Wednesday, March 15, 2006

You think YOU'RE wierd...

Kiddo tagged me to list 6 wierd things about myself...hmmmmmmm, only 6? Let me see if I can narrow it down from the zillion things that make me the neurotic woman I am today:

1) I am absolutely repulsed by spit. Something about it makes me utterly nauseated, especially when I see it on the sidewalk. Once when I was a kid someone spit in my hair and I threw up.

2) I have a somewhat odd fascination with copier repairmen. I guess I just wonder how you get into that line of work. And they are usually such characters. We had a repair guy who came to my old office who looked exactly like a 1970’s Barry Manilow. He even had the Spandex pants with the wide waistband.
The current copier repair guy who comes to our office gets extremely excited and lights up like a child on Christmas morning when he talks about how the roller brushes disintegrated thus affecting toner distribution. I think I want to marry him.

3) The sound of a dog licking (its paw or any other area for that matter) makes my skin crawl. That “schlurp, schlurp” noise can wake me out of a dead sleep.

4) Ditto with the *dog throwing up* sound. H is amazed with my hearing ability at times.

5) I often listen to Delilah After Dark on the radio. On purpose. I have no further comment on this.

6) I almost always get constipated when I am away from home. It has been cause for some serious embarassment such as the time I went home for a weekend with my boyfriend in college. I *finally thought I could go* and my boyfriend's mother forgot to knock and walked right into the bathroom. Things were stopped-up for a very long time after that incident. This condition continued to cause problems for me when I got married (not to the boyfriend) to H and spent 3 weeks in Ireland. I thought I was going to die a slow, bloated death and H wondered just what the hell he was getting into. His entire village in the West of Ireland was offering me cures for my *problem*. It is always nice to be offered a drink in someone's home, but not when it is offered with a, "Well now, this glass o'hot whiskey ought ta get the pipes a'movin. Do they have this problem a lot in America?"

Wow, you probably feel like you know me a bit better now, don't you...

Tag you're it: Herb, Mandy, Stacy, Belinda, HotBabe, and Christine...
The rules are, once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 6 weird things/habits about yourself. In the end you need to list 6 other people to tag and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment saying "You've been tagged" in their comments and tell them to read your blog...

Monday, March 13, 2006

On Golden Pond...


On Saturday, H & I headed up to our cottage to make sure it is still standing after a long winter’s nap. It is! Yea! We bought *Nantucket* about 5 years ago when H discovered it in a For Sale by Owner booklet. I think he decided we didn’t have enough projects in the midst of remodeling our old house and designing and building a brand new house…so he found the perfect *project house* to help fill in any gaps where we might decide to, say, relax or go on vacation. We like to think of the cottage as *Nantucket* in the sense that we resemble the Kennedy family who can whisk off to a lovely weekend home as a getaway from our mundane everyday life. I must admit that our Nantucket is much more rustic than anything remotely Kennedy; however, the cottage is a fun place because it’s on the water and hey, there is always enough booze to make you ignore the d├ęcor and just be thankful there is at least indoor plumbing. Rather than *Nantucket*, I often refer to our place as *Jusfuckit*.

Since the past 2 summers have been filled with fun-adventures that involved selling a house and H singlehandedly building our new home, we have not had much time to spend at the cottage. Our last attempt at a weekend away, in the midst of HouseBuildingHell last year, ended in a horrible explosion of tempers when the plumbing in the bathroom decided to act up just as H stepped into the shower. As I recall, we ended up packing the car and heading home right in the heat of battle. It was ugly and I believe it to be a major contribution to last summer's complete and utter hell. Now that we are in the dawn of a new summer, H is once again raring to go on anything and everything involving work, tearing out, building, home improvement projects, and driving his wife completely mental. So off we went on Saturday to *make a list* (H’s pre-storm warning that tells me we are in for some fun!) of what we need to buy for this spring’s project.


One of my favorite things about the cottage is the neighborhood. Think King of the Hill. This is a colony of retirees who simply live to fish in the summer and survive on pure gossip in the winter. Let’s meet the neighbors, shall we…

*Denny* is a retired forklift operator who, after divorcing *Wanda*, told me he was in need of some companionship. He eventually hooked up with *Lois*, the widow of his best friend. When speaking of Lois’s husband, he will talk about his best friend but in the same breath say how “that bastard never treated Lois well a day in his life.” Denny wears canvas slip-ons, smokes generic cigarettes, and is usually a good source of what’s what.

