Tuesday, December 29, 2009

There's a coffee shop in town that displays a new trivia question every day. Answer the question correctly and win yourself a free donut. I cruise through the drive through roughly three times a week and never order anything more than a coffee, yet somehow I end up with a cruller or a black raspberry filled. I've got a head full of trivial information and a belly full of donuts. My big ass brain is conspiring against my big ass ass. Today's question was: "Which western U.S. state was named after a valley in Pennsylvania?". The answer: Wyoming. Who the hell knows this shit? Why do I know this shit?

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Kendall looking rather Parisian and drooly in her new Christmas outfit.

Christmas was fun. Ate so much I had a headache for roughly 36 hours. Miss my family though. I don't know. I just don't know.

What I'm reading: What Angels Fear by C.S. Harris

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Are you cold, sucka?

John sent me this as a text message today. I love his bundled up reflection in the window and the quasi show of concern on Lenny's face.

Honestly, the high today was 25. I chanted swear words any time I had to go out of doors. "christchristchristchristchrist!" all the way across the parking lot at work to my car. "shitshitshitshitshit!" from my car to the electric doors of TJMaxx. I've been studying mantras lately, but I don't think this is what Krishna had in mind.

What I'm reading: "The Apprentice" by Tess Gerritsen. Mailed out Christmas cards today and am participating in the Secret Santa at work. Can't nobody out festive me.

Monday, December 14, 2009

You ever notice how some people are just so damn vain and vague? What do they do with themselves all day? My patience is at an all time low. I swear to God I'm always about three seconds away from saying something I'll either deeply regret or will vehemently deny in a court of law. And I know that this is no one's problem but my own. I'm just trying to lay low and at the same time not chew my own tongue off. I might need it later for singing Christmas carols to John and the cats.

My Favorite Holiday Movies:

Little Women, Elf, It's a Wonderful Life, Kenny and Dolly's A Christmas to Remember, Meet Me in St. Louis, Love Actually, A Christmas Story, The Night They Saved Christmas, Home Alone 1 and 2, The Homecoming: Walton's Christmas.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

A year ago today I was recuperating from bunion surgery and probably wearing the exact same clothes I'm wearing right now. Tuesday I went to see foot doctor #2 because I'm nervous about seeing foot doctor #1 since my foot still hurts like a bastard. Sometimes it hurts even worse than a bastard. It's been nearly two years and this foot of mine has fluctuated between constant and semi-constant pain the entire time. It's sickening and nauseating and makes me pissy and bitchy and useless. So, back to FD#2. He said the only thing I can do is have another surgery, which is pretty much what I expected him to say. So now I'm going back to FD#1 and see what he says. Here's the deal though. I can't afford no stinkin' surgery. Short-term disability is for punk-ass bitches who don't like to eat or shower in doors. Cause let me tell you, 60% of my income will buy me a cup of coffee and pay maybe two of my 900 bills. So that's that. Something for me to mull over.

John and I ate Mexican for supper and I drank a three dollar Margarita and bought a new broom at WalMart because John used our old broom to sweep snow off the porch and the cars. Mmm-hmm. Snow. And ice. Tis the season of purple fingertips and wearing a ski hat to bed. The cats have fattened up significantly for the winter. Their bellies are all hard and they feel like grub worms when I pick them up. John's taken to calling Ernie "Fluffernutless".

My plans for the weekend involve de-icing the freezer and trying to talk John into going to either the Wadsworth or the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. I crave museums. I love them so much I could spit.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

I've started this damn blog entry about twenty-teen times and I'm just not feeling it so I guess I'm gonna have to stick to short to the point sentences. It snowed a couple of inches. It's cold. I haven't brushed my teeth today. I haven't left the house/yard since 5:30 Friday evening. I made oatmeal chocolate chip walnut cookie bars yesterday. There's still over half a pan left so I'm not nearly as gluttonous as I feel. I finished reading "Tales Of The City" by Armistead Maupin. I loved it. I want a Christmas tree. We don't have room for a Christmas tree. The cat's would eat and then shit out a Christmas tree. In keeping with that piece of holiday cheer here's my super-duper-ficial materialistic wishlist for Santa or for anyone else who wins the lottery and wants to shut me up:

1) An elliptical or treadclimber machine. Whichever one will allow me to work up the biggest amount of sweat in the least possible amount of time.

2) An Acer netbook with a 250 GB HD, 6 cell battery and 2 GB RAM. I simply will not accept anything less.

2) A Motorola Karma.

3) A brand new right foot in perfect working/walking/running/sitting on my ass condition.

4) Hagrid's hut.

5) A tricked out pimped out SUV of the mafia wife persuasion that runs on air or wind or something eco-friendly.

6) A six pack of white cotton granny panties that don't bunch or sag. That's right. No bunch granny drawers. White ones.

