Oddities that are MINE...

Okay, first of all, I hate those perfume inserts they put in magazines. Not because I think they stink, mind you. Because I think they all smell wonderful!! So, I rub one on my wrist, and then fall in love, and order some and then 15 minutes later realize it smells like an old lady who has been stored in the trunk of a Ford Falcon for around two decades.

Second of all, I really applaud those Irish and their Creme. My new obsession is Irish Creme. I drink it on the rocks. I drink a lot of it. On the rocks.

"Chuzzle" on yahoo games is my new favorite game. I can play that stupid game for hours. And, it's so mindless! I can think about several things while I'm playing it. Like, what dirt tastes like, and do raccoons feel soft or scratchy, and how do people print their own money and if the ozone layer is depleting, why can't it deplete over me, where it is now 14 degrees? I wonder what I can do in my house next to try to get rid of stuff. (so far we've gotten rid of two old computers, a monitor, and a bag full of old VHS tapes.) Woo hoo! I think about space travel and if someone would float away in space, how long would it take for them to die, or would they even die because maybe life is different in space and there's some inner switch we have that allows us to live up there...

And, I think my side of the family is bound to ruin Christmas again for me. It seems to be their goal in life these days. Maybe it's a new year's resolution. They sit and plan, all year, how to ruin my Christmas. So far they've been doing a pretty good job of it. More on that later, after I figure out how much they're trying to kill me.

I was thinking about becoming a televangelist. Where else can you have horrible hair, worse makeup, and hit people on the head to drive out evil spirits? Sounds like an ideal job to me!

That's all I know for now. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas.

Jeff, I think we must part ways...

I hate to tell Jeff the Gym guy this, but I think it's time he and I stopped seeing each other. Tonight I went to the gym and there were 14 people there, plus two kids. And me. All in a space the size of three large bedrooms. All the cardio equipment was taken, and everyone stares at everyone who uses the weights. They all look at me like, "What are YOU doing here?" I about want to say, "Hey, I belong here more than you do. I'm the one who needs to get in shape!" But, I don't. I just stare peacefully back until they stop looking. I call it the "cow eyes" look. Go look at a cow sometime. The way they look at people is so neat. It's kind of like "Huh! Will you look at that!". Very peaceful and interested.

Anyway, husband and I are talking about just selling the bowflex (which I HATE) and buying a home gym stacked weight machine thingy. That's all that's keeping me at the gym now. We have all that cardio equipment at home, except for the Arc trainer. But, that's $6000, so that ain't gonna happen.

That way I can exercise in peace without the livestock at the gym staring at me. Jeff is going to be heartbroken, but he'll have to just deal with it. Life sometimes deals us things we don't want.

Oh, Daaaaaaaaaaaaadddddd...

Hey, Dad. I can't believe it's almost Christmas again. Wow! Remember that one time we were so mad at the rest of the family that you, me, mom, Bob, Amy, Ron and Jerica had our own Christmas? You told mom that was the best Christmas you ever had. I can't even remember what we got each other for gifts, but I do remember a lot of good food and a lot of laughing.

Another Christmas is going to pass with us really far apart. Nebraska and Heaven aren't exactly next door, although some would argue that during a clear Nebraska Spring day. I've been missing you extra hard lately. I dreamed about you the other night. It wasn't a visit, though, up until the end. I dreamed that you bought my car from me because it had totally quit on me, and you were telling me to buy a new one. I was telling you I was mad at Ron and you were telling me to get over it. At the end, when we were sitting next to each other in a different car, I looked to you and said, "You have no idea how much I miss you." You put your arm around me and said, "We're not that far apart." What's that mean, Dad? Are you close to me, or am I close to you? Is it a little of both? I hope I'm not preventing you from enjoying Heaven by tethering you to this world with my sorrow and grief. Some Native American tribes believe that if a dead person is mourned too much, their spirit gets trapped here on earth. I don't believe that, because you've told me differently in my dreams. I just don't want you leaving the glory of Heaven to spirit around me all the time. I'd give up every second of it if it meant you were having to be pulled back down here. I am pretty sure that's not the case, though.