*Jack* is Denny’s neighbor and sworn enemy. We are not sure what started this feud but we quickly learned that there is no love lost between the two. Jack is also retired, annually trains the swan families to eat from his hand, has a mysterious woman who arrives for a week or so mid-summer, and has pretty much greeted us with a friendly “Hi Neighbor!” when we have crossed paths.

*Tina* is a single mother to little *Glorianna*. Tina moved up from Chicago under mysterious circumstances. She introduced herself to us while her dog had the shits all over our yard. Glorianna or "Glory", is her overweight, somewhat obnoxious daughter who, at 7, is home-schooled. When they first arrived, Denny was looking for companionship and had high hopes with Tina…once referring to little Glory as “cute as a button”. This all stopped with the arrival of *Uncle Phil*.

*Uncle Phil* is Tina’s friend/brother/uncle?? We can’t figure it out. Uncle Phil arrives from Chicago every weekend in a blue Lincoln Towncar. He mentioned to H that he works in real estate. He purchased a pontoon boat and Chocolate Lab puppy for Tina and Glory. He also can't swim so he wears a life jacket most of the time when he is outside. The life jacket came in handy when Jack nudged Uncle Phil in his boat and Uncle Phil almost fell in the water. As a result, Uncle Phil hates Jack even tho the nudge was supposed to be a joke amongst neighbors. Since we heard Glory refer to Uncle Phil as “Dad” a couple of years ago, we now also refer to Uncle Phil as Tina’s Bootie Call.

*Richard* lives 3 doors down from us and is the neighborhood drunk. He seems to switch teams as far as alliances as he speaks to both Jack and Denny but not necessarily at the same time. He drives his boat very fast, usually with a beer in hand. Richard attempted friendship with H once by bringing him a tupperware container of rice casserole when I was not up at the cottage with him. H was afraid eating the rice casserole would put him smack in the middle of the Denny/Richard/Jack relationship so he played it safe and brought the tupperware container and rice home to throw it away.

*Bob Yager* lives across from Richard and, according to Denny, is thought by the majority to be “Queer as a three dollar bill”. Bob has a lovely landscaped yard with copious flowers, a bright pontoon boat with colorful flags, and young male visitors nearly every weekend.

By the looks of things on Saturday, the cottage is still standing and the gossip is still being served-up fresh! Denny informed us of his mild stroke while changing the kitchen faucet in November, Jack was feeding some baby swans, Bob Yager had a load of fresh potting soil delivered, Richard was holed up watching NASCAR, and Uncle Phil's Towncar was parked at Tina's. Can't wait for summer!

Friday, March 10, 2006

Precious Minutes


My mother just phoned to let me know that she and Ray have a new cellphone number. Mom has become high-tech enough to use her cell for all of her long distance calling. She noticed she was running out of minutes and was wondering if she was allowed to change calling plans so she got on to her dial-up internet and tried to check it out for herself. In this age of Blackberrys and Bluetooths and Razr’s and wireless internet and laptops, somehow the p’s always seem to put things into perspective.
Some snippits from our conversation…

I finally had to call the customer service number the other day and talked with the nicest girl! They sent us this new phone that we get for FREE! To buy it would cost $79.99!

I called again today after we got the phone to see how to activate it. The girl told me to just turn the phone on and I said, “How??”

…Then the new phone rang and I got all nervous so I asked her, “What is THAT? How do I answer??” I tell you, this girl was so helpful!”

I’m standing right here looking at this new phone! It answers when you open it and hangs right up when you close it…it’s a Noika flip or something!

We even have rollover minutes now! This is so good for your father!

This afternoon your father and I are going to figure out how to get the welcome message the girl sent us…we are just going to take our time and do it right!

The girl told me she needs a new phone, too. I told her she might want to get this one, it is really slick!

Your father has it all set up here…he is even charging the battery!

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Darn barncats...!

So this new woman is boarding at the barn and she is annoying the hell out of me. I know this is very difficult to imagine since I am so rarely bothered by things; however, I am to the point where I am timing my visits so I don’t have to run into her. I am not the only one feeling this way, which I guess is a good thing. It means I am in with the *in* crowd even tho I don’t own a 35K horse! Yea me!

Anyway, *Lisa* is one of those people who tries extremely hard and with all her might to keep up with the Jones’s. (Me, I simply tap my heels three times and hope to hell I can pay the mortgage AND still lease my horse.) Now mind you, the *Jones’s* where I ride are more like *Rockefellers* so it is no easy task to keep up with any of them. Except for me…the AntiRockefeller.