7) A Valium drip.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Me and Kendall. John keeps referring to her as "the kid". It's done with all the love in the world, and out of any one elses mouth it would sound rude and dismissive. Out of John's mouth it sounds really cool and city.

Sage-ness trying to figure me out.

Ernesto La Lovely

Sunday, November 29, 2009

I've decided that rather than look at this whole NaNo affair as a failure on my part, I'm going to look at it as the urging I needed to set me on a new path. I made it to 32,000 words. More words than I've ever written on one subject in my life. And I did all of that in under three weeks. That's not so shabby. My excuses for not striving harder are, essentially, death and family. Last week I flew home for what was supposed to be a pleasant few days with my family and then my high school reunion. While both of these things occurred, I also wound up attending the funeral of one of my classmates who died the Monday before the reunion. She was 34. Her daughter is 6. It's been a most bizarre occurrence on so many levels. Honestly, I wasn't very close to her. We were acquaintances. We attended the same parties in school and her group and my group blended and bled into another. She was a neighbor of one of my sisters for a few years, and my mom worked with her mom... That's what growing up in a small town is all about. But still, her death was a hard blow. A sucker-punch to the face courtesy of reality. One that left me reeling, that's for certain. I began doubting my story. Despising it's dishonesty and lack of integrity. In the past few days most of those feelings, the ones about my story, have subsided. But I'm still shakey and at odds about Jenny's death. Raw and un-nerved for her family and her close friends. Heartbroken for her daughter. Pissed that that goofy, salt of the earth girl has left everyone who loves her way too fucking soon.

As far as NaNo is concerned. I'll be back next year. As for my story. I still plan on plugging away, just not with the same balls-to-the-walls gusto as the previous few weeks.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving! Today I'm thankful for my folks and my family. For my John and my cats. For my relatively decent health and my sense of humor. For my friends both near and far, far away. I'm thankful for the invention of airplanes and ranch dressing and earplugs. I'm thankful for Birkenstocks and 800 thread count cotton sheets and fresh smelling babies and the BBC. I'm thankful that my Daddy says things like: "There was a woman inside that store that looked like a Holstein heifer. I don't know how she found a bra to fit her. I reckon she had to use a bed sheet. She was in there adjusting her boobs, she had one just about flopped out and she was gruntin' and going on and saying, 'Oh, Lord, I guess I need to fix these things.' And I told her, 'Honey, I'd like to help you but I just don't think I'm capable."
A scene from the reunion. I loves me some Sherry and Dusty.

A scene from Thanksgiving. Me and Kendall Ann.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

For anyone out there who may have thought otherwise, let me set you straight: Writing a book is some hard-ass shit. Maybe not so hard if you're a really good writer or if you've got a decent story to tell, but speaking on behalf of us with meager talent and even meagerer stories, I'm sticking with the above proclamation.

Thangs that've happened lately or are about to happen or I wish would happen:

Had to give Ernie a bath the other night at 11:30 because he ran inside all covered with what we thought at the time was blood (cue panic attack) but what turned out to be chokeberry juice. And I do mean covered. From the tips of his ears to the tip of his tail. He looked like he'd been shot. Turns out Ernie likes chasing mice through berry patches but doesn't like to get sprayed with the shower nozzle or dried with a hair dryer.

I'm on vacation all next week. Leaving for Lincoln County Tuesday and won't be back until Sunday. I'd like to give a shout out to my man John, who doesn't bitch all that much when I leave him home with five cats and a cabinet full of easy mac. He just bought a new iphone so he'll be happy and occupied for roughly 5 to 10 business days.

I'm 20,000 words into this soul-sucking NaNo excursion. I'm eating ibuprofen like skittles. Haven't read a book in two weeks and have asked for one of those tiny 10 inch acer computer things for Christmas because I don't know how much longer I can stand sitting in this desk chair without harming someone.

Stuff you should check out if you haven't already: Shit My Dad Says and
My Parents Were Awesome

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Alright, lookit, I'm not even supposed to be on here seeing as how I'm in the middle of a novel writing nightmare, but I was over on the youtube trying to figure out what kind of guitars Doc Watson uses, because one of the primary characters in my book is a big time famous musician, and then I stumbled on this video. It charmed the pants off of me and inspired me in ways I can not even begin to describe. Mostly because I ran out of adjectives about 10,000 words ago.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

I'm a bit giddy as I've just submitted my 1st NaNo effort and I came out at exactly 2,000 words. Turns out I was ready to ramble and my story seems to be taking a different turn than what I had anticipated which is a really really good thing because I was anticipating it taking a turn somewhere near the junction of No-Plot, No-Story-Line and Worthless Piece of Drivel. My story got itself some GPS, yo.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Merry All Hallow's Eve!

Friday, October 30, 2009

Mae-Mae's getting into the Halloween spirit by reading him some Joe Hill. You should too. Joe Hill writes like a demon on fire.

