heart from knowing they have eased the suffering of my wallet. But hey, if enough suckers (uh, excuse me, I meant to say philanthropists!) are around, they can feel better about themselves and I can be debt free by nightfall tomorrow.
Because I am not stupid enough to do this haphazardly, I will set up a PayPal account with a completely new and separate banking organization that will only do one-way transfers from their wallets into mine. I will issue each and every person who is caring enough to get involved in my personal financial meltdown a certificate which they can print off using the cardstock of their choice and which will then be rendered suitable for framing.
Even a philanthropist wants a pat on the back and a few public accolades will certainly boost their stock at the Country Club come the weekend.
This way, they get something for their money so kindly invested into the future of my personal fortunes and hopefully make up for a few reversals, unexpected medical expenses and help replace an aging and tired van.
I can even send them sponsorship photos of the van and of me crying at the mailbox and while answering the phone for yet another bill collector and collection agency screaming about how they want their money even if they have to squeeze the blood out of this particular little Southern turnip green.
I am quite sure the Nigerians and those lovely people in England who claim I am the relative of some Duke of Cheesecake or whatever it was will be happy to donate to ME. After all, they were all confident that they could count on me when they needed help...
Sadly, the only thing I can donate to them is my indebtedness and a heart brim with gratitude when they help me break the yoke of the oppressive compound interest from draining my checking account.
I know it might sound self-serving on the surface. And it is. But why should downtrodden, humble, decent people who only need my help getting their vast fortunes out of Nigeria get all the breaks?
This is America, baby, and the proud, poor and slackers all are deserving of an equal chance to redistribute the wealth from someone else's wallet into their own. Proudly, I am willing to be the first to accept the donations to make my life better through absolutely no work on my own.
I do wonder though, how much tithing you owe on extortion?
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