What Color Is The Sky In Your World?

My favorite 'E' thing is my friend DARE! And she can be the 'E' thing because I said so and sometimes, that sky is whatever color I make it. Because *I* rule my world, not you! You're not the boss of me! So there!

Daaaaare sent me the single most amazing care package in the world (which? the shipping? It may have cut drastically into her kids college funds because OH. MY. GOD. $40.00!!!!!), which I received yesterday; the very bleak and cold Monday that it was. She totally made my day and set off a string of very unlikely positives that I am entirely convinced wouldn't have happened, otherwise. Things like my regular old ATM (which is now a 45 minute drive away)being temporarily out of service which led me to a banking facility much closer to where I live now and saving me a helluva drive (since our bank is in J-Ville and there were very few shared ATM's to accept deposits, hence the long-assed drive and countless frustration of having to deal with traffic), which put me next to a store where I found the coolest accessories for my office, which I never would have happened across otherwise. See? The coolest! She is like, totally magic. Just don't piss her off or she will unleash her mad Ninja skillz on you and you. will. pay. Don't say I didn't warn you.

She also just recently got a major role in the Vagina Monologues so if you go visit her at her blog she will talk to you about the Big 'O'. What more can you ask for?

So Dare-ee-oh, cheers to you my friend! I pink puffy heart you!

As an aside, you can click the picture and it'll take you to my Flickr page where you can read the details of what was in it. But just let me say this...Tim Hortons coffee. On what has proved to be one of the coldest mornings in Florida for a year. She planned it. I'm tellin ya...Ninja skills.

D-Day

What? Did you think I had already given up, only three letters in? I couldn't very well post on Friday or over the weekend and give anyone the impression that they could expect updates around here with any regularity, could I? I thought not. You understand then? Good. I'm glad we had this little chat. On with it you say? Oh. Okay already, gawd! You don't have to be all bitchy about it..geez!

Today is 'D' day, as referenced in the title. How is that for originality?! I lay in bed last night thinking of what to tell you about today, if you can believe that. How sad is it that I lay in bed thinking about what to blog?! Kind of makes you wonder about the lack of content (read: ME) when you suddenly realize that I actually put thought into this, doesn't it?? Scary.

ANYWAYS...D-Day. Excuse the tangent, once again I am easily distracted by the shiny. Oooh look, a pretty butterfly...

*ahem*

I could tell you about my love for my dog, Divot, who is a 'D' on both accounts, since he is an amazing little creature who brings much joy to my world and is a definite member of the family and totally my baby. Or I could keep it generic and tell you that I choose my DELL as my 'D' item, because without it there would BE no blog or gaming or BIFFS or Internet anything. Or I could have said my favorite 'D" was the Dominican Republic, where my little sister MOLLY (read: lucky bitch) and her husband Shig (read: best Christmas present giver in the world) are going for vacation in a few days. But those seemed kind of like the easy way out when what my real favorite 'D' thing is:

My Dad.

I am 38. (gasp). Good God it is almost painful to say it, but I did. I am 38 years old and honestly, I am still admittedly a Daddy's girl. Even when he drives me friggin crazy (which he does, a truly astounding feat from 3000 miles away, God love him and his overprotective/overbearing self.) If I am ever feeling uncertain(read:immigration) or in peril(read:9/11), I still hold in the back of my mind my last option: Call Dad to come get me. It has always been the ace up my sleeve. It has always been my biggest comfort, knowing that I had it if I needed it. Silly? You might think so, but it is what it is. I had the kind of parents who always told me that if I needed an out, I had one. Just make the call. I never did, but you never know. I will, if I ever need to and there is huge comfort in that. For me. Not so much for them, I'm sure. Here they thought they were done and are sighing and rolling their eyes, thinking 'Dear Lord give me strength'. But anyways, this isn't 'P' day, for parents, its about my Dad. So back off Mom, and wait for M, alright?

Back to My Dad..

