What the hell has Christmas come to? The commercials on TV depict happy people out spending their money like they haven't a care in the world. 'Just come to our store, and all your dreams will come true'. What they don't show is people parked on sidewalks and sleeping in tents so they can push and shove their way through a crowd. They don't show how all the prices are marked up before they are 'on sale'. They don't show the person walking by without a dollar in their pocket to buy a fucking sandwich, wishing they had a place to spend the holiday, or a family to spend it with.
Instead, it's, 'Hey moms, come here for the best toys.' Or, 'Hey dad's, diamonds make everything better, buy one for you wife.' Then what happens? The child plays with the box instead of the toy and the jewelry sits in a box until it's once-a-year appearance on your anniversary.
Here's an idea, if you have the money, spend it on the person without. Or better, donate all the stuff you got last year and is currently sitting at the bottom of your closet and spend the holiday with your family instead of out shopping with crowds of strangers.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Journal Week 15
Day 3
Today I accomplished a lot. I feel successful. I textured the walls and got slightly high doing so. At first, I was skeptical about putting texture on the wall, it reminds me of a cheap hotel. I have never seen in anywhere but a commercial building. I didn't really think that was where I wanted to go with this. But since our walls are so shot from nails and anchors well, lets face it, me knowing nothing about mudding and sanding drywall, we decided it was the only option.
So I got up all gung-ho and started spraying. The stuff comes in a spray can, and it comes out web-like, so I kind-of felt like spiderman. It was a childhood dream of mine to have webs at my fingertips, so needless to say, I got the job done quickly. But by the time it was complete, I was more that a little light headed. I didn't even notice the fumes until I escaped them.
After the room aired out, I ended up painting the entire thing, going to Lowes for supplies, and cleaned and showered before Ron even got home. And then I bragged about it. A lot. I guess I am feeling a little high and mighty. Emphasis on the high.
Oh, and it doesn't look like a cheap hotel room, in case you were wondering.
Today I accomplished a lot. I feel successful. I textured the walls and got slightly high doing so. At first, I was skeptical about putting texture on the wall, it reminds me of a cheap hotel. I have never seen in anywhere but a commercial building. I didn't really think that was where I wanted to go with this. But since our walls are so shot from nails and anchors well, lets face it, me knowing nothing about mudding and sanding drywall, we decided it was the only option.
So I got up all gung-ho and started spraying. The stuff comes in a spray can, and it comes out web-like, so I kind-of felt like spiderman. It was a childhood dream of mine to have webs at my fingertips, so needless to say, I got the job done quickly. But by the time it was complete, I was more that a little light headed. I didn't even notice the fumes until I escaped them.
After the room aired out, I ended up painting the entire thing, going to Lowes for supplies, and cleaned and showered before Ron even got home. And then I bragged about it. A lot. I guess I am feeling a little high and mighty. Emphasis on the high.
Oh, and it doesn't look like a cheap hotel room, in case you were wondering.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Journal Week 15
Day 2
My living room looks like a cheap daycare. Everything from the bedroom is squished in a space that is too small for it. There are toys and childrens' furniture from wall to wall, piled on top of each other, underneath and behind couches. One wrong move and it's a Lego avalanche. I wonder if this is what my house would look like if I had three children. Grady is going to have to sleep in the living room while we work. I pray it is only for a few nights, he is completely thrown off if his routine is interrupted. And this is a complete upheaval.
So far, Ron and I have ripped the strapping off the wall, pounded the nails, and started mudding. I didn't realize how time consuming taping and mudding drywall is. This is something Ron does often, and has talked about. But I guess I've never given him enough credit, usually he comes home and says something like, 'Uggh, my day was awful, I was doing drywall all day.'
At this point in the conversation, I am typically thinking how nice it would be to have a break from the kids and do some drywall myself. And I suppose it would be nice once in a while, like I am doing now, for instance. But all day, for a week straight? No thanks.
So, props to you Ron, sorry it's taken me so long to acknowledge this. I guess next time you come home after a day of drywall, I wont throw the kids on you and retreat to the bedroom like I would so love to do. I'll give you at least for an hour or so, then they are all yours.
