tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24159304326784478402024-03-13T03:33:05.887-05:00The Adventures of Captain DandelionLearning how to be an adult, a little bit at a time. Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-71392329538272454962013-10-22T14:10:00.000-05:002013-10-22T14:22:49.557-05:00Wow... Sorry for the radio silence!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm not even sure where to begin!</h3>
Hi guys! Well, things have certainly changed for me recently. I'm now living near San Francisco, and my whole life is different than it was last time I made an entry.<br />
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Back in May I had a terrible break down, and I was hospitalized for nearly two weeks. My mental health had deteriorated quite badly, and I was self harming. The people at the clinic were lovely, and helped me so much. I was given medication to help stabilize myself, as well as taught some wonderful Cognitive Behavioral Therapy techniques that have been incredibly useful.<br />
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Sadly, my marriage was unable to recover from the on going issues. In June my husband and I separated, and I moved back to California (where I'm from) and he stayed in Wisconsin. To put it mildly, that was very difficult for me.<br />
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Since then, I've been working very hard every day on being healthy, both physically and mentally, and I'm feeling pretty fabulous! I've lost quite a bit of weight, and though I'm no longer a vegetarian, I'm cooking healthy (most of the time) and really enjoying my life.<br />
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Work has been hard to find in California, but I had some savings, and I'm staying with my mother right now so I'm managing. I assist with taking care of my 96 year old grandmother, which gives me a small income, though not enough to afford an apartment.<br />
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My love life is rather nice. And I'm going to leave it at that, for now. :)<br />
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My ex has the cats, so no more photos of Data, or Seven. I still cry here and there for them, as they were my precious babies. I'm not completely petless however. I have a pet lizard who sports a diva sized personality inside a small cold-blooded heart. She's lovely, and adorable, so you can look forward to photos and videos of her in the future.<br />
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Another change that's occurred is getting back in touch with my father. I hadn't seen or heard from him in 30 years, and then one night I just started looking for him on Facebook. I found him, sent him a friend request, and BOOM! He was so happy to hear from me! I went with my best friend up to visit with him, and it was crazy, weird, and pretty cool at the same time. I'm still processing it weeks later. I'm his only child, still after all this time.<br />
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One upside of all of these changes has been a renewal in my poetry writing. I hadn't written anything in years, I think since I got married actually, and last night my muse returned. I'm so relieved to have that fire burning inside me again. It's a long lost friend, and I've missed it.<br />
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Downside is that I had started smoking cigarettes again, but I've switched to the e-cigs now, which are a bit cheaper actually, and I think a little less harmful. I'm trying to slowly cut them out as well by gradually shifting to lower and lower nicotine doses, with the idea of breaking the habit again. Why didn't anyone remind me that it's harder to quit the second time? >_<<br />
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Thanks for reading (if anyone does after all this time LOL) and so I'll give you some weight loss photos, because it makes me very happy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken not long before I left Wisconsin</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken in September, here in California</td></tr>
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Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-76237377580938208222013-04-12T15:49:00.000-05:002013-04-14T13:13:27.099-05:00Where I've been hiding.<h3>
Hey guys, I'm alive...</h3>
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Sorry for the long silence. It wasn't really intentional. I've been dealing with a massive amount of anxiety lately, and by lately I mean for months.</div>
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Things came to a crescendo in Mid-January when I was so depressed, and paranoid that I decided to end my life. I made all the preparations, and was writing out a letter to my husband. By some miracle, my husband came home hours earlier than he was supposed to have, and I was halted.<br />
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After much soul-searching, I went to my mother-in-law and spoke to her about all the issues I'd been having, and she lovingly encouraged me to seek help. I've been seeing a therapist for a few weeks now, and going to group therapy sessions. Eventually, I should be able to get on medication to assist me.<br />
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It seems I have been living with PTSD for many years, due to the abuses my ex put me through, and some other events from my past. I'm currently unable to answer the door if I'm home alone, unless I know who is there already, and I can't bring myself to answer the phone if I don't recognize the phone number. It was very hard to go to work for a while, but I've gotten to a point now where being at work is okay. It's hard to not feel safe from things in your own home though.<br />
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Quite honestly, I'm afraid of everything right now. Every knock on the door is our landlord coming to evict us (despite our rent being paid, and being completely compliant with our lease). Every phone call is someone calling to tell me my husband has died in a car wreck, or is divorcing me, or is calling because my son is gone (despite my husband being a safe driver, despite him being loving and loyal, and despite my son being too big to kidnap, and too well-behaved to consider running away). I shake all the time like a shelter-rescue Chihuahua.<br />
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Slowly I am getting better, but it's a long process. Every day I am glad that Husband came home early. I keep a letter to myself in my back pocket now, with a list of everything that is good about myself, and the people who would miss me terribly if I were gone. With it I have a mantra that I use as a shield when I become afraid. Some of you who are more literary may recognize it.</div>
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<i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">I must not fear.</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">Fear is the mind-killer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">I will face my fear.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">I will permit it to pass over me and through me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;">Only I will remain.</span></div>
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I repeat it to myself whenever I feel anxious, and it does seem to help. I am also taking up knitting because apparently it is very good for those suffering from PTSD. Something about the back and forth repetition. I am also starting to jog, and go to the gym with friends. For weeks I couldn't keep much food down, so I lost 9lbs a little too fast. I'm trying to keep that weight off, but do it a healthy way. </div>
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Please feel free to ask questions, I'm trying to be open about any struggles just in case someone randomly stumbles across this blog at a time when they are in need. If you are in a desperate situation, please email me. I will listen, and I will tell you as many times as you need to hear that you are not alone.</div>
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Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-75884837207115246892012-09-12T17:56:00.001-05:002012-09-12T17:56:09.936-05:00Goddamn BananasJust a quickie today!<br />
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So I always end up having weird and childish conversations full of good-natured bickering. Today my victim was "Doodle". Doodles changed his Status on his IM to "Ate a banana instead of a Mars bar, so to celebrate I shall have a Mars bar" The IM conversation that followed is pasted here for your amusement.<br />
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">10:38 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: How was that Mars bar?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">And bananas are gross by the way</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">10:49 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: What.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">WHAT?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><i>WHAT?</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>WHAT?</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">10:50 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b><i>WHAT?</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Out of formatting options.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Bananas are great.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Take it back,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: LOL</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">I actually gag at the smell of ripe bananas</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles: NO!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: like seriously</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">10:51 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: I love bananas.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">I have at least one a day.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">So easy to eat and digest.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">And tasty.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">We're going to have a big falling out over this I can sense it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Unless you change things by eating a banana today.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Will you eat a banana today?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">To save our friendship?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: so does Husband. I tried being nice to him and make banana bread b/c he loves it, but I kept throwing up.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: Or are you going to remain self centered.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">10:52 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: I will eat one if it is Still a little green</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: So do it for your marriage too.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Husband is a good man.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: I can handle them if they're a little green.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">ripe ones are too strong smelling for me.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">10:54 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">I'm totally putting this conversation into my blog.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">10:55 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: :D</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">You may refer to me as Doodles again</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: I totally will, you can be sure of that</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">10:56 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Because it amuses me.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: Sexcellent</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">11:03 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: I should print out one of your drawings and put it up here. I have one of Nykolai's pieces up amongst the photos of family.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: Oooh</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">11:16 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: Are you drawing me something? You are, aren't you? :D</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">11:17 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: Not right now</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: :fingerscrossed:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">Doodles</span>: Are you eating a frickin' banana?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">No. Didn't think so.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">11:18 AM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: No. But I don't have one. <b>makes a face at you</b></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b> </b></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b> </b></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b> </b></span><br />
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Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-45442739155901011082012-09-10T13:51:00.001-05:002012-09-10T15:09:04.731-05:00Opening My Door; Letting You InsideSometimes the internet is an awful place, but it can also be amazing. It can be a place to release the worst, darkest shadows in your heart, and have someone take them from you and say "These don't need to scare you. Let me help." From here on out this blog contains triggers. Please read with caution, and I promise *SPOILER* the end is very happy.<br />
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I woke up this morning, and read this on <a href="http://thebloggess.com/2012/09/today-and-forever/" target="_blank">The Bloggess</a>. She's very inspiring to me, and it helps to know that someone as awesome as she is can suffer anxiety, and depression. It means that I can still be awesome too.<br />
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In honor of today, I'm going to share a deeply personal story. One that only a handful of people know, and that handful doesn't include many of my family members. So I'm sort of grateful they're unaware of the existence of this blog lol. This is a rather painful story, and it will be very hard for me to tell it. I'm changing the name of the other person involved in this story, because though I was just speaking to him in our usual morning ritual way, I was too nervous to ask him if he minded me using his real name. Plus he's ever so proper, and would probably be embarrassed by the showering of praise.<br />
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So for this we have to go back to 2004. I had, on a hunch, gone through my then husband's computer while he was out. I found email after email, and all sorts of instant message conversations with another woman who he professed to love. He told her he hated me, was leaving me, all the things you never want to hear from the man you've said "I Do" to. When he returned, I confronted him. He was so very angry at my prying, refused to discuss his online infidelity. When I wouldn't back down, he choked me, beat me, threw me into a wall, and then left. My son was (thankfully!) with his step-grandparents, and witnessed none of this. I sat on the swing outside the house until dawn. I couldn't think. I didn't think about why I wanted him back, or even if I wanted him back. I was just waiting.<br />
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He returned about two weeks later. I'll skip over the insanity that filled the two weeks before his return, because it's still uncomfortable even now. We'll just sum up with: Some people supported me, but others actually told me I'd gotten what I'd asked for. I no longer speak to the latter group of people.<br />