The guy who didn't have it all as a kid. Hell, he didn't even have it anywhere close to easy, growing up, but you wont hear him complain. You wont hear him tell the details of what had him join the Navy at an extremely young age as a means of getting out of the house he grew up in, he just doesn't do it. I've asked him, plenty of times, and on the rare occasion he shares but it isn't something he likes to speak of. He doesn't dwell on it. It doesn't control his world. I believe it has shaped him, but it hasn't defined him. It made him strive to do more. To do more and to be more. More of a parent, more of a spouse. More upstanding and moral and a better person, overall. It made him who he is today and as painful as I am certain it was to be where he was as a little boy, it helped make him a truly great man. And I am thankful for it. Because it allowed me and my brother and sisters to grow up in a house where there was no question.

No question of who loved us--We were told each and every single day that we were loved, by both my Mom and Dad.

No question of where our next meal would come from or where we would live--We had the good fortune of living in the same town, on the same street, from as far back as I can recall until when the last of us four kids moved out. (Granted, the minute we did, Mom and Dad sold the house for something smaller in hopes of seeing (read: supporting) the last of us and the many vagrant friends we brought home over the years. It didn't work. just sayin...).

No question about right or wrong--We knew, without a doubt, the difference between the two because he didn't just dictate it, he led by example and lives it.

No question about what is truly important in life--That a man's riches really do not mean a thing when it comes down to it, but that being honorable, upstanding, honest and of good character are far more important than how much money a man might have in his pockets.

I could go on indefinitely about the value of the lessons my Dad taught me in life. I really could, but this is already registering waaaaay too heavy on the Cheeseometer and I just cant do it. Suffice it to say that my Dad is one of the people nearest and dearest to me and I adore him. I think the world of him and he is definitely my hero.

He also is the funnest dude I know to sit down and partake in a couple of glasses of wine with (much to the chagrin of my mother since she has to deal with his headachey self the next day).

And? Check this out:



Not only is he handsome as hell, but he golfs! Hellooo...common interest! Can you guess what our favorite thing to do when he is around is? Exactly!

So, there ya have it. The D, it is DONE.

Brought to you by the letter 'C'

How is it that in the blink of an eye, what was once this:



Turns into this:



And then suddenly into this, before you know what happened?



Unbelievable. Call me maudlin today or something, but hold your babies close. It doesn't last anywhere near long enough. Mine towers over me now and suddenly his voice deepens.

Wish me luck as I venture into the land known as adolescence. I hope he is easier on me than I was on my parents, although I am readying myself for payback. I'm told (by those very same parents) that it is a bitch. And that I really do have it coming. Which I cant even dispute.

And on that note, today's letter is 'C' and already I am questioning my sanity in this whole 26 days of gratitude thing. Three whole days into it. I sort of want to gnash my teeth at having to be all grateful for things publicly and trying to do so without sounding like a friggin hallmark moment. Which for me? Just arent happening. It is making my scalp itch.

*grumble*

*newsflash*

The conversation I just had with the prodigy less than one minute ago started like this:

"Mom, I just puked on my bedroom floor."

*/newsflash*

I've changed my mind. Grow up FAST. Like, now. Hurry! What are you waiting for? I'm timing you. Well?! HURRY!

Suddenly, the 'C' thing I am thankful for?

Cleansers.

I think it best that I leave that whole piss-off segment of today alone (because it would involve chunks), mmkay? Mmkay.

BuBuBu-Bee

Because I promised, today's gratitude is brought to you by the letter B. And the number 2. Since this is some kind of record lately, my posting two days in a row. Yeah, yeah, I know. Bite me. At any rate...

*drumroll*

BABIES

I HEART babies. ALL babies. Cute ones, ugly ones, short ones, fat ones, nappy ones. There is little in life than is cuter than a baby. Baby ANYTHING, be it human, canine or amphibian. Okay, well maybe not spiders. Even baby spiders are bad. But other than that? Babies are good.

The B I like least?