They fit together like puzzle pieces.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

I'm rather unwell. My head is rockin' and my sinus cavities feel like smashed thumbs. I ate a pain pill on an empty stomach earlier and found myself sitting on the bathroom floor in the dark with my shirt in my lap. John pressed cold wash cloths to my face and neck and after a few minutes the horror passed and I was able to make my way back to bed. I've been out of work for two days now with this nonsense. I feel like a hot-shit sandwich.

Earlier I had to "take care" of a tiny half-mangled, but still breathing bird, that Ernie proudly carried out of the woods. I won't give any more details. It was upsetting and I'm afraid if I divulged what I decided had to be done, no one would love me anymore. Because of said deed, I'm now convinced that I'm coming back in my next life as a worm. A big fat delicious and decidedly slow-ass worm.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Our coffee maker finally crapped out on us so we took the bull by the horns and got ourselves a Keurig. We took it out of the box, set it up, purged it a couple of times and then made our first cup. It was like watching a baby take its first steps. That's how excited we were. Standing over the Keurig with our arms wrapped around one another, all grins and beatific smiles. We're happy.

Last night we attended Kendall's christening. Being an ex-Southern Baptist kind of chick, this was my first christening. It was very lovely and very fast and it was performed by Father John who was one of the three (yes, 3!) priests that John and I were seated with at Chris and Shari's wedding reception. Father John was the first priest I'd ever met. He's a schmoozer with a great voice and he tells a really good story. After the christening everyone headed back to the Ternowchek commune, which, by the way, was housing 4 new people. That's 11 total. I'm pretty sure that qualifies them for some sort of tax exemption. We ate and drank and kissed babies and wrangled children and it was raining heavily and nearly 70 degrees. Then we headed back home and watched Paranormal Activity. Scary-ass movie.

Other stuff going on: Reading way too many books at one time. "Pride and Prejudice", "The #1 Ladies Detective Agency", "Defending Angels"... Trying to cram them all in before November 1st when I'll begin NaNoWriMo and won't have time to read.

Am also heading back home in a few weeks to spend some time with Mama and Daddy and also to attend my 15th high school reunion. So for all of those folks out there who keep sending me Facebook messages: Have no fear. Your gathering will have no shortage of snarkily inappropriate/profane comments. Jan will be there.

Monday, October 19, 2009


A few pretty things to look upon.

A couple memorable quotes from the past week:

"Mama! You need to come home right now! Dusty's (the dog) got his head stuck in the Barbie doll van and I can't get it out!"

"Mom, can I borrow those shorts? Okay good, cause I want to wear them to school next week on 'Tacky Day'."

I had so much fun with these two. We talked a lot and ate a lot.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

On his way to pick up coffee for us this morning, John snapped this picture of our pond on his cellphone. It's Autumn here in New England. Later, we took a ride to the orchard and grabbed some Macoun apples and a gallon of fresh cider. How freakin' festive am I?

I cleaned the fridge out and bleached the toilet and sinks and now I need to start packing for my vacation.

Finished reading "Among The Mad". Woof. Now I'm giving Martha Grimes a whirl.

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Completely ridiculous but terribly funny.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Right, so remember when I decided I was gonna run that 10k?

Not a whole lot of running going on over here. Kept with it for like 2 weeks and then my foot finally decided it didn't want anything to do with me or my fancy running ideas and it blowed up like a puffer fish. So I'm nixing the 10k.

Now I've gone and joined this:

I know it's probably just an excuse for me to buy a conversation-starter t-shirt. But at least it won't agitate my swolled up hoof.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

I'm giving ya'll a shout out from what has become a freakin' veritable infirmary for sore kit-tays and middle-aged men with irritable bowels. Then there's me. Bleeding like a stuck pig. Oddly enough, I'm in a pretty okay mood for someone who's been hissed at and had to endure the smells and sounds emanating from a man she frequently sees naked. But like I already said... I'm really in no position to pass judgement.

It turned out to be a beautiful day. Warmer than previous days and thus a nice preparation for my upcoming Savannah trip. Eight more days.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

I'm yapping kinda early this morning cause I've already swilled down coffee and three espresso truffles and we've already taken Ernesto to have him shot full of vaccinations and it's raining like a bastard out and so it's dark and moody and it's just my sort of weather so even though I know I need to go grocery shopping cause all we have to eat in the house is a couple cans of beans and some left over wonton soup I'm really just content to sit here and create little scenarios on polyvore and swill my coffee and eat my truffles.

Song I can't get enough of: "Smokers Outside The Hospital" by the Editors. I threw it up over yonder on the playlist. It's my most recent OCD song. Beats the hell out of "Womanizer" which is the last OCD song I had running through my brain and which caused me to give serious thought to sticking my head in the oven.