I've been in a state of panic/anxiety/sorrow/angst/tears for a couple of weeks now, and I just figured out why. The holidays are especially hard for me since you've been gone. And, others, too, but this is my blog and I want to throw my tantrum right here. I can remember the first Thanksgiving without you, a whole month after you were gone. I walked into Dave and Marilyn's house, saw Terri, and just broke down. I was tired of trying to be strong. Tired of trying to hold it all together for everyone. I can remember that Dan was on the phone from Africa, and he was talking to me, and I couldn't even utter a word. I was so sad. I, for some reason, never expected everything to come rushing back like that. I talked to Dan for about 5 seconds before the lump in my throat got too big, and I had to hand the phone back to Terri. I found out later that Dan was disappointed, because he really wanted to talk to me, but I just couldn't stop the gagging feeling. I'm the person who can't talk when they cry. My throat closes up completely. I remember Terri telling Dan that I just couldn't talk now. He understood. He was there for your funeral. He saw what a mess I was, even though I was trying to be strong.

I have decided, dad, that there are times where I just don't have to be strong. Today at work, I got a nosebleed from hell, and I went into the bathroom to exsanguinate. While I was in there, I just kind of leaned against the wall and thought of you. (I can hear you now: "Great, Kid. That's where I really want you to be thinking of me. In the can. With a bleedin' nose."). But, it was a weird moment and I almost felt you being there with me, with your EMT training. I was about in tears because truthfully, I couldn't get the blood to STOP, and I just felt like you were there telling me to calm down. Oddly enough, after 15 minutes, 3 boxes of Kleenex, and scaring 1/2 the people in my department, the nosebleed stopped about 1.5 minutes after I went into the bathroom and let you treat me. Thanks, Dad. I didn't know how much more I could have bled before I came to meet you in Glory.

When days get bad for me, like these days around Christmas get, I think of meeting you in Heaven when my time comes. I know from what you told me that Jesus will probably greet me when I die, but I know that he will let me see you, Dad. And, it may have been 50 years since you left here, but I will know you like I knew you before. It will seem as if no time has lapsed. That's the funny thing. I sit here, with tears streaming out of my already burning eyes, and I just think that SO MUCH freakin' time has passed since you died. It's been three years, but it seems like 300. I feel like I've had to go so long without you. God, nothing hurts like that. The pain is physical. I know you remember from when your parents died. You had the good fortune of having them around a lot longer than I had you around. Your mom was 86 when she died. That was 32 years from your age. I buried you both 10 years apart.

Someday, though, I will reunite with you, grandpa Charlie, Grandpa Roy and Grandma Edna and all those who will go before me. We will laugh, eat, talk, and do other stuff that people in Heaven do. God promises us our own room in the Kingdom of Heaven, and you all will be welcome in mine. I may have the music up too loud, and it may not be spotless, but it'll be my room.

Tell Jesus happy birthday on Christmas, dad. I love Him, and I love you. I'm so glad you read these posts because sometimes I just have to communicate with you this way. Sometimes I get mad at myself in my dreams because I make sure I tell you how much I miss you and I ask how Heaven is, but I never seem to remember to tell you all the things I can tell you in these posts. Thanks for helping stop my bleedin' nose. Every day I go on is a testament to your legacy. Every day I do good is a testament to your legacy. Every day is a testament to your legacy. Know I think about you all the time, and I will see you again someday.

I love you, Dad.

Me.

Thoughts for the Day

1) I hate gum popping people. I have two girls at work who pop and smack and snap their gum all day long. Let me reiterate: ALL DAY LONG. I finally had to say something to my manager because I was going to ask to be moved. She said no way, that gum popping is totally unprofessional and she'll put a stop to it. Today, I go to the gym and in walks two teeny bopper girls, one of them happily popping and snapping her gum the whole time. Let me reiterate again: THE WHOLE TIME. I finally just left. I cannot tolerate that.

2) The Chicago Bears lost today. I expected them to lose. What I didn't expect is that they basically didn't even show up. Snapped their eight game winning streak. It had to end sometime.

3) I will be SO glad when Christmas is over. What used to be a joyous occasion is now tampered by what I perceive as a race of who gets what, who gets more, who spends more, who does more, etc. etc etc. And, if I hear "Happy Holidays" one more time, I am going to scream. December 25th is CHRISTMAS. Not "holiday" not "season's greetings". It is Christmas. The Birth of Christ. If a person is offended by the mention of Christmas, I expect to see them working on December 25th.

That's all I have to say for now.

Jeff, I hear you Callin'....'-)

Went to the gym today. It was me and Jeff. He was working on the computer and manning the phone. I was on the arc trainer, sweating like a pig, watching "Run's House" on MTV. I had my headphones blasting, and I was reading a book. That's real easy.

