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Month: November 2007

Randomness…but random about me as I let my freak flag fly!

Randomness…but random about me as I let my freak flag fly!

I was double-tagged for a Meme. Granted it was because of NaBloMoFo (which I failed). Nevertheless, I am going to answer this one because:
(a) It IS all about me!
(b) It might give you some insight in to my particular crazy.
(c) Whenever I get a chance to let my freak flag fly—I take it!

Thanks to Daisy at Compost Happens and the Chronicler at Coopers Chronicles for thinking of me and not coming after me with pitchforks and blazing torches for taking so long to get to this.

So apparently they want to know 7 random or weird things about me. (Do you read my blog? Isn’t that what every entry accomplishes here?)

Ready? (I’ll ease you into this.)

1) I cannot stand to have unpolished toe nails. In fact, any woman with toe nails that do not have polish on them pretty much creeps me out. I don’t know why, but ….just put some polish on them. And yes, this does include in the Winter when no one even sees my toes. Trust me when I say they are definitely polished.

2) When I was growing up I used to throw gargantuan temper tantrums and lock myself in my room in tears on many occasions because of the whole adoption issue. Oh, I wasn’t adopted. My brother and sister were. Which made me the one who was different. Therefore, the one they were “stuck with” and not “chosen.” I am probably one of the few kids around who slammed her door screaming, “You don’t love me! Why didn’t you adopt me?!”

3) When I am driving across state lines, I have to pick up my feet as I cross the state line. You know when they have those little signs on the side of the road that say “Now entering ____?” Yep. I have to pick up my feet just before I get to it and not put them down until I pass that point. And, yes, this does include the times when I am the one driving. Many fights have broken out because I was asleep as a passenger and no one woke me up to tell me it was “State Line Time.” (For the record, I have actually passed this on to more than one of my friends who are now as obsessive about it as I am.)

4) I have a super power. Yes, I do. No, I cannot fly, read minds, bend steel or go invisible. However, I have a sense of smell that would put a blood hound to shame. I can walk into a room that seems okay to everyone else and immediately tell you if there is something not right. I have managed to stop at least one electrical fire that no one else knew was about to happen because I smelled the wires over heating. (Makes it hell for me at a seafood restaurant with SO MANY smells.) My hidden identity is Super Olfactory Girl.

5) I cannot stand the book Love You Forever. It does not make me cry. It does not make me sentimental. It kind of makes me worry a bit about stalking. I have 6 copies because of baby showers and the sentimental attachment people have to this book.

6) I have to sleep with a blanket. Always. It can be hotter than, well Texas in August, but I have to have a blanket. I don’t have to be completely covered up, but at least part of me does. Oh, and since we are on freak sleep issues, I cannot sleep if my hands are exposed. They are either under my pillow, under my head, under a blanket. Doesn’t matter. They are just not out in the open all bare and vulnerable. That is creepy.

7) I am terrified of sock monkeys. They really (really, really) freak me out. I am pretty sure I can trace this back to my brother tormenting me at night by hiding one in different places every night to scare me, but nevertheless, here I am at 38 and I am still freaked out by them. If you ever thought of giving me one…don’t. If you ever do, I will burn it. Burn that evil right out of it.

There you have it. My freak flag flying high. Did I scare ya? Now, I want to tag people, but I know that not everyone likes to do meme’s. Soooo, will YOU do this one for me and leave a comment that you did it? I want to get to know my readers better and see how free they are to fly their freak flags.

If you do decide (and you will) to do this, here is the low-down.

1- Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.

2- Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.

3- Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.

4- Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.



They (the all knowing ‘they’) say that women use about eleventy-hundred more words a day than men do. (Give or take a few.) This just proves it.

I am pretty sure this video depicts my husband. No, it does not look at all like him. Sound like him? Abso-freakin-lutely. In fact, now that I think about it, I am pretty sure he has pulled this one on me before. Are you with me, ladies?

Morning prayers and worship at the holy house of Starbucks

Morning prayers and worship at the holy house of Starbucks

My day usually starts like most people. I beat the alarm clock until it stops telling me to get up. I stumble out of bed and blindly find my way to my coffee pot. I wait with eyes half open (a full roll of paper towels makes a great pillow, by the way) and then try so hard to be a functioning adult. But really, that starts about 2 cups into the coffee. Who are these perfect coiffed and made-up women who drop kids off at school at 7:00am with a smile on their face? See? Stepford because, honey, that is not right. And if you happen to have a conversation with me in the morning, it goes about like this one:


(We were talking about other people’s lack of planning becoming our emergencies and how we end up holding the bag.)

Her: That’s why I make the big buck I suppose.