My living room looks like a cheap daycare. Everything from the bedroom is squished in a space that is too small for it. There are toys and childrens' furniture from wall to wall, piled on top of each other, underneath and behind couches. One wrong move and it's a Lego avalanche. I wonder if this is what my house would look like if I had three children. Grady is going to have to sleep in the living room while we work. I pray it is only for a few nights, he is completely thrown off if his routine is interrupted. And this is a complete upheaval.
So far, Ron and I have ripped the strapping off the wall, pounded the nails, and started mudding. I didn't realize how time consuming taping and mudding drywall is. This is something Ron does often, and has talked about. But I guess I've never given him enough credit, usually he comes home and says something like, 'Uggh, my day was awful, I was doing drywall all day.'
At this point in the conversation, I am typically thinking how nice it would be to have a break from the kids and do some drywall myself. And I suppose it would be nice once in a while, like I am doing now, for instance. But all day, for a week straight? No thanks.
So, props to you Ron, sorry it's taken me so long to acknowledge this. I guess next time you come home after a day of drywall, I wont throw the kids on you and retreat to the bedroom like I would so love to do. I'll give you at least for an hour or so, then they are all yours.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Journal Week 15
Day 1
I've been watching those home improvement shows for weeks. Not only is my TV tuned in, but I have been watching videos online like they are going out of style. I could tell you exactly how to cope a piece of crown molding without skipping a beat. But the videos aren't cutting it. It's like giving candy to a crack addict, I am yearning to do it myself.
Everything is planned, they kids are going to Grammy's and Lowes is less than a mile away. I've been there five or six times just to look. Window shopping heaven. My husband and I typically work quickly together so I'm expecting a quick turn-over. The kid's wont know what hit em. A new room overnight. I. Cannot. Wait. Let's get started right now.
I've been watching those home improvement shows for weeks. Not only is my TV tuned in, but I have been watching videos online like they are going out of style. I could tell you exactly how to cope a piece of crown molding without skipping a beat. But the videos aren't cutting it. It's like giving candy to a crack addict, I am yearning to do it myself.
Everything is planned, they kids are going to Grammy's and Lowes is less than a mile away. I've been there five or six times just to look. Window shopping heaven. My husband and I typically work quickly together so I'm expecting a quick turn-over. The kid's wont know what hit em. A new room overnight. I. Cannot. Wait. Let's get started right now.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Week 14 #1
How many idiots are allowed a driver's license? There should be a limit. Drive down a busy street, it could just be a mile stretch, and here's what you'll most likely find:
1 woman putting on her makeup
15 people talking on their phone
10 people texting
7 people not using their blinkers
1 elderly man riding his breaks
1 person in a junker without any break lights at all
4 people passing on the right
1 person riding your ass
3 people riding other peoples asses
2 teens with their music too loud to hear yourself think
5 people eating
6 people smoking
and at least 1 flip of the bird.
It will be a happy day when car's do the driving for us. Until then, perhaps an IQ test along with the driver's test?
1 woman putting on her makeup
15 people talking on their phone
10 people texting
7 people not using their blinkers
1 elderly man riding his breaks
1 person in a junker without any break lights at all
4 people passing on the right
1 person riding your ass
3 people riding other peoples asses
2 teens with their music too loud to hear yourself think
5 people eating
6 people smoking
and at least 1 flip of the bird.
It will be a happy day when car's do the driving for us. Until then, perhaps an IQ test along with the driver's test?
Week 13 prompts
think about the small and then...work outwards.
62. For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoethe horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the wantof a horseshoe nail.
(This is not an invitation to repeat a nursery rhyme or make up a rigamarole; it is a prompt--it has its meaning and possibly is a springboard for a mini-essay of your own.)
I guess this is my true version of 'If You Give A Mouse A Cookie'.
I bought a new curtain rod for my sons' room the other day. It was nice, a good change from the stupid looking white traditional rod that you can get anywhere. This one was more ornate, as much as curtain rods can be I guess. It was on sale.