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When he returned, my husband told me he was sorry, that he never meant any of it, and that he loved me. Then he told me he'd decided to get us away from all of it, the poverty, the drugs. He said he was going to go to Minnesota and stay with a friend of ours, and get a job. Then he'd send for me. Now I know that you all following at home are shouting "Don't believe him!" I assure you, I knew very well what was going on. I happened to know that the woman he'd been talking to online lived 3 hours from our friend in Minnesota. I knew exactly what he was going to do. I bought the airline ticket however, I packed his bags, and I went with him to the airport. I've always hoped that he eventually understood that I had done all of these things fully aware that he was going to her. I would hate to think he felt he'd tricked me.<br />
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After he'd been gone a week, I got the instant message I was expecting. He informed me he was with her, and wasn't coming back to me. I don't remember what I said, but I do remember signing off before he'd finished explaining why he'd left. I didn't care. The why of it didn't matter to me. Just the fact of it. After seven years of marriage he was gone. They weren't even good years to be honest, and I was aware of that. He'd been abusive towards me, he was an addict. The only good thing I can say about him is that he never interacted with my son much, so my baby was spared any violence. (I feel I should clarify here that my husband was not my son's father. My son's father is a good man, and a good father. No one had any clue what my marriage was like behind closed doors, or they would have helped me escape.)<br />
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I sleepwalked through life for a few days, trying to figure out what the next step was. He'd been so controlling that I had defined my entire life by his desires and whims. Without his presence all I could figure out to do was dress my son, take him to school, then sit there while he was away until it was time to go get him. I was broken. So, on a Friday afternoon I decided to take my life. My son deserved better than a broken woman as his mother, I thought. His step-mother's parents were coming to pick my son up for the weekend, so I decided to wait until he'd left. He was so little, he didn't need to see this. My mom would have found me before he returned, and as sad as she would be it was better than my baby being the one.<br />
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I gathered up a massive handful of pills; Codine, valium and paxil. I put them in my nightstand drawer, and then waited. To keep myself busy while I waited for the school day to be over, I went to <a href="http://www.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">deviantART</a> and decided to look at the chatrooms. There was one room I'd been in once before called "dAPensioners" and it was for people over the age of 21. It had seemed nice, so I went back in. The owner of the chat (the person who'd created the chatroom) was inside, and he greeted me cheerfully. From here on out we shall refer to him as Doodles, because it's what he does.<br />
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Doodles and I talked about nothing important for a long time, and then he offered to switch to instant messenger. It suited me, so when I returned from picking up my son from school, we talked privately for a while longer. We traded stories from our lives, while I packed a bag for my son and tried to not let him know that this would be the last time my C-monster would see me. I kissed and hugged my son hard, and told him I loved him more than anything else in the world. Then he left for the weekend.<br />
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Doodles and I talked some more, and I decided to wait until after dark to do this. I'd go to sleep and just not awaken. I smoked my cigarettes hanging out my window so that I didn't have to leave the conversation for even a moment. We had much in common, and much that was different. He lived in London, had a good job, never married and no kids but a long time girlfriend. We both loved music, talked about films, were passionate about art. He never seemed to tire of talking, even though he was eight hours ahead of me. <br />
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All at once I realized that the sun had come up in California. It was a new day, and it struck me that I could change everything starting today. I could make a new life, and that I wanted to see what sort of man my son would become. That I wanted to see what sort of person I could become. I could make the changes I wanted. I did not have to define my life by anyone else, and I could survive this.<br />
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That feeling of power didn't last, but the desire to live did. A few years later, over drinks and face to face, I thanked Doodles everything he'd done for me without ever knowing he'd done so. He was probably a little embarrassed, so I dropped it right away. I am without a doubt his most loyal friend to this day though. I would drop almost anything if he asked for my assistance. Though he's terribly British and probably wouldn't ever want to impose upon me. <br />
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That awful first day, the one where I went through the computer and was beaten for my trouble, was eight years ago next month. Since then I've made mistakes, had my heart broken, and broken a heart or two. I never changed my mind about being alive though.I'm so happy now, married to a really good man, my son is becoming a wonderful adult, I'm still great friends with Doodles and we talk frequently even though we live many time zones apart still. It doesn't escape me though that it could have easily gone differently. I could have not found anyone to talk to, or run into someone who was cruel and sarcastic. I could have decided to watch mind-numbing television until my son had left. I don't know why I chose to speak to people online before I ended things, maybe I wanted to live secretly, deeply inside of me. I know that I made sure to give no sign of my intentions. Whatever it was, it made all the difference.<br />
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Everyone struggles, everyone hurts. I know. I know you hurt, and you struggle, I know sometimes it's too much to bear. But I love you. I want to tell you that I love you, and I don't know who you are. I want to tell you that I am here for you, that I struggle with you. Some days I want to hurt myself, some days all I want to do is cry in bed. It's okay if you feel the same. It makes us brothers and sisters. It makes us human, and real and perhaps a little more beautiful for all of our cracks, and flaws.<br />
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I'm not really sure how to end this one, it's so deeply personal.<br />
If you're in the US and need to talk to someone please call: 1-800-273-8255<br />
Outside the US, this website has links to the help lines for everywhere in the world: <a href="http://suicidehotlines.com/international.html">http://suicidehotlines.com/international.html</a><br />
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<u><i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Depression Lies.</span></b></i></u><br />
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To quote the great sage Christopher Robin: "<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #2f2f2f; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart, I'll always be with you."</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #2f2f2f; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span> Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-17157882260769964712012-09-05T20:39:00.000-05:002012-09-05T20:39:23.220-05:00Never Piss Off A Vegan; They're Always HungryHello! I'm feeling super happy and sort of sickeningly chipper today. Probably has something to do with the wine slushies I'm drinking!<br />
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I'm also happy to announce that my healthy lifestyle reformation is going well! I've actually gone vegetarian, for a number of reasons, not the least of which was this news article <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ingrid-newkirk/one-of-many-animals_b_1836537.html" target="_blank">We Are Just One Animal Out of Many</a>.<br />
Mind you, that is Vegetarian, not Vegan because I have an obsession with cheese, but we're being careful to buy only humanely produced cheese from local farms. The farmers around this area are wonderful, and treat their livestock very well. We often drive by this one farm where the cows are often seen frolicking in the large open field that is their domain. No cramped awful pens for these happy guys. It's very sweet to watch.<br />
Since the change I have felt amazing. I used to come home starving, eat some dinner, and then feel sleepy, and heavy, even when I ate strict calorie controlled portions. Now after I eat dinner, I feel great. Last night I went for a jog around the block after dinner, and only came back in because of the threatening storm.<br />
My husband, the ever stoic Number One, does most of the cooking but has not gone veggie with me. However, he's been fantastically supportive and has been adjusting his grocery buying and recipes to suit me.<br />
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He's stuck eating the whole dead chicken in our freezer however.<br />
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Wine and beer are most of the time considered Vegan (unless they contain honey or have been filtered with blah blah there's a lot to this which I'm sure you'd be bored by) so I double checked and thankfully my favorite vintner and brewery (<a href="http://www.wollersheim.com/" target="_blank">Wollersheim Winery</a> and <a href="http://www.newglarusbrewing.com/" target="_blank">New Glarus Brewery</a> respectively) are Vegan and proud. So... I'm going to support them! *hic*<br />
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It's a good thing I'm being healthier, because I need to make sure the rest of me is in good shape for the inevitable liver transplant surgery I am going to need.<br />
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I honestly haven't missed meat yet, and the only side effect I've had was feeling a little weird and tired on the third day in. I've been very careful to make sure I'm eating plenty of protein by cooking almost daily with Quinoa, or legumes, and it's a good excuse to eat hummus which I adore. It's actually an issue, because if left alone I can eat an entire tub of it, and while that is still vegetarian, it isn't healthy. I also have been eating organic peanut butter, which is delicious.<br />
I'm not eating too much soy, because it seems to be a migraine trigger for me in large quantities. I discovered this when I switched to soy milk to accommodate my lactose intolerance. I still <i>love</i> soy milk though, but I can't have it every day. I do the same with cheese... or at least I <i>should</i>, but I can stand stomach aches better than I can withstand migraines.<br />
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Holy shit, I am the most boring, rambling blogger ever. I'm going to go do something crazy, just so I can entertain you people. THAT'S HOW DEDICATED I AM! If I get arrested, I hope you're happy! SHEESH!<br />
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<h4>
<u>Spotify May Be The Greatest Thing Ever</u></h4>
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So, as I discussed on my post <a href="http://captaindandelion.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-answer.html" target="_blank">The Answer</a> with <a href="http://crazywithasideofvanilla.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Christine</a> (btw her blog is awesome, and she's really funny and sweet, so go read), I love weird and sort of stupid music. So much so that I have created an entire Spotify playlist dedicated to the dumbest, and greatest music I can find/stomach. </div>
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If you're unfamiliar with Spotify, allow me to sum up: You can stream music to your computer for free, any songs you like, any time you like, and all you have to do is suffer through one or two very short advertisements every 15 minutes or so. If you pay for their Prime membership you can stream anything you want with no ads even through your mobile phone... which I would love to have, but it's alright, their radio isn't too bad either, you just don't get to select the songs you want. You can however tell it "I want to listen to stuff like the Foo Fighters." and it will pick and choose bands and genres that are very similar. So, it's pretty good!</div>
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Now that you're all sold on Spotify, allow me to attempt to share the list here.<br />
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://embed.spotify.com/?uri=spotify:user:switchbladeserenade:playlist:4VQmbUyHIfyCMjgwC5ZXxS" width="300"></iframe>
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Wow, that totally worked! Okay, now I promise it isn't all Weird Al. I'd go so far as to say that <i><u>most</u></i> of it is not, but the list here shows up in order that I added it, and I just happened to add all of Weird Al first. I recommend starting with <strike>nearly anything</strike> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwtB1zkSNTY" target="_blank">Candia</a> or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qoGqVq9EXw" target="_blank">Charity Case</a> by MC Frontalot and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLUX0y4EptA" target="_blank">Handlebars</a> by the Flobots. If you don't want spotify, but still are interested in weird music, the song titles are links to the YouTube videos for those songs. (the MC Frontalot videos are not his videos, but I could only find live versions of them, and I sort of dislike live videos...) Handlebars is particularly good, and the song gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. If you have spotify and want to be on my friends list there, just let me know, I would love to share music with you.<br />
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<u>Quotable Quotes</u></h4>
I have started saving these places, because some of the conversations I have with my husband are silly, and he insists I share them. Especially when they make him look brilliant and awesome, and make me look like a spaz.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Sitting in the jeep with Number One- </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Husband: Are you wearing Febreze as a perfume? </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Me: (refusing to look at him) No... That would silly. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Husband: I ask only because you're the Captain of silliness and because it suddenly smells pretty in here. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Me: Are you going to the store, because I would like lemon sorbet please? </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Husband: Sure. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Me: Or any kind of citrus fruit flavor is fine. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Husband: We have mangoes, and kiwi in the fridge. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;">Me: *looking at him confusedly* ...None of those are ice cream.</span>
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Next post, I will share photos of the fun shit I do on my weekends. Here's a hint: It involves women taking off their clothes! (We photograph Burlesque shows, and have people offer us drinks)<br />
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Stay Tuned!<br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-13193789451555837092012-08-28T17:00:00.000-05:002012-08-28T17:00:07.014-05:00Oh, The Humanity!So you guys may have heard about a Tumblr blog called Dog Shaming. If you haven't you should go right now! <a href="http://dog-shaming.com/" target="_blank">http://dog-shaming.com/</a><br />