Friday, October 2, 2009

I have a bit of a love hate relationship with the apple tree that hangs over our front porch. Sometimes I'm convinced it's out to maim me. I'm frequently poked in the eye by its branches when I'm on my way to the compost heap. And it's drawn blood a time or two if I happen to get too close. Scratching my arms and pulling my hair like some bar-room trollop. Other times I love it because it's so cool and creepy in that cool, creepy apple tree way. All reminiscent of Dorothy and the Scarecrow and the surly apple-chucking apple trees in the Wizard of Oz. The cats love it. They climb and dangle and smack all of the sad little gnarly fallen apples. I don't know... John snapped this shot yesterday. One tiny apple hanging on for dear life.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Needed to feel a bit more festive so I redesigned my layout. This could turn out to be like last time so don't anyone get too used to this look.

What I'm reading: "Among The Mad" by Jacqueline Winspear. Honestly, it's taking me forever cause I'm just not into it. I'm also semi-reading "The #1 Ladies Detective Agency", which is a book I've sort of happily avoided for nearly 10 years but Lynn gave me a copy so I'm feeling obligated. I didn't think I would hate it because I happened to catch part of the movie/tv series the other night and I saw Jill Scott was in it and hey, I like Jill Scott, but guess what? I still don't like it.

Mostly what I've been doing with my time is watching bootleggah downloads of Miss Marple on YouTube and riding the crimson wave of womanhood. I took a stroll down the drive way earlier and though it was pretty and autumnal, I nearly froze my ninnies off. Right this minute, it's 53 degrees.

P.S. That's our Ernesto Pantusso in the header. He's splendid and exquisite and chock full o' pretty. He's also quite handy at ridding the world of small rodents so if any one out there's got themselves a squirrel infestation I could be talked into whoring him out.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Sunday was John's birthday. I won't say how old he is. He wouldn't appreciate it. However, he's 20 years older than me. Sometimes people freak out when they discover this tidbit of info. But really, I never even think about it. John spent the first 30 years of his life effin' it all up. Not small time stuff. BIIIIG time stuff. Somehow it all evens out age wise between us. That, and if you have as much counseling and therapy as John's had, you become really in touch with your softer emotional sides. It makes him easier to be around. Point of all this? Happy Birthday John! You're my lovely, lovin' best friend man!

Awesome things I love about John:

1) Again with the funny. This morning I said: "John, one of the cats left us a squirrel on the step. It's a gift." To which John immediately replied, "What the hell? Your sister gave me a label maker for Christmas one year. I don't need any more gifts."
2) He understands the importance of coffee.
3) He understands the importance of animals.
4) He understands the importance of family.
5) He's hatched from the same pod as my Mama.
6) On Winter mornings, he always goes outside in his pajamas to heat my car for me. And if it's particularly icy/snowy, he offers to drive me to work. Even though I rarely let him. He still offers.
7) He loves me like my daddy loves my mama.

Happy Birthday, John.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Take that all you professional photographers. Nothing beats a cute girl with new side bangs taking a cell phone pic in her tee-niney bathroom.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

I've been spending an inordinate amount of time on Facebook lately. Usually I only drop by if someone sends me a message or a friend request, but the past couple of days I've found myself Facebooking it every couple of hours. I think it's because my 15 year high school reunion is coming up in November and I'm not sure if I'm going so I'm trying to make up for it. It's not like this is the first reunion I'll be missing. I haven't gone to one yet. But this one seems important to me. We've all reached an age where we've truly been bitten by the serpent of life and I think it's made most of us more human and vulnerable. We've lost parents and gained children and married and divorced and moved and moved back home. Been arrested and ordained and gone through rehab and probation and grad school. These are people, some of them anyway, whom I've known literally since birth. People who share memories as sweet and evil and silly as the ones I struggle so hard to give justice to in the re-telling. Folks I haven't thought about in years, but still, folks that understand my roots.

Friday, September 25, 2009

The National Anthem sung by five little girls all under the age of ten.

A friend of mine (Tina) over on the Facebook posted this on her wall and I just had to repost it here. It's crazy good.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I called John at lunch today and he said the trailer was a madhouse. That he thought he'd heard something on the roof and when he opened the door, Ernie ran inside carrying a chipmunk in his mouth. A live chipmunk. Ernie dropped the chipmunk in the middle of the living room floor and John said that's right about the time all hell broke loose. I said, "John, where's the chipmunk now?". And he said, "Oh, it lives behind the treadmill." Not really though. It managed to find it's way back outside with three tail-switching cats in hot pursuit. Used to be I felt sorry for the critters and would try my damnedest to save them, but I've freed one too many of their sorry asses only to watch them scurry straight into the waiting jaws of my boys. It's like they can't help themselves.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

sundrop in a mason jar

I eat oatmeal because I know it's good for me. But really, I'm a grits with butter and salt kinda girl. And if you've got some country ham and red eye gravy I'll be more than happy to take that off your hands as well.