So I get the rod home and put it up. It looks great. But then the curtain started looking crappy next to it. Then the paint on the wall looked dull. So I conned my husband into re-painting with me. As we are painting at midnight, all tired and delirious from paint fumes, Ron mentioned how the drywall joints could look better if he mudded and sanded them. Later he admitted his regret regarding this statement, but it was too late.
The next thing you know, all the drywall joints in the house are being mudded and sanded. Then my mother comes over. She comes over often, and notices every little change. I could move a picture an inch to the right and she would comment on what a magnificent change it was. She saw the work we were doing and decided it was time for paint at her house. At this point I was thinking, 'You better not want me to help, I have enough to do already. Friggen curtain rod. Why are you so damn good looking next to everything?' She didn't ask for my help, but she did call to tell me her best friend, Fran, was going to paint her bedroom now. And she asked where I got my 'stunning' curtain rod.
Now I am scared to buy anything I like. Will a new coffee mug turn into new appliances? What if I decide to buy my husband a new shirt and it's to 'ornate' for him? How far can this go? A new house. Car. Family. Not only for me, but it's affected my mom, and further. For all I know, the President is painting the oval office right now. And all because of a curtain rod.
It is pretty though. Maybe I should go back and get them for the rest of the house.
One way of looking at these next prompts is to consider that they (somewhat treacherously) invite you to write about four big things--love or physicality; hate or another kind of physicality; beingness without physicality; and eternity or spirit, another take on unphysicality.
So, can topics this big be brought close to home? That's your job--don't gas on in general, vague terms; instead, figure a way to put yourself in.
66. Loosely holding hands, not even aware of doing so, but, still, skin touching skin....
It's funny how love can take years to form, or it can happen in a feverish instant. I think really those who take years are missing out. The lust that comes with 'love at first sight' is unparalleled. Now, I am not suggesting that lust and love are the same thing, quite the opposite. They can exist separately. I love my dog, but I definitely don't lust for her. And there are certainly some things that I lust for, but do not love.
I guess I just feel bad for those who take forever to realize their feelings. Where's the excitement? There is nothing like discovering someone for the first time. I wonder, if couples that have known each other for years before falling in love are like those who have been together for the same amount of time. Is it like being married for years? There is still lust, don't get me wrong, but it's nowhere near those first months. Incomparable.
67. This fist has got pow-pow-POWer!
The things a female body is capable of is phenomenal. It's kind-of alarming to think of all the changes that occur when a woman is pregnant. How is it even possible? From hormone balance (or in-balance) to organs completely re-locating just to make some room. It's a wonder women haven't devised a way to let the men take a turn. But it would probably just be like a million Arnold Schwarzenegger's running around, with a huge belly and no idea what to do with it. Instead they just cater to the prego's and joke about hormones. Which, to be honest, is nothing to joke about. You try to control your temper with crazy hormones, extra blood, fluid, a belly that completely throws off your center of balance, organs shifting around all willie-nillie, and aches in places you didn't know existed.
And on top of all of that, women still do everything they normally would. Go to work, chase their older children, go running.. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. And I'm not even pregnant. Then there's childbirth, which I will not even touch upon. We all know where that baby comes out. Let's just make a point, next time you see a pregnant woman, tell her how great she is. Give her a little respect, she definitely deserves it.
62. For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoethe horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the wantof a horseshoe nail.
(This is not an invitation to repeat a nursery rhyme or make up a rigamarole; it is a prompt--it has its meaning and possibly is a springboard for a mini-essay of your own.)
I guess this is my true version of 'If You Give A Mouse A Cookie'.
I bought a new curtain rod for my sons' room the other day. It was nice, a good change from the stupid looking white traditional rod that you can get anywhere. This one was more ornate, as much as curtain rods can be I guess. It was on sale.
So I get the rod home and put it up. It looks great. But then the curtain started looking crappy next to it. Then the paint on the wall looked dull. So I conned my husband into re-painting with me. As we are painting at midnight, all tired and delirious from paint fumes, Ron mentioned how the drywall joints could look better if he mudded and sanded them. Later he admitted his regret regarding this statement, but it was too late.
