Puppy Love

We made an incredibly quick trip to the Mitten yesterday. We had planned on going up for the week-end a few weeks back, but it didn't work out. Martin's dad was very disappointed, so he gave Martin a ticket on the Guilty Train and off we went.

They have a new Boxer puppy, nine weeks old. His name is Willem and he is adorable, as you can see. Willem is going to be a big boy. He already weighs twice as much as my pocket Pom and is twice her size.

I'm a dog magnet. Nearly every dog I meet loves me. Every dog Martin and I have ever owned has become my dog. I'm their mommy. Willem was no different. My dogs were pretty pissed when we got home and from my smell of puppy, it was obvious I'd been cheating on them.

*****

I'm reading Kitty Kelly's latest book, Oprah.
(Note: I got mine at Target for a lot less.) I've never watched a lot of Oprah's show, but of course, I'm familiar with her story and her works. The book is explosive. The best way I can describe the revelations in the book is that Oprah has distorted several facts of her life and is not the transparent person that she presents herself to be. Also, it is not a good idea to make the O mad; she went sixteen years without talking to David Letterman after he pissed her off on his show. That is just one example of her ability to neither forgive, nor forget, and her power. The sheer power of the woman is incredible. Sometimes, she does use that power for good.


*****
I quite like my new job. No one there is crazy. I've worked in some interesting places. One job, the boss was a complete paranoid loon; he kept a loaded gun in his desk and was just off

At another job at a car dealership, one of the salesmen was arrested in Detroit for soliciting a prostitute. His demo was impounded. When the demo was picked up, there was a very large woman's shoe (bronze leather mid-heel open toe pump, an 11 at least, which makes you wonder which waters the above mentioned salesman was trolling) under the seat, along with an empty bottle of vodka.

I worked for a company that scammed poor people out of their money under the guise of repairing their credit. We ran commercials about our "services" and people called an 800 number that directed them to a 900 number that charged $3.95 a minute to take a "credit app" from them then turned them over to "underwriting", which then directed them to a finance company in their area that might give them a loan. I have a feeling this is operating again, or at least a good imitation, since I've seen commercials that are eerily similar. That boss was fairly paranoid, as well.

Boss The Father at one place I worked was a nasty dry drunk, one of the worst I've ever seen. I'd worked there about a week when a delivery guy was dropping off a rebuilt engine that Boss The Father was overcharged for. He went berserk on the poor driver, who took off in a blaze of dust and called 911, which prompted the cops to come out, where BTF ranted at them as well.

It's nice to have a job, and it's nice that it's normal.

Welcome To The Working Week

So I got a job. It's in an office setting, doing the type of work I've done in the past. I'm excited.

I will lose my daytime tv, though, which means I will miss such shows as Unsolved Mysteries, which I've been watching every morning on Spike. Its no surprise that I love that show; it's exactly the type of show my mom and I would have watched together. The host, Dennis Farina, is perfect; his voice always has that tinge of suspicion, like you know he doesn't really believe what this so-called witness is blathering about. I love it when it veers off into Fate magazine territory, as well. On those segments, he sounds completely convinced that the person relaying these incidences is absolutely credible, while whatever authorities involved are obviously part of a huge cover-up. My mom had a subscription to Fate for years and years, along with the National Enquirer. She called them her scandal sheets and hid them when people were coming over.

Yesterday was Martin's fortieth birthday. We went to dinner at the Macaroni Grill, Martin's choice, where Mia took our picture. (I photograph so badly; I always feel like I should say, "You know, I'm a lot cuter in real life.") Our waiter was a hoot but the food was pricey for what it was, which was ehhh. Nothing great, just okay. I'll take Buca di Beppo anyday.

Tomorrow, Martin has the day off and I had to coerce him into spending the day doing all our week-end running around. He wanted to go hide in the Train Cave and work on his choo-choo but I convinced him that he can do that all day Saturday and Sunday.

Only in the D.

Notes From The Bat Cave

The Easter Bunny is the lesser of the childhood mythical deities. He's above the tooth fairy somewhat (after all, he does bring candy) but much farther down the rung than Santa, who is, you know, the Grand Poobah of all childhood mythical deities.

The Easter Bunny brings Barbies to my house. This year, Barbie almost smothered in her basket, wired tightly into her pink convertible, wrapped in 6000 yards of pink cellophane but thankfully none of that shredded grass. She was buried in various candy products, and it had been a rough hop in that basket. Mia had helpfully drawn a huge Easter Egg on our sidewalk that had an arrow pointing to our door, in case the Easter Bunny had been hitting the Bloody Marys, pregaming for Easter Lunch and might have missed us.

*****

I wasn't sad to see Michigan State lose to Butler; I was mad. The Spartans did not bring their best game to Indy. However, I was thrilled for Butler; that's what March Madness is all about. Who had ever hear of Gongaza before they suddenly showed up during Sweet Sixteen all those years ago? Lehigh made it to the dance, LEHIGH. There's always lots of nail biters, hearbreakers and big surprises.