Last night I spent 3.5 hours on the phone with my BFF Sherry. Sherry and I have been BFF's since before Taylor Swift was even born. So Sherry and I have been BFF's FFE. That's "For Fucking Ever" in JanandShnerry lingo. In high school we were connected at the hip. Our names spoken as one. If you wanted one you had to take both. Sherry's beauty and witticisms combined with my sharp tongue and big words, we were foul-mouthed, redneck tyrants. A force to be reckoned with. Crusading for the underdog and feeling sorry for the perfectly coiffed superficial petty girls. Boyfriends? Who needed them. She was in the midst of a tragic, forbidden affair and I was having my first nervous breakdown. In the past few years we've not kept in touch like we once did. But we always pick up where we left off. And I'm blessed to have her. To know that if I need her, she'll drop all of it for me. That no one can love me the way my Shnerry does. Girl, there'll always be a kidney on ice, just for you.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Sometimes I think the reason I don't want children is because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't love them as much as I love my cats and I'd be terrible at hiding it. Or I would love the child more than the cats and how fair is that really? Are these things I should be posting? No? Well it's my blog. Go get your own.

Monday, September 14, 2009

What I'm reading: "Still Waters" by Nigel McCrery. I'm one of those annoying people who romanticize all things stereotypically British. The accent, the villages, the tea and crumpets and scones and Miss Marple and the BBC and sheep and stones and vicars and all that stuff. It's ridiculous, I know. It probably all started when I was 11 and my mama encouraged me to read Jane Eyre and Fanny Hill. I know. Fanny Hill for an 11 year old. At any rate, it was the beginning of an otherwise healthy obsession. Since then I seem to gravitate towards novels and movies set in the United Kingdom. It's calming and comforting for me.

Know what else is calming and comforting, yet exciting? Knowing that my sisterly units and I will be vacating in Savannah in 4 weeks. 4 weeks, honey-bunnies! 4 weeks until cemeteries and soul food and ghostly excursions.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

What I'm reading: "Evans Above" by Rhys Bowen. I can remember years ago, how I used to curl up my nose at the cozy mysteries. Now I just like to disappear inside of them.

It's been a good weekend so far. Much better than the previous week which was fraught with excessive amounts of work and foot pain. I should probably go back to my doctor about the toe seeing as how it's been operated on already and it still aches like a bastard. But I'd really rather it just didn't hurt anymore without me having to actually do anything about it. I'm thinking about getting a peg leg. Maybe a parrot, too.

Like I was saying- this weekend has been nice. Humid but not too warm. Yesterday we visited the family commune. Which is what I'm gonna start calling John's sister's house because there are so many freakin' people over there now and I love everything about it. Plus, they've got a baby.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Ernie's feeling sickly. I went out searching for him last night and found him curled up on the lawn mower seat in the barn. What self respecting cat in the prime of his life sleeps at night? Certainly not our Ernie Pantusso. I brought him in and he ate a little but he was just so lethargic. So this morning John and I forewent our Trader Joes and Whole Foods excursion and took Ernie to the vet instead. We're glad we did. Because our boy has himself a temp. of 105. She sent us home with Amoxil and told us to come back Tuesday if he's not any better. So really it could be anything. My personal and unprofessional opinion is either allergies or a sinus infection as his nose started oozing a little bloody mucus while he was with the vet. Tasty, I know. But this is what I'm dealing with here people. He's sleeping under the bed right now. I know this because I'm in there on my stomach every 15 minutes shining a flashlight into his squinting little eyeballs, making sure he's breathing and not paws up.

In an aside, our vet is a fruitloop. Not certifiable or anything but still... she's a wackadoo. She's terrific with animals. I mean, like freakishly good with animals. But her people skills are unique to say the least. Also, her waiting room is always filled with an awesome array of folks and their familiars. Today we saw a husband and wife who together couldn't have tipped the scales at 225, being dragged by their enormous Rhodesian Ridgeback. There was also a chocolate Lab whose fur looked exactly like a velour blanket and a wonderful older lady who had her very shy cat in a large white box with the lid being held in place by two antique cast irons. She said she uses the box for her 'felt squares'. It even had a post-it note on it that said 'felt squares'. John and I are kicking ourselves for not getting a picture.

Keep Ernie in your thoughts, ya'll.
We have a compost site. We don't actually use it for gardening or anything. We just throw our old food and grass clippings and all that mess out there and then later watch the wild critters prowl around. So obviously it's more for entertainment purposes rather than an ecologically correct sort of thing. Yesterday I cleaned out the refrigerator and then trekked my ass out to the compost with some stinking old bread and beans and celery and I get out there and I'm like, "Wait. Who the hell threw a pumpkin on my compost heap?". Cause I was almost certain that I hadn't. It took me a couple of minutes to realize that there was more than one pumpkin and that that huge plant growing in the middle of the egg shells and rotten lettuce is, you dumb ass (meaning me, of course), a pumpkin plant.