The fact that my only BABY is growing up so fast. I wish I could freeze time and just keep him like this for a while. He is changing so rapidly and becoming this man. All things good and bad about being a man. Like the appetite. And the size. And the attitude. And the stinky man farts.

Okay, so maybe that last bit was too much info. Cope.

Also, I'm digging the letter B today for the word brown. Which is the color I am currently dying my hair. Goodbye for now, redhead. Welcome to the world of brunette. I'll post pictures later, barring any unforeseen disasters, of course.

I do have to say though, that anywhere that sells hair dye should refuse to sell it to people with really long hair on principle alone. It is a COMPLETE pain in the ass to self dye hair when it gets to a certain length. Too bad I am too much of a cheapskate to pay someone upwards of $175.00 to do it for me.

My bad.

Blah Blah Blah Gratitude Cakes And All that...

The start of the A-Z thingamajiggy brings you my sincere appreciation for....

*drum roll*

ACETAMINOPHEN!

Oh, lovely little white tablet with the astounding ability to rid my life of those garden variety aches and pains that often plague me. What would I do without you? Where would I be without your 1500mg (blatant over usage, indeed. Cant have too much of a good thing, dontcha know) of blissful pain relief? I can totally overlook the fact that you were once used as a vehicle to transport that meanie, cyanide, in order to kill those poor unsuspecting folks. It was just that one run of bad times and the rest have been golden years, for you. Your chalky, bitter, little powdery pills that I have difficulty swallowing prevent me from having to languish on the sofa while I await the pain and suffering to alleviate. How do I appreciate thee? Let me count the ways. You are the first thing I turn to along with a huge glass of water when I am punished for imbibing in too much wine.

Acetaminophen, I LOVE YOU!

(Did you really expect anything else? Angels? Apples? Afros? Abalones? Appalachians? I mean come on...whose blog is this again? yeah, that's what I thought you'd say)

My A-1 piss off?

ASSHOLES

Enough said.

p.s. That whole 105 things for 105 posts? 105 things=commitment. Me+commitment= Not so much. Don't wait around too long for it.

Tell me why I dont like Mondays...

My friend H had a suggestion for bloggage, 26 things from A-Z to be thankful for. Sounds like a plan. Too keep it from becoming too saccharine I believe I will compound that theme with 26 things from A-Z that piss me off. Watch for that then, yes?

Also, this is post number 104 on this blog. My friend Dare just posted her list of 100 things as it was her 100th post. Shall I bore you to tears and make you grind through 105 nonsensical factoids about me for my 105th? (Not to imply that Dare is boring and that her 100 things were nonsensical but frankly...heh. I jest, Dare, really.)

I am weary today. Woe is me. This life of Mondays on the golf course..in Florida...it is too much to bear. *swoon*

Yeah right! My life kicks some serious ass. Even if I am the last in line for the shower when there is company about. In. my. own. damn. house.

Friggin company! They are like fish. After three days, they start to stink.

We went for a bite to eat after we finished our round of golf (the round in which I could not break 100) and The Hubs decided to have a jerk chicken sandwich. So, whilst waiting for his food he turns to me and states: "They should call it the bitch chicken sandwich. Then you could order it too."

If you happen to see his face on the back of a milk carton, trust that his demise was painful. ;)

Random Friday Musings and Five Things About Me.

My 'hold music' on my cellphone is Shakira's Hips don't lie. I leave it with that one solely because I love how much it annoys Molly, my little sister. She constantly reminds me that I am not 17 years old, nor am I a thirteen year old boy and that my use of the word Dude is entirely unacceptable. To Molly , I say: Duuuude! You know you love me. To my hips, I say: Duuuude! You bitches have been lying to me pretty much since I WAS that seventeen year old she refers to. You had better shape up, got it?

--

1.) I have an irrational fear of being crushed to death by an overpass. When coming to a stoplight beneath one, my pulse quickens and I get slightly panicky. I try and make sure that I am between those looming steel girders in the event that it might fall (duh--so I can use my mad ninja skills, undo seat belts (am law abiding ninja) of all vehicle occupants and make them lie flat across the seats so that when the overpass comes crashing down around us we can just lie in wait for the rescue personnel...that's why, of course!). I have also been known to rush through a yellow light to avoid having to stop under one.