*****

Martin's turning forty this week. He's already an avid model railroader and has asked me to start buying the "special" ice cream; next, he'll have to be careful not to poop his pants when he sneezes, since he's old now.

*****

I had a job interview last Thursday, my first in over three years. I had a second interview today, and start with an orientation next Monday.

How's That Working Out For You?

I was going to make this big effort to crawl back into the land of technology and also try to write every day, starting with this, right? Yeah, well, we can tell how that worked out. Good intentions, blah blah blah.

I have, however, been making use of the lovely red leather Franklin Covey planner my father-in-law got me for Christmas. I have a big page for each day, so I write down things that I've done, things that I want to get done, the weather, what we had for dinner, what book I'm reading. And I write down various writing prompts as I think of them.

I just haven't actually used them to write anything yet.

I've had the windows open and to let the house air out. I've done the spring cleaning and it feels good to see the sunshine and smell the spring sneaking up.

Of course, there are other ways to welcome the Ides of March.

Saturday, In The Park

Well, it is Saturday, although we didn't really get near a park, unless you count driving by a park. It's gloomy and gray outside, spitting rain, but fairly warm. It's spring in the Hoosier State.

Instead, we went to Michael's and Wal-Mart. Good times, good times, kids. Martin got lots of goodies for his train layout, which he is embarking on in earnest. This is on N scale, if that means anything to anyone (i.e. pretty small). You can watch his progress here. Some of the stuff on the end is screen shots from some game he plays but the video on there shows what he's up to now.

Model railroading is dorky yet strangely quaint and cute. Martin tips the scales considerably on the "normal" scale compared to some of his fellow model train enthusiasts who tip the scale on "pretty damn weird in more than one way."

I love my Crock Pot. I made a pork roast with potatoes today. It was totally lazy cooking. I bought the Hormel pork roast and Green Giant roasted potatoes with herb and garlic sauce. I put the roast in the Crock Pot with some Chop House flavored marinade, turned it on high for 3 hours, then added the frozen potatoes and a jar or Heinz pork gravy and some frozen green beans. I am so lazy. Who cares, though, it came out very tasty and Martin will have pork sandwiches for lunch this week.

That's the week-end so far. A glamorous middle age I am living, no?

Luddite

Luddite: According to the Google online dictionary, to call someone a Luddite is to criticize them for opposing changes in industrial methods, especially the introduction of new machines and modern methods. 

I've been acting like a Luddite lately, it's true.  I've gone two and three days in a row without checking my email or even turning on my computer.  I decided to avoid the lure of the mindless joy found on the Internet.  I haven't been reading anything other than Vanity Fair, and even that with mild disinterest.  Even though I had a very high score and 118 badges in Shape Shifter, I haven't written a word in months.  I've barely even blogged.  My house wasn't up to the standards I wanted it to be, but I spent plenty of time reading about dead celebrities, fooling around on Facebook, and in general, doing a whole lot of nothing.

I thought a lot about how much of ourselves is easily accessible online.  How much of me is out there, because I've been around a long time online.  It kind of creeped me out. I've been thinking about taking this thing private.

I made a conscious choice to to take a few steps away from the Internet.

When we got our income tax refund, I ordered a stack of books I've been wanting to read from Amazon and also had a brief spree in Half-Price Books.  I've read:

In The Name of Love; Ann Rule
Pretty typical of her true crime files books; interesting cases; think I'm getting Ann Ruled out.

The Best American Crime Reporting 2009; edited by Jeffrey Toobin et al
These have come out every year for several years and are always a great read.

On Writing; Stephen King
  My second copy of this book; I loaned the first to someone (I've forgotten who) and never gotten it back, which is quite all right.  It's the Bible for Writing for me.

Too Much Money; Dominick Dunne
 I didn't want it to end.  I adored Mr. Dunne and savored everything he's ever written.  Great dish; the characters are easily recognized as their true life counterparts; the ending, alas, isn't up to his usual.

Half Broke Horses; Jeannette Walls
Her second memoir, this one a "true life novel", whatever that means.  She's a lively, wonderful storyteller.  I look forward to more of her writing.

Methland; Nick Reading
About a small town in Iowa that is devastated by meth.  Not a happy read but well written and topical.

The Innocent Man; John Grisham 
 His first non-fiction and it's full of Grisham-isms like heavy sarcasm done well and perfectly chosen adjectives and a conflict on every page.  I'm in the middle and so far, it's really pissing me off.  One of those cases of "You Are Just Plain Effed" justice, like the disappearance of Adrianna and Jennifer Wix or the case of David Camm. 

I've also watched a few movies, some good, some awful.  Stay away, in particular, from the snooze fest of Australia.  I kept getting up throughout it, doing chores and coming back and asking, "Isn't this dirge over yet?" and no, no it wasn't because it's about 4 hours long and nothing at all happens.  Even cute Hugh Jackman doesn't make it watchable and he's one of those guys that I generally want to see in anything, even a toothpaste commercial, and I'd still think he was handsome.  Although I do fear he may be short.