Yes. I'm a master of deduction. At any rate, we're terribly excited about our pumpkin patch.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Ernie Pantusso

Really. He's just so beautiful. And his feet are exquisite. It's like he's Shaun Cassidy and I'm one of my sisters circa 1977.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

It Is What It Is

I'm very good at not talking about what's really going on. In fact, if you ever read any of my older posts you'll see that I mostly expound on frivolous things and the only time I ever come close to laying it all out on the line is when I'm high on Vicodin or rolling with the Xanax. Usually I'd rather talk about something else. Anything else. It doesn't even have to be something happy or positive so long as it's not momentous. John, on the other hand, is a blabber. John will tell anyone and everyone anything. No really. He will. Just ask him he'll be happy to tell you. Now don't get me wrong, I think it's great. In the beginning of our relationship it irritated the piss out of me and was the source of many a tantrum. But I've come to realize that his way is the healthier way. It's cathartic for him. Not so great for the person who has to listen to it, but it makes him feel better. We've also come to the understanding that he's the one who tells my parents everything and with the caveat that they are to ask me no questions. This makes them feel in the loop and releases me from any parental guilt. And what is guilt, people? Why, it's anger in disguise. And that is so not me. I'm more of an "anger standing on a bar stool flashing her tits" kind of gal. I like my anger obvious and unconfused.

So what is this all about? Why the blog-vomit?

This summer some pretty crazy shit's been going down. I've been seeing shadow people and our neighbor hung himself 100 feet from our front door and the weather has got me all discombobulated and now John's at the hospital because his nephew dropped a 365 pound dumbbell on his throat and very nearly died. And the only reason I'm posting any of this is to let everyone know that I just don't want to talk about it.

This stuff is happening, it's going on, but it's not mine and I don't own it and it's not my place. And for me to tell tales, no matter how fact laden my account may be... I'm sorry, it just still feels like gossip. Somehow blurting it all out lessens the severity and the emotional toll it's taken on those who actually live it.

Hey, I'm no martyr. I'm just a chick who knows precisely how shitty sadness and fear feel.

Friday, August 28, 2009

You Is A Lie

At some point in the future I'm pretty certain I'm going to deny I ever posted this... but here goes.

I want to run the Savannah Enmark bridge run. The 10k one. Considering that I haven't run more than a mile all damn summer long and I'm carrying around a whole shit-pot full of excess weight, I'm probably setting myself up for a most unfortunate failure. But I feel like this could be the motivation I need. And if I start "training" (I can't even just type a word like "training", it has to be in quotations or italicized or something) now I should have plenty of time to get myself prepared for a 10k by December 5th. Right? Good Lord, girl. What is you thinking?

Splendid Boy-O

I know I'm not the only person in the world whose emotions and psyche are so driven by the weather. After weeks of 90 degree temps it's finally beginning to feel like fall. And I don't care that it's only August and still technically summer. I. don't. care. I want sweater wearing, apple eating, hayride and Halloween and Sam Adams October Fest drinking times. It's raining now and it's only 66 degrees. I'm so happy I could shit.

What I'm reading now: "Silent on the Moor" by Deanna Raybourne. Third in a historical mystery series. It appeals to my romantic, gothic side.

Generally I'm not one to mythologize politicians. Now I love me some Jimmy Carter. And I think Bill was a buttload of fun while he was in office. But since that asshat John Edwards made me look like a fuckin' fool, I've tried to keep my mouth shut about the whole mess. So I'm just gonna say this: The death of Ted Kennedy has saddened me a great deal. As an American I've come to depend on the Kennedys to be beautiful and shiny and important and philanthropic. Millionaire do-gooders. Which is the only kind of millionaire I'm loathe to hate. But Teddy's gone. The baby brother. And I can't help but feel sorry for myself. For all the folks younger than me that won't grow up knowing the present power of at least one of that glorious trinity.

The History Place

Monday, August 24, 2009

According to this article on Yahoo.
"5. Earlobe crease
Linear wrinkles in one or both lobes may predict future cardiovascular events (heart attack, bypass surgery, or cardiac death). A crease on one lobe raises the risk by 33%; a crease on both lobes increases it by 77%, even after adjusting for other known risk factors. Though experts aren’t exactly sure, they suspect a loss of elastic fibers may cause both the crease and the hardening of arteries."

John thrust his Blackberry into my face and made me read the above passage. All the while moaning, "See! See I told you!".

A few minutes later when I dared to complain about my stomach aching he said, "I don't know why you're bitching. I'm the one walking around with these death sentence earlobes."