Jeff and I actually had a conversation today. Here's how it went: (This is actual, verbatim conversation).

Angie is on the arc trainer, with six minutes left of a 25 minute workout. She has a book in one hand, and the other hand is resting on the handle of the machine, so she doesn't fall on the floor.

Jeff is sitting in a folding chair in front of the computer. He is the first to speak.
"Do you ka;dlkfaj;eoiruqe?"

Angie can't hear him because her headphones are on pretty loud to drown out the crap they have piped over the speakers in the gym. "What's that?" she says, ripping off her headphone. Jeff is SPEAKING to her!

Jeff: "Do you smell something weird?"

Angie: "No. Like what?"

Jeff: "I don't know. Just a weird smell. I could smell it when I got in this morning. You can't smell anything?"

Angie: "No. The equipment might be the reason. Sometimes this new rubber on the equipment stinks. We got a new treadmill a year ago and it smells like vegetable soup."

Jeff: "Okay. Maybe it's just me."

Angie. "Probably not, but I didn't notice anything when I came in."

That, my friends, was the conversation. How romantic was that?? I kept at the rest of my workout, and was about screaming with laughter inside because of this conversation. The first personal conversation Jeff and I have, and it starts off with, "Do you smell something weird?" Ha!!!! What a scream!!!! So, I got done with my workout and told Jeff that I was done for the day. He said, "Cool. Have a good rest of the day." I just had to share this because it was so ludicrous. Thank God I'm already married, because if I had to rely on conversations like that to get to know people, I'd be screwed.

Now I'm Pissed

I'll admit...my housekeeping skills since I had a child have gone downhill dramatically. I don't do all the things I should be doing, because frankly, I'm tired. And, we have so much stuff, it's about impossible to even get started. Is my house a pigsty like my mom's was before we turned out in force to clean it? Not even close. But, I have a lot of things, and I just don't know where to begin. I have started to box away books as I'm done reading them, but books are my weakness. I have perhaps a thousand books, and that's not exaggerating.

I guess I'm expected to do all the housework, though. I try to pick up every night, and I vacuum and mop the floors and clean the toilets and do all the laundry. We take turns loading and unloading the dishwasher. Could I do more? Sure. I could do less, too.

Tonight really pissed me off, though. I was frantically looking around for my daughter's homework, which is due tomorrow. I was looking all over everywhere and couldn't find it. I asked my husband if he had seen it, and he said no, that he put the folder the papers were in in our daughter's backpack, but he "didn't see any papers." Okay, there were like 15 papers with the folder. How do you miss these? I am tearing the newspapers apart, trying to find them, when my husband mutters the magic words, "I don't THINK I threw them away." Ahhhhh...

My husband's idea of "cleaning" is "throw everything in the trash can". He is a chronic thrower-awayer, which is fine, but when it comes to important papers, and things of that nature, I think there's a better way to do things, such as LOOK at them before winging them into the trash. I cannot even tell you the number of times good things have been thrown away. I'm no hoarder. I don't keep used kleenexes and old newspapers and things of that nature, but I like to keep important papers and books and bills and other things out of the trash.

So, I kind of sigh and turn to the trash can. There, on top, was a Kinko's bag that held copies of my resume. Totally bent and destroyed. There were our daughter's papers and homework. All buried underneath the resumes and ice cream wrappers. See, it doesn't dawn on him that there might be actual garbage in there, so everything is usually destroyed.

I said, "I wish you wouldn't have thrown these things away." I was nice about it. He responded with a very snotty, "Well, if someone besides me would ever pick up anything in this house, I wouldn't have to throw things away!" Oh, good reasononing. He throws things away if everything IS picked up. I didn't say a word. I could have mentioned that things can be PUT away without being THROWN away, but he doesn't seem to understand that. But, check our counter in the kitchen...on there you will find months old flyers and credit card offers in his name. He can't throw THAT stuff away, but he throws everything else in the trash.

So, tomorrow (I took the day off) is going to be spent: a) going to the gym, and b) cleaning the house. I plan on taking a huge garbage bag and just carrying it with me throughout the house so I can wing away his credit card offers and miscellaneous coupons that he thinks we "might" need in the future. (They expired in October.) And, to make myself feel better,I bought three new books at Barnes and Noble tonight. I better hide them so they don't end up in the trash.