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Well, I decided that my darling little punks needed a good shaming too. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi09IgwE0jYHcKkdsGYJEArd_M-zao2ypS94PnbABnSu3XPGu74WuwIpmmSm38LVu6VXJK76GPh4ZHp2hEfdlMqVQ_YX3iU7vYwa7AeBFbsTzAN8n8PZl_dqdCeu3VluYjAt_CNBupbMF-K/s1600/CatShaming+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi09IgwE0jYHcKkdsGYJEArd_M-zao2ypS94PnbABnSu3XPGu74WuwIpmmSm38LVu6VXJK76GPh4ZHp2hEfdlMqVQ_YX3iU7vYwa7AeBFbsTzAN8n8PZl_dqdCeu3VluYjAt_CNBupbMF-K/s400/CatShaming+01.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Data quite obviously has no regrets at all.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTsUbUITG5VG_ki5pYUnIycL2v6TiHRBQmmKoFelpsoSS0iuMTvx9dc5EhU-rLtU_69XP1RY820gPqX6MtFjP-h7N-mJ-MPehCBQgm1QIX7Zm5IQK3RX99BZ_Qr6Kv51FHQ7s9aOlPmsX/s1600/CatShaming+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTsUbUITG5VG_ki5pYUnIycL2v6TiHRBQmmKoFelpsoSS0iuMTvx9dc5EhU-rLtU_69XP1RY820gPqX6MtFjP-h7N-mJ-MPehCBQgm1QIX7Zm5IQK3RX99BZ_Qr6Kv51FHQ7s9aOlPmsX/s400/CatShaming+02.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seven is bored with my accusations.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Let me see your pet shaming photos!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnTLQsB-gCYCpDByu4iByL_ApVScgd7eMBC7OE1LtzFst5EKCamUNi0s9yApD862jzjyF4dVwiEFnF6ags6n1F6rNvfmBJWk0ySIhSbZhtXZmkjP9H6WYGCQt7EZ96bN_jLPA_K_4iUFh/s1600/Blog+Sig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnTLQsB-gCYCpDByu4iByL_ApVScgd7eMBC7OE1LtzFst5EKCamUNi0s9yApD862jzjyF4dVwiEFnF6ags6n1F6rNvfmBJWk0ySIhSbZhtXZmkjP9H6WYGCQt7EZ96bN_jLPA_K_4iUFh/s400/Blog+Sig.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-40876920502705918162012-08-23T15:37:00.001-05:002012-08-23T15:58:17.126-05:00The AnswerHello! It's been a while, but it has been time well spent for me! I was preparing for the "Dirty Girl Mud Run" that I spoke about in my blog post <a href="http://captaindandelion.blogspot.com/2012/03/im-getting-dirty.html" target="_blank">"I'm Getting Dirty"</a>. I had more fun than I ever thought I would. I really, really enjoyed it! So much so that I've decided to keep doing them!<br />
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The next one is in October and it looks <a href="http://www.madisonmudrun.com/" target="_blank">awesome</a>. If I can get in a bit better shape (this one is 10k instead of 5k like the Dirty Girl) then I'm going for it. I bought proper running shoes last night, so I can get serious about it. My ultimate goal now is to do <a href="http://toughmudder.com/" target="_blank">The Tough Mudder</a>. it will take me years of training, and a lot of dedication, but I want to be able to look at myself and know that I did THAT. I want to look at things in life and say "Yeah, I got rear ended, and I can't really afford to lose my car... but this is easier than that time I ran through live wires to to get to the finish line after having run 11 miles."<br />
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I can do this. <br />
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Oh! I suppose you would like to see photos of the Dirty Girl? I can totally do that for you. <br />
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It was an absolutely gorgeous day for it, and thankfully not too warm,
as I was about to put myself through more than I had ever done in my
whole life. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhapM-3ie0ew8IJuZmDVB11IDHpReKXVHcSABjBxzpQfnhezAQVUDSRFJppGK4eG7E5eaawD-6JuOVMTwg_CuhAx9JZNkDH4MO-ruSns4m58zvjgBVguBQHP7AllJAfZKbEXzqbBtl4aPnI/s1600/Mud05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhapM-3ie0ew8IJuZmDVB11IDHpReKXVHcSABjBxzpQfnhezAQVUDSRFJppGK4eG7E5eaawD-6JuOVMTwg_CuhAx9JZNkDH4MO-ruSns4m58zvjgBVguBQHP7AllJAfZKbEXzqbBtl4aPnI/s400/Mud05.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 19th, Delafield WI</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We were dressed up in vaguely super hero costumes for the run, because why not? So as a nod to my friends, I will refer to them by their super hero identities. There were five of us, and we had a Supergirl, a Batgirl, a Robin and a Wonder Woman. I was, of course, Captain America. Yeah we were mixing up our comic universes.. shut it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytX2_trzK1HGa7HqtzpTFk6YF3Ne2HBueWjUdYf8dYKkurvQUNZ9ONj8WYC2VT7e0WqhQFCSQwbL1ecoFoFf4pQM70-TkZhNCsc1IDE0YS41C5vocSvHTazwgTeKkV9W6tZxd1xJf7ICf/s1600/Mud01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytX2_trzK1HGa7HqtzpTFk6YF3Ne2HBueWjUdYf8dYKkurvQUNZ9ONj8WYC2VT7e0WqhQFCSQwbL1ecoFoFf4pQM70-TkZhNCsc1IDE0YS41C5vocSvHTazwgTeKkV9W6tZxd1xJf7ICf/s400/Mud01.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*cue dramatic music*</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_W6kNzqMq4mbgtAjFHDWaxi-Bf2xmcCPRiX5JQ7vjESafktSYHzAZHhnMnHKNxYlMMfaNE4eor43ODo0ofgX2zH7IgpCVW2mblZRmdgYAxEeinBnRJsDexNEDdc9X6nLXnYcDThziMM6_/s1600/Mud02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_W6kNzqMq4mbgtAjFHDWaxi-Bf2xmcCPRiX5JQ7vjESafktSYHzAZHhnMnHKNxYlMMfaNE4eor43ODo0ofgX2zH7IgpCVW2mblZRmdgYAxEeinBnRJsDexNEDdc9X6nLXnYcDThziMM6_/s400/Mud02.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We called ourselves The Just-Us League. Robin is my sister-in-law by the way.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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All of the costumes were pretty awesome. There were women competing in tutus, in angel wings, in wigs... you name it! The only thing I didn't see were ladies trying to wear high heels, which is a good thing as they would have quickly broken their necks. The best costumed team was (in my opinion) the Sumo Ladies. Yep, you guessed it. They were dressed up as Sumo Wrestlers.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDP8TRqP7g4XECpNq-EFInuJQN7KUyMinZ-ebK07slyUKZAVFjeIhAtP1mqbyau8OSdLryiXvcLlcfcI8Wiu0_eiz3lnfLfc3yI9LKxRtgG55SM_jM9G5grv-RUMuePrRGLI-Q_0Z5i2-/s1600/Mud03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDP8TRqP7g4XECpNq-EFInuJQN7KUyMinZ-ebK07slyUKZAVFjeIhAtP1mqbyau8OSdLryiXvcLlcfcI8Wiu0_eiz3lnfLfc3yI9LKxRtgG55SM_jM9G5grv-RUMuePrRGLI-Q_0Z5i2-/s400/Mud03.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GET IN MAH BELLEH!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsBya4gdVgRjWC_xkpJSKo7hbubcmdgXnxXFs62S5gLyydXGd1tF1dO5IYTqY8GTEF_1oq8yrbWJtrgYEDWj9E7ItlfFUiCEUaNFZobHmuZA5zsGhGe8lxNobxGKzss-8dpYYn7gDhZq7/s1600/Mud04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsBya4gdVgRjWC_xkpJSKo7hbubcmdgXnxXFs62S5gLyydXGd1tF1dO5IYTqY8GTEF_1oq8yrbWJtrgYEDWj9E7ItlfFUiCEUaNFZobHmuZA5zsGhGe8lxNobxGKzss-8dpYYn7gDhZq7/s400/Mud04.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously, it can't get any better than this. Hilarious!</td></tr>
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Sadly, because they want me to pay for photos of myself looking like a dork, they wouldn't allow my brilliant husband to follow us around the track. Which means my darling blog-stalkers are missing out on photos of me clinging to a cargo net two stories high, being dragged through the mud on my face by Supergirl, and the massive Just-Us League mud battle. It was EPIC! I would leave right now for a chance to do it all again today.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWlwM9NTEZ164RmNbR-JRA9BRtuvmMkVPIJe8vz-a3oqA8OgitRiBQOyVURqKVDn_EiD0erwVVOELxkD6kWAPhWyQZO4BL2ge5KtlsNJ3Z9cRXzCMmUcSFYQr6gykCOejDIrFZ1QVRyE4/s1600/Mud06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWlwM9NTEZ164RmNbR-JRA9BRtuvmMkVPIJe8vz-a3oqA8OgitRiBQOyVURqKVDn_EiD0erwVVOELxkD6kWAPhWyQZO4BL2ge5KtlsNJ3Z9cRXzCMmUcSFYQr6gykCOejDIrFZ1QVRyE4/s400/Mud06.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Batgirl and I celebrate having made it out of the woods, which were full of cords strung between the trees like creepy spiderwebs</td></tr>
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The huge wall climb was, I think, the hardest one. We'd already been jogging/walking for about 3 miles at this point, and I wasn't blown or anything but that was a really tall wall. I ended up twisting my ankle a little on the up-and-over portion, but I was fine after a while.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzH6ZOLt8KMzwiGA0fE7UY6HrTE92X1Rm8vCuUmRTVVYtmkqa926OAybjbQv6fPgQ22fky-MwfFqJs_rYFxYdA2QXni2aftjgvE7NsFtnOKQQJacyI3YnC6dXDrUMOx9AdjBfJapS9Zi3/s1600/Mud07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzH6ZOLt8KMzwiGA0fE7UY6HrTE92X1Rm8vCuUmRTVVYtmkqa926OAybjbQv6fPgQ22fky-MwfFqJs_rYFxYdA2QXni2aftjgvE7NsFtnOKQQJacyI3YnC6dXDrUMOx9AdjBfJapS9Zi3/s320/Mud07.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captain: Ah damn... can I just.. like, stay here? Robin: WHEEEEEE!</td></tr>
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It was an amazing feeling to finish. I wouldn't have bet on me completing the whole course, but I did! I felt simply fantastic afterwards too! I honestly felt like a super hero.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BySHCwPEeQEBzu4D2VkUd_IByLYKoTmmWu2ornl4SAa6hIq5Mwre4HTZLg_-om5neK0AKh8xNLUC1b8nxpBuv8duhCYLJJXJBPJtMLUedm2yEDq72X1kY-Na214HDoC5xun6cUb2P91G/s1600/Mud08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2BySHCwPEeQEBzu4D2VkUd_IByLYKoTmmWu2ornl4SAa6hIq5Mwre4HTZLg_-om5neK0AKh8xNLUC1b8nxpBuv8duhCYLJJXJBPJtMLUedm2yEDq72X1kY-Na214HDoC5xun6cUb2P91G/s400/Mud08.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only clean spot on my face: under the goggles.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1jXoU5n53Nyg2krKY2uYoPpsfzAzb9SAcHqZNIvOgaUaDBTWtn2xwl3cb8vPfagnEgEsWX2XsSSa1Mptr6lFKR74o3izNDxdCB889EzBfMggPohq0pPdbQagpzWqk0dG7LzxMVHW0rfZi/s1600/Mud09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1jXoU5n53Nyg2krKY2uYoPpsfzAzb9SAcHqZNIvOgaUaDBTWtn2xwl3cb8vPfagnEgEsWX2XsSSa1Mptr6lFKR74o3izNDxdCB889EzBfMggPohq0pPdbQagpzWqk0dG7LzxMVHW0rfZi/s400/Mud09.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're some dirty mother.. shut yo mouth!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
The experience has highlighted for me the need for taking my health more seriously though. Looking at the photos makes me realise that I cannot continue to be in the shape I am currently in, and still respect myself. It's not a matter of "Oh, I want to be skinny so people think I'm pretty", it's a dawning realization that the things I enjoyed doing are very difficult when I'm out of shape. I love camping, and hiking, and I've always wanted to take kayaking trips, but it's more difficult when you're out of shape. I also love to swim, but I'm self-conscious in a swimsuit, so I don't do much swimming anymore. I don't want to continue like this any longer. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-tI8lLdeHDU5iJXIu9XZr10x5SIQO-TZB8e6rehRUjIIYxoo4dNS2wj1HQprIKpACLNa8LcZjkileg753NPpv2w0AzBE_we1XzOroFAJBrs5pxIc4I1o0PYwoTPzvgrhckPYxETgKY2m/s1600/Mud10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-tI8lLdeHDU5iJXIu9XZr10x5SIQO-TZB8e6rehRUjIIYxoo4dNS2wj1HQprIKpACLNa8LcZjkileg753NPpv2w0AzBE_we1XzOroFAJBrs5pxIc4I1o0PYwoTPzvgrhckPYxETgKY2m/s400/Mud10.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I want to feel like this more often is what I'm saying. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<h4>
<u>And The Answer Is!</u></h4>
I listen to a few different music apps while I'm at work, mostly because I get bored fairly quickly if one of them gets stuck playing the same tracks over and over. Lately I've been listening to a lot of hip-hop, dubstep and as much Die Antwoord as I can get. I doubt many of you have heard of Die Antwoord, so I'll explain briefly. They're a South African group and though I would say they're rap, it has a lot of techno and tribal music involved. I pretty much love it. Some of their lyrics are in Afrikaans, but that's not much of a barrier for me, as I have a friend who talks to me in Afrikaans so I pick up some of it and the rest I just look up. The interesting thing is that they're so very different in interviews than their stage personas. Apparently they don't drink, or do drugs, despite what they sing about. They're pretty interesting. Die Antwoord translates to "The Answer" by the way. I wonder what the question was?<br />
My husband says my fascination with them is weird, but I like them anyway!<br />
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I apparently just missed out on them in concert in Chicago, which is disappointing.<br />
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Jy moet luister na 'n paar vreemde kak.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnTLQsB-gCYCpDByu4iByL_ApVScgd7eMBC7OE1LtzFst5EKCamUNi0s9yApD862jzjyF4dVwiEFnF6ags6n1F6rNvfmBJWk0ySIhSbZhtXZmkjP9H6WYGCQt7EZ96bN_jLPA_K_4iUFh/s1600/Blog+Sig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibnTLQsB-gCYCpDByu4iByL_ApVScgd7eMBC7OE1LtzFst5EKCamUNi0s9yApD862jzjyF4dVwiEFnF6ags6n1F6rNvfmBJWk0ySIhSbZhtXZmkjP9H6WYGCQt7EZ96bN_jLPA_K_4iUFh/s400/Blog+Sig.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8Uee_mcxvrw" width="560"></iframe>Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-46628923118234268952012-08-09T12:33:00.002-05:002012-08-09T13:38:38.133-05:00A Post About Friends & Coffee<h4>
<u>I need to get a set journal style...</u></h4>
I want to be consistent from post to post, and I can never really remember what I did from post to post. Hmmm...<br />
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<h4>
<u>Deviant ART</u></h4>
Once upon a time I was a very very active member of a website called <a href="http://deviantart.com/" target="_blank">deviantART</a>. I was SUCH an active member that I was running their charity for a while <a href="http://artistsforcharity.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">Artists For Charity</a> (which sadly seems to have no one at the helm currently), and was given the award of Seniorship. For the past few years though I haven't done much on the site, but a few days ago I wandered back. I feel a little more inspired than I have in a long time, so I'm hoping to get back into the groove again. I have canvases, paints, and other little bits and bobs that perhaps not having my camera will be less of a problem for me than I originally expected.<br />
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In case you're curious, here's a link to my personal page on dA. I go by "<a href="http://switchbladeserenade.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">switchbladeserenade</a>". I've thought about changing it, but I've used that online artistic moniker for so long, I feel like I need to hold onto it.<br />
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<h4>
<u>My Kiddo </u></h4>
Last post I was really down about my son leaving, and you all were so <u><b><i>very</i></b></u> wonderful about supporting me. It really helped to get me through it. I also called my monster a few times since he left, and that helped as well. He plans on finishing school in North Carolina, and then attending college here in Madison. So I'll get to have him here with me, although he'll be technically an adult, while he completes school. Which is awesome, as he's growing into quite a great young man. One I'm proud of.<br />
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We took some photos of him the last day he was here, but they haven't been edited yet. I'll kick my husband's ass and get that done very soon.<br />
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You guys will love the mohawk.<br />
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<h4>
<u>I'm Only Happy When It Rains</u></h4>
That's the song that Garbage sings, and they will be very pleased today. Garbage is playing here in town, (I'm reliably told this is their hometown) and it is raining today. My darling friend Heather invited me and the ball-n-chain to come see the concert with her, as she had two spare tickets. I took the day off today, and we're leaving in a few hours. It's an outdoor show, so it should be damp, sticky, and completely fun. There will be photos of this too!<br />
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I normally take photos at every concert event I go to, but this time only Husband will be. The various bands I have taken photos of are in the gallery of the deviantART link above. My favorite band to shoot has to be Powerman 5000. They wear crazy costumes on stage, and put on quite a show.<br />
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Alright darlings, I'll post more soon. Thank you again, I can't tell you how much your comments and support help me out during the rough patches.<br />