Me: I made a big buck once. I spent it on a big coffee. It was awesome. Now I make chump change and spend it on….well, coffee. So, either way…woohooo. [wink]

Her: Coffee rules either way!

Me: Let us take a moment to appreciate the glorious beauty that is coffee in all of its holiness.

Her: /angels sing/ /bows to the altar of half and half/

Me: Let us pray: Our java who art in Starbucks, hallowed be thy name. Thy caffeine come, thy work be done at home and in the office. Give us this day our daily caffeine. Forgive us our late nights as we forgive those who kept us up late. Lead us not into half caff and deliver us from caffeine free. For thine is the java, the jolt and the caffeine rush forever. Amen.

Her: Alleluia. Alleluia. Alleluia, Alleluia. Al-leeeeee-luuuuuuuu-ia.

Her: Did I ever tell you I discovered a hidden Starbucks just yards from my office? Yep, pretty much just around the corner, never knew it was there.

Me:They hid a Starbucks from you? Sounds like you need to demand free coffee from them!

Her: It was a sight to behold when I figured it out.

Me: I would have wept. Openly.

Her:  I weep openly every time I had over my debit card.

Me: Tis true. Outrageous prices. (Yet, I still go!) Oh and this seasonal type coffee? What is up with that. SO wrong! My Dulce de Leche Latte being seasonal? SO not right. In fact…very wrong! Wrong. Bad wrong.

Her: Indeed, but, I’ll have you know I haven’t touched a pumpkin spice latte all season. I’ve never had a Dulce de Leche, but, I hear that some stores can make some of the seasonal stuff all year long, you just have to ask. PSL not one of them, requires a special mix. I admit to being the nerd who reads this:

Me: Nerd? No way! I am all over that one! I ask at every single Starbucks I go to–and that is many and all over Texas–if they can make me my Dulce de Leche. I even ask them to fake it for me. They never do. I mean, come on! How hard is it to fake it? Give me a break.

Me: It was their most popular coffee ever and they decide to go seasonal? Totally wrong and very wrong and just wrong.

Her: Totally harshed your mellow, did it?

Me: Totally. I tried other ones, but none can satisfy me like my Dulce did.

Me: Seriously, there are very few people I could have this conversation with who would not run screaming. This– THIS is one of the reasons I love you, man!

Her: What? This isn’t normal? Oh, my. I have some ‘splainin to do to some other people, then.

Me: Normal is merely a setting on the dryer.


And this is what you get if you catch me before 9:00am. Coffee talk. Coffee obsession. Coffee prayers and worship. But really, I do know how to talk about other things.

Who wants to IM about chocolate?

Remember me? I do. Finally.

Remember me? I do. Finally.

Looks like I blew NaBloPoMo.  Bummer.  NaNoWriMo–still on track.

The alien in my belly (the one I refer to as Annie) is doing just fine and is under control.  God bless pharmaceutical America.

I am currently at my sister’s house with 2 of my 3 kids but minus a husband, child and dog.  I never want to leave the  haven that is here.  Somehow, I find myself here.  Well, at least I find myself in a calmer place.  A place where I do not worry about the things that have me worked up when I am at home.  I am working on finding my real me at my own home.  I know it takes time.  I will do it.  I have a game plan.  Always have a game plan.  Or at least know how to fake one.

Big and good things are going on with my career, but things I have to keep under wraps for now.  Things that I have been wanting for a long time.

In the last week or two I have made big decisions about work, life and what can bring me to a place of peace. I have begun to see friends and loved ones as they are and not always how I want (or need) them to be.  I am learning to love the people in my life for who and what they are with no strings or expectations attached.  They are who they are no matter how much things change.  It makes a difference.  At least to me and to my peace of mind.  And I am learning to let go of the people in my life who need to be let go of.  It is freeing and feels good to not chase after the relationships that are not right for me.  It never works.  I am okay with that.  Or at least learning how to be.

The holidays?  They are hard.  I am not so much liking them this year.  A lot of tears.  A lot of anger.  I can work through them with friends and family.  And a lot of writing. Writing that has eluded me for so long I thought it abandoned me.  Some day–  soon I hope– I can share all of it with you.  For now,  I am thankful to be writing.

I am learning to be me.  On my terms.   In my way.  The very best I can.

Seriously? Stop.

Seriously? Stop.

Dear Stomach,

Disregard any kindness in my previous letter.  I hate you.  I would claw you out with my own fingernails if I didn’t think you were already trying to do the same thing from the inside.

In pain and fatigue,

~Writhing girl



Dear Stomach,

Thank you.

Lovingly from the barfroom bathroom floor,