On Saturday I was particularly irritable. I had gone to the doctor for a bruise I had on my leg. I thought it might be from riding but I was not sure. The doctor’s “OH MY GOSH!” kind of scared me and, unfortunately, she asked that I take a few days off from riding because it looked as if I had some soft tissue damage that was having a hard time healing, etc. etc. So, I was kind of bummed out and thinking my Olympic riding career was on the fritz. I went to the barn to brush the muck off my little guy and just have some quiet time when I encountered *Lisa*. After some idle chatter, Lisa mentioned to me how she isn’t planning to move her tack box to the barn just yet…this as she eyed my Rubbermaid storage bin with the “You’re ugly and that’s too bad” sticker on the lid.
I wonder if she thinks my tack box a/k/a Rubbermaid storage bin has cooties that will make her tack box look cheap? She also proceeded to inform me how she purchased her new horse from Washington State from a breeder. Ya whateveah. As if the horse is worth more because it is from another state? By this time, I was trying to ease myself away from her before my self esteem took a complete tumble into the familiar depths of non-horseownership. That, and I can tend to get a tad bitchy when pushed to my limits. This is when she dropped a zinger and said how unfortunate it is that I have to ride a horse that has “lameness issues”.

Lameness issues? I don’t think so.

Oh yes, his hips are way off and he tends to favor one side.

Yeah, well, he’s mine and he’s a peach and I am lucky to have him right now. It sure beats getting too far into debt buying something I can’t afford much less ride.


Meow.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Hindsight really IS 20:20!

I went to the eye doctor the other day which is not exactly a spalike winter-blah boost but I needed new contact lenses. My order from 1800 Contacts was held up until I could get an optomolic blessing from my doctor. I have gone to the same eye doctor, bar the couple of years I lived in Boston, since 4th grade. Is that not scary? As I sat in the examining room I tried to remember the various styles of glasses I have worn. Let's just say it was not a pretty time-travel journey. My first pair of specs, at the start of 5th grade, had red plastic frames with a slight swirly-shape to the sides. Oh, so pretty! I remember my friend Ellen had a similar pair in light purple but her mom splurged and let her get a heart embellishment on the bottom of the left lens. I hated her.

Being from a family of 5 kids, 3 who wore glasses, I had to wear the red plastics until I *was allowed* to get contact lenses in 8th grade. An excellent choice for both fashion AND durability, that first pair of glasses took me thru several jr. high volleyball and basketball seasons. The fact that I was no athlete subjected them to a number of bumps and elbows… A teammate even sat on them in the locker room once and they bent right back to perfect shape. My mother finally thought I was responsible enough to *care for the costly contact lenses* once I was nearly a teenager. She just never heard about the mascara wand I accidentally jammed into my eye the first week I wore them. The *coal black* waterproof Maybelline made a permanent mark on the right contact that stayed there right thru high school and college. (This was before disposable contacts for you youngsters out there!) My eye doctor finally asked me when I was planning to replace it and I had to lie and say I just kept forgetting to tell my mom.


Just after college, H & I were married and living in Boston and I suddenly became intrigued with the whole serious I’m-an-academic look. Heaven knows, I wasn’t very serious or academic in college so it was about time I got smart. I decided to chuck the contacts and don some large, round wire style frames. As one coworker told me, “They make you look very wise”. I was thrilled. Convinced that I was fooling the world into viewing me as one of those women often seen in Glamour Magazine…who are supposed to be working in an office but they have that “I’m Looking for Mr. Goodbar” sultry smile,…
I stuck with that theme for a few years. I was working in Banking, wearing spectator pumps and suits, and, like the Glamour lady, was working my way up to that glass ceiling! That phase of eyewear, along with my banking career, ended with a pair of thick black frames that made me look as if I had some serious issues to discuss.

H waded patiently thru those years and I think was secretly relieved when I announced a few years ago that I had once again found some new frames. The *new frames*, I later realized; put me right on the cutting edge of fashion. I shattered that studius look with a grayish greenish frame with imbedded sparkles in the sides. Yes, just follow me girls…I had Bling before it was all the rage.

Now in my 40’s and no longer feeling the need to look intelligent, I am back to contacts with the bling frames thrown in now and then. I figure this will keep me going until I find the perfect glasses-chain to wear around my neck…