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EDIT: Omg! I meant to talk about my new coffee pot, and I forgot. Okay so I was checking out the new Goodwill just down the street from us, and there was an amazing coffee maker/espresso machine by Krups for only $10. It looked brand new, as in had never had water run through it at any point. We already had a coffee maker though, so I balked at buying it. Husband insisted, and weedled until I agreed. Good thing too, because I totally destroyed our old coffee pot this morning while cleaning it. My hand slipped and I cracked the glass with my scrub brush.<br />
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Some of my readers know me from other websites, or in the real world and they'll tell you I'm a hot mess in the mornings without coffee. We hadn't been to the store to buy beans recently, and I'd run out two days ago, so things were dire. Yesterday at work I decided that I would sell my soul to get some coffee after I realised that my underwear had been on backwards, and I hadn't noticed for hours. <i>HOURS! </i><br />
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I can't seem to get the Goodwill price tag off though. I'll have to soak it and then scrub really hard, I think.<br />
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Now... time for another cup of coffee! *runs off making "squee" sounds of joy*<br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-88661700235999918712012-08-02T09:36:00.001-05:002012-08-02T13:19:49.194-05:00The Art of Failing<h4>
<u>The Hardest Day Is Here</u></h4>
Today is the day that my son flies out. I dread this day every year. I'll spend the rest of tonight after he leaves either completely immersed in a distraction, such as a video game or book, and quite possibly drunk. Then I'll fall into a deep depression for about two or three weeks, and weep inconsolably at random moments. Actually, I have tears on my face now, but I can still see to type, so I'll just continue. Where it gets rough is the feeling that I did the right thing by him, sending him to live with his father, because here I can barely keep a roof over my head. Then I wonder where the fuck I went wrong in my life choices that THAT is the best option I have.<br />
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I'm not any of the stereotypes of mother who doesn't have custody of her kids. Don't think for a moment that I lost custody, I didn't. My son begged me to live with his dad because his dad had, at the time, just returned from a tour in Iraq and my son hadn't seen him in nearly two years. There were other factors, such as the fact that I was leaving North Carolina to go back to California and the area I was moving to had shitty public schools, but that was the main factor. I still wonder what I could have done differently.<br />
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I want him to stay with us so badly. My husband is fully supportive of that too, they get along great. The problems is money. This Summer has served to illustrate that point painfully well. With the extra person in our household things have been tough. We've had to sell things precious to us to pay bills, and we're looking to sell more. All of this so that my husband can complete his schooling, and have a job that pays well, so that we can drown in student loan debt. I feel like we're on a merry-go-round that is moving too quickly, and we wanted to get off hours ago, but the operator is insane and won't let us go.<br />
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For all that, it was a good Summer. My boss has been great about allowing me time whenever I asked for it. We have been able to do some fun things, with kind assistance from friends. I haven't taken as many photos as I would have liked this year, and there will be even less now. One of the precious things we sold was my dSLR. The power bill needs to be paid however, and with the heat we've had this year, it was higher than normal.<br />
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Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning, failing so badly I will die. I think to myself that maybe wading out into a lake and taking a deep breath would be better... But then I think of my son, my husband, and I know I can't do that.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the best photo, but we were hiking.</td></tr>
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I keep telling myself that it will get better, that I'm doing what I can, with what I've got... It's just so hard. I must remind myself that I'm better off than many people right now. I have a stable job, there is food on my table, and I have friends who love me. I'd like to say I'm not concerned about the roof over my head, but that's a lie. I <b><i>should</i></b> be alright there, but I worry.<br />
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Sorry this post has been so depressing. I just can't shake the feeling that I somehow failed my son, while I was trying to do the right thing by him. Maybe I should have kept him with me? Maybe I should never have left NC (not that I would have had anywhere to live if I hadn't...)? They say hindsight is always 20/20, but that's not true. I still don't know what I should have done differently. I've had people looking at me like I must be a shitty mom because my son doesn't live with me for so long, I believe them now.<br />
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I could go on about this for hours, but you guys have got to be sick of
my whining at this point. Let me lighten things up with Buttermilk the
goat. She's a dwarf goat who seems to enjoy picking on her friends. (not
my goat btw) <br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-56244022184364885432012-07-13T20:25:00.000-05:002012-07-13T20:40:30.401-05:00I Fly Like Paper, Get High Like Planes<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Your Love Is Like A Rollercoaster Baby</u></span></h4>
June and July have been wonderful, and awful, and completely interesting. The ability to paint, and decorate as we please is such a glorious benefit to this apartment, and I honestly cannot say enough about how excited I am over having a fireplace. One of the beautiful new pieces of art going up on our walls is a painting by my dear friend <a href="http://www.admemento.com/" target="_blank">Nykolai Aleksander</a><u>.</u> It's simply stunning!<br />
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I need to get a frame for it, but it will look great in the living room.<br />
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<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Storytime!</u></span></h4>
So, once upon a time I lived in London England, as I have mentioned in passing. The nice thing about living over the pond is that all of Europe is so close! I didn't travel outside of England quite as much as I wish I had, but I did manage to make it to Amsterdam, because I was young, and very interested in ...The Coffee Shops. <br />
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*coughs*<br />
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Anyway, It was a really lovely trip, and I got to spend time with a friend who lived there. We climbed to the top of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martinitoren" target="_blank">Martinitoren</a> in Groningen, and strolled through <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assen" target="_blank">Assen</a> (where he lived). But on my first day there, we were in Amsterdam herself. What a city! <br />
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We drank at a few places, and stopped in at a Cafe. There was a man who stopped me in the street and asked me if I knew his friend Charlie. In my naivete, I grinned and said "I don't know, do I?" Erik managed to stop laughing long enough to explain that the man was asking me if I wanted cocaine. I picked up some strange candies (which were gross) that I think were salted licorice, and a marijuana lollipop (which was surprisingly tasty). There were bicycles everywhere, and I don't think anyone there was overweight. We saw a movie in English with Dutch subtitles. It was "Wallace & Grommet, and the Curse of the Wererabbit". Still one of my favorite films. The most bizarre thing I saw while I was there was a women's babydoll t-shirt that said "Mas, papa. Por favor!" I stood in front of the window it hung in for a good 10 minutes trying to decide if it was a poor translation job that made them order that shirt, or if it was intentional. I never did figure that one out.<br />
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I wish I could find more of the photos I took, but I wasn't as good with my backing up of files back then. I also lost a laptop in London when the flat was broken into.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"ERMIGERD! A giant novelty shoe!!! You must prove how much my friendship means to you by HUMILIATING yourself by sitting in it for a photo!!!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, I'm not laying down in it, I'm just that much shorter than Erik. </td>
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The Red Light District was not as crazy as I imagined, though that may have had a lot to do with our being there in the day time.There were boobs everywhere though, and I bought a penis shaped salt shaker for my friend Keir, who in a very British, and polite way, declined my gift. I can't remember where that penis ended up. I probably gave it to someone I wanted to make uncomfortable. (It was a very *large* salt shaker.)<br />
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It's been so many years that a lot of what we did is sort of a blur. I remember that Erik tried to kill me with food from <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FEBO" target="_blank">Febo</a>. It was so hot that I burned myself when I tried to eat it, but once it cooled down it was very tasty. He refused to tell me what was in it however, so to this day I have no idea what I ate. It could have been anything. It set a precident of not asking about what I was eating however, which culminated in my wolfing down haggis, before asking what it was made from. Lesson learned*.<br />
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When we arrived at Erik's house, we proceeded to drink way too much, and
smoke various things. (I was still a tobacco smoker back then). It was
all fun and games until someone vomited (me) and someone passed out
(..okay, fine. That was also me.) I vaguely recall crawling on hands and
knees up the extremely steep staircase, and sleeping fully clothed on
the guest bed.<br />
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Best. Time. Ever.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep. I'm a special snowflake, for sure. There is another one where he stacked bottle caps on me, but you don't get to see that. I must retain some dignity. </td></tr>
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So there you go crew, another story of the stupidness that is my life. Husband and I plan to start taking more vacations, and visiting my friends that live abroad, so pretty soon there will be many more ridiculously irresponsible tales of my adventures.<br />
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Till next time!<br />
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*by lesson learned I mean I learned nothing. <br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-12551792822579470402012-07-02T21:02:00.000-05:002012-07-02T21:09:17.144-05:00I'm really terrible at Blogging<h3>
<u>Nothing much exciting here</u></h3>
Still unpacking, and settling in. It's a process. This apartment makes my mood swing wildly about at times. I like a clean place, but I'm not horribly fussy about "tidy". Example: I hate having dishes in the sink, or an unvacuumed carpet, but I don't mind a neatly stacked pile of books, or a shelf full of knick-knacks.<br />
However, one thing I cannot stand is bugs. Ugh. I don't mind bugs outside, because that is where they belong. They don't belong in my home though!<br />
And we have an ant problem. A horrible, ugly, disgusting ant problem. They're the tiniest ants I've ever seen, about the size of three grains of sugar. And they're driving me mad! I'm frustrated all the time. They even got into my freezer! Of course they all died immediately, but still I had to pull everything out, bleach the inside, check all the food to be sure it was all still ant free (it was, I mean, really... it's all wrapped in there, right?). <br />
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Plus, almost a month here and my dishwasher is still broken. Ugh.<br />
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<h3>
<u>Noah's Ark</u></h3>
On Wednesday, the 27th of June, I ran away from all the chaos here, and stayed all day at Noah's Ark. If you've never been to the Wisconsin Dells, it's a giant waterpark. Oh man, I loved it so much. I really needed to have a few more days of that. Not the high priced food, or the ridiculous souvenirs, but the warm sun, clean water, and getting to float around on a tube while I chat inanely with a friend. I feel like I don't get to decompress very much, which is quite honestly my own fault in many ways, as I have a hard time relaxing. It would be nice though to have more time for fun. <br />
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<h3>
<u>Housewarming!</u></h3>
This weekend we're having a small housewarming party. I say small because no one has RSVP'd, so it might be just the three of us that live here, and my sister-in-law. But on the other hand, everyone might show up unannounced! We'll see.<br />
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I have the living room/computer area, hallway and bathroom painted. The kitchen is a god awful color, but it's going to have to stay that way just now. <br />
I have photos!<br />
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The photos aren't the best, by the way, because the lighting is really bad, and I was too lazy to do anything about it. Sorry.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpHruw-Qf3KEu-JFtyuvxVfaYJ-xhs8hpRDPghiWn0wJVDY6imHVXw5qs2MAtKPMLP1yxB4OK9tdwwgDlRWT_F_Z_PanUgfZ_ziZKbEFYvbcwQySSXKExQ9CgntjgSXrq6T9o3N5bJoHpM/s1600/Living+room+painted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpHruw-Qf3KEu-JFtyuvxVfaYJ-xhs8hpRDPghiWn0wJVDY6imHVXw5qs2MAtKPMLP1yxB4OK9tdwwgDlRWT_F_Z_PanUgfZ_ziZKbEFYvbcwQySSXKExQ9CgntjgSXrq6T9o3N5bJoHpM/s1600/Living+room+painted.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The color is "rainforest fern" and Data goes well with it.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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The bathroom color is my favorite, so I'm trying to think of excuses to use the color elsewhere in our apartment. It's called "peacock blue" and it's... bold. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguShtCkSSvoNc5YVSXq8NQ-vs8I-6M94j-lxU5H0GHxi0WsBsRaDGP9edw2kTp3_UMAy3Ep6UtQdyFr16_OSubhmu5TrRcgyN2Gylvg4cim7DLyKWfXrvghjqStZgMPZuo7c26CWnlZsEt/s1600/Bathroom+painted.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguShtCkSSvoNc5YVSXq8NQ-vs8I-6M94j-lxU5H0GHxi0WsBsRaDGP9edw2kTp3_UMAy3Ep6UtQdyFr16_OSubhmu5TrRcgyN2Gylvg4cim7DLyKWfXrvghjqStZgMPZuo7c26CWnlZsEt/s1600/Bathroom+painted.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bold like a PEACOCK! AMIRIGHT?</td></tr>
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The kitchen will probably end up a light green. Something that compliments our living room. Our bedroom will probably end up a light russet color of some sort, since all of our bed linens are in shades that vary from copper to chocolate.<br />
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<h3>
<u>People More Interesting Than Myself!</u></h3>
If you're still reading at this point, WOW! I am SO sorry. This entry has been really boring and long, so I'm going to reward you with super awesome links.<br />