The next thing you know, all the drywall joints in the house are being mudded and sanded. Then my mother comes over. She comes over often, and notices every little change. I could move a picture an inch to the right and she would comment on what a magnificent change it was. She saw the work we were doing and decided it was time for paint at her house. At this point I was thinking, 'You better not want me to help, I have enough to do already. Friggen curtain rod. Why are you so damn good looking next to everything?' She didn't ask for my help, but she did call to tell me her best friend, Fran, was going to paint her bedroom now. And she asked where I got my 'stunning' curtain rod.
Now I am scared to buy anything I like. Will a new coffee mug turn into new appliances? What if I decide to buy my husband a new shirt and it's to 'ornate' for him? How far can this go? A new house. Car. Family. Not only for me, but it's affected my mom, and further. For all I know, the President is painting the oval office right now. And all because of a curtain rod.
It is pretty though. Maybe I should go back and get them for the rest of the house.
One way of looking at these next prompts is to consider that they (somewhat treacherously) invite you to write about four big things--love or physicality; hate or another kind of physicality; beingness without physicality; and eternity or spirit, another take on unphysicality.
So, can topics this big be brought close to home? That's your job--don't gas on in general, vague terms; instead, figure a way to put yourself in.
66. Loosely holding hands, not even aware of doing so, but, still, skin touching skin....
It's funny how love can take years to form, or it can happen in a feverish instant. I think really those who take years are missing out. The lust that comes with 'love at first sight' is unparalleled. Now, I am not suggesting that lust and love are the same thing, quite the opposite. They can exist separately. I love my dog, but I definitely don't lust for her. And there are certainly some things that I lust for, but do not love.
I guess I just feel bad for those who take forever to realize their feelings. Where's the excitement? There is nothing like discovering someone for the first time. I wonder, if couples that have known each other for years before falling in love are like those who have been together for the same amount of time. Is it like being married for years? There is still lust, don't get me wrong, but it's nowhere near those first months. Incomparable.
67. This fist has got pow-pow-POWer!
The things a female body is capable of is phenomenal. It's kind-of alarming to think of all the changes that occur when a woman is pregnant. How is it even possible? From hormone balance (or in-balance) to organs completely re-locating just to make some room. It's a wonder women haven't devised a way to let the men take a turn. But it would probably just be like a million Arnold Schwarzenegger's running around, with a huge belly and no idea what to do with it. Instead they just cater to the prego's and joke about hormones. Which, to be honest, is nothing to joke about. You try to control your temper with crazy hormones, extra blood, fluid, a belly that completely throws off your center of balance, organs shifting around all willie-nillie, and aches in places you didn't know existed.
And on top of all of that, women still do everything they normally would. Go to work, chase their older children, go running.. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. And I'm not even pregnant. Then there's childbirth, which I will not even touch upon. We all know where that baby comes out. Let's just make a point, next time you see a pregnant woman, tell her how great she is. Give her a little respect, she definitely deserves it.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Week 12 Prompt
Prompts Week 12. Take some risks with your three responses! There are risky topics, risky ways of writing about non-risky topics, and risky ways of writing about risky topics.
59. The door slammed, and I never looked back.
I sit on our Ethan Allen couch. I like to refer to it as such, even though it's eighties floral print doesn't suggest it's high end. It was given to us by some friend-of-a-friend's in-laws or something along those lines. Either way, here I sit on the ol' Ethan, watching TV when I realize, he's been in the other room for a while. I get up and open the door to see what's up and instantly regret doing so.
There he is, sitting at the computer, whacking his peen. He quickly turns off the monitor, then ducks down under the desk headed to the power strip, and to pull up his pants. I have to hand it to him (pun intended), if I hadn't seen the screen, he might have gotten away with it.
At this point I am so dumbstruck, I don't know what to do, do I say something? If so, it would probably start another fight of the century, and I don't really want to stay at my moms again. I decide I'd rather save the embarrassment for both of us and pretend I didn't see anything. That seems like a solid plan.
