Saturday, June 25, 2011

What A Display

Dear Golden Corral,

While I totally love you and your delicious grilled sirloin and buttery yeast rolls, I'm extra special happy that you're miles and miles away. I am not a strong woman. I am a weak-willed yeast roll loving fat kid who'll be eating Tums hand over fist for the rest of the night.

That is all.

love and ranch dressing,

They're showing Pollyanna on the Hallmark channel today. I can't tell you how much I love that movie or even how many times I've seen it. Way over a hundred. I can beyond quote it. I can act it out, gestures and facial expressions, the whole gamut. When I was a kid, I wished I lived in Harrington with it's beautifully kept homes and town greens and awesome climbing trees.

I Googled Pollyanna houses today and found this site: Hooked On Houses. It's pure House porn. If anyone tries to reach me in the next few days and winds up having to talk to John in my stead, it's probably because I'm on Hooked On Houses.

There's also an excellent Pollyanna post on this site: Sweet Sunday Mornings. The old lady playing the drums rocks my world.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Fifty Years

I can't remember ever remembering Mama and Daddy's anniversary. For years I just knew it was in June. Then for a few more years I thought it was the 18th. Then I narrowed it down to the 23rd. Up until the day before I got the tattoo I thought it was the damn 23rd. But then I snooped around in Mama's closet and found their marriage certificate and that's when I was 90% sure it was the 24th. I finally broke down and asked Mama. She confirmed. Since she was there and all I took her word for it.

They were married for 49 and a half years. Forty-nine awesome, bickering, crazy, funny, generous, kind-hearted, devoted and love-filled years. A tremendous legacy.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Because it was Father's Day weekend and because John and I are both father-less and also because Father's Day also happened to coincide with the anniversary of John's mom's death... well... as you can imagine, we tried to stay busy. As you can also probably imagine, it didn't totally work out so well. Saturday we cleaned the carpets and yelled at one another. We made up. Sunday we watched The Bad Seed on netflix and spent the rest of the day talking about how much we liked it. I haven't liked a movie that much in a great long while. I read some and cleaned some and tried to bribe a couple of cats into napping with me. I wound up napping alone and for four hours which rendered me useless for the rest of the night. Angie called and we talked about things without actually talking about the thing that she called to talk about which is, "I'm calling to check on you to make sure you haven't slit your wrists on account of it's Father's Day and we ain't got one." I read a little. A very little. I've been reading children's books because I can't be bothered by anything too taxing. John says that I probably need to see a therapist because I need to learn how to live outside of my comfort zones. I told him that's bullshit because I've been living outside of my comfort zone for years now and the prospect of settling into said zone isn't looking so promising. If that's therapy, then I'll just stick to booze and pills. Speaking of discomfort; I took John to the doctor's today because come to find out he had a dislocated rib. It's an ailment most commonly seen among athletes and those who take part in strenuous activity. John gathers he got his by blowing his nose too hard.
Sometimes everything is just too loud. It all becomes a dull roar of distraction and distortion. I want to be able to feel calm. I can't with the noise. I think that's why I run away. That's why I remove myself. Because otherwise I'll go bat-shit. People talking, music, movement and traffic and television; it's all maddening and headache inducing. And repetition, a repetitive noise or a story or phrase, will literally make me cry with anxiety. I don't know how wacked out this makes me. Considering all the circumstances, probably not so much. But it sure makes things difficult to handle.

Which reminds me of this:

John and I were watching one of those Jitterbug phone commercials the other day and the spokesperson is saying how easy it is to make calls and how if you have any questions you just have to hit some button and you'll be automatically connected to one of their "certified customer service members". So I'm all, "I think we should get one of those for Mama." And John says to the tv, "Watch out there buddy. Cause you're about to get someone certifiable on your end too." We laughed till we cried.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

I hate you Father's Day. I don't even care. I hate you so damn bad. I hate all of your cards and your stupid sports-themed gifts. I want to punch you in the face and spit in your eye. I want to key your car and let my cats eat your pet hamster. I hate your fleeting looks of pity and I hope you drown in a sea of your own self-satisfaction.

Friday, June 17, 2011

If I were to ever decide to bat for the other team it would be because of Brandi Carlile.


Adele. I'm in severe awe of both of them. Like, 8th grade crushin'.

Monday, June 13, 2011

ain't nobody here but us afflicted

Before anyone freaks out, this is my back. Which, by the way, is my absolute least favorite part of my body, but I'm not photo shopping these pics cause I'm trying to keep it real and I'm posting these pictures so's folks can know what the classic Lyme Disease bull's-eye looks like.

Saturday I asked John to take a look at my back because I thought I had a bump back there and he was all, "Holy Shit!". So of course he took a picture:

and we discussed whether or not it could be Lyme or a goddamnspider bite. He called his friend Dr. Joe and asked him about it and Dr. Joe said it probably was a bite but that I would be fine until Monday.