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I read a number of blogs, most of them by complete strangers, but a couple of my good friends also write blogs. They are all funnier, and more talented than I am. More interesting too, while I'm being honest.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://sarahfoundkorea.blogspot.kr/">http://sarahfoundkorea.blogspot.kr</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">My friend Sarah is from the U.S., speaks French fluently, and is teaching English in South Korea currently. She started a blog to chronicle the crazy ups and downs of being a sarcastic female in a foreign land.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://keiross.com/">http://keiross.com/</a></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of my dearest friends, he happens to also be a pretty funny guy. He and I don't get to talk every day, or even see each other very often currently, but it's always as if no time has passed at all when we do. He moved from the UK to Germany for work, and now he's blogging the schnitzel out of Berlin. </span> </span><br />
<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-11322833993117692692012-06-22T02:25:00.000-05:002012-06-22T02:25:28.665-05:00Sorry For The Silence!<h3>
I'm Alive, REALLY!</h3>
So sorry for the long stretch of silence here at TACD, but it's been pretty exciting in meatspace*. As you know, we moved into our new apartment at the begining of the month, and it was a disaster. I've shampooed the carpets a stupid number of times, and painted the living room, dining nook, and hallway. Tonight I've just finished masking off the bathroom, and I'll spend most of tomorrow painting that. Oh, and a garden. I put in a vegetable garden in the back of our place, but the yard needed to be tilled and fertilized before it was ready for planting. I also need to finish putting up my fence.<br />
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Oh, and my teenage son is with me, so that's fun. Anyone else have a teenager? They're stinky, and bratty, and know everything. My son is on the Autistic Spectrum, which adds a new level of fun to the usual teenage attitude. But I love him, even if he does shut his bedroom door and marinate in his own smell. (I swear it's like a creature's den in there).<br />
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Also exciting, I traveled down to Chicago to stay over night with the FABULOUS Lauren of <a href="http://www.filing-jointly.com/" target="_blank">Filing-Jointly...Finally</a>. The idea was to see <a href="http://thebloggess.com/" target="_blank">The Bloggess</a> speak at Litfest, but that didn't pan out as planned. But that's alright, it was a whole lot of fun anyway.<br /><br />I have been working on a guest post for Lauren's blog, so look for that in the future.<br />
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I've got other stuff to talk about, but it's currently half past 2 in the morning here, and I think I just heard the sounds of my husband giving up and going to bed without me, so I'll sign off now.<br /><br />G'night guys, and regular posts should resume shortly.<br /><br />In the meantime, what have you been up to?<br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-64064837446050710752012-06-03T23:43:00.003-05:002012-06-03T23:43:50.765-05:00Moved in!<h4>
Some People Are Awful People...</h4>
We're into our new place now, and holy cow... <br /><br />Wait, lemme me back up. So we got everything packed up (omg I know right? We did it!) and we moved the large stuff into the new garage, and boxes into the storage unit. Then we slept in our old apartment one last night, so we could wash walls, shampoo carpets,a nd give it one last real deep clean before moving our fish tank out. <br />All that went smoothly, and though it was hard work, it was all done by 2pm. Walked in to our new apartment annnnd....<br />
<br />
What. The. Fuck. Carpets are stained and filthy, there is old food left in the cabinets, the bathtub has mildew under where they had their shower mat and the light-bulbs have been taken out of all the ceiling lights. I'm so tired, and we worked SO hard to clean our old place, and now I have to do it again. It's so awful. I'm a really clean person, and though I have occasionally allowed my home to become cluttered, but I never allow it to be filthy. I should have looked around harder, I guess. The fridge is brand new, and so is the stove, so that's good at least. <br />
Husband had to go to work, so I got our bed set up, and sat the rest of the night alone, by the light of one lamp. I was able to find a usb cord for my phone, and connect it to my laptop so I could at least get online via my phone. After all the stress, and exhaustion and way too many energy drinks on top of not enough food... I had a full on panic attack. The "I can't breathe, and I'm dying" kind. I knew in the back of my mind I wasn't, that I was obviously breathing, but I was certain I couldn't. I gasped like a fish for I don't know how long. Eventually I passed out and when I awoke I felt a little better, though I was shaking. After I spoke with my friend Em for a while, I was calmed down. The next day at work I felt like someone had beaten me, and then dragged me behind a truck. I limped around like I was 90 years old, and I couldn't even keep water down. It didn't get much better the next day, when all of my misery was added to by a headache. <br />I gave in this morning and called in sick. <br /><br />I totally slept ALL day. Husband went to work, and I woke up only long enough to drink water, then throw it back up. I slept until 6pm when Husband got home. I just ate a little bit, and now I'm mostly alright. Tomorrow, we're shampooing the carpets, and painting the walls, then we'll worry about moving furniture in.<br />
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I will take photos once I feel like the place is up to a passing grade.<br /><br />Now I should try and rest some more, as I have to run in to work tomorrow to complete a few things that I should have finished yesterday.<br /><br />G'night guys!<br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-4787791294795949732012-05-27T23:41:00.000-05:002012-05-28T01:01:05.462-05:00Cry Havok, and Let Loose the Weasels of War!<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;">Not my god damned day...</span></h4>
<span style="font-size: small;">I had been typing for two hours this evening about how
I'd been the past few weeks, and then my browser froze, and I lost
EVERYTHING.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I'm discouraged now, because I felt like I had a really awesome flow going. <br />
</span><br />
Alright, I'll try again, and hopefully be as funny and witty as I (felt I) was the first time. It may be a losing battle as I am now 3 drinks into a pretty decent drunk. <br />
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<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;">Adventures In Weasel-Sitting</span></h4>
I have been so busy the past few weeks, so I'm sorry about the lack of posts. I'm honestly horrible when it comes to packing, and moving. I'm awful. And Husband isn't much better to be honest. So between us, we're pretty ineffectual. It's amazing. But tonight I started putting away the last of what was unpacked, such as the pots and pans we had been using for day-to-day cooking, and the utensils. From here on out, if it doesn't come pre-prepared... then we're not eating it. <br />
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To add to the chaos, I've been babysitting a friend's ferrets while she's in New York visiting family for Memorial Weekend. Over Christmas I watched her ferret Shiver, and I loved her. She enjoyed sitting in my lap while I watched TV, or snuggling inside of my bathrobe while I typed on my laptop. She was awesome, and sweet. But what I didn't realise was that Shiver was an older ferret at the end of her lifespan. She was mellowed by time.<br />
Roscoe and Hannalore are about a year old, and feisty. They chase my cats, wrestle my feet, and like to attack unsuspecting shoes with unparalleled ferocity. Seven seems to love them, and will allow them to in turn chase, and be chased by her. They lay in the hallway and wrestle until she's done with it, and then she holds one of the ferrets down and grooms it. Data on the other hand will climb to the top of his cat tree out of their reach and give us looks like "What the shit... really? You're gonna let them do that?" They're so ornery that we've taken to calling them "War Weasels" rather than ferrets. They get all riled up, and do this insane war dance. It's laugh out loud funny, I mean seriously.<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-family: Arial; font-size: 27px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"></span><br />
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I love Roscoe more than is reasonable, and he's adorably fat, like a badger. Hannalore is more dominant, and would rather play than cuddle. Neither of them ever bite, ever.<br />
If it weren't for the fact that they're only 90% litter box trainable, I would want a pair for myself.<br />
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Oh, what's that you say..? I didn't mention the litter box part? Oh yes, how silly of me. They're pooping in my corners if I don't watch them.<br />
Pooping. In. My. House.<br />
In the corners.<br />
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Yep... it's lovely.<br />
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We've only had three accidents on carpet, but there have been a few of them on tile. And ferret poop smells delightful. It's wonderful* actually.. No seriously, it reminds me of a movie scene, hold on.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a wonderful smell you've discovered... no seriously, is that ferret shit?</td></tr>
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But they're hysterical beasts to watch. I do sort of love them. Musky smell and all.** Here's a video of Roscoe killing my socks for the betterment of all ferret-kind, because apparently war weasels must have a battle to fight, even if that battle is against fabric.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Chicago! </span></h4>
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June 10th I'm headed to Chicago to see <a href="http://thebloggess.com/" target="_blank">The Bloggess</a>! I have my copy of her book, and I will probably buy another copy as a gift for my best friend. I get to hang out with the ever lovely <a href="http://www.filing-jointly.com/" target="_blank">Lauren</a> on this trip as well, so how cool is that? </div>
It'll be a whole weekend trip, so look for a lot of photos to come from it, especially since my dSLR is now working again. I can show off my mad photo skillz, yeah baby, yeah!<br />
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I promised <a href="http://bobthewatercat.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Bob</a> that I'd get a photo for him, so he knows we're thinking of him, so look for that as well. <br />
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I'll leave you with more weasel insanity:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">PS. My home is not usually so messy, I keep a very tidy house most days, but please refer back to the previous statement about being ineffectual about packing and moving. Thank you</span>. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*By wonderful I, of course, mean disgusting.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**To be fair, I would rate "ferret smell" as somewhere better than "wet dirty dog" but worse than "hamster cage"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">EDIT: OH! I almost forgot to mention that I have a beautiful bike now! I've been riding it fairly often so for, and I love it. Here's a photo I took the first day I had it, when I was riding it home.<br /> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">It's very fancy, and shifts gears automatically. Because I'm trying to lose weight... but I'm also lazy. </span><br />
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Till next time my lovely readers!<br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-78851066072507699532012-05-26T22:38:00.000-05:002012-05-27T22:28:33.071-05:00A Promise, not a real postThis is just a place holder, I will be writing a proper blog soon about my amazing* adventures in Ferret sitting. I have video, and photographs. Also, I move on Thursday, so look for more frequent blogging soon! Yay!<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*omg kill me now, they're on meth or something... </span>Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-89119829028551890342012-05-10T09:47:00.000-05:002012-05-10T09:47:07.782-05:00Mister Sandman, Bring Me A Dream<h4>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Just A Short Post</u></span></h4>
<span style="font-size: small;">I had a bad dream last night. I woke up this morning very disturbed and uneasy. I dreamt that I had pet rabbits, and when I went to feed them I realised that they were out of water, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd filled their water bottles. They were so thirsty, and dehydrated. I cried in my dream because I felt so bad about it. These creatures depended on me, were members of my family, and I'd neglected them!<br />I awoke intensely disturbed, and upset. <br /><br />Laugh all you like, you have your fears, I have mine. *chuckles* Mine happen to involve failing to protect animals, and loved ones. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">What kind of bad dreams do you guys have?</span><br />
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<i>"-People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of
matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints,
of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes." -Neil Gaiman's <u>The Sandman, Preludes and Nocturnes </u></i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-5453962767008935822012-05-04T20:05:00.001-05:002012-05-05T07:39:52.491-05:00Five Things I'm Scared To Tell You... And a Video!<h4 style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-weight: normal;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">Lauren from <a href="http://www.filing-jointly.com/2012/05/return-of-five-things-friday-for-one.html" target="_blank">"Filing Jointly... Finally"</a> did a post about five secret things she doesn't like to admit to. She followed it up with a challenge of sorts for her followers with blogs to do the same. I'm always up for a challenge.. right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I hope this doesn't loose me the few followers I have. *laughs* Alright, let's do this.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-size: small;">#1 I am terrified of loud noises</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When I was a kid, we lived on the railroad tracks. And I mean almost literally. You could stand on my grandmother's front porch and throw a rock onto the tracks without that much effort. They're not very busy now, but in the 80's there were many trains travelling that length of track, and they would blow their whistle as they went through the area. I remember laying in bed, absolutely CERTAIN that there were awful things, possibly undead things, using the train's passing to cover their approach. I wouldn't know they were coming because the trains were too loud. It was terrible! So I'd lay very still, hoping that if I was still enough they wouldn't find me. To this day slamming doors, fire alarms, when the radio is up loud... anything above conversation level... is very alarming to me. I love live concerts, but I'm also very anxious during them.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-size: small;">#2 I grew up in the ghetto, very poor</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And by ghetto, I mean the fucking ghetto. I grew up near Oakland California, and I saw my first shooting at the age of 14. I've seen people hurt, I've known people who've died. People I've gone to school with have over-dosed on drugs, or gone to jail. A sickeningly large portion of the girls I went to high school with have been sexually assaulted, sometimes brutally. And for a long time.. I accepted it as "normal". It's just what happened. Now that I no longer live there, I'm often embarrassed by where I came from. It never occurred to me for years that the home I grew up in would be considered unlivable to most people. Quite honestly it should probably be condemned. My in-laws have gorgeous homes, with huge manicured lawns, and nice jobs. Many of the friends I have online and in real life come from lovely homes, and families I would consider wealthy, and I often feel like any day now they will discover that I do not belong in their world. "Not Our Kind, Dear".