Friday, August 21, 2009

When I was 12, there was nothing more important in the world to me than having hair exactly like Sammy Hagar's.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

If you wanna hear a couple of fab covers head on over to Blog Meridian. He's posted Paul Anka doing "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and Dolly doing "Stairway to Heaven". No, really. It works.

Currently, John is sitting in his recliner, shaking his head and muttering, "Fab?".

During my last visit back home, Angie took Wendy and me cruising in her new red convertible. We drove the back roads of Vale and Cat Square and Hog Hill. Not that there are any freeways in these places, mind you. We moo-ed at cows and bah-ed at sheep and marveled over all of the prettily renovated houses and barns and churches. We rode past Union, the elementary school we all attended, which used to be grades first through twelfth and is where my Daddy graduated in 1957. We waved at the nuns at the Maryvale Convent who were out walking their dogs and we agreed that having nuns as neighbors way out in the middle of no where, surrounded by all those Southern Baptists and Methodists, is just about the most kick ass thing ever. We cranked the radio up on the classic rock station and used folks driveways for turning around and one of us said, "We're probably gonna get shot at.". To which Wendy replied, "Who'd wanna shoot at us? Who'd feel threatened by three middle aged chicks riding around in a convertible, listening to 'Incense and Peppermint'?".

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

6 o'clock this morning I woke up with a crier's headache and eyes that were nearly swollen shut. Stumbled down the hall and squinted out the window and there he sat. Pretty as a furry picture. No signs of distress. Purring like a tricked out Chevelle. I snatched him up and kissed all over him and John opened the bedroom door and we both broke into dry sobs because our tear ducts have turned into dust.

John wonders if there's a record for the most number of infarctions within a 36 hour period. Between us we've had at least 11.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Ernie's been missing since last night. We're distraught and beside ourselves with worry. We've knocked on neighbor's doors and checked the pound and even put an ad on Craigslist. We keep telling one another that it's the heat. That he's just laying low somewhere. That he'll be back tonight. But he's never been gone this long before. So for the time being we're keeping Lenny and Mae inside under lock and key. We're very quiet and very sad. Praying for the best... anticipating the worst.

Sunday, August 16, 2009


She's really quite special. I don't know how Chris and Shari did it, but they've managed to pull off the exact right thing at the exact right time.

I handed her off to John and everyone swarmed in with cameras. It was like he was Angelina walking through the airport.
As of late I've not felt a whole lot like blogging. All day at work I think of funny or interesting things to throw out, but the urge disappears once my ass crosses the trailer threshold. I've also been cutting back on the computer time and spending more time actually talking to John. Turns out we actually have a couple of things in common and find one another mildly interesting. Who knew?

A few pics from my recent visit back home:

Friday, August 14, 2009

Welcome to the World, Kendall!

The latest addition to our clan. I'm going to sniff her and snoodle her and hope she keeps the crying to a minimum.

Just look at those two, will ya? How can she not grow up to be a flippin' super model?

Bunny feet!

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

the younguns

Pretty younguns who forced me to play laser tag and eat milkshakes and pizza. I loves them kids but it'll take me 2 weeks to recover.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Headed back to Lincoln County tomorrow for another vacation. There seems to be some debate as to who will pick me up. Angie called to offer to swing by the airport on her way to Mama and Daddy's since she'll be driving through Charlotte at that time. She told me it was up to me. Let's see... my sister picking me up in her new snazzy red convertible or my parents picking me up in their 10 year old Accord. Hmmm...

John will be living the bachelor life while I'm away. That means All Baseball, All The Time. There will be large sweaty men in my living room, sitting on my furniture, swearing and farting. It makes me queasy just picturing it.

I did really well with the not snacking this weekend. Ate lots of veggies and very little fat. Took John out for Mexican this evening. Ate a shrimp chimichanga. It was un-freaking-believably good and I don't regret it for a second. Came home and worked out for 50 minutes so somehow it's all gotta even out.

Things I loved about today:

1- Eating a shrimp chimichanga
2- Getting the following text message from my sister Wendy:
"I am holding the new Pat Conroy as I text you."
To which I responded:
"You bitch!"

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Four Letter Word Starts With S

Just realized that it's Sunday and there's no Miss Marple tonight. How depressing. I even had John watching it over the top of his Blackberry. What ever shall we do?

So I've made the plunge and have decided to lose weight. This is prompted by my general all around feeling of shite. I know I've made this pledge to myself before and that I promised I wouldn't flood my blog with "o, woe is me and my fat ass" trite, but I've changed my mind. Been reading other folk's blogs and have been inspired and motivated. Really, my first step is cutting out the extra non-meal shit. I'm thinking the title to this post should've been "Shit". I haven't had any sugary/salty goodness since Thursday. Yesterday I did an hour of Turbo Jam. It's that simple isn't it? Stop eating so much shit -see what I mean- and shake my booty a little more.