Speaking of which, (handsome actors, not short ones) I can't wait to see Andy Garcia on the Martha Stewart show.  I've actually watched Martha a couple times lately, and it's unintentionally hilarious.  She's so snooty and superior and when she tries to be funny, she just sounds like some over bred WASP-y condensending type with a stick up her ass. She's not warm or maternal at all and let's be real, the only reason why she has time to do all those stupid crafts is because she obviously has live-in help. Can you seriously picture her loading her dishwasher and picking up dog poop? Well, she did start a trend by knitting ugly shawls in prison, so I guess it's possible. She was giving away some really "amazing", as she said, trips yesterday but she's just such a snot and so anal and perfect. She packs a lunch when she flies, a little insulated carry-on of potato/ bean salad and tabbouleh that she whips up the night before her trip and puts them in Chinese carry-out containers that fit so nicely in her insulated carry-on lunch bag for those 26 hour flights to Bangkok.  Oh, and the bean/potato salad had tuna in it, which she assured her audience wouldn't smell and offend other passengers since it was Italian tuna. Who does that sort of shit? Seriously? If we take a road trip, my family is happy if I pack a couple sandwiches and some chips and remember some juice boxes; you can bet if we fly anywhere they will be happy to get plane pretzels and lukewarm 7 UP or maybe if Mom is really on the ball, a piece of fruit. Martha's guests all were yakking it up about their favorite places to travel to and it was Galapagos, climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, some country in Asia that starts with a B I'd never even heard of, that sort of thing. 

I guess I'm just not in her demographic because these days, I'm pretty happy to get back to the Mitten a couple times a year.  And the night before my trip to anywhere, I certainly wouldn't be in the kitchen mucking around, except to finish off that bottle of wine before we leave.  I'd be running around like a lunatic throwing crap in suitcases, like any normal person would be.

I finally broke down and went to get my eyes checked.  I knew they'd gone way wrong recently because I was a having a really hard time seeing to read anything and it was damn annoying.  Welcome to the wonderful world of bifocals.  I have new glasses, no line bifocals, and while it's wonderful I can see so well, I'm not knocked out by the frames.  Choices in frames tend to be limited when you want the ultra light lenses, and no line bifocals.  Or you know, you can wear Coke bottles with huge magnified parts on the bottom that weigh about five pounds.  I am so grateful glasses have come so far.  I can even get contacts to fix this, which I'm just waiting for. 

I think I'm out of my complete Luddite phase, which let's face it, wasn't a total cutoff, I snuck peeks of my email on my phone and read the news and kept up with a few blogs but I know I'm an addict and I accept that.  Cutting down makes me feel like I got a lot accomplished.  My house is looking much more like the way I want it to and I did a fierce de-clutter on our bedroom and got new linens. It was nice to take naps and watch Cold Case Files and bad On Demand movies. I've missed reading, getting lost in a book. It feels good writing this, I feel inspired after reading some fine writing. 

I'm setting a certain goal for myself as far as writing and a part of that, is to start writing something here every day for at least a month.  I need to get back in the habit of writing everyday and this is a good baby step to start with.

* You will note that I didn't link stuff in here I could have.  I'm too lazy and I figure if you really want to find that stuff, you are perfectly capable of using Google all by yourself.

Romance Is Lost On Me

I appreciate it in other's lives, but in my own? Not so much. My dear friend Tiffany's sister's birthday is this evening and in addition to celebrating that, her boyfriend will be proposing, and she has no idea. He went to Build-A-Bear and built one or got one or whatever you do at Build-A-Bear, the bear you can record something and press the bear's paw and it will replay. He's recorded his marriage proposal and after handing her the bear and getting down on one knee, will tell her to squeeze the paw.

The "Awwwww" factor is overwhelming and so so sweet.

If Martin, however, had proposed to me in such a manner, I would have had to decline based solely on the fact that he went to Build-A-Bear and imagined in some way that I would appreciate that. It would be a blatant sign that he didn't know me at all.

Instead, Martin has ordered me a pink Ed Gein tee-shirt for Valentine's Day. I'm pretty happy about that; my husband knows me well.

I've never embraced romantic gestures. My last ex, when we were financially comfortable, used to buy me a gift every Friday. He worked hard on it, probably to make up for the normal everyday shit he put me through. Ninety per cent of time, I'd look at the gift, say, "Thank you," and set it aside. Buying me slutty underwear, ugly jewelry and clothes I would never wear doesn't do it for me. Chocolate, particularly Godiva, is always a win-win situation, though.

One time, he got me an outfit. It was a pair of navy blue long Bermuda like shorts; wool; a blazer to match, with those stupid brass buttons and a navy blue and beige blouse. I actually wore this atrocity, with off white hose and navy blue flats, a couple of times, before "I lost it at the dry cleaner." I don't think I have ever in my life pretended to be Muffy Worthington. Whole outfit and gesture was so not me.

We were planning on going to our favorite Mexican joint tomorrow so Martin can take his girls out for Valentine's Day but instead, I think we will be staying home and having lasagna hopefully with Tiffany and Timothy. I may not be a huggy kissy type, except with my kids, but cooking,to me,is love.