</span><br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: small;">#3 My ex husband was abusive</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">And I don't mean he shouted at me a lot, although he did that too. Not that verbal abuse is any better... but yeah. My blog here is fairly anonymous, there isn't any connection from my Facebook to this blog on purpose. There are one or two people who are still in loose contact with him, and I'm scared of him finding this blog. It is my haven, my safe zone where I can rant all I want, about anything I want. In saying that, I'm not ready to share details, because I tried to talk about it in an online forum before, on another account, and he found it, and threatened my Gramma. His sister was (Still is? I dunno, I stay away from any and all contact) a psychopathic meth addict, and I totally believe she'd hurt my family. I think he would too. I hate him though. I feel anger for people, but he's the only one I hate. For years I felt like I must have deserved it, at least somewhat. He had a reason for it, every time. I finally broke down and told my husband why I'd felt I'd deserved it, and he hugged me, and loved me and told me there was never, ever an excuse for it, no matter what. And something in my chest loosened a little. It's better now, but I still fear him.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-size: small;">#4 I was a drug addict</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Yep! Oh boy is that a fun thing to talk about at parties. Actually no, it isn't. So I don't. I usually don't mention it at all. But yes, I was. The particular drug of choice is a rough one, and I'm one of the few I've heard of who were able to come off of it. Apparently, it's difficult. But I managed. I kept all my teeth, all my hair, no scars, and no (obvious) permanent damage. So I win! I'll be damned before I ever go down that road again though, and I have no time for addicts of any kind now. I understand that it is REALLY hard to kick addiction, and I know a few people who are doing awesome at it (alcohol, not anything rougher) but people who are not seeking help, or who keep failing, and letting themselves fail... No time at all. It's not a reflection on them, or their struggles. I do not, let me repeat DO NOT feel like I am better than them, or stronger than they are, or that they are not worth my time. I simply cannot allow that sort of behavior into my life. I've got shit where I need it to be, and messing it up would be detrimental to my well-being.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-size: small;">#5 I am an Atheist who wishes I had something to believe in</span></u></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">I was raised by my mom, and Gramma. My mom is Wiccan, and raised me amongst Tarot cards, and candles, and incense. I remember being really excited when she gave me my very own tarot deck at 7. As I got older though, I found it didn't answer things for me. I checked out Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and even Christianity. None of them spoke to me of truth, none of them resonated in my soul. As a matter of fact I was extremely frustrated and appalled by the bible after I read it. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Judges+21%3A10-24&version=NLT" target="_blank">Judges</a>, </span><span style=" display: inline ! important; float: none; font-family: 'Helvetica'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; size="small"; ><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Numbers%2031:7-18%20&version=NLT" target="_blank">Numbers</a>, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Deuteronomy%2022:23-24%20&version=NASB" target="_blank">Deuteronomy</a> (several places actually), <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Samuel%2012:11-14%20&version=NASB" target="_blank">Samuel</a>, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus%2021:7-11&version=NLT" target="_blank">Exodus</a>, and <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Zechariah%2014:1-2&version=NASB" target="_blank">Zechariah</a><font="Helvetica"> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">all condone, and in some cases encourage, rape. As someone who has been raped, I felt nothing but disgust. There were those who tried to say that those were old, and didn't count, but if you're going to live your life by the rules of a book, you can't just cherry-pick whatever pleases you. I decided to live the best life I could, without a invisible Father-Figure looking down on me, judging me. I don't need a book to tell me what is, and is not right. So I donate to charity, help others, love my fellow people, do kind things for animals, help the elderly, and play with children. I am a good person, who does good things, and will leave a wonderful legacy behind me. I don't need religion to help me with that. But when things are hard, I secretly wish I did believe. Because then I could say "God has a plan" or "The universe has a plan for me" or even "Karma will come around, and things will be better". And I would be comforted. Also, I wish I believed that after I die, I would see all my loved ones again. But I don't.<br /><br />
So... there we go! I hope none of you hate me now, or find me creepy. I also hope I don't get hate mail for not liking Christianity. I have lovely, wonderful friends who are devout believers, and I don't think that they're awful for believing. ></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: small;">
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Anyway, this was a pretty heavy blog post, so I should leave it with something to lighten it up a bit.<br />
Here is a video of Seven, attacking a handmade stuffed toy that was made for me by one of my Gramma's coworkers at the hospital. I've had it since I was three years old. Watch all the way to the end. It's only a minute long!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mZTRSUCnPXM" width="640"></iframe></span>
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Till next time!</span>
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</span></span>Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-76247369756358972162012-04-27T15:51:00.001-05:002012-04-30T12:01:09.364-05:00The Packing Starts Here<h3>
<u>Hey guys!</u></h3>
I just got back from meeting with our new landlord, so the packing starts today! We're set to move memorial day weekend, and I haven't started any of my packing. So let me apologize in advance for not updating as frequently as I want to.<br />
I'll keep today's post short as I can already hear the cats making a mess out of my linen closet.<br />
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<u>Let's Pretend This Never Happened</u></h3>
Yes, I've been reading the new Bloggess book, and I love it. Unbelievably funny. Seriously, even funnier than she normally is on her blog, which is already hysterical. My husband does not appreciate my attempts to read passages out-loud to him. He says he already know what it's like to live with a crazy person, he doesn't need insight into what some other poor man is going through.<br />
*tch*<br />
Shocking.. really. He doesn't know what he's missing.<br />
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Alright guys, I'll try to post, but no promises! I have a huge two bedroom apartment to pack up, and only 8 days off to do it in.<br />
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See you soon!Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-87369681436722818412012-04-21T00:03:00.000-05:002012-04-21T00:08:43.364-05:00Phoning It In<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Damn I'm Busy</u></span></h3>
Hey guys! I've been super caught up with things elsewhere on webspace, and just haven't had much to talk about right now. We did hear from the landlord, and yes it was nothing at all. He just wanted to know if we were happy here, and to let us know that he wasn't raising the rent this year. The strange part was that in an effort to soothe my panic, Husband found us a new apartment to move to that's two houses down from us, and $300 less. So I think we're moving anyway. Weird, huh? The new apartment has a basement (it's actually more of a house than an apartment, really), and a yard that I can plant in, rather than growing all of my flowers in pots on the deck. Oh! It also has a FIREPLACE! Which means I can totally decorate properly for Christmas this year. FUCK YAH!<br />
Snow falling softly outside of our sliding glass doors, while a fireplace burns merrily in our hearth. OMFG I love this idea already and it's still Spring!<br />
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So we'll be moving in June, which means I have a bunch of mad packing to do. Holy shit do I ever... it's only just hit me as I type this..<br />
Sooooo, I might have another anxiety attack on the way. Fuck my life.<br />
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Nah, I'm kidding... fireplace.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Dieting... Like a Boss</u></span></h3>
I weighed myself yesterday and I weighed.... are you ready?<br />
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I mean really ready? Because this is good.<br />
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Sure? You're ready now?<br />
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Okay....<br />
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I weigh 215lbs! I've lost 5lbs since I started this bullshit. And you know what, it has gotten easier. I'm using MyFitnessPal to track what I eat, and what exercise I do and it's starting to show. The other day I ordered a salad from McDonald's (shut up... It was my only option at that time. Unless I chose not to eat at all.) Before when I'd ordered the salads at fast food places, I'd eat it, and then still be hungry. But I got halfway through it and was uncomfortably full, so I just tossed the rest. And totally had guilt over it because you know there are starving kids out there who would have loved to have had that salad you thankless horrible person! Gah... Yes that actually went through my mind.<br />
I totally should have been Catholic, I have a very well developed sense of guilt. I'd have fit in perfectly. I feel guilty for everything. Kill a spider? Guilt. Eat meat? Guilt. Squirt my cat with water for peeing in my plants? Guilt!<br />
I'm totally rambling now. FOCUS!<br />
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So obviously this method of accountability is working for me, which is fantastic. I still need to get a treadmill, and I want one very badly because we're getting into the rainy part of the year here, and I don't want to lose any ground. I may just start jogging in place like a derpface with the blinds drawn so no one looks in and reports someone having a seizure in their apartment.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Copy & Paste!</u></span></h3>
<i><span style="font-weight: normal;">So the rest of what follows is a re-post from my old blog. I stole the idea from </span><a href="http://www.filing-jointly.com/" style="font-weight: normal;" target="_blank">Lauren</a><span style="font-weight: normal;">, so if you hate it... well don't blame her because she's super adorable, and sweet. You can't hate her even if you try, and I don't know why you'd try.. you awful person. </span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">So, it has been a while since I've updated on here. But since very very few people are reading this, it's okay. :P Seven has fully recovered from her owie, and her claw has grown back in with no issues. There was some concern that it might curve into her paw when it grew back in, but no. It's perfectly normal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The cats still steal our food, like tiny, fur-covered bandits. But there are added distractions now. Like birds. And fish. Oh yes, nothing is quite so amazing as the 50 gallon fish tank in our dining room. Especially Betty. Betty is a black moor goldfish. (Is she really a "gold"fish if she's black? Discuss.) And for some reason, Data and Seven are obsessed with her. Not that we don't have other fish in the tank mind you. But they only want to harass Betty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When we first got the 50 gallon, Seven decided to throw herself into it. While it was full of water. I watched it happen, in slow motion. Time ground down slowly, like bullet-time, as I watched her put her tiny paws on the top, and heave herself up and over. Her little body slid over the lip, and into the water, where her head immediately dunked itself under the surface. I don't think she was expecting the water, for surely she'd have requested tiny water-wings if so. Her eyes bugged wide open and she flailed frantically for a mere half a second before surfacing and scrambling out of the tank of kitten doom. It seemed so much longer than it really was. I can still picture her face as she realised what had just happened. She blamed me for it too. I could tell in her eyes as she licked herself off. Why had I not warned her? Why had I not stopped her? I tried to explain that I would have, but it happened so fast... unfortunately I couldn't stop laughing long enough to make words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Soon, we added an occupant to the tank, which was Betty. She must have thought that she'd won the fishy lotto, since she was the only occupant of the 50gal for a number of days. Seven and Data would both sit on the table in front of the tank, and watch her swim, like fans at the slooowest tennis match ever. Back and forth, back and forth. Eventually though, all good things end, and we moved Betty into her actual home, which was a 10gal <a href="http://www.algone.com/aquarium-articles/fish-health/quarantine-tank">"hospital tank"</a>. That's how she acquired her name btw. She's "Nurse Betty". Seven's obsession finds new heights with the move, while Data's shifts to the birds outside, as the weather has by this time warmed up some, and the birds have returned en masse to the feeder outside our window. (The fact that I bought peanuts for the chipmunks and squirrels may have also contributed...)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Here's Seven with Betty </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We added fish to the large tank, and everything was going swimmingly (hurr) until one day when I had the lid to Betty's tank off, to feed her. Seven had forgotten the very important lesson she'd learned while she was inside the water of the big tank. Namely that water is wet, and she doesn't like it when it's deep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">So once again, swimming cat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, this time around, we had a minor casualty. Betty sustained an injury, and the water of the hospital tank was now really yucky with cat fur. So I had to put Betty in the larger tank to recover from her injury, which is the opposite of how that shit is supposed to work, for reasons I'm about to disclose.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Betty developed a serious infection in the wound, and contracted <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ichthyophthirius_multifiliis">ich</a>. Shortly thereafter, everyone else in our tank had it. It's like freeking herpes or something... jesus. It really spreads fast. The rainbows were just COVERED in it, and the pleco succumbed within days of infection. A quick eulogy and a burial at sea followed. (It was lovely, many kind words were spoken and tears shed. We had <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mxf1hpO301U">bad wine and lemon cake</a> afterwards during the wake)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">They're all fine now (except the plec, of course... though I suppose he's fine too now. In fishy heaven, or the vast nothingness of the tea-time of the soul) and once she was all healthy Betty showed her true colors.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">She is a horrible, horrible vandal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">She methodically made a route around the tank, and chewed through all of the stems of the plants I had put in the tank. The real plants. No plastic things for my tank, no sir. She's eaten about $45 worth of plants at this point, I think. I'm not sure what to do about her now. I thought about trading her to the pet store I bought her at, in exchange for credit towards another fish, but Seven loves her so much. (Loves? Hates? Wants to eat?.. I don't know. We'll go with it.) So I'm considering putting her back in the 10gal, but then she'll be lonely. Am I putting too much thought into this? Probably.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In other news, Sean has a full time job as a bartender at a really awesome new restaurant. The downside of this was that Data was home alone, all day, for a few days. So last Sunday, he felt he needed to talk to me about this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When Data "talks to me" about issues he has, it usually takes the form of peeing. Thankfully it's never on the carpets, or the walls like some male cats will do. But it's always very clear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Like the last time he had an issue with me, he dragged a towel around the living room, until it was in front of his litter box. He then proceeded to pee all over the towel. When I tried to pick him up to stop him, he just looked at me and kept peeing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">"Do you see what I'm peeing mom? I'm peeing my anger."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Turns out I had forgotten to clean his litter box for a day or two. Unacceptable, mom. And he let me know it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Well, he had issue with dad not being home, so while I was getting ready for work, he tried to pee in my potted palms. I caught him, and wrapped plastic over the tops, so he couldn't dig in the rocks. He watched me do this, and then when he was SURE I was paying attention, peed in his cat bed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Not really sure what he was thinking, since it's HIS bed, but hell I'd rather he do that than pee all over <i>mine</i>!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">It's better now, as Sean is going into work at around 4pm, and I'm home by 5:30, but he's watching us in case we shirk our duties to him again.</span></div>