I sit in the awkward silence with time to process. Did this really just happen? We haven't fooled around in days. Well, I guess maybe this is this why. I think of all the times he has shut himself in our room and start to get queasy. I'm glad I don't use the computer much, who knows what is on those keys. He would he really rather do himself than me?
Now I'm getting angry. After all the crap I have put up with, this is the last straw. I'm out of here. I mean, we obviously have a problem, we haven't fooled around in days. Now I can't even look at him. Molesting himself when I'm in the next room watching cash cab? Who does he think I am? Who does he think he is?
I don't think I will ever tell him I saw. And it's not even to spare his feelings. I would love to embarrass the hell out of him. Honestly, I just don't want to think about it again. But within a week, my stuff will be out, the door slammed and I will never looked back.
61. I am an English teacher. All English teachers lie. But I am telling you the truth.
I am easily the most annoying person in this class. It must be that it's right after lunch. I'm on a sugar high, and the fresh air and socialization has gotten me all wired. So, with all that, how is it possible that I don't get in trouble? The guy next to me could sneeze and get kicked out. I can barely handle myself, how can anybody else handle me?
I admit, I do get intentionally rowdy to see if I can get a reaction out of the teacher. It never works. Everyone says that he's some sort of pedophile, gawking at girls chests. I don't know if I believe that. He is a strange man, but I don't think he's a pervert. Though, every time I test their theory and wear a revealing top, I could get away with murder. I guess the real test would be to wear a turtleneck and be as obnoxious as I can. If I end up in detention, I might just end these shenanigans.
59. The door slammed, and I never looked back.
I sit on our Ethan Allen couch. I like to refer to it as such, even though it's eighties floral print doesn't suggest it's high end. It was given to us by some friend-of-a-friend's in-laws or something along those lines. Either way, here I sit on the ol' Ethan, watching TV when I realize, he's been in the other room for a while. I get up and open the door to see what's up and instantly regret doing so.
There he is, sitting at the computer, whacking his peen. He quickly turns off the monitor, then ducks down under the desk headed to the power strip, and to pull up his pants. I have to hand it to him (pun intended), if I hadn't seen the screen, he might have gotten away with it.
At this point I am so dumbstruck, I don't know what to do, do I say something? If so, it would probably start another fight of the century, and I don't really want to stay at my moms again. I decide I'd rather save the embarrassment for both of us and pretend I didn't see anything. That seems like a solid plan.
I sit in the awkward silence with time to process. Did this really just happen? We haven't fooled around in days. Well, I guess maybe this is this why. I think of all the times he has shut himself in our room and start to get queasy. I'm glad I don't use the computer much, who knows what is on those keys. He would he really rather do himself than me?
Now I'm getting angry. After all the crap I have put up with, this is the last straw. I'm out of here. I mean, we obviously have a problem, we haven't fooled around in days. Now I can't even look at him. Molesting himself when I'm in the next room watching cash cab? Who does he think I am? Who does he think he is?
I don't think I will ever tell him I saw. And it's not even to spare his feelings. I would love to embarrass the hell out of him. Honestly, I just don't want to think about it again. But within a week, my stuff will be out, the door slammed and I will never looked back.
61. I am an English teacher. All English teachers lie. But I am telling you the truth.
I am easily the most annoying person in this class. It must be that it's right after lunch. I'm on a sugar high, and the fresh air and socialization has gotten me all wired. So, with all that, how is it possible that I don't get in trouble? The guy next to me could sneeze and get kicked out. I can barely handle myself, how can anybody else handle me?
I admit, I do get intentionally rowdy to see if I can get a reaction out of the teacher. It never works. Everyone says that he's some sort of pedophile, gawking at girls chests. I don't know if I believe that. He is a strange man, but I don't think he's a pervert. Though, every time I test their theory and wear a revealing top, I could get away with murder. I guess the real test would be to wear a turtleneck and be as obnoxious as I can. If I end up in detention, I might just end these shenanigans.
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