What I'm reading: "Nightshade" by Susan Wittig Albert

While I don't advocate diet pills I sure do love those Slim Quick commercials.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

That Girls Done Gone YouTube Crazy

Anyone else sick of me stealing from the Youtube? I'd like to promise that I'll lay off for a while but I'd be a gotdang liar.

This Ben Harper session is just dreamy.

Ask John. I have a bit of a weakness for black men who play guitars. Secretly I think it's how he got me to listen to his kind of music. He hooked me with Robert Cray and I was so blinded by the beauty of it that I sat still long enough to listen to James Taylor. Whom I abhor.
My darlingest doll of a friend Natalie posted a link to this over on the Facebook. I think it's pretty rad.

By the way: Natalie is a member of The Muses. Go take a listen to them. They're pretty rad too!

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Go into your bathroom. Shut the door and the windows and don't turn on any ventilation of any kind. Now take a really hot shower for about 20 minutes. Get out of the shower. Dry off. Stand there for about 30 seconds. Now, you feel that? That wall of smothercation? That's exactly what it feels like here. Like wearing a sopped up wet blanket suit.

I'm terribly contrary as of late. It's annoying. Here, accept these as my apology:

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Last night I made brownies. At 9pm. This has rapidly declined into the worst gastro-intestinal nightmare of a summer ever. Pizza and chips and fast food and Ben and Jerry's Cinnamon Bun and hell, ya'll - I'm drinking a fountain Cherry Coke as I type. Shameful. On the way to work this morning I ate 1/2 a ham sandwich with Miracle Whip slathered on it and then I inhaled 3 brownies. Granted they were like an inch in diameter, but still. It was 6 in the morning. The best part is that I want to feel guilty. I know I should feel guilty. But I think I'm more in awe and bemused than anything. All I can think is that when I get back from my vacation, John and I are going to plunge head first into the season of homemade vegetable soups and protein shakes.

But for now, here's the recipe for the most bitchin-est homemade brownies I've ever had the pleasure of hoovering:


1/2 cup butter
1 cup white sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking powder


1.Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease and flour an 8 inch square pan.
2.In a large saucepan, melt 1/2 cup butter. Remove from heat, and stir in sugar, eggs, and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Beat in 1/3 cup cocoa, 1/2 cup flour, salt, and baking powder. Spread batter into prepared pan.
3.Bake in preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes. Do not overcook.

*copied from AllRecipes

Monday, July 27, 2009

There's a storm a-brewing. We've been having a couple a week up here which is nice because OCD John has to unplug everything electrical and that means I don't have to tolerate that damn television. I hate that damn television. And that damn phone. I hate that damn phone even more than I hate that damn television. So in another half hour they'll both be electra-non-grata.

It was a weird-ass weekend. By weird, I mean disturbing. Too much back story to share right now. And I really wouldn't be giving the whole situation the attention it deserves if I half told it. I'll collect my thoughts and ramble about it all in my next post.

Going back home for a visit next week. More cleaning and bonding and drinking and sweating.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Mae-Mae: Piece Mealing It

This is what we hear through out the day. That tiny scrape and then munch-munch-crunch. For what seems like hours at a time. Cause he's only eating one stinkin' piece and it must take forever to feel full. Honestly though, we never really knew what he was doing in there because whenever we tried to roll up on him he'd go all Michigan J. Frog on us.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Tonight I'm directing traffic to Tonya's kickass blog because she's posted both the wedding video and the facebook song video and I think they're the cat's pajamas.

Also, I'm sure this is of little interest to anyone other than my sisters, but I've created a blog for planning our up-coming Savannah vacation. THIS is the link. It's also listed in my "Good Stuff" under suhstergurl.

That being said... this week has drained the life out of me. The humidity and the rain and the constant whir of mosquito wings in my ears are all driving me to drink. I say that figuratively because I'm really not much of a drinker anymore. Which is probably unfortunate because I'm just about the most pleasant and sweet drunk you can imagine. Doesn't matter though, does it?

What I'm reading: "The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie" by Alan Bradley. loves it.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Decided to take Bette's advice.

Also thought she'd appreciate this picture I made John snap on his Blackjack yesterday.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

For my birthday, John and I decided to argue and snip at one another. It was delightful. In between the eye-rolling and muttered swearing he took me to see "Harry Potter". That part was fun. Really fun. I love everything about HP and I think JK Rowling is the second coming. After the movie we attempted to eat in peace at Chipotle cause I love burritos almost as much as HP. However... that failed rather miserably so we brought the burritos home and John made me take a nap.

That was all yesterday. Today was a bit better. And since today is my official 33rd birthday, I got to eat cake and ice cream and I read in bed and John and I only got into one nas-tay altercation. He put me down for my nap a little earlier so that I would be well-rested for my cake and ice cream party.

Tonight I plan on watching Miss Marple on Masterpiece Theatre, eating more cake and hanging out with the boys.