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<u> Wrapping Up</u></h3>
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If you guys are interested in fish as well as cats, I can do a post next time about the tank, and how it looks today. I really want to say "Leave a comment on what you'd like me to post about next" but my blog isn't big enough for that... </div>
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Till next time folks! </div>
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<br /></div>Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-13091616504770072282012-04-14T08:55:00.000-05:002012-04-14T08:55:26.876-05:00Hello Darkness, My Old Friend<h3>
<u>Alone I Break</u></h3>
<i>(Not a funny, or cute post today folks. Feel free to skip this one if you only come for cat photos, or laughter)</i><br />
<br />
My anxiety is worse today. We recieved an email from our landlord saying he'd like to speak with us about our lease. Now, it's probably nothing. I mean, I think we're good tenants (if we're not, the other people here have said nothing) and we have always paid our rent on time. But I'm in a horrible panic over it now.<br />
Of course, I also sometimes hide in the hallway when he mows the lawn, because that's the only place in our home besides our closet that doesn't have windows. So... Yeah.<br />
<br />
My hands are shaking, I'm sick to my stomach, and I barely slept last night. I burst into tears for no reason this morning. I hate this so much. I feel like a prisoner inside my head.<br />
I understand this though. The anxiety will be followed by a crushing depression, or if I'm really lucky, I will have both at the same time. I'd say it's like a dear friend, whom you know well... But this is not my friend. A friend has warm connotations of comfort, and support. This is like the whip you know too well. You know the pain, you know the burning it leaves behind it. You remember the smell of your own fear, tears and blood that it leaves in its wake. You know it so well, that you forget to fear it sometimes. You forget that there were times when you were not subjected to its abuses. You forget that it doesn't have to be this way.<br />
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Honestly, though I know that it really DOESN'T have to be like this, I can barely remember a time when it wasn't. I can recall all the way back to Elementary school, waking up in the morning, and vomiting because I couldn't stand the idea of sitting in that classroom. I wasn't bullied, I was teased maybe a little, because I was shy, and awkward, and overweight. But for the most part, the other kids merely ignored me. And I ignored them, spending my recess period reading a book in the grass rather than playing.<br />
High school was the same, despite the fact that I lost my baby chub, and was moderately popular, with many friends. I would just suddenly panic at the very idea of going to school. I wasn't even a bad student! I don't think my mom had ever heard of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Generalized_anxiety_disorder" target="_blank">Generalized Anxiety Disorder</a>, so no one knew how to help me. (By the way, that link was sort of alarming for me, as that laundry list of symptoms is basically a run down of my day to day existence) We sort of just thought I was a sick kid. I didn't realize.<br />
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It wasn't until after my son was born, and my fiancee left me that we realized there was anything wrong. I had an attack so severe that I was convinced I couldn't breathe. I thought I was dying. I was terrified, and... it was awful. I can remember the feeling of dying, of thinking I was dying.<br />
<br />
*pauses for a deep breath and a sip of tea*<br />
<br />
They put me on medication after that, which quite honestly made everything worse. I was given Paxil, and also Valium. Which seems to me in retrospect, a bad decision by the doctor. After a few months, I quit taking them, because while I didn't feel anxious about anything, I didn't feel <i><b>anything</b></i> at all. Not even when my little boy would cuddle me. Afterwards, I wasn't covered by any sort of health care, so I haven't been on medication for this for... *thinks* 14 years.<br />
Wow. That's a long time.<br />
<br />
I want to beat this demon. I want to be okay. I want to feel safe, without having to make my husband stop everything he's doing and hold me.<br />
Did you know I don't drive? I don't. I want to, but I don't. Every time I get behind the wheel of a vehicle, I become certain that I am going to kill someone with the beast of steel that I have been put in charge of. Ironically, my husband says that when I forget to be afraid of driving, I'm an excellent driver, with no real bad habits to speak of.<br />
Not driving limits my life in so many ways. There's so much I want to do, but I'm hampered by the limits of public transportation. I've been wanting to go to Chicago, and see the aquarium there, but I haven't because I would need to drive there, or make my husband drive me there.<br />
I hate this.<br />
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Well, at least this has been cathartic for me. I feel a little better. I still have knots in my stomach, but the tightness in my chest has eased. I can't eat, but I can breathe now. *laughs*<br />
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Anyone who also deals with this, please know you're not alone. It's okay, you're not weak, and you're not "crazy". It doesn't have to beat you. We can walk this path together, and come out into the light.<br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-30326914225670155592012-04-13T13:18:00.000-05:002012-04-14T20:04:19.508-05:00Tiny Trips to the Tiny Vet for a Tiny Cat<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><u>Seven Has An Owie</u></span></b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><u><br />
</u></b></span><br />
So, Seven, while she is probably the cutest cat I've ever seen (forgive me, I suppose that most people think their kittens are the cutest, like parents all think their kid is the cutest, or the smartest, or whatever) however, she's not the brightest kitten. She gets into some remarkably silly things. And ends up in some troublesome situations.<br />
As I mentioned in my last post, she has only been to the vet once, and it was entirely her own fault. I thought we had another visit lined up when she stepped on the burner of the stove the other day, but thankfully she wasn't there long enough, and the burner had cooled enough that while I'm sure it didn't feel good, there was no damage.<br />
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Silly creature.<br />
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We didn't witness it happen, so we can't be certain what occurred, but I noticed Seven's paw was wet, so I went to dry it off. That's when I realized it was blood on her paw.<br />
Upon further inspection, she was missing her dewclaw... all of it. It wasn't broken, it wasn't just injured, it was gone. All that was left was a bloody stub.<br />
I cleaned it the best I could, and looked online for what to do. Some of the suggestions were to keep an eye on it, and see how it does. In retrospect I realize that this is for a partially broken claw, but we hadn't picked a vet for her yet, so we thought we'd give it a day and see how she did. She was obviously not bothered by it at all, since she was playing, and eating as normal.<br />
I think she must have caught it in the carpet of her cat tree, and then perhaps fallen from it. It's the only thing I can think of, since the rest of our home is fairly cat-proofed.<br />
After a day of observation, it had scabbed over and looked clean, so I just kept cleaning it with warm water, and then started searching for a vet. We found one, and we made an appointment, but we had to wait two days.<br />
At her vet visit I was glad when the vet told me I'd done exactly the right thing. She gave Seven and antibiotic shot, and informed us that she'd done such a good job of removing the claw herself, that they didn't need to do surgery. *laughs*<br />
It was a month or two before it grews back all the way, but she's doing just fine. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><u>Data</u></b></span><br />
It seems unfair that I spend so much time talking about Seven, however, Data is just such a good boy. He's such a love, and so gentle. I've never had scratches from him (my husband has a HUGE one right now, but that's another story).<br />
Though, I do wish he'd quit having a wee in my cacti... -_-<br />
Here's some photos to admire of our beautiful Data.<br />
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<h3>
<u>Diet and Exercise</u> </h3>
I've been just awful the past 2-3 days. And my husband is NO HELP AT ALL! He totally had me bake chocolate chip cookies last night. And I make some awesome cookies. They're moist, soft, and melt in your mouth. So what I'm saying here is I made them, and ate two of them.<br />
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*sighs*<br />
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So, I think what I'm learning from keeping this blog, is my Number One, is my Number One Enabler. I'm being good today so far though. I've had tomato soup for lunch, and a banana.<br />
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...and only one cookie.<br />
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<h3>
<u>Anxiety</u></h3>
Woke up with a bad attack of anxiety this morning, which was bad. But at least for once I know the source! My son goes back home to North Carolina tomorrow, and I go back to work. I don't want my kid to leave, but he has school to get back to, and friends. I also know that nothing will have gotten done while I was on vacation, so it's a good thing I enjoyed this week, because I used up all of my time off for a while, and I'll have to play catch up like hell.<br />
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It makes me angry, and frustrated with myself that I feel like hiding all the time. Just this rock solid dread sitting in the middle of my chest making it difficult to think, or breathe. I tell myself that I am an AWESOME person, who has had really AMAZING experiences. I am smart, and funny, and people seem to genuinely like me. I try to remind myself that I am capable, clever and that I've always managed to handle anything and everything that people have thrown at me, usually without breaking a sweat. But I have a hard time believing myself most days. <br />
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The weird thing is that while I was bouncing around from place to place (and country to country in some cases) I never worried about things. I was alright, as long as I had a little money, and a way to get a hold of a friend. It's real life I can't seem to get a hold of.<br />
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Being a grown-up blows.<br />
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<h3>
<u>Signing off?</u></h3>
I feel like I should have a way of ending each blog, like a catchphrase... Hmph. What do you guys think?<br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-3297656783604764702012-04-11T12:49:00.000-05:002012-04-11T12:49:14.102-05:00It's The Little Things In Life... (with photos)<h3>
<u><b>I Feel Hungover</b></u></h3>
But I'm not. I somehow woke up with a queasy stomach, and a headache despite not drinking. Perhaps it's the ghost of my younger days, when I would drink until I could barely see and then wake up fresh as a daisy the next morning, coming back to haunt me. I also managed to hyperextend my right knee while making the bed last night... don't ask me how, I'm just that freeking graceful. Despite all this, I plan on going for a very nice walk today. I still don't have my treadmill for my exercise and I'm behind on my goals. So walking it is!<br />
Thankfully we have some beautiful biking trails around this city, so I'm going to walk along those, and probably chase some frogs, or lizards.<br />
<br />
Because I do that sort of crap.<br />
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<h3>
<u><b>Easter Weekend</b></u></h3>
So I hope everyone had a fantastic weekend, no matter if you celebrate Easter, Passover or just the awesomeness of having a bloody long weekend. I'm not religious in any real way, but Sunday was my birthday, so we celebrated! WOO!<br />
My mother-in-law (who is religious) decided to make twice the food apparently, so we could have two celebrations at once. There was enough to feed a squad of US Marines.. no joke. There was also two cakes, and a pie at the end of it. Shockingly, I didn't gain weight that day. Neither did I lose any, but I considered it a minor miracle anyway. <br />
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My son, who flew in from his dad's in North Carolina for Spring Break, ate till he popped, and then fell into a food coma on the sofa, while the oldies chatted over our pieces of sugary goodness. (I had the red velvet cake YUM) He's gotten pretty damned tall, this child of mine, and is becoming an adult before my eyes. Makes me feel old, and sad. I want to hug him back to being a little boy again.<br />
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It's not the most flattering photo, sorry. But you can see the shaved head really well. I can hardly argue about the hair, by the way, since when I was his age I shaved my head in the exact same manner. So I decided to handle it the same way my mother did.<br />
"It's your head. You have to live with it until it grows out."<br />