This morning I wake up at 4:30 and get ready for work and I'm feeling like I got beat down. Seriously rough. And my back now looks like this:

I worked a few hours. Came home. Called my doctor who, of course, is out of the office for the next couple of days. The office ladies tell me to call the on-call doctor. I did. Only, the on-call doctor has no clue that he's the on-call doctor for my doctor's patients. Mind you, this phone-tag shit commenced at 10:30 in the morning and did not get even moderately resolved until 2:30. Which is when John took me to the ER and they told me I had Lyme and gave me a script for doxycycline and I was in and out of there in 45 minutes which has to be a record. I mean, if anyone out there can beat the 45 minute ER visit I want to hear their story. Cause a month ago my sister Angie and my Mama spent 15 HOURS in the ER in Wilmington. Point of all of this, my back hurts and itches and my lymph nodes hurt and even the two Scooby Doo movies I watched while waiting on the doctors to get their shit together can not make up for the fact that Lyme can go eat a dick.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

It's a coffee and pizza for breakfast day. One of those rainy Saturdays that feel like morning time all day long. I like 'em. Cause then I don't feel like the day's getting away from me and I've done nothing of value. But then I have to rebuke myself for feeling value-less because whatever I'm doing has to be purposeful or else I wouldn't be doing it. Where I am, is exactly where I'm supposed to be. There are days, moments really, when I do let life happen to me. But there are also major chunks of time when I all out rule this world. It's like my diet. And by diet I mean what I consume, not a "dieting" diet. Anyway, it's like my diet. Sure I sometimes eat pizza for breakfast, but I also eat brussels sprouts and brown rice and I haven't had a potato chip in a couple of months. Dude, that's like a three pack a day Pall-Maller going cold turkey.

Friday, June 10, 2011

I don't remember how, but a couple of months ago I floated into this guy's blog. He makes me laugh till I wheeze. Here's a sampling:

"I love internet commenters.

Sometimes I don’t even read the article. All I have to do is read the headline and I know somebody is down below pouring their heart out in five paragraphs or more.

Nothing will ever beat an Apple vs. Google article. Nothing.

And if it’s a person who writes for a website that no matter what they write a certain group of people are going to hate it, that is like WWE to me.

Then when it starts getting personal, and each person has to base they’re attacks off of the person’s username, or the comments they wrote before that. That is true art.

Internet Arguing>Real Life Arguing because safety first.

In the future I think that all hate is going to be saved just for the internet.

You see a homeless person on the street begging for change. You’re going to ignore them in real life but as soon as you get home, you’re going find that one article and let fucking loose.

You see a family buying Lucky Charms, BBQ Rib’s, and Hot Chips, and grape drink with a EBT card. That’s not healthy but you’ll keep that mouth shut, and if you come home and see a story about linking AFDC and obesity together, well you might as well call in to work tomorrow, you have got some anonymous arguing to do.

Paragraphs and opinions for days that you’ll forget you wrote the very next day, until it restarts later on that day.

Never stop though, because I really want to see what internet commenting evolves to."

It's my new favorite quote: "You might as well call into work tomorrow, you've got some anonymous arguing to do."
Stuff I did at work today:

1) Had Becca trim my bangs on the sly. She did a really good job. I'm seriously thinking about having her cut my hair from now on as they are really super cute.

2) Taught a whole flock of slack-jawed yankees the proper usage of "y'all". You know, like how it's plural not singular. They were truly confounded. Silly yankees.

3) Told Tara I'd take a kickboxing class with her tonight. Then texted her a half hour later and bailed. I've become quite the homebody. I don't feel bad about it at all. The homebody part anyway. I do hate breaking plans with people because I don't want to be perceived as a flake. Even though I sort of am.

I saw the hand and arm specialist this week and he told me I have radial tunnel syndrome. He told me to try and not move my arm like *this*. I blinked at him. He said to give it a month of trying not doing *this* and then we'll go from there.
I'm not sure where we'll go. I hear Vancouver's nice.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Nothing ever, ever, ever stays the same does it? Ever. I'm growing more melancholy and nostalgic by the day. The loss of our Daddy has created an emotional upheaval of epic proportions within the immediate Scronce clan and we are all desperately desperate for stability. All these years we assumed Mama was the strong one. Mostly because she told us so. But now we've found out the hard way that Daddy was the rock and the glue and without him we've all unraveled.

That being said... I am anxious to make things right. To guide and be guided in the healthiest direction. I will not give up on us.

Monday, June 6, 2011

I read this really awesome article on the yahoo homepage today about a dad in Utah who dresses in a different costume every day to wave at his teenage son's school bus. They even have a blog called Wave At The Bus. I think that's about the best thing I've heard in a great long while.

This morning I was hauling down the driveway and scanning the pond area for woodland critters and I saw this lovely lady:

She was really big. Like a couple of feet in diameter. And she was totally on a mission and even though I had to work an unholy amount of hours today, I kept thinking about her and how old and purposeful she is and it made me feel pretty okay.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Stuff I love to death lately: Nurse Jackie. Particularly this girl

We just started watching it a couple of weeks ago and now we're two episodes away from being caught up. It makes me laugh and laugh. And we seriously need some laughs up in this joint because we are a sad and pitiful lot.

In other news, I have noticed that I am a collector of deodorant. On my side of the bathroom I have no less than five different deodorants. Ranging from Toms of Maine to CertainDri. All that, and to be perfectly honest, I don't even wear deodorant on the weekends because I like to give my body a break. The problem is that during the week I sweat like a whore in church. I'm just searching for that one stick that keeps me dry and smelling fresh and purdy all day. The earth-mama feminist in me is really indignant. She wants to own her bodily secretions. But the Southern lady in me is appalled at the suggestion that ladies have secretions. It's like I've got one Joan Baez pit and one Tammy Faye Baker pit.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

John's friend Bob passed away yesterday. He was 93 and full of stories. He was the vice president of an insurance agency in Manhattan back in the 50's and 60's and thus my source for all things retro and awesome. He also used to golf with Buddy Hackett and his wife was a cabaret singer. Can you even stand it? We'll miss you, Bob. You were a first class gentleman.