--

We currently have house guests, which is pretty much a regular January occurrence at the Casa G. Something about snowbirds and Canadian winters or some such. While the visit is going swimmingly, this is my first encounter with someone who is extremely OCD and all I have to say about that is, DAAAAAMN! I cant imagine that being my life and I am thankful it is not. But having said that? The Casa G is beyond clean and there is not a stitch of laundry to be found. The person visiting who has it? Beyond sweet and we are all growing very fond of her, which is good, as it appears she is a keeper.

--

2.) I was once hit by a truck. The truck was travelling at a speed of 45mph upon impact. I was thrown over 100ft and landed on my coconut. And you wondered why... Meh. For more back story on that, tune in later. It'll become fodder for some day when there is nothing. to. say.

--

Do you people watch The Office yet? I TOLD you to, some time ago. If not? You are seriously missing out, because it is the absolute best show that is on the box. Start watching, immediately. Got it?

--

3.) I am afraid of clowns, the dark and holes. As in the holes in sponges or anything remotely resembling such holes. Anything bugs might crawl out of. *shudder*. I also cannot stand the feel of cardboard, it makes my teeth hurt to touch it. Gah.

--

The Weekend plan is Universal Studios and golfing, with the house guests. Perhaps a trip to Daytona Beach, weather permitting.

--

4.) The older I get, the less I like people. I used to be unable to sit still, for fear I might miss out on something, when I was younger. Now I find that people just complicate things, for me. I find solace in silence and pretty much like to be left alone. I believe that some of the people in my life mistake this for depression and fear that I am lonely. I consider it growing up and becoming comfortable with who I am. If I end up owning thirty cats though? Strike up the intervention music and get me the hell out, will you?

--

I am not a big fan of ice cream. It makes me cough. The Hubs would tell you that everything makes me cough. He would be right. One more reason it is a good thing I quit smoking.

--

5.) I am a HUGE fan of all things Dr. Seuss. The area known as Seuss Landing at Universal Studios is my happy place. It reminds me of everything that is right about childhood and smells like candy. What more could one ask for?

--

I appreciate you guys stopping by, even when I am not posting very regularly. Those of you that know me are the people I choose to have in my life, not the ones that I cant handle and find complicated and annoying. Just don't plan an unscheduled drop-in and we will be fine, mmkay?

Mmkay.

--

That hottie, Chris Botti

Wow, I am really on a roll with this whole blogging thing this start of 2007. Astounding! Equally astounding? The flame war that has taken place here in this little known space of mine. Craziness, I tell you; crazy!

Anywho..onward and upward!

This Friday just past, The Leester and I went to see a concert, which was really a great time. I must be getting old or something because gone are the days of KISS concerts (duh, like I didn't just age myself right there...hello!) and welcome are the evenings of jazz musicians. Ninety percent of people I told didn't have a CLUE who Christ Botti is, so for those people, I give you this. Go have a look-see for yourself. He is really awesome.



Granted, it doesn't hurt that here he is performing with the likes of the mighty STING. Or that his first professional gig was a trumpet solo for the great Frank Sinatra. Or that his band was freakin phenominal. AMAZING. Especially the guitarist, Mark Whitfield (Whom I may have fallen slightly in love with, during his performance. The Hubs doesnt mind though. When I told him I would be leaving him for Mark Whitfield, he simply wished me luck with that. Isn't he kind and giving? *swoon*). And a BADASS Billy Kilson on drums. BAD. ASS.

I told The Leester that I would like to make 2007 the year of attending live musical performances.

So...consider that your musical edumacation for the day, yes?

Drawing Blanks...

You know, this is my third attempt at a blog post that will be worth reading in 2007 and I am drawing a complete blank. I just don't have anything at all to say. (Me..the loud-mouth of the century. I know, its weird, isn't it?)