It takes all the fun out of rebellion when your parents don't care. ;) I had taken it a step further, and dyed it colors, but he declined when I offered to make his hair blue and green to match Easter eggs. Boy, I sure know how to ruin his fun. *grins*<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslcZkP_rZ0hRMEuPWKeCJqSyFLCmGC-WmXvdrMe85Oe-fdtyYCGJmfu4oBs9aQqDi-IK4KRU0aXhv6z6zxlRzkipszvjLEMgi9nsYTbGU-3-92xaYAZsHMz46D5TePdU-zYWplCligDh6/s1600/untitled-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhslcZkP_rZ0hRMEuPWKeCJqSyFLCmGC-WmXvdrMe85Oe-fdtyYCGJmfu4oBs9aQqDi-IK4KRU0aXhv6z6zxlRzkipszvjLEMgi9nsYTbGU-3-92xaYAZsHMz46D5TePdU-zYWplCligDh6/s320/untitled-2.jpeg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He looks like a young (drug-free) Sid Vicious here.</td></tr>
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Also part of the Easter fun was the brand new puppy that my mother-in-law got. Her name is Daisy, and she's a pure-bred Golden Retriever. I personally wouldn't ever pay for a pure-bred, because not only have her dogs cost her arms and legs, and most of her internal organs to start with, they also have more health issues than any mutt I have ever owned. They are very well loved dogs though, and she can afford the medical costs, while my husband and I cannot. As a matter of fact, we've only had to take our "pound kitties" to the vet once for something outside of their usual wellness check ups for their shots. (I'll post about that next time though, as it's a pretty funny story.)<br />
Now, since everyone loves puppy pictures, and Daisy is without a doubt the most "AWWW" inducing puppy I have ever met... Without further ado: Daisy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimdB342AwV5QBpgRsT7wntNTt9P_FnLpBn4fK4KUp3QAL478OsRqoRAOGXN2RCwWsPi3nqQSxKk7Pyb48U3oCnsAFscWJMzuStzuZVCCaD-JxBJ1zrMMGxeql5AvOwEvgsMVeJmqRKgX9o/s1600/untitled-35.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimdB342AwV5QBpgRsT7wntNTt9P_FnLpBn4fK4KUp3QAL478OsRqoRAOGXN2RCwWsPi3nqQSxKk7Pyb48U3oCnsAFscWJMzuStzuZVCCaD-JxBJ1zrMMGxeql5AvOwEvgsMVeJmqRKgX9o/s320/untitled-35.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mini-Sid with Daisy</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hBSdcSuzy1d0VrR5gn2ey9HI0y10R3zPPXnWrPsdDEe6Zh64DPaEUfDMY963yPQP2dBUxq5LSjzRWgEjgvxgmEj_uPFO0NrQenm6Y448P657PBbp0yHfmrPfek5M-_yQDgEbqZHZLmnA/s1600/untitled-58.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hBSdcSuzy1d0VrR5gn2ey9HI0y10R3zPPXnWrPsdDEe6Zh64DPaEUfDMY963yPQP2dBUxq5LSjzRWgEjgvxgmEj_uPFO0NrQenm6Y448P657PBbp0yHfmrPfek5M-_yQDgEbqZHZLmnA/s320/untitled-58.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My gorgeous husband (Also known as "Number One") with Daisy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqB6kBOBuv6TVmFJW0FH_6Q9_-dfesPBehW2MhPFKKtvy6bni4feKv_G_9pRDKf8BicgUPsEt9ShSSQWOC5keXUS4oyvMtAfU0ZunYgT70KuIS53jLWG-3PtVAJ4EQ1-V3Xcck1gXcKGh/s1600/untitled-50.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqB6kBOBuv6TVmFJW0FH_6Q9_-dfesPBehW2MhPFKKtvy6bni4feKv_G_9pRDKf8BicgUPsEt9ShSSQWOC5keXUS4oyvMtAfU0ZunYgT70KuIS53jLWG-3PtVAJ4EQ1-V3Xcck1gXcKGh/s320/untitled-50.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If your head doesn't explode from cute, you should see a doctor.</td></tr>
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<h3>
<u><b>Spring Cleaning!</b></u></h3>
Yesterday I made a list of stuff to take care of around the house for my annual spring cleaning marathon, since for the first time since ...well, for the first time in my memory actually, I have the whole week off at home. I took the week off to be with my boy, so I figured we could use it to clean as well as spend time together. (because I'm REALLY not good with idle time. Blogging helps me with this, I need shit to do.)<br />
One of the things on my list was to wash all my linens, and then fold and put them away again. The Winter sheets sets get wrapped in plastic, and stored with a dryer sheet or two, and the Summer sheets get pulled out of the same plastics, washed and placed on the beds, or put on the linen shelf for later. Now I know most people find folding the fitted sheets difficult, and I did too until I developed my technique for folding. I thought that I would help everyone by sharing this great way to fold that I developed myself. If it helps you out, please let me know in the comments!<br />
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That's all there is to it!<br />
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I'm sure I had more to talk about, but now all I can think about is that it's nearly 1pm, and I haven't started my walk yet, or had anything to eat. So until next time, when we'll discuss my cat's vet visit, and perhaps post photos from the walk.<br />
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<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-36465380039885029132012-04-04T18:56:00.004-05:002012-04-04T18:56:53.977-05:00Oh, Captain! My, Captain!<h2 style="font-weight: normal;">
<u>Busy As A Bee</u></h2>
Sorry, I swear I'm not dead, just very very busy.<br />
<br />
For the first time in many years, I had a four day weekend. My husband and I drove up with his dad and sister and spent the whole weekend with his Aunt and Uncle in St. Paul Minnesota. It was my first time in the twin cities where I got to explore a bit.<br />
His uncle's house was GORGEOUS! A restored historical home near Summit Ave, and it was the most beautiful home I think I've ever been in. Marble counters in the bathrooms, skylights in our guestroom.. lovely.<br />
<br />
Next week my son will be with me for the whole week, and I'm taking time off of work to focus on him. But I'm sure I'll have time to post here.<br />
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<h2>
<b><u><span style="font-weight: normal;">Dieting</span></u></b></h2>
<b><span style="font-weight: normal;">I'm still doing well on my diet. I lost some ground in St. Paul, what with all the eating out at restaurants. But not too much ground. I'm down to 219, and I had gotten to 218. I think I can make that up in a day or two with exercise and watching my binging. Which may be difficult as my birthday falls on Easter this year, so cake and candy will be every-fucking-where! Wheee!</span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-weight: normal;">Moderation, everything in moderation. </span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-weight: normal;">I will post more later on, in the meantime here's some geek affirmation. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">If you're unfamiliar with The Guild, you should watch them. They're on netflix I think, or you can watch them <a href="http://www.watchtheguild.com/" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></b><br />
<h3>
</h3>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jFhgupR565Q" width="560"></iframe>Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-44246623367633800562012-03-28T19:54:00.001-05:002012-03-28T19:54:58.453-05:00Modern Art Vs. Me<h3>
On Track? </h3>
So, I've been pretty decent about my food intake, but less so about my alcohol intake. Which as we all (sadly) know has plenty of calories in it's own right. So, because I need to pay attention to this crap, I loaded up MyFitnessPal on my phone (again) and I started using it (again) today.<br />
<br />
Today I was actually pretty awful. Not in a binge-eating way though. I forgot my lunch at home, and then got so busy at work that I never got a chance to eat lunch. The result was that by the time I got home from work at 5:30, all I had consumed was 300 calories for the whole day. I ate a half cup of macaroni salad when I got home because I felt a little light-headed, and now I'm defrosting skinless chicken breasts for dinner. I'll probably make up a green salad to go with it, and have strawberries for dessert.<br />
<br />
Tonight I plan on shopping online for a treadmill, so I can walk or jog indoors. I don't much want to take long walks by myself, and anyway I get bored by myself, even though I love being outside. So treadmill it is!<br />
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<h3>
Tripping</h3>
This weekend I'm off with my husband, my sister-in-law, and my father-in-law to Minneapolis. We're all staying with family, and a trip to the <a href="http://www.mallofamerica.com/home" target="_blank">Mall of America</a> is planned. In case you're unaware of this ghastly behemoth, it is the Church of Consumerism, the Capital of Corporations. It is Conspicuous Spending at it's ugliest. it also has a rollercoaster, so count me in! Sean plans on going to the Lego Store where you can play with every lego set ever made, and they have huge bins of lego pieces. I want to stop in at <a href="http://www.lushusa.com/" target="_blank">Lush</a> which is my favorite place ever to shop. Anything handmade and beautiful smelling is there. And I love my bath stuff a whole lot.<br />
Did I mention my birthday is coming up? Guess how I'm treating myself.<br />
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<h3>
The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art</h3>
Okay, so this could actually be called "Why I'm never allowed to return to the SFMOMA" and probably should be, but whatever.<br />
So a group of friends of mine and myself all ended up at the SFMOMA. It's been long enough that I can't remember everyone who was there right now, but I know for sure my BF was because she was in on this. As always.<br />
I have never been a fan of Modern Abstract art. Some of it seems to me like they're just going out of their way to be either <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/theatreblog/2010/apr/19/nudity-art-marina-abramovic" target="_blank">incomprehensible</a> or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piss_Christ" target="_blank">disgusting</a>. And if you say "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Bed" target="_blank">I think this is gross</a>." they crow about how it's supposed to offend you. And if you say "<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/artblog/2007/oct/04/podcast24yearsoftheturner" target="_blank">This is stupid, and I don't get it</a>." you're "incapable of understanding it's complexities." Perhaps both statements are true. I'm willing to say maybe I'm offended because I don't understand it. Or maybe you're just full of shit. <br />
<br />
So this was the mentality I went in to the SFMOMA with... probably was doomed from the start in retrospect.<br />
I remember some of the exhibits were interesting, but the one that sticks with me was a series of naked men, sitting on stools blowing spit bubbles. The photos were beautifully composed, and lit... even if I didn't "get" it.<br />
I hadn't been in the museum long when the drama started. I was looking at a statue (I don't even remember what the hell it was now) and I pointed out something to my BF. Out of no where a security guard appears.<br />
<br />
Guard: You can't touch the art.<br />
Me: I wasn't...<br />
Guard: Back away from the art.<br />
<br />
He followed us around a bit, and then I lost sight of him. A little bit later I was waiting for friends to finish looking at a piece, and I leaned against the blank wall near the doorway.<br />
<br />
Guard: Ma'am, you are too close to the exhibit!<br />
Me: *looks at the exhibit 12 feet away from me* Really?<br />
Guard: Don't make me warn you again.<br />
<br />
Now my feathers are ruffled. I know he's just doing his job, and it's probably a thankless bullshit job at that, but <i>Really?</i> So out popped my snark. A few rooms later, when I see that he's still behind us, I walked over to a bench in front of an exhibit and smirked at him.<br />
<br />
Me: Can I sit here? Or is this a masterpiece too?<br />
<br />
He didn't rise to my bait, sadly.<br />
<br />
Near the end of the museum there were two artwork exhibits that really sort of pissed me off. I mean... what the fuck. One was a single canvas of <a href="http://www.moma.org/collection/object.php?object_id=80103" target="_blank">solid blue</a>. The other was t<a href="http://www.sfmoma.org/explore/collection/artwork/25855" target="_blank">hree completely white panels</a>. That's all they were. Solid. White. Panels.<br />
So there I was standing in front of the white panels. Just staring. Flabbergasted. And BF says:<br />
<br />
BF: So, how do these make you feel?<br />
Me: Like I wish I had brought a sharpie...<br />
<br />
And that was when I was herded out of the MOMA!<br />
<br />
I was also tossed out of the deYoung Museum, but not because I didn't like the exhibits. Apparently cellphones will damage the artwork, and are not allowed, even if you're a panicked parent who is hurrying for the exit because your child has just been injured. Because, yanno.. the fucking artwork man.<br />
<br />
*grins*<br />
<br />Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415930432678447840.post-73486945907148066692012-03-23T13:18:00.000-05:002012-03-23T13:27:39.465-05:00I'm Getting Dirty<h3>
Out of the Zone </h3>
Oh man... I did something today that is WAY outside of my comfort zone.<br />
<br />
I signed up for the Dirty Girl Mud Run.<br />
<br />
I hate running, but this is more like an obstacle course plus it's for a good cause. Breast Cancer. Plus, I get to roll in the mud, which sounds kind of awesome.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.godirtygirl.com/">http://www.godirtygirl.com/</a><br />
<br />
I have such a hard time making friends right now though, and I don't get out much, so I felt like this was a chance to break out of my rut. Do something that's good for me, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I'm already regretting it, but that's probably a good sign as it means that I'm doing something besides video games. >.><br />
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My blog readers can be my cheerleaders! I will keep you posted on here.<br />
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<h3>
Diet News</h3>
<br />
My husband had left the house while I was typing up my last post, and just shortly after I finished it, he returned... With a red velvet cake. *sighs*<br />
I was good though, and only took a small sliver of it. I've allowed myself a very small slice every day, but only one, and it has been VERY small. But it's enough. It tricks me into thinking I'm still not dieting, and makes me happy to have that to look forward to all day.<br />
<br />
The wonderful bookkeeper I work for at the lab took me out to lunch yesterday, to <a href="http://www.noodles.com/food/" target="_blank">Noodles & Company</a> and I ordered the small Med Salad despite how much I love their pastas in cream sauces. I was pretty proud of myself. Jan told me I was doing such a great job at work, that she felt like getting me out of the store. Happy!<br />
<br />
I've been good about my meals at home as well. Last night I had a half cup of cooked couscous with a teaspoon of olive oil and cracked pepper, and 6 oz of grilled chicken. And I made myself a smoothie to drink with half a mango, a cup of frozen blueberries and blackberries, a half cup of yoghurt, and cranberry crystal light instead of juice or milk. There was enough for three serving from that, I had a small glass of it (half a pint) and my husband drank the rest.<br />
Was I good? I dunno, I forgot to weigh myself this morning. However I feel like I did better, so it's a start. I would have normally probably made burgers, or ordered a pizza, then had soda with it. Followed by chips later. So yeah, an improvement I think.<br />
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<h3>
I want a baby, Husband says "NO!"</h3>
Not a real baby. A kitten. Or a puppy, I'm not picky. But my husband says that we "don't need another one. Two is enough."<br />
Then he reminds me that I spoil the shit out of the cats we have, and that to share that attention at this point would probably break their hearts. Which makes me feel guilty.<br />
I don't sleep well, so I suppose having a third cat to poke me all night would be even worse, but I can't help but stare at photos of tiny baby kittens in need of homes and my heart breaks because I cannot save all the animals in the whole world. If I am ever rich, I will donate all but what I need for basic survival to rescuing, and finding homes for all the sad, and abused animals in the world.<br />
<br />
Because I'm a crazy cat lady.<br />
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Until next time!Just call me Captainhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08005144663811004757noreply@blogger.com2