I'm not sure why, but just staring at this screen is enough to make me want to gnash my teeth, throw my hands up and stomp off. Perhaps it is residual post-move feelings of being unsettled..who knows. Perhaps it is just not something I have much interest in doing anymore, except that I really do..if I had something to say. Or perhaps it is because my life is fairly mundane and I figure that dragging you all through it with me four times a week has got to bore you guys as much as it sometimes bores me. What do ya say? Do I keep this up? Do I mix up the format somewhat and attempt to write other things as well? Maybe some lame-assed attempts at creative writing so you can point fingers and laugh at my inadequacies? Weekly recipes? Astute observations on things like religion and politics? (If anything is going to make someone gnash their teeth, that pretty much has to be it; right?) My ongoing attempts at getting into better physical condition, a workout journal (or lack thereof) and diet tips? Dirty pictures? (kidding on that one, sorry pervs!)

Man, I totally need to pull myself up by the bootstraps here, because this funk is turning into a veritable mire. One that has taken place as a result of my being offline during the great move of 2006 and getting out of the habit of updating. Bad, bad idea.

Thoughts?

A resolution I can effortlessly keep!

In the year 2007 I resolve to: Procrastinate more. Get your resolution here.

Oldilocks and the Three Bears

Oldilocks. That is The prodigy's nickname for my little old lady friend. It cracks me up completely because it is so cute and not meant to be at all derogatory. Also, it pretty much sums up how she has been handling the move, thus far, still trying to find the 'fits just right'. So, henceforth, the little old lady shall be known to the Blogosphere as Oldilocks. I have put up a couple new pictures over at Flickr, for those interested. You can easily reach them by clicking the picture below or the link in my sidebar.

In the meantime, try not to let this hellcat get you! (explanation given over at flickr.)


Have a great weekend, everyone! See you on Monday, if not before.

Oh wow, an update...of sorts.

How is it that I can be offline for more than two weeks, be in the midst of huge changes for The Family G, set everything and everyone upside down and on it's ear and still have jack shit to write about, you ask?

Because I am just THAT good.

Actually, I am finding myself quite overwhelmed by all of it, but in a good way. This house is beyond big, it is ridiculous, yet there seems to be a plethora of things that have yet to find a proper home and we seem to be struggling for room. There is something seriously wrong with that, if you ask me. Ah well, it'll come. That is what I keep telling myself. My little old lady friend that now lives with us is very confused and off-kilter, and I worry for her well being. I am hoping she will settle in nicely but it is a series of huge changes for her and she is pretty cranky. I can only imagine, though, how she must be feeling with all of this. Her memory is failing her (after a stroke last February, for those who were unaware) and she keeps trying to make everything exactly like she had it in the apartment she moved out of. An impossible feat, truly. I have tried to replicate her bedroom and living room for her and so far I am doing pretty good, I think. I sure hope she will be okay!

The Prodigy and The Hubs are coping with the changes very well and are certainly doing their part. The Hubs has taken it upon himself to entertain her by doing jigsaw puzzles with her, which is a study in the absurd, considering her eyesight is failing and she just sits there staring at the pieces. I tease him, asking if he is attempting to bore her to death. She is happy to have the company though and we have completed one of the LOST puzzles. I too have been bitten by the bug, it is a wild concoction of collage type pictures that hold hidden clues to the TV show, for those interested. It comes jumbled in the box with no picture for reference so it takes effort. It makes it double challenging when every time Little Old lady gets up she drags about 5 pieces onto the floor with the sleeves of her cardigan, which Divot loves to chew!

Divot also LOVES to swim, almost as much as The Prodigy does. Thankfully, he doesn't go in the pool without the boy, but every time the boy jumps in, so does the dog. It totally cracks me up.

On that note, here are some pictures, more to follow of the interior of the house, once I get it in a suitable state to be photographed!





Now that The Prodigy is back in school and the holiday season is past us, expect more frequent posts. I promise.